#yeah to be let alone with the ghosts of his past mistakes

[darkintothedawn]

DAY FOUR || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — Day four of 'THE BOYFRIEND CODE'.

4. Thou shalt not hold thy boyfriend’s hand just to warm up thy own freezing fingers and then let go once they’re toasty. My hands are not a temporary rental service—they require long-term commitment. Hand-holding is a big deal, okay? It’s a sacred act of love, comfort, and subtle flexing. If thou initiates contact, thou must maintain it for an appropriate amount of time (i.e., until I say so). If thou dares to pull away too soon, be warned: I will be needy about it. I will pout. I will stare at thy hand longingly. I will dramatically sigh until my hand is reclaimed. I don’t want to beg, but make no mistake—I absolutely will.

Memo— Sorry this is so late, guys! Anyway, you can find the rest of the 'THE BOYFRIEND CODE' here.

Word Count — 4677

Warnings — Fluff.

The next day dawned colder than anyone had anticipated. The kind of cold that made you regret leaving the comfort of your bed, let alone venturing anywhere further than the couch. Somehow, though, you and Stiles had ended up bundled together in the Stilinski living room, wrapped in a massive blanket, with a movie playing on the TV.

It wasn’t snowing, but it felt like it could at any second. The kind of freezing that made the windows fog over, and no amount of hot coffee or heating could seem to shake it. The thermostat and boiler were both broken meaning the cold seeped into the corners of the room, lingering like it had nowhere better to be.

“Okay, is it just me, or is it actually freezing in here?” Stiles asked, his breath puffing out visibly in the chill air as he pulled the blanket tighter around both of you.

“It’s definitely freezing,” you confirmed, leaning further into him in search of warmth. “Why does it feel like we’re watching a movie in a meat locker?”

“Maybe the house is haunted,” he quipped, casting a suspicious glance toward the ceiling. “Ghosts of heating systems past, punishing us for taking central heating for granted.”

You raised an eyebrow, deadpan. “Yes, very plausible. Maybe it’s payback for how cold it was when you decided to storm out yesterday and drag me into the tundra.”

Stiles tilted his head, squinting as though he was trying to find a retort but ultimately came up empty. “Okay, first of all, it wasn’t that cold yesterday.”

You shot him a look.

He huffed, backtracking almost immediately. “Fine. It was freezing. But that wasn’t the point—I was making a dramatic exit!”

“You were being dramatic, alright,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “And I almost lost feeling in my fingers because of it.”

“Well, lucky for you,” he said, puffing his chest out, “I’m here now. A walking furnace, as it were.”

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “Some furnace. I think it’s broken.”

“Rude,” he muttered, though he tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer until you were practically in his lap. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone. Just you wait.”

“Not if I freeze to death first,” you said dryly, but you didn’t resist when he tucked the blanket around both of you like a cocoon.

The movie droned on in the background, explosions lighting up the screen, but your focus wasn’t really on it—not when the cold was still lingering, and not when Stiles was rambling in a way that made it almost bearable.

“You know,” he started, a sly grin tugging at his lips, “if we were in one of those apocalypse movies where the heat went out everywhere, I’d survive. Natural body heat and all that. I’d be thriving.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “You could barely handle being outside for five minutes yesterday. You started complaining before we even got down the block.”

“That was different,” he argued, his tone defensive. “That was wind chill. This is just regular cold.”

“Oh, yeah, totally different,” you said, biting back a smile.

Stiles stared at you for a moment before leaning down and pressing a dramatic kiss to the top of your head. “You know what? I’m done explaining myself to you. Just enjoy the benefits of my unmatched warmth.”

You snorted but shifted closer anyway, letting the weight of him and the blanket press against you. Slowly, the cold seemed to fade just a little, his body heat seeping into yours until the space between you was nonexistent.

For a moment, the room fell quiet, the movie playing on without either of you really paying attention. It wasn’t the most exciting way to spend a day, but as Stiles let out a contented sigh and burrowed further into the blanket, you couldn’t imagine a better one.

So, without warning, you slipped your hands under Stiles’ jumper, pressing your cold fingers against his stomach. He flinched immediately, yelping like you’d just dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

“Oh my god,” he hissed, squirming under your touch. “Why are your hands so cold? Are you trying to kill me?”

You grinned, unmoved by his dramatics, and started tracing lazy circles against his skin, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your fingertips. “I’m just warming them up, and you did say you’re a walking furnace. This is your fault.”

“Not like this!” he protested, squirming more but not actually pulling away. “I’m not some human space heater for your icicle hands!”

“Oh, hush,” you teased, your voice softening as your thumbs grazed the faint lines of his abdomen. “I’m just appreciating the results of all that Lacrosse practice. You’ve been working hard.”

He stilled for a moment, his cheeks turning pink, though whether from the cold or your praise, you couldn’t tell. “I mean… yeah, I guess,” he muttered, a little flustered.

You hummed, still tracing patterns over his stomach. “It’s paying off. Pretty soon, everyone at school’s going to be fawning over you.”

Stiles frowned, glancing down at you suspiciously. “What’s your angle here?”

“No angle,” you said, tilting your head to look up at him. “Just stating facts. Stiles Stilinski is a major hottie, and soon enough, people are finally going to see what I see. You’re incredibly attractive.”

His mouth opened like he wanted to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, his face flushed even darker, his ears turning red as he fidgeted under your hands. “I—uh—thanks? I guess?” he stammered, voice cracking slightly at the end.

You leaned up, pressing a quick kiss to his jawline. “No need to thank me. Just the truth.”

Stiles groaned, dropping his head back against the couch dramatically. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, but his lips slowly curled up into a small grin.

“Probably,” you teased, squeezing his hand gently. “But at least you’ll go down knowing you’re a certified hottie.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re blushing,” you countered, your grin widening.

“Am not,” he shot back quickly, but the look on his face said otherwise.

Stiles squirmed again, his lips twitching like he was trying to suppress a smile, but the faint pink on his cheeks wasn’t going anywhere. You could see it spread all the way to the tips of his ears, and it only made your grin widen.

“Aw, you’re blushing,” you cooed, moving your hands slightly lower on his stomach just to feel him flinch again.

“I’m not blushing,” he shot back, his voice defensive but cracking slightly at the end.

“Oh, you so are,” you teased, leaning in closer. “I mean, it’s fine, babe. Most people would be flustered after being called a hottie. Especially when it’s true.”

“Would you stop?” he whined, dragging a hand over his face, though he made no move to push you away. “I’m not used to—you know—people saying stuff like that.”

You softened a little, pulling your hands up from his stomach to rest over his chest instead, your thumbs brushing against the edges of his ribs. “Well, you’d better get used to it. Because, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re really good-looking, Stiles. Like, unfairly so.”

He scoffed, though the way he was ducking his head made you think he wasn’t fully convinced. “Yeah, okay. Sure. That’s me. Stiles Stilinski, local heartthrob.”

You frowned slightly at his tone, realizing that maybe this wasn’t just about him being flustered. “Hey,” you said softly, leaning up to kiss his jawline again, just below his ear. “I mean it. You’re hot. Full stop. No qualifiers, no sarcasm.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, slowly, his hands moved to slip under your top, resting against the small of your back. His fingers were warm against your skin, and he gently pulled you closer until your bodies were flush against each other.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Like, sometimes I think you’re messing with me. Like there’s no way you could actually think—”

“Stiles,” you interrupted, cutting him off before he could spiral. You leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, your hands moving to cup either side of his face. “I’m not messing with you. Not even a little. You’re hot, you’re funny, you’re smart—and you’ve got this whole adorable, awkward thing going on that just makes you even more attractive. I’m not saying it to be nice or to mess with you. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

He blinked at you, clearly thrown off by the sincerity in your tone. “You really mean that?”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Every word. Now stop questioning me and just accept the fact that you’re a total babe.”

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered again, but there was a softness in his voice now, and his grip on your back tightened slightly, his thumbs brushing over your skin.

“And you’re still blushing,” you teased, unable to resist one last jab.

This time, Stiles didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, he smirked faintly, his hands moving higher on your back. “Fine. If I’m blushing, then you’re freezing. Maybe I should even things out a little.”

Before you could process what he meant, he slid his hands further up your back, his palms warm against your skin as they pressed against the chill that had settled there. You shivered instinctively, and he grinned, clearly enjoying the reversal.

“Not so fun being on the receiving end, is it?” he teased, his confidence creeping back as he watched your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, leaning back into his touch despite the teasing.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “Keep talking, babe. I’m listening.”

“Cute and modest,” you teased, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm as you adjusted your position, settling against him more comfortably. “What don’t you have, Stiles Stilinski? A six-pack? A healthy sleep schedule? Basic survival instincts?”

“Har, har,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, but his grin didn’t falter. His hands shifted again, sliding further up your back for a moment before retreating. “For your information, I’m working on the six-pack. As for the other stuff… not exactly my fault I keep getting dragged into werewolf drama.”

You raised a brow, your lips twitching as you fought back a smirk. “Oh, dragged into it, huh? Because I seem to remember you throwing yourself into the middle of it most of the time.”

“That’s called being proactive,” he argued, though the way his lips twitched betrayed him. “Big difference.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, your tone light and teasing as you tilted your head to look at him. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night—oh wait, you don’t.”

He groaned, his head falling back against the couch dramatically. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Because you love me,” you shot back, grinning.

“Debatable,” he muttered, though the way his hands slid back down to your waist said otherwise.

You shivered again, your body reflexively tensing as the warmth from his hands left your back. “Okay, seriously, my hands are freezing.” You held them up in front of him for emphasis.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said dryly, giving you a pointed look. “You’ve been using me as your personal radiator for the last ten minutes.”

“And you love it,” you said sweetly, wiggling your fingers for effect.

Stiles rolled his eyes but reached for your hands anyway, wrapping his own around them and squeezing gently. “There. Happy?”

“Very,” you said, your grin softening into something more genuine as you let him hold your hands. His were warm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he shifted slightly to face you more fully.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The teasing had melted away, leaving behind a quiet sort of intimacy that made your chest ache in the best way.

“You know,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “You’re really good at this whole boyfriend thing.”

Stiles glanced up at you, his brow quirking slightly. “What, holding hands?”

“Yeah,” you said, your tone light but your smile genuine. “Among other things.”

He grinned at that, his fingers tightening around yours. “Well, you know. I try.”

“You do more than try,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

For once, Stiles didn’t have a snarky comeback. Instead, he just smiled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he gave your hands another squeeze. “You’re gonna give me an ego,” he said finally, though there was no real bite to his words.

“Good,” you said simply, leaning back into him as you tangled your fingers with his. “You deserve one.”

You flexed your fingers against Stiles’, noting how the chill had finally started to leave. “Okay, I think I’m defrosting. But seriously, when’s your dad gonna get off work and fix the heating? I’m not sure I can take much more of this.”

Stiles looked at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, you could go home, you know. Your house has this new thing—very cutting edge. It's called working heating.”

You rolled your eyes, squeezing his hands as you settled more firmly against him. “Oh, ha ha. Like I’m leaving you here to suffer alone.”

“Why not?” he teased, leaning back into the couch. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

You scoffed, shooting him a pointed look. “Yeah, right. I leave for five minutes, and you’d be texting me about how you’ve lost all feeling in your toes.”

“Okay, first of all,” he said, holding up one hand dramatically while still holding yours with the other, “You make it sound like I’m helpless, which is not true.”

“Sure, Stiles.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm, and he narrowed his eyes at you playfully.

“And second,” he continued, ignoring you, “Maybe I’d text you because I missed you and not because of my toes.”

Your teasing expression softened at that, and you shook your head fondly. “You’re ridiculous."

“Yeah, I am,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Stiles didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. Then, finally, he spoke, his tone softer. “So… you really don’t want to leave?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Not even a little. Besides…” You leaned into him, letting your head rest on his shoulder. “It’s not so bad. Freezing cold, sure, but at least I’ve got you to keep me warm.”

Stiles let out a breathy laugh, his head tilting to rest against yours. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you teased, though your words lacked any real bite.

“I’m still texting my dad, though,” Stiles said after a beat, fishing for his phone with his free hand. “Because if this heating isn’t fixed soon, I’m pretty sure I’m going to turn into a popsicle.”

“You do that,” you murmured, your voice soft as you laced your fingers with his again, your grip warm and secure.

As the warmth finally returned to your hands, despite the amount of times Stiles' had ended up letting go of one of them, you let out a small sigh of relief, the biting cold of the morning forgotten for the first time since you’d started watching the movie. Absentmindedly, you let go of Stiles’ hand, rubbing your palms together as if to seal in the heat he’d so generously offered.

It wasn’t until you heard the soft, almost betrayed gasp that you realized what you’d done.

“Did you just—” Stiles’ voice was low, like he was trying to process the crime he’d just witnessed. “Did you seriously just use me? Like some kind of human hand-warmer?”

You blinked, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Uh… yeah? My hands aren’t cold anymore, so—”

“Oh my God,” he interrupted, clutching his chest as though you’d shot him straight through the heart. His expression morphed into something so exaggeratedly hurt that it would’ve been laughable if not for the sheer conviction he poured into it. “Unbelievable. Unforgivable, even. I trusted you. I thought we had something special.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the couch as you watched him with thinly veiled amusement. “Stiles, it’s not that deep—”

“Not that deep?” he exclaimed, flailing his arms dramatically. “Not that deep?! Do you even remember rule four?”

With complete innocence, you tilted your head as if wracking your brain. “Hmm, rule four… was that the one about not stealing the last curly fry? Or the one about tickling you while driving?”

His jaw dropped, his hands falling to his sides as he stared at you like you’d just declared you were Team Edward instead of Team Jacob. “You’re joking. You’re joking. You’ve forgotten the most important rule of them all?”

“Refresh my memory,” you said, biting back a grin as you leaned your chin on your palm, thoroughly enjoying the show.

Stiles, for all his mock offense, was clearly in his element now. “Thou shalt not hold thy boyfriend’s hand just to warm up thy own freezing fingers and then let go once they’re toasty,” he recited, his voice taking on an air of reverence. “My hands are not a temporary rental service—they require long-term commitment. Hand-holding is a big deal, okay? A sacred act of love, comfort, and subtle flexing. If thou initiates contact, thou must maintain it for an appropriate amount of time—”

“Until you say so,” you finished for him, your lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Exactly! You remember, and yet you still broke the rule. Deliberately.”

You shrugged, letting your fingers hover near his hand, but not quite touching it. “Maybe I just wanted to see how dramatic you’d get about it.”

“Oh, you want drama?” he challenged, narrowing his eyes at you. “I’ll give you drama. I’ll pout. I’ll sigh. I’ll stare longingly at your hand for the rest of the day. Hell, I’ll beg if I have to. Pathetically.”

“You’re already doing that,” you pointed out, a laugh bubbling out of you despite your best efforts to keep a straight face.

He scowled, his expression so petulant that it only made you laugh harder. “This isn’t funny. My hand is literally dying of loneliness right now.”

Finally, you reached for his hand again, threading your fingers through his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “There. Better?”

“Much,” he said, though his pout didn’t fully disappear.

For a moment, you both sat in silence, your hand nestled comfortably in his. Stiles’ thumb started rubbing soft circles over your knuckles, and the faint pout on his lips gave way to a small, satisfied smile.

“I hate you,” you muttered, shaking your head fondly.

“You love me,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Yeah, I do.”

That should’ve been enough to end the conversation, but of course, Stiles wasn’t done.

“You know,” he started, his voice taking on a contemplative tone, “I think this might be worse than the curly fry situation.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Worse? That was your sacred food, Stiles. I just let go of your hand for two seconds.”

“Exactly,” he said, puffing his chest like he’d just made an airtight argument. “At least with the curly fry thing, you kissed me first. There was, like, an attempt at negotiation. But this? This is just cold-blooded betrayal.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the back of his hand. “There. Does that make up for it?”

He huffed, but his grin was impossible to miss. “A little. But you’ve got a lot more making up to do if you’re gonna regain my trust.”

“Oh, no,” you teased, your tone dripping with mock seriousness. “Whatever will I do without the trust of Stiles Stilinski?”

“I’m serious,” he said, though the laughter in his voice betrayed him. “You’re on thin ice, babe. One more violation, and I’m invoking the full wrath of the boyfriend code.”

“You do that,” you said, pressing another kiss to his hand. “In the meantime, I’ll just keep holding your hand forever and ever. Long-term commitment, right?”

He smiled then, soft and genuine, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just looked at you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again in a silent gesture that felt like an unspoken I love you.

“Forever and ever,” he finally murmured, leaning over to rest his head against yours. “But don’t think I’m forgetting about this. You’re still on notice.”

You let the quiet between you linger for a few beats, a smile tugging at your lips as you felt his thumb idly brushing against yours. Stiles’ hand was warm in yours, his earlier theatrics fading into something softer, something undeniably sweet. But then a thought struck you, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

“So, about this rule of yours…” you began, your tone casual, though the glint in your eye was anything but.

“Rule four,” Stiles corrected, already perking up like he was gearing up for another debate. “The cornerstone of any respectable relationship, yes.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, tilting your head and pretending to think it over. “Don’t you think it’s a little… one-sided?”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “One-sided? What are you talking about? It’s a perfect rule. Fool proof. Like, the relationship equivalent of the Ten Commandments.”

You snorted. “Right, because ‘thou shalt not let go of Stiles’ hand until he says so’ is super fair and balanced.”

“It is!” he said, nodding vehemently. “It’s about commitment. Dedication. A promise to—”

“Control,” you interrupted, raising an eyebrow at him.

He blinked, thrown off course. “Wait, what?”

You shrugged, looking far too pleased with yourself as you continued. “I mean, by your own wording, you get to decide when hand-holding stops. Not me. Not us. Just you.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s how rules work. Someone has to enforce them.”

“But isn’t this a relationship?” you asked, leaning in slightly as your voice dropped to something softer, almost teasing. “Isn’t it supposed to be equal? You know—teamwork? Mutual involvement? Shared control?”

Stiles’ mouth opened, then closed again. For once, he didn’t have an immediate comeback, and you seized the opportunity to press further.

“Think about it,” you said, lacing your fingers with his and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “If we’re equals, shouldn’t I get a say in when the hand-holding stops?”

He stared at you, his eyes narrowing as he realized he was cornered. “Okay, first of all, that’s cheating—using logic against me like that. Second of all, no one’s ever complained about this rule before.”

You grinned. “I’m your first relationship, Stiles. No one else has had the chance to.”

His lips parted as if to argue, but you cut him off, bringing his hand up to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“Besides,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a low, teasing hum, “if anyone’s going to decide when we stop, shouldn’t it be me? I mean, you’re the one who said you’d beg if you had to.”

His eyes widened, and a faint flush crept up his neck. “Wait a second—”

“You did say that, right?” you interrupted, tilting your head in faux innocence. “Pathetically, if I remember correctly.”

“Okay, hold on—”

You cut him off again, leaning in closer until your faces were inches apart, your tone soft but undeniably smug. “So, Stiles, if you really want me to keep holding your hand, I think you know what you have to do.”

His mouth opened and closed again, a series of sputtered half-words escaping him before he finally groaned, dropping his head forward onto your shoulder. “Oh my God, you’re evil.”

“You love it,” you countered, your grin widening as you gave his hand another squeeze.

“I hate that you’re right,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile.

“Come on,” you urged, your voice taking on a sing-song quality. “Say the magic words.”

He groaned again, his head tipping backward as he glared at you with mock indignation. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. “But rules are rules, right? And if you’re going to enforce them, you’d better be ready to play by them too.”

Stiles huffed, his eyes darting away as if debating whether or not his pride could take the hit. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” you teased, leaning closer.

“I said, please,” he repeated, his voice louder this time but dripping with exaggerated dramatics. “Please don’t let go of my hand. Please, keep holding it forever and ever. Please, please, please. I need your hands. Are you happy now?”

You laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made his pout falter. “Very,” you said, pressing another kiss to his knuckles before settling back beside him into the couch.

Stiles grumbled something incoherent, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “This is going in the boyfriend code,” he muttered.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, your tone playful. “Right under the part about how I get to make the rules from now on.”

“Don’t push your luck,” he warned, though his hands tightened around yours, as if letting go wasn’t even an option anymore.

Stiles sighed, leaning back into the couch and pulling your joined hands into his lap, his thumb tracing soft patterns over your knuckles. His earlier dramatics had melted away, replaced by a quiet contentment that made his brown eyes warm and soft as they glanced over at you.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low and affectionate, “For all the grief you give me, I really lucked out with you.”

You smiled, tilting your head to rest on his shoulder. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Hey,” he protested, though there was no real heat behind it. “I’ve always known. It’s just… days like this? They remind me.”

His fingers squeezed yours lightly, his other hand coming up to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was so tender, so uncharacteristically delicate, it made your chest tighten in the best way.

“I love you,” he said, the words so simple and sincere they left no room for teasing.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice just as soft, just as sure.

For a while, neither of you said anything more. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was warm and full, broken only by the sound of your steady breaths and the occasional rustle of the blanket draped over both your laps.

Eventually, Stiles shifted, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright and full of that boyish charm you adored.

“Okay, but seriously,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a grin, “Next time we have a relationship negotiation, I’m bringing a lawyer.”

You laughed, swatting at his chest as he grinned even wider. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” he shot back, pulling you closer until you were half-curled against him.

“Forever,” you agreed, your voice soft and full of promise.

He didn’t respond—not verbally, anyway. Instead, he pressed another kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you as if to say, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[cam1lla]

Most Superbat Taylor Swift lyrics under the cut

Bruce’s POV:

“My only one/My smoking gun/My eclipsed sun/This has broken me down/My twisted knife/My sleepless night/My win-less fight/This has frozen my ground/Stood on the cliffside screaming, ‘Give me a reason’/Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in/Don't want no other shade of blue but you” — Hoax

“All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life/Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life/And I want you now, wanna need you forever/In the heat of your electric touch” — Electric Touch

“I keep these longings locked in lowercase inside a vault/Someone told me, ‘there’s no such thing as bad thoughts’/Only your actions talk/These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath/Taking all of me/We've already done it in my head/If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow we’ll both uphold somehow?” — Guilty As Sin?

“Two headlights shine through the sleepless night/And I will get you, and get you alone/Your name has echoed through my mind/And I just think you should, think you should know/That nothing safe is worth the drive” — Treacherous

“All the drama queens taking swings/All the jokers dressin' up as kings/They fade to nothin' when I look at him/And I know I make the same mistakes every time/Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right/I did one thing right/I'm laughin' with my lover, makin' forts under covers/Trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right/Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night” — Call It What You Want

“My boy was a montage/A slow motion, love potion/Jumping off things in the ocean/I broke his heart 'cause he was nice/He was sunshine, I was midnight rain/He wanted it comfortable/I wanted that pain” — Midnight Rain

“Late in the night, the city's asleep/Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep/Change my priorities/The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury” — King Of My Heart

“Morning, his place/Burnt toast, Sunday/You keep his shirt/He keeps his word/And for once, you let go/Of your fears and your ghosts/One step, not much/But it said enough/You kiss on sidewalks/You fight then you talk/One night he wakes/Strange look on his face/Pauses, then says/You're my best friend/And you knew what it was/He is in love” — You Are In Love

Clark’s POV:

“Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark/Show me the places where the others gave you scars” — Willow

“Now I'm pacin' on shaky ground/Strike a match, then you blow it out/Oh no, oh no, it's not fair/'Cause you kiss mе and it stops time/And I'm yours, but you're not mine” — Say Don’t Go

“So dignified in your well-pressed suit/So strategized, all the eyes on you/Sashay away to your seat/It's the best seat, in the best room/Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"/So far above me in every sense/So far above feeling anything” — Mr. Perfectly Fine

“I could see you in your suit and your necktie/Pass me a note saying, "Meet me tonight"/Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell, yeah/And I could see you being my addiction/You can see me as a secret mission” — I Can See You

“You never know what people have up their sleeves/Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me/Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles/But I don't care 'cause right now you're mine” — Ours

“It was like an age-old classic the first time that you saw me/The story started when you said, "Hello"/In a crowded room a few short years ago/And sometimes there's no proof, you just know/You're always gonna be mine/I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray/We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made/And you'll say, ‘Oh my, we really were timeless’” — Timeless

“So when I touch down/Call the amateurs and/Cut 'em from the team/Ditch the clowns, get the crown/Baby I'm the one to beat/Cause the sign on your heart/Said it's still reserved for me/Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?” — The Alchemy

[cloudyfacewithjam]

SAS Rogue Heroes Season 2 Episode 6 /// SAS Rogue Heroes Season 1 Episode 2

[thetriumphantpanda]

the touch of a hand lit the fuse

So, turns out y'all lapped up my dbf!Joel and now I'm kinda speechless? Like, tysm for loving this enough to like semi-blow it up. But never fear, our favourite neighbourhood DILF is back and filthier than ever today. I wrote this under the influence of a rather strong margarita, so forgive any mistake and the uninhibited filth you're about to consume. Enjoy.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Four days on from being spread on Joel's lap, he's back to fix up your attic when you're home alone.

Word Count | 3.6k

Warnings | I mean, blanket warning for dbf!Joel because he's always a menace. Alcohol consumption, NO USE OF Y/N, masterbating (F), unprotected PiV sex (Don't be dumb, wrap it up), age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), size kink, some dirty talk and that's it.

Part 1 | Main Masterlist

It was Wednesday and you were still reeling from what had happened at the party on Saturday. Whenever you led in bed there was the feeling of Joel’s fingers ghosting over you. You were ashamed of the number of times you’d touched yourself, trying to emulate how Joel’s fingers had felt inside of you, failing miserably, but still getting yourself off with tight circles on your clit, moaning his name into your pillow as you made yourself come. It was a dreadful substitute, but you didn’t have much choice – Joel had been MIA since he'd left on Saturday night. 

You were sat at the table in the kitchen with your parents, sipping on orange juice and pushing eggs around your plate before they both went to work, “Oh, I forgot to mention, Joel’s coming over this morning to take a look at starting that work in the attic, you’ll be around to let him in, won’t you?” 

You tried to keep as nonchalant as possible at your dad’s voice, “Yeah, I’ll be here.” 

A house to yourself with Joel Miller, of course you’d be here, there was no-where else you’d rather be. Once your parents had eaten and stacked their dishes for you to wash up in your free time later, you raced upstairs to your room, dragging out the tightest pair of shorts you owned and a low-cut tank top. You’d never been the type to play into this sort of thing – if someone wanted you, then they could want you in your baggy jeans and jumpers, but Joel was different, and you knew it. You’d seen it the last time, how he fought to the last second not to give into you and his desires, you didn’t want to give him a reason to do it again. 

You made quick work of hopping in the shower before pulling your clothes on, choosing a coloured bra to sit under your white tank top, but deciding against underwear beneath your shorts. Then you sat on couch and waited, anticipation rising with every minute there wasn’t a knock on the door. It took him another hour to arrive – the knock at the door dragging a gasp of surprise from your lips. 

You practically ran to the front door, stopping only to run a hand through your hair and take a deep breath before you opened it. It never mattered where or when you saw him, he was always fucking gorgeous. Like now, stood in front of you, toolbox in hand, dark t-shirt and jeans clinging to him, hair mused and a smirk on his lips. 

“Sorry I’m late sugar,” He breathes, “Had to cover a job first thing for Tommy.” 

“That’s alright,” You smile, leaning against the door so he can walk past, “You want a drink of anything?” 

You were slightly put out that he hadn’t immediately bent his head and planted a kiss to your lips, but you weren’t going to be a brat about it. At least not yet. 

“Water’ll be just fine thanks,” He says over his shoulder as he’s moving towards the stairs, “I’m just gonna get started, don’t let me interrupt you.” 

You’re not interrupting anything is what you want to say, but he’s already taking the stairs two at a time, as if he’s in a rush to get away from you. It hurts, but you try and swallow your pride for now. He wasn’t going to get away with it that easily. 

You fill up a glass of water from the fridge with some ice, it’s hot after all, before you head upstairs. He’s already got the ladder from the attic down and is searching through his toolbox for what he needs, setting each different tool on his utility belt when he finds it. 

“You want me to pass this up to you once you’ve tackled the ladder, Miller?” You ask. 

He turns to you with his hand on one of the ladder rungs, “I’d be much obliged, sweetheart.” 

You swear that he takes each step of the ladder excruciatingly slow just for your benefit, but you aren’t going to complain – it affords you a glorious view of his ass, fitting tightly into his jeans – had he done that to you on purpose, just like you did for him? You watch intently as he turns and kneels and sticks his hand down for the glass of water. You pass it to him, and he does exactly what he did with his bottle of beer on the weekend, grabs it exactly where your hand is so his fingers brush against yours. Lighting a fuse right through your body. If you could spontaneously catch fire you think this would have done it.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, just shout.” 

You flop yourself down on the couch, huffing out an annoyed breath as you reach for the magazine you’d been trying to read before he arrived. Thinking it would be easier to concentrate on now Joel was working away upstairs, you’re sorely mistaken. Your eyes glaze over the same two sentences – it’s an advice column, some housewife wanting to know how she could make her husband want her again after months of living in a dead bedroom. You don’t pretend to care, you look down to the bottom of the column – Andrea, 48. What you really want the editor to say in response is that Andrea should cut her losses, find someone younger, fitter and more handsome and sack off her obviously boring husband. What they really say is that she can spice things up by wearing sexy lingerie and being spontaneous, maybe you can try taking sex out of the bedroom for things to feel newer and more exciting. 

They’d got that much right. Your brain is drifting back to Saturday night, sat on Joel’s lap with his thick fingers moving in and out of your pussy. That had been new and exciting. Maybe Andrea should try that with her own husband. 

You sigh and throw the magazine to the ground – nothing is going to stop the bubbling lust and frustration in your stomach. Nothing except for what you really want, and that Joel, peeling your clothes off and seating himself so deep inside you that you can’t think properly. You can hear him banging around in the attic, unsure of what he’s actually doing. 

Before you know what you’re doing, one of your hands is making quick work of undoing the button on your shorts, moving them just enough so you can slip your hand below the material. Your ears focus on sound of Joel’s footsteps in the distance. You bet there’s a thin film of sweat on his skin up there, you think as your fingers dip to the entrance of your pussy, finding yourself just as wet as you were on the weekend. Maybe he’s taken his shirt off, you think as the slick you’d gathered on your fingers make sliding them over your clit easier. The mental vision of the muscles in his back rippling as he bends to work and the way his arms would tense make bringing yourself to the edge of oblivion a piece of cake, but it’s the final vision you have of him pushing you against the dank attic wall and pounding into you that has you coming. You bite down on your hand to stop yourself from making noise, convulsing on the couch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

There was a slight feeling of embarrassment that sat through your stomach for a moment when you’d realized you’d gotten yourself whilst Joel was unaware upstairs. You quickly buttoned up your shorts and placed an arm over your eyes whilst you tried to catch your breath and before you could stop yourself you were drifting off to sleep. 

You woke with a start God knows how long later, the sound of something hitting the ground drawing you from your dreamless nap. You sat up and rubbed at your eyes and saw Joel setting his toolbox by the front door. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You mumble, pushing yourself off the couch. 

“S’alright,” He smiles at you, “S’your house.” 

“You get everything done?” You ask. 

He shakes his head, “Gonna be a big job up there, don’t have the stuff to finish it all today.” 

You nod like you understand, “Anything else on today?” 

He smirks at you like he knows what you’re thinking, “Nope,” is all he says, “You?” 

You match his smirk, “Nope, convenient huh?” He nods, “You want a drink?” 

You look at the clock on the wall, it’s nearing 2pm, “Beer?” 

“Yes ma’am.”

You try and push down the arousal that pooled in your stomach at that. It hadn’t been two hours since you’d gotten yourself off but God there was just something about this man that made your blood run hot and turned you into something akin to a dog in heat. He follows behind you as you go to the kitchen, gratefully accepting the ice-cold beer that you’d popped the cap off. 

You stand at opposite sides of the kitchen – Joel leant up against the counter near the sink, you doing similar against the breakfast island. It’s silent as you both eye one another up, taking languid sips of beer as you do so. You could cut the tension in here with a fucking knife. You made the first move last time, it’s his turn to do it. 

“Y’know you don’t have to wear that kinda stuff for me, don’t ya?” His eyebrow is cocked, and you know he’s talking about the shorts that barely cover your ass and the blue bra he can clearly see through your top. 

“Shall I take them off then?” 

He’s leant against the kitchen counter, looking as casual as can be, but you don’t miss the way his eyes darken, glazed with lust. He takes another drink of his beer before setting the bottle down, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised. 

“You wanna see me naked, Joel Miller?” 

“You want me to see you naked?” He counters.

“You’re in charge baby, you need to tell me what you want.” You dare. 

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he’s thinking before he’s unraveling his arms from his chest, “Well, in that case, come over here and kiss me.” 

Your feet are moving before he’s even finished speaking, closing the gap between you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes as his own arms wrap around your waist as his dips his head and wastes no time connecting your lips together. As soon as they do you can feel the tension dripping from your body, pooling on the floor as if it never existed. 

Joel’s got you pulled flush to his body, warmth radiating through the material covering your bodies as his mouth opens and he’s swiping his tongue across your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth and bites down slightly. He slips his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the slight bite of pain from his teeth, which is quickly forgotten when you can taste him on your mouth. The slight yeast from the beer, something minty, suggesting he’d been chewing gum whilst working and the inevitable flavour that’s just pure Joel that you cannot place.

His hands are slipping down from your waist to cup your ass – hands on bare skin where the globes of your ass meet the back on your thighs, dragging you further into him. You can feel his own arousal prodding between you which has a moan tumbling from your lips, swallowed by Joel’s own mouth as he continues to lick into your mouth. 

His hands are sliding around to the front of your shorts, deftly undoing the button, not unlike how you’d done it just a few hours before. His hand is snaking down into the material and then he’s pulling away from your lips, a groan of frustration leaving your mouth as he does so. 

“What’s this?” He asks, brushing his fingers along the seam of your pussy, “Didn’t wanna bother with lace today?” 

“Saving time.” You mumble, a sigh leaving your lips as his fingers move lower. 

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart, are you always this wet?” He groans when one of his finger’s dips slightly between your folds. 

“Only for you,” Another sigh, “I… fuck, Joel…” You’re trying to get your words out but the way he’s brushing your slick up the seam of your pussy but neglecting your clit means it’s hard to concentrate, “I touched myself, thinking of you.” 

He stops dead in his tracks, pulling his face away from you, “When?” He demands. 

You turn your head to look at the clock behind you, “Probably two hours ago now.” 

He growls, gripping you tightly to his body, “You filthy girl,” You can do nothing but grin, “You touched your pussy whilst I was upstairs?” 

You nod, moving so you can press a kiss to his neck, “Show me.” He asks. 

There’s confusion on your face when you pull back, “You don’t need me, obviously, so show me how you touched yourself whilst I was slaving away upstairs.” 

He pushes you away from his body gently, and you’re going to turn around to walk somewhere to lie down and give him a show, but he’s stopping you, “Do it here,” He’s motioning his hand for you to stay in the kitchen, “Come on sweetheart, don’t keep me waitin’.” 

You take your place leant back against the kitchen counter, running your hand down your body before it dips into your shorts. Joel’s eyes are staring holes into your skin as your fingers dip to your seeping hole, you let your eyes flutter closed as you gather your slick on your fingers, bringing it up to circle your clit. This time when you want to moan, you don’t bite down on anything, moaning Joel’s name as loud as you please. 

When you open your eyes, fingers not letting up on pleasuring yourself, you can see him in a similar position to yours, palming himself through his jeans at the show you’re putting on, “Does it feel good, sweetheart?” He coos from across the kitchen, “Bet I’d make you feel even better, right?” 

“Oh god, Joel, please-” You gasp as you speed up the circles on your clit, “I want you to touch me.” 

He chuckles as he steps forward to meet you, trapping you against the kitchen island with an arm on either side of you. He’s pressing kisses behind your ear but is making no attempt to touch you past that. Fingers still firmly pressing against your clit, you grind your hips forward into his own, “Oh baby,” He whispers, “D’ya need some help?” You nod, “What d’ya want from me?” 

“Fingers-” You gasp out, “Put your fingers inside me.” 

He kisses your neck, using his hands to push your shorts from your legs, letting them drop to the floor, before he’s kicking at one of your ankles to push your legs further apart. Then, he’s sinking one of his deliciously thick fingers right into your seeping cunt, causing you to cry out. 

“It’s alright babygirl,” He chuckles against your skin, “Makin’ you feel good, right?”

He’s pulling his finger back out of your pussy before adding another one when he pushes them back in, “Can feel how tight you are, already, you gonna come for me?” 

“Fuck-” You exclaim when he’s curling his fingers up inside you whilst his mouth drags hot trails across your collarbone, “Don’t stop, please-” You beg, “So fucking close Joel.” 

“Good girl, show me how good I make you feel.” 

With the incessant rubbing you’re doing over your clit and the curve of Joel’s fingers inside you, you come undone. His name is almost shouted from your lips and you can feel his free hand on your waist, keeping you upright. On Saturday he’d worked you through the aftershocks, but not today, he’s pulling his fingers from your pussy, shoving them into your mouth and watching as you lick yourself off him. Then his tongue is back in your mouth and he's grinding his bulge against you whilst he laps up the taste of you on your mouth. 

“Fuck, you taste so good babygirl,” He’s whispering once he’s pulled away, “One day I’m gonna spread you out and spend hours with my head between your thighs.” 

Heat flushes through your body – you want to respond but you don’t have time. He’s turning you around and with a hand placed gently on the nape of your neck, he’s pushing you forward so your body is spread over the kitchen island. You can hear him unbuckling his belt behind you and you can’t quite believe this is about to happen. 

When you hear the material of his jeans hit the floor you swear you can feel yourself drip down the inside of your thigh, you’re that turned on. 

“I’m gonna fuck you sweetheart,” His body is towering behind yours as his hands take your hips and pull you back, “That okay?”

You nod and moan out a ‘yes please’ as he’s lining himself up behind you. You can feel the head of his cock sliding between your folds before Joel is sinking into you from behind. He’s slow because he knows it’s a tight fit, despite all your preparation the feeling of him stretching you is bordering on uncomfortable, but you just can’t get enough. He stills himself when he’s buried inside you to the hilt. You can hear his gasps and his heavy breathing behind you as he tries to calm himself down. 

“Fuckin’ Christ baby, you’re fuckin’ tight around my cock.” 

“Feel so full Joel,” You moan back at him, hands gripping at the kitchen island as he pulls back and thrusts himself back into you, “You’re so fucking big.” 

You can hear him chuckle as his hands grip tighter at your hips, you’re convinced you’re going to have finger shaped bruises there, “That’s right babygirl,” He pulls out once more and thrusts back into your tight heat with more force than before that has you crying out, “Look at you,” He praises, “All spread out in your daddy’s kitchen gettin’ fucked by his best friend.” 

It's filth but by God it’s doing the job, the way his voice is deeper, and his words are peppered with groans and gasps as he starts fucking you in earnest. You can feel your pussy clenching around him with each thrust, any feeling of discomfort long gone, replaced just with an intense feeling of fullness peppered with ecstasy. 

You feel a hand come back to the nape of your neck, travelling higher until it’s tangled in your hair, yanking you backwards so your back is arched. You can feel Joel’s hips snapping into your ass, the new arch of your back has his cock hitting a spot inside you that has spots blurring your vision. 

All you can do is chant his name and let moans drop from your lips as his pace picks up again. He’s turned your brain to mush, not that you’re complaining. If you could keep the both of you here forever, locked in this state of secret pleasure then you would. 

“Sweetheart,” He chokes out behind you, hand still wrapped in your hair, “I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yes Joel, please-” You cry out, “Please give it to me.” 

“So fuckin’ pretty sweetheart,” He groans behind you, “Beggin’ me for my cum like a good girl.” 

When he pulls himself fully from your pussy you almost cry in frustration until you feel the warmth of his cum spreading over the cheeks of your ass. You can hear him moaning your name, one hand still firmly gripping your hip, the other, you assume, fisting his cock. When you’re sure he’s finished you let your forehead drop to the cool countertop whilst you catch your breath. 

You’re vaguely aware of Joel pulling his jeans back on and the sound of the tap running behind you. The feeling of a warm cloth spreading across your ass as he cleans his spend off you. It’s almost robotic as he gathers you and turns you round, bending down to shimmy your shorts back up and over your hips. He even does the button up for you. 

“You okay?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

You smile, exhaustion settling into your bones as he holds you, “Never better.” 

“Hope I wasn’t too rough sweetheart.” 

“I don’t mind,” You smirk, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips, “Want you to make me sore so whenever I move I remember this.” 

“You can’t be real babygirl,” He’s chuckling, “You keep sayin’ things like that and I’ll never leave.” 

You’re pulled from your post-coital bliss by the sound of a car door slamming out front. Your eyes widen and so do Joel’s. You quickly glance at the clock and realise he’s had you bent over the kitchen counter for far longer than you’d anticipated. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He’s mumbling, making sure he kisses your lips firmly, “I gotta get outta here, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“Okay.” You nod with a smile, you fucking hope so. 

He leaves with a squeeze of your hand, jogging to the door to grab his toolbox. You hear the door open and then he’s greeting your mother with a ‘Hello ma’am, good day?’ – you can just about hear your mother recounting her day to him and then asking him how the work in the attic went. 

“Went fine, still a fair bit to do so just let me know when y’all are going to be out again in the week and I’ll come back to finish up.” 

“Well, you know we work all week and I’m sure that one in there won’t mind a little banging about from you.” 

Oh if only you knew mom, if only you knew. 

[mykoreanlove]

Schooled

„So what, you ghosted her?“

Hyunjin took a big sip of his drink, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

„I didn’t ghost her. I just… stopped contacting her.“

Felix rolled his eyes in annoyance, not understanding why his friend was acting so stupidly.

„Let me get this straight. You kind of slept with her twice, asked her out on dates. You even told her what you had planned and how badly you wanted to get to know her properly and talk and then you just stopped contacting her?“

Hyunjin took another sip, slightly uncomfortable.

„I shouldn’t have asked her out on that date“, he soundly confessed.

„Why not?“

Finally, Hyunjin looked up at his friend.

„What good would that do?“

Now it was Felix who was downing his drink, growing more and more annoyed.

„You like y/n, don’t you?“

„Sure“, Hyunjin answered.

„You think she’s gorgeous and cute?“

„Absolutely.“

„You think she’s attractive and sexy?“

„Without a doubt.“

„And you also think she’s smart and funny?“

„Yeah, very much.“

„Then why the hell did you reject her, Hyunjin?“

„Cause it’s the only thing to do“, he answered dryly.

„Okay buddy, you need to elaborate more because I for sure can’t keep up“, Felix sighed in frustration.

„It’s just.. when I see her I get all giddy and such. I want to hold her and kiss her and take her out on dates and spoil her. Like I want to show her off because she’s that special. But when I’m alone, I can’t help but think…“

„Yeah?“

„I can’t help but think that this is a mistake“, he finally blurted out.

„And why is that?“

„Because I know me. I know how love works for me. It’s going to be fine for a minute but then she’s going to break my heart. Like they always do.“

„So, that’s why you’re playing hot and cold with her? Because you’re afraid of getting hurt again?“

Felix eyes got all watery, he held so much compassion for his friend, especially when he was imprisoned in his own nightmares.

„Yeah“, Hyunjin confessed as he downed the rest of his drink.

„It’s better for me to stay away from her. She should find someone that’s better than me. Someone like you, or Chan“, Hyunjin explained.

„Sorry, but that’s just stupid“, Felix blurted out.

Hyunjin looked up from his drink, surprised by his friend‘s harsh words.

„Stupid?“, he asked.

„Yeah. Hyunjin, I get that your heart has been broken. Not only once or twice but thrice actually. And I’m sorry that they cheated on you but now what? You’re going to close off your heart forever? What if y/n is the best thing that could ever happen to you? And you’re going to let her go because of what, past pain?“

Hyunjin‘s eyes filled with tears as he listened to Felix‘ words.

„Hyunjin“, he said as he grabbed his hands tightly, „that’s no way to live life, don’t you think?“

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (2)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 3K

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, attempted murder?

PART 2 ✧˖°.

The ground was a soothing anchor for your rampant thoughts which all seemed to recede as you laid on the plush grass, its touch on your skin soothing. The stars reflected in your eyes, spanning as far as the eye could see, only obstructed by the mountain ranges surrounding you, capped with ice that shone under the twinkling night sky. The breeze kissed your cheeks and rustled the leaves on the trees that lined the lake gurgling few feet away from you, the sound of ripples caused by the breeze a tranquil sound in your ears. If you weren't already dreaming you would have succumbed to a peaceful slumber long ago. But as a matter of fact you were, and it was no mistaking that, provided you always dreamt of this scenic place. Regardless of the time of the day or the night, you always found yourself here, in midst of what you could only call 'a slice of heaven'. You buried your fingers in the grass, exhaling a deep breath of contentment and let your eyelids droop down, embracing the sound of the howling wind muffled by the river's constant churning. Hours passed by and the dark slowly began to fade away, the sky preparing itself for sunrise. Soon it would be time for you to wake up, you thought dismally. You felt a gaze on you and your eyes opened to catch a blur of darkness staring at you but it only remained a blur because when you blinked it was gone. 'Strange,' you mused to yourself. No one had ever crossed your path here. From the beginning of time, or well the beginning of the past four years when you had stumbled across the agency, you had always been here alone. Just as you began convincing yourself that it was just a trick played by the light, your alarm rang throughout the vast expanse. 

"Ugh," you groaned as you slammed the alarm clock, probably fracturing it a bit.

But it was of no use as the awfully cheery voice of Charles greeted your ears, "Wakey wakey sunshine, the day is new."

He opened the blinds to your window and piercing sunlight entered your eyes.

"Mate are you trying to blind me?" You grumbled in your pillow, turning your head in the other direction. 

"Come on! Wake up," Charles pulled your blanket away.

You opened one eye and squinted at your phone screen, "It is 7 in the morning there is absolutely no reason for any man or ghost to be happy and have that amount of energy at this hour.”

"The sun is shining and the flowers are blooming. It's the best time to live life.”

"Yeah coming from a ghost.”

Your back creaked under the weight of Charles' body as he tried to annoy you into getting up by imparting physical pain. 

"Get off me, you creature!" You mindlessly grabbed his face with your nails but he pinned your arms behind your back.

You tried to wiggle your way free but in vain, "Get. Off. Me."

"Only if you get up as soon as I release you.”

Rendered optionless you huffed, "fine you arse.”

Charles freed his hold on you and you sat up, rubbing your eyes hoping to rid the exhaustion away. 

"Good morning," Charles smiled. 

"Morning," you yawned. 

"Breakfast is getting cold!" Edwin's voice boomed through your apartment. 

"Be right there," you called back. 

You stepped down from your bed and made your way to the bathroom when you halted in your tracks, your reflection peered at you, an enraged expression on its face. Your t-shirt was soiled with blood, your favourite t-shirt. You had almost forgotten about that and you sent a 'I will butcher you alive' actually more like 'I will butcher your ghost' look in Charles' direction who seemed to discern it very well because he wasted not a second in dashing out of your room.

Your coffee mug stared at you, your hands enclosed around it with their initial purpose of warming themselves made useless with your coffee now cold. The contents swirled inside, undissolved sugar twinkling amidst the dark liquid, reminding you of your dream and the odd addition to it last night.

"You okay?" Edwin's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah I am fine."

"So is the coffee that bad?"

"Eh it’s passable," you scrunched your nose. 

"Edwin I for one think it surpasses excellence," Charles piped in.

"Calm down dude he is not handing out golden stars.”

Charles' only reply was a scowl.

"Thankyou Charles,” Edwin placed his hand on the brunette ghost beside him. 

"Get a room." It was your turn to scowl, earning looks from both of them.

You gulped your coffee down and collected the utensils to deposit them in the sink while the boys pushed the chairs back and rearranged the furniture slightly for what was to follow. 

"I guess we are ready," Edwin spoke and you used that as a cue to open the doors.

"And so we begin.” 

The clicking of your pen echoed in the room. You were half in your chair, while your upper half was rested against the table, eyes boring into the ceiling. 

"Since when did ghosts become so lame?" Charles spoke from his place, legs crossed on the table, touching your head and an apple and a knife in his hand.

It was 4 hours since you opened the gates to the ghosts to hear out their woes and help them cross into a peaceful afterlife. But none of them had presented a case worth pursuing, for all you three wanted more than aiding the distressed was an adventure, an adrenaline rush, gears put to work inside the brain. Yet today every case was solved by asking a few more questions, a remedy supplied by Edward's intellectual mind or some probing by you. After all ghosts trusted you. 

"Since uh you died," you quipped.

But just as Charles opened his mouth to use whatever comeback he had thought of, the doors opened once again with such gusto that it sent the papers on the table flying.

"You have to help me,” A girl's voice pleaded.

"So this is it," you muttered to your ghost buddies who were currently wearing skins of two police officials as you all watched the scene on the opposite side of the street. 

People in uniform bustled about the scene of the crime which they had ruled a 'suicide'. The parents of the girl who had dropped from the roof were huddled in a corner, fresh tears flowing down their already tear stained faces as her corpse was put into a body bag. Your heart weighed down under the sudden sadness enveloping it. The street was silent except the beeping emitting from the ambulance and police cars. The girl's ghost on the other hand was waiting at your place and you were so grateful for that decision, seeing her own body and her parents so broken would have devastated her.

"God it is horrible," Charles voiced aloud your thoughts.

"Come on Charles," Edwin said in a startling female voice. 

"God Charles why do you always have to make him a woman?"

"It suits him," he drawled.

"More like suits your fantasies huh?" 

You were met by Edwin's soft blow on your head, "ow sorry.”

"Ok Hazel, Charles and I will question the victim's parents and provide you with an opportunity to sneak inside. Search the building for any signs of a ghost and wait for us to join you. Be careful, she seemed pretty intent that she didn't commit suicide."

You were about to nod when you caught a glimpse of dark hair retreating behind the house as if you had caught them watching you. 

"Hazel?"

"Huh.” You looked up at Edwin. 

"Is the plan clear to you?" 

"Crystal."

Who was that guy? It eerily reminded you of the blur of darkness in your dream. You tucked your curiosity away for later and brought your focus on the case. It's more important right now.

"Hello?" you called out into the scaffolding. It seemed their house was going through renovation when the incident happened. You shuddered when the images of her parents popped up in your mind.

A clank of metal made you whip your head around. It was nothing, just a piece of construction metal had fallen down. The ground floor provided with no clues, no proof of anything paranormal so you approached the staircase leading upstairs. Sun shone bleakly through the crevices of the area of the house that was being reconstructed. You gripped the banister and began climbing. Wait, was that? Surely not? But as you neared the landing the unmistakable sound of whimpering reached you. They had the entire house cleared right?  No one was supposed to be here. Not someone living atleast. The thud of your boots on the wooden floor quieted the whimpers. Should have worn sneakers, I knew it. 

Still you were determined to find the source of the whimpering and you called out into the silence again, "Hello? Is anyone there? I am here to help." 

No reply. You opened the door on your right and scanned the room but no presence was there. Who were you kidding, like luck is something you know.

As you were closing the door, you spotted a figure hunched on their knees in the corner of the room. Luck and you? That was something new. You made your way to them, to her you realised as the distance shortened between you two. 

"Hey, are you okay?" you spoke in a hushed tone, scared you would startle her. 

The girl, just a teenager, tilted her head up at you, her eyes widened, "You-you can see me?" She managed out.

She had the same auburn hair as the ghost at your apartment and the same dip in her nose.

"Are you a ghost?" She bit her lips.

"I can sweetheart and no I am very much alive, unfortunately."

You bent down to her level, "What are you doing here?"

Your soft tone was merely your politeness, giving her the illusion of choice when you knew she had no other option than to answer your question. 

Another whimper escaped her and she opened her mouth when Charles voice rumbled from downstairs, "Hazel?"

You turned your head away and called his name back, "I am up here!" 

But when you looked back, the girl was gone. You swiveled your head around trying to locate her but there was no sight of her. 

Footsteps grew louder until they reached you and Edwin's voice said, "It's messier than we imagined."

"Yeah?" you asked absentmindedly.

"Turns out the folks outside had two daughters. And guess what happened to the other?" Charles joined the conversation.

Both of them had shed their disguises.

"She died.”

"She die-" Edwin stopped midway.

"How do you know?" He perked his eyebrow.

"Because I think I just saw her.”

"What?" Both of them exclaimed in unison. 

"But how is that possible? She died 5 years ago." 

"Must be one hell of an unfinished business,” you shrugged.

"Isn't it weird that the sister never mentioned her? Like I don’t know about people but if I had a dead sibling who died in the same spot I did, I would atleast mention it," Charles reasoned. 

"God knows man.” You rubbed your forehead.

"Thanks but I do not.” 

You only rolled your eyes at his response, mind too occupied connecting the pieces. "We have to find the girl. She was just here."

"Seems the right course of action to do. Let's split up."

You both nodded in reply to Edwin and went your paths. You searched room after room without any result. 

You began your way back when you spotted him. "Edwin? Charles?" You called to the stoic figure at the end of the corridor. “Is that you?"

But the black robes, the wild mop of the darkest hair, and the air around him that seemed to tingle with his presence was reply enough for you. 

"Who are you?" The words left your lips.

But in the blink of an eye, same as in your dream, he vanished, leaving a befuddled you behind. What the fuck just happened?

You turned around only to be met by the suicide girl who actually did have a name. "Oh hi Aura. What-what are you doing here?"

"I am sorry, I just couldn't wait on my own, wondering-what-that I-"

"I get it.” You quelled her unnecessary rambling. "You can stay here with us and help us locate your sister." 

"My-my sister?" Her eyes widened in fear?

"Yes," you said hesitantly. "Why didn't you tell us about her?"

"It can't be. No no no-" she backed into a corner. 

"Aura?" you voice was laced with concern and caution.

"Hazel! You won't fucking believe this." Charles approached you, slightly out of breath and froze when he saw the auburn hair.

"Hazel- get away from her," he said sternly. 

Confusion must be evident on your face because he repeated his words. "Get away from her, she murdered her sister."

What?

"No no! She is lying!" the ghost screamed, "That prick is lying!"

Charles wasted no second in divulging into his backpack to procure shackles that could bind any ghost, except the one using them.

Before you could ask Aura the question yourself to confirm the truth, she lunged for you. You kicked her in the chest and ran forward but her hands clamped against your mouth, a cool metal blade pressed against the skin of your neck. Where the fuck did she get a knife from? Oh Charles' bloody apple.

"You use that on me, and I won't hesitate to have her join this ghost party."

"Aura," Charles warned. 

Her grip tightened and Charles faltered, "ok ok ok, here." He put the shackles back. "Just let her go."

"Stay there,” she ordered. 

"Please, just let her go," his voice quaked.

She retreated back, the knife still on your throat, towards the stairs. If only you could free your mouth from her grasp. Charles moved forward. 

"Don't you dare," she seethed.

She reached the stairs and you hoped she'd let you go now. But she grinned toothily and slashed her knife across your neck. A clank, a thud. But all you could process was the droplets of blood dripping down as you fell to the floor. Charles was beside you in two quick strides.

His tone was urgent, "are you okay?"

"To be honest I thought cutting your neck would be a much bloodier disaster.”

"It's because you didn't cut your fucking neck you idiot," he chuckled softly. 

But the blood? You brought your hands to your cheek and the blood smeared your fingers, it was just a scratch. 

"But how?" You sat up. 

"I have no freaking clue. It just happened. One second I thought you were going to die and the next-” He looked down where the stairs ended. 

Aura's body was lying on the ground. Unconscious. And there seemed to be...sand? around her. 

Your bones clunked against each other at the crushing embrace of Charles' hug. 

"Oh you sappy boy.” You ruffled his hair. 

He pulled back, his eyes weary with emotion. 

You took his hand. “I love you too idiot.” 

You both smiled at that. 

"Right I better shackle her incase you know, the maniac wakes up.”

"Sounds alright, I will go check up on Edwin.”

"He is on the roof with the little sister.”

You made your way up onto the roof. Edwin seemed to be talking gently with her, trying to coax out the details of her murder and her sister's. Right  you still had no idea who murdered Aura.

"Finally, what on Earth took you so lo-" Edwin's gaze fixated on your cheek. "What happened?"

"All sorted.”

Edwin accepted your answer hesitantly. Then said, "I am afraid I give up. She is all yours.”

You went to the scared teenager and asked her, "will you tell me what happened?"

"So let me just get this straight. Aura murdered her sister accidentally 5 years ago. And then her sister murdered her as revenge yesterday," Charles stated in disbelief.

"Precisely.”

"That's what I suppose healthy family relations look like. I am so envious," Charles said.

"Boy do they give greek mythology some competition," you added.

The three of you turned around, now a safe distance from Death's grasp and waited for her to reap the two souls. Soon, the air tickled with electricity, pronouncing her entrance. It strangely reminded you of the man in the corridor. It was always so surreal to see Death do her work. Blue light coated the roof in an ethereal glimmer as she took the scared soul perched on it to the sunless lands. She had accepted her flaws and fate and the price to be paid had lightened. The wings flew downwards where Aura was shackled and a surprising red painted the windows, perhaps the darkest shade you had witnessed till now. You knew her redemption wouldn't be pleasant but that seemed a tad extreme. The slight quiver in the boys beside you meant they thought the same. 

"That...was something." 

"Something might be an understatement," you spoke.

"Well job officially jobbed," Charles concluded.

You were tidying up your bed to make space for yourself, sleep a welcoming pull in your body. After a refreshing bath and some horrific birdshit Charles had cooked up that was meant to taste like potatoes according to him, you were ready to give in to your exhaustion. Your hair was still wet against your skin, the cool touch pleasing. You went to the mirror, taking some ointment in your fingers for your cheek and looked up to find a set of dark eyes on you in the mirror's glass. You whipped around, the tube falling to the floor and finally saw the mysterious stranger in full light. Black coat brushing the floor, hair equally black and eyes even darker, matching the night sky outside your window. 

His lips parted, "Hello Hazel."

A/N: i know there is a profound lack of dream atp but dw it has just started. and edwin and charles are aged up in this story to be in their early 20s. well technically they are decades old but even in their ghost form they are just not teenagers to me ahsk.

SERIES MASTERLIST✧˖°

[unreliablesnake]

Tough love (Simon Riley x reader)

Note: A sad story for Valentine’s Day? Yeah, I’m sorry for ruining the mood. Tough choice is the first part but you don’t need it.

Ghost kept his distance. All you knew was his last name and his sleeping preference—sleeping for two or three hours at a time, usually in the most uncomfortable positions—nothing more, nothing less. He was strict; he was barking orders all the time, yelling your head off without even raising his voice, and giving you long lectures after the smallest mistakes.

Sometimes you thought the decision to join the 141 had been a mistake. If you were working with Price, there would be no problem. But Ghost? It felt like a nightmare most of the time. Nothing you did was right, there were approximately two times when he complimented you in the past year and that was it.

But one day while you were looking for cover on the field, a bullet grazed the microphone on your neck, successfully destroying the only equipment that kept you in touch with your superior. Despite the damage, you could still hear him. You could hear the panic in his voice, the desperate trying to get in touch with you.

“Come on, tell me you’re okay. You got out of my sight, but I saw you were shot,” he said. You wanted to answer, you wanted to tell him you were okay, but there was no way to do that. “Please, say something. I’m begging you, love.”

Love.

This was a first. He had never shown any sign of having a soft spot for you; quite the opposite, actually. You always had a feeling that you were bothering him, that maybe he would prefer to work alone rather than having to rely on your help.

But now here you were, listening to the lieutenant silently cursing to himself as he clearly tried to figure out where you were hiding. He told you he was coming for you. He told you to stay put if you could hear him. So you stayed where he said you should be waiting for him, locking the door and waiting for the three knocks that would give away it was him.

And then came the gunfire, followed by the knocks two minutes later. You opened the door without hesitation and were greeted by the familiar skull mask, but you didn’t have the chance to say anything because he pulled you into a tight hug. Hesitantly, but you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his chest.

“You’re bleeding,” he noted when he let you go and cleared his throat.

You raised your hand to your neck and saw the red liquid that tainted your skin. “Oh,” was all you said. You didn’t even notice. Must have been the adrenaline.

Ghost put a hand on the healthy side of your neck and pushed your head to the side by putting his thumb on your chin. “It’s not that deep. You’ll live.”

You gulped and tried to nod, which wasn’t an easy task given he still kept your head tilted. The silence that fell between you was something new, something you had never experienced. It felt like you were in the company of a good friend, even though you knew he barely tolerated you. Yet a small part of you that lurked somewhere in the background was trying to point out the elephant in the room.

Love.

He had called you that. Why? You desperately needed an answer to this question, but you didn’t know how to bring it up. So you remained silent and followed his instructions like a good girl. The two of you stayed together for the rest of the mission, and by four in the morning you were in the CIA safe house that Laswell offered you two.

“Why did you call me love?” you brought this up when you were both getting ready to sleep for a few hours.

He gave you a surprised look. “I didn’t.”

“You did,” you informed him, “when you tried to reach me after I was shot. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I did.”

Ghost cursed under his breath as he turned away and ran a hand over his masked face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” Hesitantly, but you put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. When he turned around, you noticed that there was a troubled look in his eyes now. “I know you’re probably expecting some big confession from me, but I can’t give you that. Go to sleep, we’ll leave in the morning,” he said.

Things went on as if nothing had happened that night. One mission followed another, you didn’t even have time to go home and sleep in your own bed, but at the moment you knew it was for the better. You didn’t think about that conversation, or about that cold shoulder he had been giving you for weeks now. Gaz noticed that something was off, and he clearly told the captain about his suspicion since he one day asked Ghost to talk to him in his office about something.

You only knew it was related to the tension between you because Ghost avoided you after that conversation. Maybe this was for the better. Maybe it was a sign that you should take an offer you got from Phillip Graves. Again. That guy didn’t give up, he offered you more money, better conditions, and the position as his right hand.

So you knocked on the door of Price’s office one day, taking deep breaths to calm yourself before the conversation. When you stepped inside, you found Ghost there, sitting in the chair across from the captain. You nodded with your hands folded behind your back, waiting for the lieutenant to leave or your superior to say it was okay to talk in his presence.

“What can I do for you?” Price asked with a smile, his blue eyes shining as he watched you.

Oh, how fast this happy shine will disappear once you tell him about your plan. You felt kind of bad for him. And Ghost? His eyes were darkened and emotionless. Letting out a long sigh, you took a step forward and gave Price the piece of paper you had in your hand.

“I’m leaving the 141,” you announced.

The captain groaned as he took a look at the letter. It was official, you were allowed to leave not just the task force, but the CIA as well. Laswell knew, but you had asked her not to warn her friend. Not until you had everything settled.

“Excuse me,” you suddenly heard Ghost say, then he was out the door before you could stop him.

Not like you wanted him to stay. There was nothing left to say. You didn’t feel comfortable or appreciated, so the best option for now was leaving. You weren’t running away like a coward. No. You just knew your worth.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Unspoken Attraction CL16

Let me know if you want to be add in the taglist !

Warnings : none

Chapter 9 : The chase for forgiveness

The Austrian Grand Prix ended in a blur for Charles. Though he secured a respectable P4, his heart wasn’t in it. Every moment outside the car, he searched for you, hoping for a chance to talk, to explain, to apologize. But you were a ghost—there, yet always just out of reach. 

He had spent the past week agonizing over his mistakes, replaying every word, every decision that led to this fracture. Pierre’s warning still echoed in his mind: Prove it. To her. And now, that’s all he could think about—proving to you that his feelings weren’t fleeting, that he was serious about you. 

Charles found Pierre in the Alpine motorhome; his usual confident stride subdued. He approached cautiously, unsure if Pierre’s earlier willingness to listen still held. 

“Pierre,” Charles started, standing awkwardly in the doorway. 

The Frenchman glanced up; his expression guarded. “What’s up mate?” 

“I need your help,” Charles said, his voice steady despite the vulnerability coursing through him. 

Pierre raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah of course, anything, help with what?” 

“With your sister, I don’t know how to approach her.” Charles said shyly. 

Pierre’s eyes narrowed as he studied Charles, searching for any sign of insincerity. “You shy with a girl?” He chuckles a little. “And what exactly are you asking me to do?” 

Charles took a deep breath. “She won’t talk to me. I’ve tried everything, but she’s avoiding me, and I can’t blame her. But if I’m going to make this right, I need her to give me a chance. I need you to convince her to listen.” 

Pierre remained silent for a long moment, his protective instincts battling with his growing understanding of Charles’s genuine feelings. 

But then he sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re putting me in a hell of a position, you know that?” 

“I know,” Charles said. “And I’m sorry. But I swear, I won’t hurt her again. I can’t.” 

Pierre studied him for another long moment before nodding slowly. “Fine. I’ll talk to her. But if she says no, you leave her alone. Understood?” 

“Understood,” Charles said, relief washing over him. 

Later that evening, Pierre found you in the Alpine hospitality area, scrolling through your phone. He approached cautiously, sitting down across from you. 

“What’s up?” you asked, glancing at him. 

“We need to talk,” Pierre said, his tone serious. 

You frowned, setting your phone down. “About what?” 

“Charles,” Pierre said, watching your expression carefully. 

Your face hardened instantly, and you crossed your arms. “I don’t want to talk about him.” 

“Too bad,” Pierre said bluntly. “Because he’s not giving up on you, and I think you need to hear him out.” 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Why are you defending him all of a sudden? Last week, you were ready to kill him.” 

“I still want to kill him sometimes,” Pierre admitted. “But he’s my friend, and I can see he’s serious about you. He’s miserable, Y/N. I’ve never seen him like this.” 

“He brought this on himself,” you said, your voice tight. 

Pierre leaned forward, his gaze steady. “Maybe. But he regrets it. And if you care about him even a little, you owe it to yourself to at least hear what he has to say.” 

You hesitated, the weight of Pierre’s words sinking in. 

“Think about it,” Pierre said, standing up. “I’ll leave it up to you. But don’t let your anger stop you from seeing the bigger picture.” 

The next day, Charles approached you with visible hesitation, his heart pounding in his chest. You were sitting on a bench near the paddock, scrolling through your phone. When you saw him, your expression darkened, and you immediately stood to leave. 

“Y/N, wait,” Charles pleaded, stepping in front of you. “Please, just hear me out.” 

You hesitated, Pierre’s words echoing in your mind. With a sigh, you sat back down, crossing your arms. “Fine. Say what you need to say.” 

Charles sat beside you, careful to leave some space. “I know I hurt you,” he began, his voice trembling. “And I hate myself for it. I thought I was doing the right thing by staying away, but all I did was push you further away.” 

You remained silent, your expression unreadable. 

“I’ve been a coward,” Charles admitted, his eyes meeting yours. “I was so afraid of ruining things with Pierre, of not being good enough for you, that I convinced myself it was better to walk away. But I was wrong. And I’m sorry.” 

You looked away, your heart aching at his words. “Why should I believe you now?” 

“Because I’m not running anymore,” Charles said, his voice firm. “I really like you, Y/N. I even think I like you for a long time, even if I tried to deny it. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.” 

His words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. For the first time, you saw the depth of his feelings, the sincerity in his eyes. 

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. 

“I don’t expect you to trust me right away,” Charles said. “But I’ll earn it. However long it takes.” 

Unbeknownst to you, Pierre had been watching from a distance, his protective instincts at war with his hope for his friend. When he saw you and Charles finally talking, he approached cautiously, his expression guarded. 

“How’s it going?” Pierre asked, looking between the two of you. 

Charles stood, his nerves evident. “I told her everything.” 

“And?” Pierre asked, turning to you. 

You looked at your brother, then at Charles, your emotions swirling. “I don’t know yet,” you admitted. 

Pierre nodded, his expression softening. “Fair enough. But for what it’s worth, I think he means it.” 

Charles glanced at Pierre, surprise and gratitude flickering across his face. 

“But if he screws up again,” Pierre added, his voice firm, “he won’t have to worry about you breaking his heart, Y/N. I’ll do it for you.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension breaking slightly. 

As the day went on, Charles made good on his promise. He stayed close, offering small gestures—getting you coffee, walking with you to the paddock, listening when you spoke. Though you were still wary, you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his actions. 

For the first time in weeks, the wall between you began to crack. And though the road ahead was uncertain, one thing was clear: Charles wasn’t going to give up without a fight. 

Taglist : @linnygirl09, @prttylight, @itsblowssoms

[deerlysacred]

✧ patching what's left of us | end!verse dean winchester x witch fem!reader ᨒ↟ | chapter one

💌 𝄢 no tw, just castiel being a silly lil guy and a tiny angst towards the end 🪽

♫ 𝄢 concept song : would that i — hozier ₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

🌜𝄢 in this version of series of mine, it has been 2 years since the croatoan virus messed the world up. also yes, the world is in a very bad situation but it's not as bad as the show version. there are multiple survival camps in the world and the croatoans are not that much.

‼️ 𝄢 i do not own supernatural or any of its characters; all rights belong to their respective creators. this is purely a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit.

gang… i know this is a series for dean but i halfway started to want cas more… idk 🤨 anyways, #stanthemis 🫶🏻

english is not my mother tongue and i wrote the last half part of this very sleepy lol i'm sorry if i made some grammar mistakes. i hope you like it!! it won't be a very long series but i plan to make a few chapters 💕

The door creaked open loudly, letting in a gust of icy wind that rattled the loose panes of the cabin windows. The blond man looked up from the map spread across Bobby's old desk, his jaw set, green eyes narrowing under the weight of another sleepless night. He was nursing a half-empty bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing lazily as he swirled it in his hand.

"Boss," one of his men announced, pushing you forward. "Found her out past the south perimeter. Alone. Didn't look like trouble."

The man set the bottle down with a thunk, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn't say anything at first, just dragged his eyes over you like he was trying to peel back your skin and see what was hiding underneath. Then he made his men go out with a nod of his head.

"Great," he muttered eventually when you two were alone, letting out a humorless laugh. "Another mouth to feed." His voice was rough, worn down by years of barking orders and screaming at ghosts that didn't scream back. "Kinda impressive, considering most folks out there are croats or corpses. What, you got a guardian angel, or are you just stupid lucky?"

The man didn't wait for an answer— it looked like he rarely does. He took a swig of whiskey, eyeing you like you were a puzzle missing half the pieces. "Name's Dean. Yeah, that Dean. And if you're not infected, congrats. You just won yourself a room in Camp Chitaqua." His voice dropped, darkening. "Don't make me regret it."

He observed you with a look that made the cabin room feel smaller than it was.

"So," he spoke, voice low and gravelly. "You got a name you mind to share, or should I just call you 'the new gal'?"

"Y/N." you muttered, shifting on your feet under his doubtful gaze.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Y/N.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Now, the next question, Y/N. How the hell'd you manage to survive out there on your own?"

Your hands fidgeted with the frayed edges of your sleeves.

Careful, you warned yourself, don't be suspicious.

"I… I got lucky." you bit your tongue subtly because of your stammer, not a great start.

Dean didn't buy it. His eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "Yeah? Guess we'll see how lucky you really are."

Then his gaze dropped to your wrist.

Shit.

Before you could react, he stood up and walked to you in a few big steps, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm in an iron grip. His fingers burned against your cold skin as he yanked your sleeve up, exposing the tattoo you tried so hard to keep hidden. The triskelion and crescent moon stood out like a brand against your wrist.

Dean's eyes darkened, recognition passing in an instant.

"Son of a bitch." His voice was a growl as he shoved you back towards the timeworn couch behind, you gasped as you sat down, his hand already pulling a gun from his thigh-holster. The cold barrel pressed against the middle of your forehead, making you flinch.

"Wisteria Coven," he spat. "You wanna tell me why the hell you got this burned into your skin?"

Your mind started to race, you could swear your heart was going to jump out. You've seen that look countless times before. Disgust, anger, prjudgement, fea— No, not fear. More like precaution, this time. He wasn't just suspicious of you now. He knew what that symbol meant. Witches. Magic. Danger.

"I left them," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm not with them anymore."

Dean's grip tightened, and you could feel the muzzle pressing harder on your skin. "Yeah? You expect me to believe that? You've got five seconds to explain why I shouldn't gank you right here."

Your lips parted, trembling slightly as you spoke. "Please," you gulped, tears stinging your eyes. "I'm alone. They're dead. I didn't have a choice. Please— I'm not like them. I just want to live…"

Dean's finger hovered dangerously close to the trigger. He didn't move, didn't even blink as he stared into your eyes, searching for any hint of a lie or a fucked up trick.

I'm going to die.

It was all you could think. After everything you've been through and managed to survive somehow, this was how it would end.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Dean cursed under his breath. "Goddammit." he muttered, lowering the gun.

You let out a shaky breath, you raised your hands, showing no threat as you stood up slowly.

Oh, okay… He's not going to kill me. Not yet.

Dean shoved the gun back into his thigh-holster. "Fine," he said, voice cold. "But hear me, and hear me good— if you so much as think about casting some freaky-ass spell with your pretty little head, you're dead. No hesitation."

You nodded quickly, fidgeting with your fingers. "I won't. I swear."

Dean shot you one more look, like he was trying to read your mind. Then he shook his head. "You better not if you don't want me to open a hole on you."

He turned away, rubbing a hand over his face before grabbing a flashlight from the desk. "Come on," he said gruffly. "We ain't got any empty tents. And leaving you outside… Yeah, no. Not with the horny bastards out there."

You followed him silently, your heart still racing. You could feel the weight of the tattoo on your wrist like it was your death warrant.

I should've cut it off. I should've get rid of it somehow.

Dean led the way up the stairs, his boots thudding heavily on the creaking wood. "You can stay in one of the rooms up here," he said, flashing the light down a dim hallway. "Bathroom's at the end of the hall. Don't touch my stuff. Don't wander around. And don't—"

"Cast spells..?" You finished for him, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

Dean shot you a look over his shoulder, his lips twitching in what might’ve (?) been a smirk. "Smartass." He jerked his chin toward a door. "That one’s yours. Get some sleep. You’re gonna need it."

You cracked your eyes open with the occasional talking of people outside and the singing of the birds, your breath fogging in the chill of the room. You blinked up at the ceiling, letting the silence settle around you for a moment.

Last night had been... intense, you really thought that leader was gonna blow your head off but he had a tiny bit of mercy, seemingly. It was gonna be real hard to convince him that you're trustworthy though...

But hey, at least you were alive, right? That was something.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet pressing into the worn floorboards. The clothes you found in the closet last night —a pair of jeans and a faded black sweater— fit well enough, though they smelled faintly of dust and men's cologne. You took a shower in the cramped bathroom before you went to bed last night, scrubbing away days of mud and blood.

Your eyes drifted to the window. The camp was waking up.

Guess I should figure out what I'm supposed to do here.

"Dean?" you called softly, stepping out into the hallway. Silence.

Of course, he wasn't here. He seemed like the kind of man who woke with the dawn— or maybe never really slept at all. You bit your lip, debating your next move.

You needed a jacket before heading outside.

Your gaze lingered on a closed door down the hall. Dean's room.

Hell, no. You shook your head. Bad idea. You weren't that stupid to snoop around his stuff. So instead, you wandered into a smaller room that looked like storage. There were chests and boxes piled high, many of them covered in dust. You knelt down, popping open a large chest in the corner. Your fingers sifted through blankets, some old clothes, until something caught your eye— a worn brown hoodie.

It was big, way too big for you, but the fabric was soft, and it smelled clean. You pulled it on, the hem reaching past your hips, the sleeves covering your hands.

Cozy, good enough.

You stepped outside, squinting against the crowded part of the camp. People were already moving around, tending to tasks and chores. You stood there awkwardly, watching them. Some nodded in her direction, but most seemed too busy to care.

Your eyes wandered to a tent with a small fire burning outside of it. A metal pot sat over the flames, steam curling from its spout. Coffee. Your mouth watered at the sight of it.

You approached shyly, feeling like an intruder, but no one seemed to stop you. You grabbed a freshly cleaned metal cup from a stack on the table and poured yourself some of the bitter liquid. The warmth of the cup against your hands was comforting, there was no sight of any food or anything like that near. You must've missed the breakfast, it seemed like you were stuck with coffee.

Better than nothing.

You walked around the camp, observing the layout. There were rows of tents, a few makeshift shelters, and the large cabin you were staying in with Dean. The air smelled of smoke and damp earth. It was quieter than you expected— almost peaceful.

As you passed by a woman and a man chatting near one of the tents, you couldn't help but to listen to their words.

"Dean's already out?" the woman asked.

"Left before dawn," the man replied. "Supply run into the city. The winter is doing its number on us again, nothing new."

Your stomach clenched. Great. He's not here to keep an eye on me… or maybe that's worse. How the hell am I going to prove that I'm not a burden now? I could at least ask him about the ways I could help around here…

You were so lost in thought that you didn't see the small hole in the ground until it was too late. Your boot caught, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself before you fell.

The woman and man stopped talking, their eyes snapping to you directly. You straightened, pretending to brush dirt from your jeans with panic though you didn't even touch the floor.

"Uh— sorry…" you muttered, embarrassed. The man raised an eyebrow, and the woman gave a small, amused smile. Neither said anything, though, and you quickly turned on your heel, walking away.

What a great first impression.

Your hand brushed against the hot coffee cup, and you winced as you realized now, that a few drops of coffee must've been poured onto your hand when you stumbled. "Shit…" you hissed, shaking out your fingers.

Eventually, you found yourself near a large tree at the edge of the camp. The branches stretched wide, providing shade and a place to sit. You sank down at the base of the tree with a sigh, finally letting yourself relax.

"Seriously?" a voice came from the other side of the tree suddenly, making you jump. "Can't a man spend some quality time alone with his buddy at the end of the world?"

You scrambled to your feet, heart pounding. You peered around the tree to find a man sitting cross-legged on the ground, a small squirrel perched on his lap. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes were piercing blue, looking up at you with a calm amusement.

"Oh— I didn't mean to interrupt," You stammered, taking a step back. "Shall I… go?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "No need. Sit." He patted the ground next to him. "I'm not gonna bite. Neither is she." He held the tiny paw of the squirrel and made it wave at you, making the squirrel turn its attention towards you as it was focused on eating a peanut seconds ago.

You smiled at the cute scene, hesitating before lowering yourself back down, keeping a distance. The squirrel watched you with curious eyes, its tiny paws still clutching the peanut.

"You're new here," the man said, his voice soft but steady. "What's your name?"

You hugged the hoodie tighter as a breeze came along, answering softly. "Y/N."

"I'm Castiel,” the man said after a moment. He offered you a hand. "And this—" he gestured to the squirrel— "is Themis."

You frowned as you shook his hand, noting the strength in his grip. "Themis? Like… the goddess?"

Castiel's lips quirked into a faint smile. "Yes. The goddess of justice."

You glanced at the squirrel, who seemed far more interested in nibbling on its food than… dispensing justice.

Castiel chuckled knowingly, eager to talk about his little buddy. "She brought me justice once."

You tilted your head, curious. "How so?"

"Someone stole my bag of nuts one day," Castiel explained. "I didn't notice until I saw her dragging the bag back to me." He paused, stroking Themis's fur. "She carried it all the way across camp, like a tiny Lady Justice. She brought it back to me— every last one."

You smirked as you glanced at the squirrel, then back at Castiel. "Or she stole them for herself and felt bad about it."

Castiel chuckled. "Could be."

You couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped your lips, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit. Sitting there with Castiel and Themis felt so normal and peaceful despite the chaos of your world.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over Camp Chitaqua. You wiped the sweat from your brow, leaning on your shovel as you surveyed the area. You've spent hours cleaning up the trash, clearing leaves, and dragging fallen branches away from the main paths.

Themis, Castiel's squirrel, had been darting around your feet for the past hour, playfully chasing the movement of the shovel as if it were a game. Every time you dug into the ground, the little creature scurried after it, its fluffy tail flicking in excitement.

"Shoo…" You murmured, trying to gently nudge Themis away with your boot. "You're gonna get hurt."

But Themis was energetic and determined. She darted in closer, pouncing at the dirt you were moving.

This squirrel is relentless.

You shifted your grip on the shovel and swung it to scoop up more debris— only to feel a soft thud against the wood.

"Oh, shit." you dropped the shovel immediately, your eyes wide.

Themis let out a startled squeak and stumbled backward, her little body shaking.

"I'm so sorry!" you knelt down quickly, reaching out a hand. "Are you okay?"

From across the camp, Castiel's head snapped up. His conversation with a pair of women —who were clearly charmed by him— ended abruptly as he ran over.

"Themis!" he gasped, dropping to his knees beside the squirrel. He gently scooped her up, cradling her in his hands like she was a baby. "Are you hurt, my little goddess?"

You bit your lip, guilt flooding your chest. "I didn't mean to— she was playing with the shovel, and I—"

Castiel held up a hand, silencing you. He inspected Themis carefully before letting out a dramatic sigh of relief. "She's fine."

You let out a breath you haven't realized you were holding. "Thank god."

Castiel glanced at you with a playful smirk. "Themis is forgiving, but the goddess of justice does not forget. Karma will come for you soon enough."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. "I'll keep that in mind."

As Castiel set Themis down gently on the ground, a low rumble echoed through the camp. You glanced towards the entrance, where three large black jeeps rolled in, their tires kicking up dust.

The vehicles came to a stop, and men began piling out, carrying bags and crates of supplies.

Dean was the last to step out, his green eyes scanning the camp as he ran a hand through his hair. His expression was hard and tired.

Before he could take two steps, the woman who saw you stumble earlier in the morning marched towards him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Dean," she snapped, "you could've told me you were heading to the city. I would've come with you."

Dean gave her a glance, his jaw tightening. "Not now, Risa."

"But—"

"I said, not now." His tone left no room for argument.

Risa huffed in frustration but didn't push further.

Dean continued walking, giving instructions to the men unloading supplies. His gaze swept over the camp, and then it landed on you.

He froze mid-step.

You shifted nervously, your shovel still in hand.

Dean's eyes darkened as they locked onto the brown hoodie you were wearing, for a moment, shock flickered across his face.

Then came the anger.

His jaw clenched, and he stormed towards you, eyes narrowing as he closed the distance.

"Y/N," he called out, voice sharp.

Your heart pounded as he towered over you.

"Where the hell did you get that?!" he demanded, voice low yet barely hiding the rage behind it.

You blinked. "I—I needed something warm, so I found this in the storage room—"

"That's not storage." Dean's voice was sharp, like a blade cutting through the air between you. "That's my house."

Your stomach dropped. "I didn't mean to—"

"Did you snoop around?" His voice rose, drawing attention from a few nearby people. "Did you go through my stuff?"

"No!" You shook your head quickly. "I just needed a jacket. I swear I didn't touch anything else."

Dean's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His gaze flicked back to the hoodie, and for a brief moment, something raw flashed in his eyes— pain, maybe, or grief.

It wasn't just a hoodie.

It belonged to someone.

Someone who mattered a lot to him.

Dean took a step closer, looking down at you coldly. His voice dropped to a growl. "Don't. Go. In. My house. Ever. Again."

You swallowed hard, nodding. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Dean stared at you for a long moment before letting out a frustrated sigh. Without a word, he turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving you standing there, confused and humiliated.

Castiel wandered over, his hands in his pockets.

"Don't take it personally," he said, offering you a sympathetic smile. "Dean… carries a lot of baggage."

You glanced down at the hoodie you were wearing, your fingers brushing over the worn fabric. Your bottom lip quivered as you nodded, trying not to cry because of guilt. You felt Castiel's arm wrapping around your shoulder hesitantly, he patted your back gently to soothe you.

"Karma," he said softly, tilting his head towards Themis, who was jumping around his boots. "It works fast."

You gave him a weak chuckle, but inside, your chest felt tight.

I shouldn't be here.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Wandavision AU stuff

making a new post bc the other one was really long

@storm-ismyusername

Whenever I think of “cured” Niffty I always picture her as tall.

Yeah, same, although I think I’ve already given past Niffty enough new traits that adding more would be going a bit overboard.

1-Now I’m thinking about Niffty getting her hands on some Asmodeus crystals and booking it to Earth with Vox.

I highly doubt that sinners/winners can leave the afterlife (well, maybe as ghosts since the next Helluva episode is called “Ghostfuckers” and what we’ve seen from it so far implies that Blitz thinks ghosts are real…), but for the sake of the argument, let’s assume they can.

2-Niffty and Vox living on Earth disguised as humans in a lavender marriage sounds absolutely fascinating to me. 3-Would they stay in one place or constantly be on the move. 3.1-If they stay in one place I can see them living in the suburbs, like a weird parody of their first lives. 4-What would their neighbors think of them? 5-Would they have Vark? 5.1-Instead of bringing Vark would Niffty just get a regular service dog for Vox? 6-Unlike their first life I guess Niffty would be the breadwinner, would she get a job or just steal stuff? 6.1-If she gets a job I think it would be as a tailor or maid. 6.2-(But picturing Niffty as a fast food employee, Walmart employee, or in a boring office job is pretty funny.) 6.3-Though leaving Vox on his own for long periods of time doesn’t sound like the best idea. 6.4-Maybe every month Charlie gives them money.

If they were to somehow pull this off, they’d need a lot of help (presumably from the Morningstars). It’s not easy to start a brand new life in 2024 with not money and no identity documentation— doubly so when one of you has a mental condition that causes erratic behavior.

Assuming the basics are taken care of, yeah, I can see them heading to the suburbs. No moving necessary since this is such a rare situation, Niffty’s not anticipating the Vees ever being able to reach/find them. Niffty would definitely want to get a job (she doesn’t want to be a “burden” on Charlie), but yeah, leaving Vox alone all day isn’t a good idea, even with their new dog. Their neighbors are incredibly confused: new couple moves in who live like they just walked out of the 1950s, except the wife works and the husband appears to have some kind of severe mental illness (young-onset dementia? Schizophrenia?? Is that why they’re acting like it’s the 50s???).

3.2-Would this technically be their fourth life? (Human life, Overlord life, post mindbreak life, ‘human’ life.) 9-Could Alastor call back Vox even though he’s on Earth? I’m pretty sure that’s an entirely different dimension. 10-How would Vox feel about this? 11-How well mentally would Vox be? 11.1-Would he forget that he isn’t actually a human? 11.2-Would his first life and his fourth life start to blur together? 11.3-Would Vox mistake Niffty for his wife and wonder where Sarah and Tommy are? 11.4-I think Vox would slowly realize, with horror, that his seemingly perfect life is not what he thought it was. 11.5-(Sounds like some great horror material to me!)

Vox is still… adaptable, in his own way. He very quickly accepts this as the new normal and, yeah, his memories would definitely start blending together. Honestly, Alastor would be the biggest point of contention; assuming he’s still alive, Vox want to return to him, although that’s not possible unless they return to Hell, which is the last thing Niffty wants to do. Vox is usually just kind of vibing, buying into the story that Niffty’s been telling everyone, but he still has his outbursts (which are ESPECIALLY problematic if he still has access to his demon powers).

Honestly, I can lowkey see this morphing into a Wandavision situation over time. Niffty’s just Not coping with what happened to her and is choosing to bury her head in the sand and live out an untenable fantasy life instead. She deserves this after everything she’s gone through, right? To have a second chance at the life she always wanted with a “husband” who won’t hurt her this time? It’s not healthy and isn’t a good plan, but if she has to accept reality, she feels like she’ll shatter all over again.

7-Would Valentino and Velvette go to Earth to get Vox back? (Now I’m imagining them with Asmodeus crystals.) 7.1-How would they find out that Niffty & Vox are on Earth? 7.2-Valentino and Velvette (& Niffty) would have a huge culture shock being back on Earth, being surrounded by people who aren’t completely self interested and ready to literally stab you in the back. 7.3-I’d imagine Valentino having to be reminded (by Velvette) that you can’t casually kill someone on Earth. 7.4-What would passerby’s make of Val and Vel? 7.5-I feel like Velvette would have a lot of feelings being back on Earth. She didn’t die that long ago so this Earth is very similar to the one from her human life, but she’s very different from the girl who died in a car crash, more ruthless and cutthroat. Even though this Earth is familiar she’s a stranger to it. 7.6-(I know this would be unlikely, but what if Velvette ran into people she knew in life? It’s only been about a decade since she died, everyone she knew would probably still be alive.)

Val and Vel would definitely pursue Vox and Niffty to Earth once they found out they were there (and that it’s possible for sinners to return to Earth at all). No clue how they’d find out, but still. Heck, Alastor might not be far behind them if he’s still kicking (oh fuck, here comes a new idea: some people theorize that Al might have access to the living world and that’s why he’s so powerful. Maybe he’s responsible for sending Vox and Niffty there? Like, maybe Niffty backed him into a corner somehow and they made a deal that he’d pay her back for what he did to her by granting her and Vox a new start? I guess he’d be Agatha in the Wandavision comparison… (maybe he drops by for visits: he can’t let Vox and Niffty go that easily.)) Being back on Earth is disorienting for all the reasons you described; Val’s lowkey forgotten how to act like a normal person while Vel is having Feelings that she doesn’t want to examine. Velvette probably wouldn’t run into anyone she knew unless Vox and Niffty were in the UK, but still.

8-I wonder what would happen if D.O.R.K. found them? (Niffty & Vox, Vel & Vel, or both groups)

The DORKs… god, idk. That’d definitely be one hell of a complicating factor. One door closes with the Hellborn and another one opens with sinners, I suppose.

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5.2, 5.3, 5.4 - The dog Vox got for his kids back when he was alive was named Sparky (they probably changed its name after his death lol). Would make sense given the way his memories blend together, although he might be a bit confused about the difference in breed (his was a German Shepherd). And yeah, Vox probably wouldn’t do well with animals that don’t have augmentations that protect them from electrocution.

12, 12.1, 12.2 - Yeah, I think she’d say they’re married— it’s the only thing that makes sense to both of them (ah the joys of all your clearest memories ending in the 1960s). The age gap is weird, but not noteworthy enough to get people asking questions, especially when they’ve got so much other weirdness to keep up with.

13, 13.5 - Niffty’s friendly, but keeps her distance— she’s not quite ready to let new people in yet. Vox is gregarious and wants to start making connections, but he doesn’t leave the house much and the bulk of his interactions with them come on Bad Days.

14, 14.5 - Alastor shows up whenever he feels like it, but there’s probably some kind of a schedule, if only for Vox’s sake. The neighbors don’t really notice him; sometimes they’ll wonder how he got in the house when they never saw him show up, but they usually write it off. Niffty Does Not enjoy Alastor’s visits, but Vox is always thrilled to see him.

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5.5 - Don't think that'd be a very good idea since Hellborn animals seem to generally be more aggressive than Earthly animals.

13.6 - Probably

16, 16.1 - Depends on if it's just a normal house someone bought for them, Lucifer's vacation home, or something Alastor conjured for them.

17, 17.5 - Depends on how private the yard is and if there's magic keeping him from leaving the property.

18 - Idk you do you

19, 19.1 - Idk, depends on whether Alastor or the Morningstars got them up there. If the disguises aren't a passive thing, then yeah, I can see there being some close calls in terms of being discovered.

20 - At first, definitely. That might change as they both get deeper into their delusions (Vaughn that Nancy is his wife (what happened to Helen? He’s not sure, but he likes Nancy better anyway), Niffty that this new life with Vox isn't a complete fiction).

21 - If it's a good day and they don't have anything too suspicious in the house, sure. Neither of them want to be complete shut-ins, so they just need to be smart about it.

22 - Pretty often. It wasn't as much of an issue for him in Hell since time just sort of blended together, prompting Vox to usually take the path of least resistance. Living the 50s life 90% of the time isn't great for Vox's temporal orientation. Most people just awkwardly laugh it off since it's so obvious he's mentally unwell.

21, 21.1 - Maybe. They're different races, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Val's a bit pouty about it, but Vel's not indulging him on this– they've got a job to do and it's not like it's an unreasonable assumption to make.

22 - Maybe, although given IMP’s track record of killing bystanders as well as the actual target, Val and Vel might be a bit hesitant (sure, they might succeed in shooting Niffty, but what if they hit Vox too?)

23 - Vox gets away with a lot because his hapless suburbanite neighbors don't know enough about [whatever mental illness they assume he has] to parse whether the things he says actually line up with the diagnosis.

24 - Sarah and Thomas are both still alive in 2024 (they're 74 and 77 respectively). Sarah would feel like she's going crazy, having a perfect clone of her long-dead father living in her neighborhood. Vox wouldn't be able to recognize either of his children, but might be caught off-guard by their names.

[tenebraevesper]

Shadow the Hedgehog (Sonic Prime, Character Analysis - Part 6)

Welcome to Part 6 of my Shadow and Sonic character analysis, which is actually part analysis, part me just gushing over the Sonadow ship. In this Part, I will be covering the second half of Episode 17: Grim Tidings, which can be summed up as ''little brother is jealous of older brother's boyfriend and also is trying to kill them''.

With this done, I have three more episodes left in which Shadow appears, and unless I get too many screenshots/gifs so Tumblr won't let me post them all, Episode 21: Home Sick Home and Episode 22: The Devil is in the Tails will be one post, while Episode 23: From the Top will be its own post. There might also be a slight delay in me covering those episodes because I need to gather all of the material for them.

In any case, let's dive into this episode!

In the first half of the episode, we already saw a very prominent shift in Shadow's character, aka his protective and caring side and his attempt to reach out and comfort Sonic, which was genuinely really cute from him.

So, Shadow and Sonic manage to enter The Grim, with Sonic (who for once didn't faceplant upon landing in the Shatterspace) being surprised to see Nine having gone full Elsa by creating a citadel with the Paradox Prism energy. As they approach it, they're confronted by Nine, who tells Sonic how Sonic's plan was never Nine's plan.

''So, it was always about power?'' ''No, that's not-'' ''Exactly. With the Paradox Prism, I'll be able to turn this world into a paradise. MY PARADISE!''

I find it genuinely interesting how Shadow's first thought is that Nine was after power, rather than approval or companionship. Nine agrees, but he wasn't seeking power for the sake of power. Knowing Nine's character, he is a loner who had been bullied all of his life and after believing that he found a true friend in Sonic, all he wants is to create a world where he and Sonic can be happy. However, with Sonic ''betraying'' him, he decides that he is better off alone.

Now, doesn't this sound a bit familiar?

So, this is speculation, but I think that Nine is supposed to be a foil to Shadow. Both are loners with a cynical view of the world and a strong connection to Sonic. However, while Nine started out as Sonic's ally (after some initial trust issues) and looked up to him, Shadow was quite antagonistic, fighting Sonic and berating him for shattering their reality. However, over the course of the show, things changed, with Nine taking over as the main villain while Shadow became Sonic's closest ally.

While the reasons for Nine betraying Sonic have been seen and discussed in and out of the show, I want to point out something I didn't really see anyone bring up - how much does Nine really know Sonic (and for that matter, how much does Sonic really know Nine)?

Nine acted on the belief that Sonic wants to stay with him in The Grim and create a world just for them, at least until he got the confirmation that Sonic wanted to restore Ghost Hill. Nine is not Tails, so no matter how much he interacts with Sonic, he wouldn't know about any of Sonic's past actions or how he acted in similar situations to get a good understanding of him.

Shadow, on the other hand, knows Sonic well enough to point out his mistakes and flaws and is not afraid to knock him down a peg, while also understanding that Sonic genuinely has everyone's best interests on mind. He has seen how Sonic behaves in situations like this, and even if he fights Sonic, he has no issues working with him and trusting him (albeit, after he admits that, yeah, they need each other to fix reality). Unlike Nine, he has enough experience with Sonic to understand why he acts like this.

''Let's destroy this traitor.'' ''Wait! Maybe I can reason with him.'' ''Reason with him?!'' ''Just let me try. If that doesn't work-'' ''Then he's mine.'' ''No, he's ours.''

*Soviet anthem starts playing* Sorry, not sorry! X3 But seriously, was anyone reminded of that one meme when Sonic went ''he's ours''? Because that's the first thing that popped into my mind.

Also, why do writers love writing Shadow trying to destroy Tails? Like this is the third time this happens!

First we had Shadow fighting Tails in Sonic X (granted, he was targeting Cosmo, but still!).

Then we had Shadow fighting Tails in Sonic Boom (granted, he was targeting Sonic, and Tails and Knuckles were in his way, but still!).

Now we have Shadow targeting Nine in Sonic Prime, who betrayed them, took the Paradox Prism and left their reality to fracture... which for once is actually a valid reason for Shadow to go after him.

But still, why is Shadow having beef with Tails in every animated media he appears in? Going by this pattern, I guess that Shadow will also target Tails in Sonic Movie 3.

*shakes head in amusement* Anyways, where were we? Ah, yes!

So, Shadow and Sonic's conversation is actually quite interesting when you take into consideration everything that happened between them. Shadow wants to do the obvious, while Sonic, despite having experienced a great loss, still hopes that he can reason with Nine. Shadow is stunned, but Sonic asks him to let him at least try. If it doesn't work, Shadow will deal with him... No, Shadow and Sonic will deal with him.

This is certainly the culmination of both Sonic and Shadow's character growth. Not only did they talk about their plans, but Sonic acknowledges that, if he cannot talk to Nine, he will have to fight him. Shadow, in turn, let's Sonic do try the more diplomatic approach rather than take the violent option, clearly showing trust in Sonic's negotiation skills. It is genuinely amazing to see.

Unfortunately for Sonic, Nine doesn't care about fixing their relationship, as he already replaced him with his own version of Chaos Sonic, called Grim Sonic.

''Woah! Who or what is THAT?!'' ''It's you.'' ''Yeah, but if you squint and tilt your head to the side, it's also kinda you.'' *gives Sonic an unimpressed look*

Honestly, I genuinely laughed at this little exchange, especially when Shadow just gives Sonic that look. It's really fun to just have them talk like this, showing off their dynamic.

''Whatever it is, it's in our way.'' ''Not for long!''

The conversation even continues, with both preparing for the fight. Once again, I just love how these two can hold a banter in one moment and leap into action in the next one.

At first, they get caught off guard by Grim Sonic, with Sonic being exasperated there's another robotic version of him, with Nine pointing out how he saved Sonic from Chaos Sonic, but how this time, Sonic is on his own. Sonic's expression falls as he hears that, clearly hurt by Nine's words.

''He's not on his own.'' *Sonic perks up, both confront Grim Sonic* ''We're all on our own.''

Honestly, this is really sweet of Shadow, showing that he now stands firmly by Sonic's side and cheering him up. Shadow really has undergone through a lot of character growth, affirming that he and Sonic are now a team and they will work together to beat Nine. Not to mention, Sonic just looks so happy to hear this.

What follows next is Sonic and Shadow beating up Grim Sonic, showing some amazing teamwork together.

''It's over Nine!'' ''I decide when it's over!''

Nine summons the other Grim Variants, that of Amy, Knuckles, Rouge and Birdie (no Big or Froggy tho, and certainly no variant of Tails), claiming how they're his friends now. Sonic and Shadow continue the battle.

''Behind you!'' ''Behind you!''

I'm absolutely loving this! Seriously, before Sonic Prime, when was the last time we saw them work together like this?

Anyways, as the battle continues, Shadow tells Sonic to go for the Prism, but Sonic protests, not wanting to leave him alone. Shadow assures him that he'll be fine and tells him to go, with Sonic listening to him. Nine laments about Sonic's recklessness, throwing crystals at him and knocking him down.

''Sonic!''

Shadow looks absolutely devastated when he sees Sonic fall...

...and his first instinct is to rush over to Sonic to protect him.

Fortunately, Sonic gets up, with Nine joining the Grim Variants, praising the power of the Prism and how there's nothing he can't do. Sonic questions him whether this is really what he wants, to spend his life all alone with robots as his companions. Nine responds how he can at least trust them, with Sonic the pointing out how The Grim is decaying, and Nine reveals that, while he rebuilt the Paradox Prism, some of the Prism energy is still missing.

Now, observe this closely.

''Oh, I've rebuilt it. But it turns down there is some Prism energy missing.''

When Nine mentions the missing Prism energy, he briefly glances at Sonic's shoes, smirking. Sonic clearly has no idea what he's talking about, thinking about his words.

Shadow, on the other hand, follows Nine's gaze, looking at Sonic's shoes, then back at Nine, who gives him a firm look, as if confirming something. Shadow's eyes widen in realization, then he gives Nine a look of pure anger.

Shadow has put together that Nine is now targeting Sonic, and he is pissed.

''Sonic, you have to get out of here!'' ''What?''

Shadow's first words and actions after this realization is to tell Sonic to get out and then protecting him from Grim Sonic.

''It's you! He's after your energy!''

It is as if someone flipped a switch. Shadow's thoughts are basically ''Forget the Paradox Prism, I need to protect Sonic now!'' He literally switched priorities the moment Sonic had been put into danger, and when he sees Sonic struggling with the Grim variants, he basically encases him into a tornado to protect him, telling him that he has to go.

''What? Shadow thinks he can steal Sonic away from me!? Not a chance!''

I know that Nine is after Sonic's Prism energy, but he sounds so much like a little brother who is jealous that his older brother spends more time with his boyfriend than with him. I mean, he certainly isn't over Sonic, no matter what he says about the robots being his friends now, so it certainly checks out.

Nine then fires a blast of energy at Sonic and Shadow, with Shadow managing to grab Sonic's leg...

''This is for your own good!'' ''Shadooooow!''

...proceeding to throw him out of The Grim and right into The Void, much to Nine's dismay. Nine then sends Grim Birdie and its clones to follow Sonic, and while Shadow fights the rest of the robots.

He is not in the best state, but damned if he doesn't give his all to cover Sonic. Unfortunately, he is outnumbered and eventually knocked into the abyss.

You fought as best as you could Shadow, but unfortunately, you will need more help in the fight against Nine. Fortunately, Sonic knows where to find that help.

So, the second half of the episode just cemented everything I had said about Shadow's character growth, with the inclusion of him putting Sonic's safety above his own. Sure, Sonic is Nine's target, but you can't say that Shadow hasn't been doing that even before he learned about Nine's plans.

Oh, and Sonadow shippers? I think you can definitely add ''Protective Shadow'' to your story ideas.

#Shadow the Hedgehog (Sonic Prime, Character Analysis - Part 5)

#Shadow the Hedgehog (Sonic Prime, Character Analysis - Part 7)

#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer (Masterlist)

[jacklesraised]

Lines Brina Wants To Send People: A Sentence Meme (Part 1)

Just lines from various songs/movies/shows/things Brina wants to send people. Multiple sources. Change pronouns/names as necessary!

“Time is strangely calm now.” “Everybody’s gone, it’s just you and your anger.” ”Oh golden boy, don’t act like you were kind.” ”You were mine but you were awful every time.” ”Don’t hold me like you know me.” “But you should know that I died slow.” “Running through the halls of your haunted home.” ”The toughest part is that we both know what happened to you.” ”He flickers through your damage.” ”At your best, you were magic, we were sold.” “Don’t tell them what you told me.” “Don’t even tell them that you know me.” ”I would rather burn forever.” ”I’m not yours at all.” ”Were you lying to me?” “There’s no ‘us’ in ‘us’ when I’m lacking trust.” “Don’t make me cuss you out.” “Why’d you let me down?” ”Thanks to you I can’t love right.” ”If I do then I blame you for every worse that I assume.” “Don’t think I’ll find forgiveness as fast as mom did.” “God, I love you, but you’re such a dipshit.” “You were all I looked up to, now I can’t even look at you.” “But fate had left its scars upon his face.” “Will you welcome your extinction in the morning rays?” “I’ve never seen an ugly truth that I can’t bend.” “I can make a shit-show look a whole lot like forever.” ”If they like you, they’ll just lie to themselves.” ”Like you, they’ll just lie to themselves.” “Don’t I know it better than anyone else?” “We love to read the cold hard facts and swear they’re incorrect.” ”We love to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrest.” ”Girls will cry and girls will lie, and girls will do it ‘till they die.” “For you, they’ll cry and girls will lie and girls will lose their god damn minds for you.” ”You’re good at the giving too much, then getting scared.” “You had me for a minute there.” “Done looking for signs in the gaps in the silence.” ”There’s nothing left here to decode.” “All I do is think about the past.” “You wanna hear about it, oh, where do I start?” “Still argue like my mother, and suppress stuff like my dad.” ”Still miss you, but I know now it will pass.” ”Found some other muses, I give them all my best.” ”I light another candle and I chant under my breath.” ”I will try forgiveness, but I will not forget.” ”Am I better yet?” ”Oh, my love, don’t forsake me.” ”You’ve been holding up a long time.” “But would you have it any other way?” ”You couldn’t have it any other way.” ”She’s a cruel mistress.” “A bargain must be made.” “Who’s a heretic now?” “Am I making sense?” ”Can you make it stick, now?” ”I’m getting tired of crawling all the way.” ”I’ve had enough.” ”You can’t tell me to regret.” “Never to return, but I never learn.” “Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow.” “My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand.” “Now I’m covered in you.” “He wants what’s only yours.” “What would he do if he found us out?” “He’s gonna burn this house to the ground.” ”How’s one to know?” ”I’d live and die for moments that we stole, on begged and borrowed time.” “Tell me to run, or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become.” “It’s a violent blaze in the dark.” ”Yeah, it’s a war. It’s the goddamn fight of my life.” “Why did this happen, I’ve lost all control.” ”I’ll never be happy, I’ll end up alone.” ”Why did you leave me, what did I do wrong?” “Consumed in the darkness, I’ve made it my home.” “You will love me, until you resent me.” “What if I’m not worth the time?” ”The whole facade seemed to fall apart.” “I’m thinking everything you wish I wasn’t.” ”You’re better off, I’m being honest.” ”Won’t you stop holding out for me when I don’t want it?” ”I’m your ghost right now, your house is haunted.”

[diavolo-is-babygirl]

Halloween Fic with Diavolo & Mammon: Comfort and Flame (can be either Diavolo x Mammon or Dia & Mams friendship)

The grand hall was alive with the spirit of Halloween, filled with warm candlelight, cobwebs spun with precision, and a gentle fog that clung to the floor like ghostly mist. Pumpkins carved with all manner of devilish grins lined the tables, and laughter echoed against the high, vaulted ceilings. But amid the flickering lights and endless stream of guests in elaborate costumes, Diavolo felt a familiar hollowness pressing against his chest, a quiet, unsettling ache.

He leaned against one of the towering marble pillars, his gaze distant as he watched his subjects revel in the festivities. Tonight, he was dressed as a grand, dark knight, the kind of ruler he imagined he should be: commanding, fearless, unshakeable. Yet, inside, he felt none of that. The weight of the past year—the mistakes, the losses, the doubt—clung to him like the cloak he wore.

“Oi, what’s with the brooding? You look like a ghost who forgot to haunt anyone,” came a familiar, brash voice. Diavolo blinked, glancing over to see Mammon grinning up at him, his fangs catching the candlelight in that mischievous way they always did. Tonight, Mammon wore a half-mask and a vampire’s cape, but even in costume, he was unmistakable.

“Mammon,” Diavolo managed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

Mammon raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a huff. “Course I noticed. You look like ya’d rather be anywhere but here.” He jabbed a thumb toward the crowd. “Come on, this party’s supposed to be for you. MC ‘n Asmo even got ya some o’ those candied apples you kept yammerin’ about. Don’t ya think ya should enjoy it a little?”

Diavolo let out a sigh, his gaze falling back to the crowd. “I just… it’s been a hard year, Mammon. Some days, I wonder if I’m truly fit to be king. What if I’m not strong enough for this? What if…” His voice trailed off, the words heavy in his chest.

Mammon’s usual cocky grin softened, and for a moment, he was quiet. Then he took a step closer, glancing around as if to make sure no one was listening. “Ya know somethin’, big guy? Bein’ king doesn’t mean ya have to be perfect all the time. And ya sure as hell don’t have to do it alone.” He jabbed Diavolo’s arm lightly, a spark of encouragement in his eyes. “Ya got people who got yer back, even when ya think yer screwin’ things up. That’s what makes ya a good leader, Diavolo. ‘Cause ya actually care.”

Diavolo felt a warmth spread through him, loosening some of the tightness that had been gripping his chest. “But what if caring isn’t enough?” he asked, his voice soft.

Mammon’s grin widened, and he threw an arm over Diavolo’s shoulder with surprising gentleness. “Trust me, ya big sap, it’s more than enough. Heck, look at us—me and my brothers. We’re a mess half the time, but ya still care about us, don’t ya? And we still wanna be around ya.”

Diavolo let out a small chuckle, the sound surprising even himself. He looked down at Mammon, his eyes grateful. “Thank you, Mammon. I don’t know what I’d do without friends like you.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough with the mushy stuff,” Mammon replied, but his cheeks were tinged with a faint blush. “Now, let’s get ya outta this gloomy corner. MC said Halloween’s only once a year, ya know. Besides, I heard there’s a haunted maze out back, and I need someone to help me scare the pants off of with Lucifer,” His grin turned sly. “Or are ya too chicken?”

Diavolo laughed, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. “A challenge, Mammon? You really think I’d back down?”

With that, Mammon gave him a cheeky grin and led him toward the festivities, his arm still draped over Diavolo’s shoulder, an anchor of warmth and encouragement. And for the first time that night, Diavolo felt a spark of joy flicker in his chest, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in his doubts—that maybe, just maybe, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[lkfarrout]

What Happened Last Summer (18+) Chapter 2

This is the second installment of this series - read chapter 1 here :)

Chapter 3 and 4 out now!

“Get dressed, Poindexter, I’m buyin’ us breakfast.” Stan peered into Ford’s room as he fastened his belt. “Hurry, we’ll be late.”

“Late for breakfast?” Ford pulled on his red turtleneck. “They serve it all day, Stan – I promise they’re not gonna run out.”

“We’re meetin’ Kathy there, genius.”

Stanford’s face lit up. “Oh, so I finally get to meet the woman you’ve been sneaking off with every night?”

“Only if you can be in the car in the next five minutes.”

_____

Kathy found the conversation pleasant, and the pancakes even more so. They were nearly done with their meal when Ford commented, “Kathy, Stan tells me you taught school for 25 years?” He poured himself a second cup of coffee and began to stir in a little cream as Kathy replied in the affirmative. Ford continued with a chuckle, “Not exactly the type I would have paired Stanley with.”

Stan interrupted, “Yeah, ya probably couldn’t tell, but I wasn’t as big into school as Poindexter over here.” Ford nodded in agreement before taking a large swig of coffee.

Kathy patted Stan’s knee, “Oh, I could tell, Stan. You have a few learning disabilities.” Ford nearly spit out his drink trying to choke back a laugh.

Stan sighed, “It’s a good thing I like you, y’know.” He threw his arm behind her and let it rest on the back of the booth. “Let’s just hope the kids like ya as much as I do.”

“What time does the bus arrive?” Kathy inquired.

Ford answered, “In just a few hours. Are you coming with us to pick them up?”

“No, I’ve got some work to do today, and we decided it would be better to give them a few days to get settled back in first.”

“Mmhmm,” Stan agreed, “and once the motel closes on Monday, I thought we could all do minigolf or somethin’.”

“Oh!” Kathy looked at her watch, “Speaking of that, I’ve got to run! Thanks for breakfast. Great to meet you, Stanford.” She shook Ford’s hand, planted a kiss on Stan’s cheek, and left the twins alone in the booth. 

They picked at their food in silence for a moment.

“Stan?” Ford began.

“Hmm?”

“How much have you told her?”

Stan knew this conversation was coming – the question had hung in the air for all of breakfast. He set his utensils down and looked at Ford. “She knows about my criminal record, if that’s what you mean, and that I went by your name for a while.”

“Come on, Stan, you know what I’m talking about. The portal? Last summer? How much does she know?”

Stan slapped a handful of cash on the table and rose to his feet. “She knows nothing, Sixer, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.” He headed out the door and towards the car. Ford hurriedly followed and managed to get in his way. Stan tried to push past, but Ford grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Look, if you actually like this woman you have to tell her eventually. People are more accepting of the supernatural these days than you’d think.”

“Tell her what?” Stan shoved his brother off of his arms. “That I pushed you into a portal, took three decades to bring you back, nearly ended the world, and almost got the kids killed? She aint gonna leave over a few ghosts – she’ll leave over my mistakes.” 

“Stan… is that what you think happened?” Ford reached for his brother’s hand. “Stanley, you saved all of us. You saved me twice. Maybe your memory didn’t recover as well as I thought.”

Stan yanked his hand away. “My memory is just fine. I know you think I’m a hero, but I’m not sure she’ll see it that way.”

Ford conceded, stepping out Stan’s way as he stormed past to the car. They drove in silence for a few minutes, Stan’s knuckles white from gripping the wheel.

Finally, Ford cleared his throat. “Stanley, let the kids tell her.” Stan just side-eyed him as he continued, “If anyone can convince her you’re a hero, it’s them. And if she still doesn’t think so after that, she isn’t worth your time.”

[wlntrsldler]

“luke is the archer”

oh my god. ESPECIALLY THESE LYRICS

“i wake in the night, i pace like a ghost / the room is on fire, invisible smoke / and all of my heroes die all alone / help me hold onto you.”

like i can totally see him doing this when he has nightmares about annabeth and thalia, even currently (on occasion). like everyone thinks he’s so strong, and he very much is, but his past still haunts him and that’s something that’s never going to leave him :(

yeah :(((

i can just imagine him dreaming and he hopes its gonna be a good one this time bc gods, he needs a fucking break from all the nightmares; it’s too much sometimes.

i think it would be one of the happy memories he has left; the details are a little fuzzy because it’s been years and his memory isn’t that great anymore with all the pain and hurt that he’s gone through.

it would be something small like the first time annabeth was in charge of creating a strategy for capture the flag and their team wins (because of course they do; his little sister is brilliant.) and annabeth is so excited and luke is so fucking proud of her because even tho both of their parents always seemed to doubt them, luke never doubted annabeth.

she’s beaming at him and talking his ear off about a play-by-play and luke wants to say, “i know, beth. i was there beside you the entire time, remember?” but he can’t bring himself to do it because there’s only a handful of moments where annabeth gets to be a kid and this was one of them; so much has already been taken from her by people who were supposed to care for her and luke wasn’t gonna be an addition to that list.

but he doesn’t let the dream go on for too long; he learned from his past mistakes. kronos usually comes in and taints the memory when he finds it and he just wants one happy memory that’s just for him.

he forces himself to wake up and just stays awake for the rest of the night, holding onto the good times.

[assorted-candy]

20 Q's for Fic Writers

I got tagged by @dp-marvel94! Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 

I've just posted my 22nd work a few days ago!

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

37,763

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So far, all my published fics are for Danny Phantom. It's a fandom that's near and dear to my heart and my favorite to write for. I've written fanfiction for myself in a lot of different fandoms over the years. Miraculous Ladybug, Mega Man (Star Force, Battle Network) and Fire Emblem are a few. (Will these ever see the light of day? Probs not, lol)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?  5. Frayed Ends - 37 kudos - Jazz and Maddie are fighting more often. Jack wants to reach out and help his family. 4. The Same Blood - 45 kudos - Maddie and Jack try to help a sick girl that collapsed in front of their house. They don't know what to make of her condition. Danny wants to help.

3. Returned Home - 49 kudos - Maddie finds Danny at home after he disappeared ten months ago.

2. The Broken Pieces Left Behind - 66 kudos (tie) - Maddie knew what the portal did to Danny. If she could create something that essentially turned him into a ghost, she could figure out a way to fix all of it. Even if she hasn't made any progress in the past two months, she'll keep trying. She didn't account for what Danny wanted. 1 . What's Out of Out Control - 66 kudos (tie) - Danny thought he had it under control. He thought he could finally hang out like they used to always do. Tucker could feel the rift between them widening. It wasn't getting smaller anytime soon.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! There were a few comments from my two earlier fics that I never responded to and it's already been so long and I feel like I ended up putting it off too long to say anything now 😓But I'm so so thankful for all the comments I receive! I never thought anyone would read my work, let alone comment on it. I'm always between two modes of 'author commentary' and 'screaming thank you and running away'.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Lol, I love my angsty stuff and there are so many different flavors of angst, so it's hard to pick just one. I'd say the piece I aimed to write for Angst Fest, The Broken Pieces Left Behind, might be it. It ends on a rather hopeless note for the Fenton family that even I don't know how to make everything better for them

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Home for a Cat. It was for a Ectoberhaunt prompt that I was absolutely stumped on. So I decided someone was going to adopt a cat by the end of the fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Ahh, so I actually posted a fic on FFN wayyy back when I was in high school. I remember it being received pretty well but I got a really rude comment on a simple spelling mistake. Back then, I was just told I had dyslexia a few years prior and I had some really bad self-esteem issues tied in with that. So, yeah, that comment basically made me terrified to ever show my work to anyone ever.

It's been over ten years since then and I wanted to actually get over that fear. I impulsively decided to do Angst Fest with the mindset that no one would even look at what I posted. Not only did people look, everyone has been so kind!!!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

lkdajldkf, nope. I get flustered trying to write basic romance and having two characters hold hands, lmao. Major props to those that can, it's definitely a skill that takes time to master just like any other genre.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Also haven't had this either.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, but it seems like a lot of fun.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Back when the show was airing, Amethyst Ocean (Danny/Sam) was my go to. I'm a sucker for friends to lovers tropes and it's really nostalgic for me. But, I don't really read a lot of shippy things for Danny Phantom, so ships don't make or break a fic for me.

If I'm looking to read romance, the whole Love Square (MariChat my beloved) with Miraculous Ladybug will always be great. Even if I jumped ship on the show around season 2 or 3 and I have no clue what they're doing now, lol.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I honestly have so many WIPs that are unfinished on my computer from over the years. Maybe a super old one that I titled 'Phantoms in the Daylight'. Angst once more with Character Death as the main pain point. I like the beginning but oh boy, does it get sloppy and confusing real quick. I'd need serious outlining energy put into it if I'd ever want to salvage it and I just don't have it in me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue! Give me two blorbos and I'll make them talk forever.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Scenery and description. I love the dialogue portion so much that I end up running into the floating heads in an empty room problem in the first drafts of my fics. My first round of edits are dedicated to making sure I have a scene and grounding characters into it. And then I have to go back later to make it not feel so robotic sounding.

(Also a weakness but more as in fic than writing. Summaries and Titles. I stare at my drafts on AO3's editor for at least half an hour trying to pull something together, lol)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I can probably talk about this for hours, lol. I absolutely love foreign languages, especially when it comes to linguistics. So, I'll try to be brief, lmao. Short answer: depends on the fic but normally no. I already spend so much time fussing over the word choice/slang/formality/dialect characters use in my native language. I don't have a good enough grasp on another language for it to sound natural to the reader. ("They would not fucking say that" is my internal monologue during dialogue edits, lol)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It's a toss up between Pokemon and Danny Phantom. I first learned about fanfiction from a friend who showed me FFN for the Pokemon fics. I looked around the site and found all of the Danny Phantom fics soon after and got hooked on those. I started writing around then and it would have been for one of those two.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Hard to chose one! Writing technicality wise, I'm proud of how What Remains on the Table turned out. I consider description my weak point, so the original draft was 0 dialogue with very stiff descriptions. I was able to edit it to really practice my environmental storytelling. (Although, please mind the tags if you click the link as it does deal with the dissection topic)

I'm not sure who's been tagged and I'm not sure who writes fanfic, so @lavendarlily, @fangirlwriting-stories, @grub-xd, @nanaarchy and anyone else that wants to join!