#normally my beta reader is my epic mom but she is not going to read this ever LMAO

[paranormalplanet]

you know you're serious about a fic when you pull open google maps, start doing math, and have over 300 words of just "bare-bones" outline and not actually started on the chapters

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​ @downeyreads​ @hermione-grangers-wife​ @individualistfem​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶

"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson. 

Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.

"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."

The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.

All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"

I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.

For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.

"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"

"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."

"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"

"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."

Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.

It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.

Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me. 

It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.

Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments. 

I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.

The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me. 

Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.

Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.

Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...

Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."

Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.

I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.

Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.

For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.

Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.

The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch. 

I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.

But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.

As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.

I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.

"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.

On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination. 

The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.

On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.

Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal. 

"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.

[sheliesshattered]

This Isn’t A Ghost Story extras for Chapter 4: The Past

Chapter 3 ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, but it’s finally Friday again, so chapter 4 of This Isn’t A Ghost Story has been posted! It can be found here on AO3, and here on Tumblr. Major spoilers below the cut, so be sure to read the chapter before reading this post!

With chapter 4 posted, we’ve reached the halfway mark through this story, and we’re finally starting to get answers to some of the bigger mysteries at the heart of this fic. Clearly there are more questions still to be answered, but the developments in this chapter is the crux of all of it.

This chapter builds on details first introduced in previous chapters, so a lot of the visuals referenced have already appeared in the extras for previous chapters. One new thing that came up this chapter was Clara visualizing the church where they got married. So often when I go looking for photographic references for parts of this story, I can only find things that are nearly right, but this time Glasgow gifted me with this utterly perfect beauty:

St Simon’s church (originally St Peter’s) was built in 1858, and just so happens to be only a few miles from the University of Glasgow and the Kelvingrove art museum, that were both mentioned in chapter 3. I’m not going to delve into any questions of religion in this story, but I can certainly imagine Clara and the Doctor’s tiny wedding in this little church.

The “blue flowers” Clara remembers from their wedding are forget-me-nots -- I couldn’t resist having some blue in their wedding (maybe not quite TARDIS blue, but still), not to mention the added layer of symbolism in the name.

Clara’s other memories parallel entries from the journal that recorded moments at the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities and the ancient city of Thebes, near modern-day Luxor.

Of course, the core of this chapter is really the reincarnation element. When I first started sketching out ideas for Ghost Story, I knew early on that I wanted to use reincarnation as one of the major building blocks, so in a lot of ways the second half of this chapter is the central scene that the entire narrative hinges around. 

Given that this story takes place completely outside the context of the Doctor Who canon, reincarnation felt to me like an interesting way to parallel Clara’s echoes in canon, the way she and the Doctor meet out of order and the lasting influence it has on their forward-moving relationship. As in canon, in this story Clara grapples with “competing with a ghost” of a woman the Doctor had known before she met him, and she similarly comes to discover that it was actually her all along.

I’ve always really enjoyed love stories that center around reincarnation -- and in fact, I’ve written a story about reincarnation once before, in another fandom -- but it feels like it fits Clara and the Doctor even better than it fits most pairings, between her echoes and his regeneration. The ghost mystery was the first thing that drew me into writing this, but getting to tell a reincarnation love story was a very quick second.

In that vein, there are a couple of pieces of fiction that heavily influenced this story. I grew up watching and rewatching one of my mom’s favorite films, Dead Again, and I still love it nearly 30 years after it was first released. I highly recommend it to any of you who are particularly enjoying the genre of Ghost Story. The plot details vary enough that you won’t pick up any spoilers for this story from Dead Again (or vice versa, other than the obvious). I also listened to the soundtrack for Dead Again quite a lot while working on Ghost Story. It’s part of my normal writing playlist, but it felt especially fitting for this story.

In more recent years I also fell head over heels for the BBC Victoria AU fic Love In/And History. It’s a sprawling, ambitious epic of the sort that I couldn’t hope to write, and if you’re a fan of Victoria (which, of course, also starred Jenna Coleman) I cannot recommend it enough. Again, there are some similarities in theme but not plot, so if you’re looking for something to binge between now and next Friday, you can dive right into that one without worrying about spoilers for Ghost Story.

Prior to posting here and on AO3, each chapter of This Isn’t A Ghost Story had only been read by my husband Jack, who has been acting as my in-house beta reader, occasional task master, and all-around cheerleader. While I was working on Ghost Story, he was adamant about not wanting any spoilers for future chapters, which was really helpful in crafting the mystery, since I could use him to gauge how well the clues were rolling out. After he read chapter 3, he had a couple of guesses about where the story was leading, and one of them was reincarnation -- though, at his insistence, I didn’t tell him if any of his guesses were correct.

It’s been really interesting to watch some of you leave comments on previous chapters with guesses in the same direction! For me as the writer, all I can see are what feel like glaring clues laid out throughout the first three chapters, so it’s been reassuring to know that the clues are being picked up on, but they didn’t scream quite as loudly as it feels like to me. I am very curious to hear, though, if any of you were surprised by the way this chapter went? Did you think the clues were leading in another direction entirely?

That’s it for this week! I’ll be back next week with behind the scenes info for chapter 5. Thank you all again for all your comments, reblogs, and kudos! ❤️

--

Extras for Chapter 5: The Present

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Reflections on Writing a Longfic

hey guys! I wanted to make this for a bit, because I thought it would be cathartic. Also I started school again and my teacher is very much into reflections, which I always was an advocate for too, so I thought I would write this! tagging @cathybrokeit and @novamm66 for their interest as well :) Note this really isn’t a “writing advice post,” more so my reflection on how I wrote my fic In Waking Dreams to completion, but if you learn something from it...great! :) 

Anwyay, unto the breach! Also there will be spoilers for IWD, but the story is pretty much Inquisition with my own imaginings in the gaps. But if you want to read IWD spoiler free, I recommend not reading this! 

Background

So I have spoken at length about this before, but I never wrote fanfic until In Waking Dreams. I read it, but never really felt compelled to write it. I wrote original fiction before, even finished a first draft for about three or so different pieces, and the last thing I wrote before IWD (besides a ten minute play) was something I was very, very much in love with, and still am very much in love with.  I finished the first draft of that my freshman year of college, but when I tried to revise it, the words didn’t seem pretty or “perfect enough.” I could not make it the story I wanted to see. It didn’t just frustrate me. It made me deeply depressed. I worried I wouldn’t be able to write again. 

I did a lot of gaming in college because I honestly couldn’t really do anything else (I had trouble connecting with my theatre peers. I was not a partier and my department liked to party.) I lived alone, so I played a lot of games. In 2014 Inquisition came out and I played it because DA had always been one of my favorites. I romanced Cullen, and the romance really resonated with me. It’s why I played it a lot. 

Then my last semester of college, I realized I was really (forgive my crassness,) turned on by the idea of writing a fic with Cullen and my Inquisitor. 

I’ll be honest: at first I thought it was ludicrous. I was twenty two at the time. I never wrote fic. I told my friend once that while i respected it and enjoyed a lot of it, it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t imagine writing a character that wasn’t mine. But I loved Cullen because he and his romance were a comfort to me. I loved his arc and I wanted to fill in the gaps. My directing teacher always told us to direct what turns us on...not what what leaves us with blue balls. I suspect writing is the same way. Hell, I know it is the same way. I couldn’t escape the fact I was turned on. 

So I began. It felt so strange to write the first chapter, but it wasn’t strange anymore, after a while. the words, they flowed from the page. I was upset when I wasn’t writing. I felt like myself again when I was. I was so happy to write this story. It was so bittersweet to finish. 

I don’t know how I did it, in all honesty. but I am going to attempt to tell you how, and analyze it. 

Getting started

I had a grand idea before I began: I would write the whole story, edit it, then publish. I started November 2016 before I graduated college in December. Graduating was so great because it gave me more writing time. (lol.) Made the A03 and officially joined by late December, because I heard it may take a while to get an invite. By May 2017 I was sort of almost done with the first draft, (I got to after the Winter Palace and Perseverance, and I believe Cullen and Lydia had just consummated their relationship.) So I began going back to the beginning and editing, and I decided i was going to start publishing. for exposure, I renamed my tumblr to my a03 name, but I decided eventually to start from scratch. Here we are now. 

I am not going to lie, I got to the destruction of Haven part, uploaded it, and got no response. I was really, really disappointed. I thought: did I do this for nothing? My mom noticed I was upset, and in a moment of weakness I told her everything. Let me tell you, IRL me is very, very secretive of my writing. No one knows about my original work except for one other person. But I told my mom, and she asked me: 

“Are you having fun?” 

I told her yes. She asked me if I believed in my story. I told her yes. She told me to remember that. So for the entire journey I remembered that I believed. I believed and I loved, and that was part of the reason why I finished. People began reading and commenting. One comment made me so, so happy. they always do, to this day. they truly do help.

I knew it before, but I fully learned it then: write what turns you on. write what you want to see. You’ll love, and that love can help you continue 

From the Draft to A03

So here’s a few fun facts about IWD

Stroud was the original Warden, not Miranda 

Originally there was passages in Cassandra’s POV, as well as Solas. did away with this because I can not write Solas and i didn’t think the cassandra parts added anything.

there was going to be a lot of leliana/ Cullen tension I cut back on. there was also a lot of leli/ Lydia tension. 

I wanted to focus on Inqusition as a whole, rather than the romance of cullen and Lydia. (HA) 

Cullen’s ex girlfriend Elaine wasn’t going to make an appearance, but Asher always was.

The timeline as it currently is is way different from my original intention. to Adamant everything would be normal, then there would be the ball that happens at Skyhold, then perseverance and Lydia and Cullen getting together, then the Winter Palace and Cullen and Lydia’s first intimate moment by Honnleath, and then Daddy Trevelyan arrives. (remembering now, the only thing I hadn’t written was the return of Asher.)

 I reassembled a lot of stuff as I wrote. Daddy trev arrived earlier because I wanted him at the ball at Skyhold, the ball happened a lot later, and as I wrote I inserted the Elaine subplot. 

No beta readers, but I would consider one in the future. 

There’s a lot of other stuff I added in and expanded as I started uploading. The original Lydia and Cullen blow up over his past wasn’t nearly as dramatic. Miranda was added and fleshed out, as was Hawke. Eventually I realized i would have to scrape what I had previously written (for an example the first kiss is radically different.) and start from scratch. Was I frustrated? Kinda sorta. See, I truly believe had I not written that incomplete first draft, I would not have been as happy with IWD as it currently stands. Trust me, I understand wanting to upload chapters after you write them and after a cursory read through and edit. I have done this. I will still do this, ha. But I truly think without that base of IWD, I wouldn’t have been nearly as happy with my story. especiallly since it is very very complicated.

Another note: I tended to think of novels like movies, but one thing that really , really helped me was thinking of the story more like a TV show. Episodes or chapters should compliment the whole, but if you want a whole chapter of your OTP laying in bed...you can do that. In fact, I encourage it in fanfic if you want it. that’s the beauty of it. We can write entire scenes of our favorite characters eating ice cream, a scene that would probably be cut out in a major motion picture or even published book for “slowing the pace.” No need in fic. Sure maybe some things can be trimmed, ( I really wish I would have cut the Elaine subplot at least a smidge) but I learned that the true beauty in my story, and what I was really passionate about, was the moments between Cullen and Lydia. 

So eventually I gave up thinking this was an epic novelization of DAI, and embraced it for the romance. I added more little moments.

Long story short: original intentions may change. threads may go elsewhere than the original intent. that’s okay. Characters may surprise you. that is wonderful, because don’t people in real life surprise you? Lydia surprised me. A lot. I knew this before I think, but I know it for sure now: let your characters surprise you. I didn’t truly know Lydia till I continued to write her.I didn’t think she would “want to hurt Cullen” as she says, but as soon as I wrote it: I knew. She would be so hurt she would want to hurt him back. 

Support 

I finished this with a lot of my fire, but I did have support, which helped a lot as well. I was fortunate to get a few frequent commentors as I wrote.  Bless you, every one. @lyriumyue was one such reader. She made comments and observations that I didn’t know about as I was writing, but when she pointed them out, I could totally see it. So I came to her when I was stuck, and she helped me figure stuff out. 

My mom also supported me. I didn’t tell her everything, but when I wasn’t sure if I wanted Cullen and Lydia to kiss, we talked through it, and she said, “let them kiss.” being stuck is normal, but talking it out helps. Heck even writing it down may help. I did that too. When I doubt, I talked it out. 

Final thoughts 

So...here’s the truth about writing, as far as I’m concerned: it’s like falling in love. Something captures you, and you want, need to write it. then there’s the honeymoon phase. After a while, it becomes work and you have to put in effort when you didn’t have to before. but remembering what caught you can reignite that passion. It did for me, when I was bummed out about no comments. Sometimes though, it didn’t. it took a while for a new fire. It came back when someone commented. sometimes it came back because I really, really missed cullen and lydia.

I can’t tell you how I finished. I just know that writing gave me immense happiness. Perhaps you should not fall in love with your characters, but fall I did. I wanted to see them happy in the end, watching the dawn. that made me continue. It made me finish. I don’t know what to say, other than I wanted to see this through so, so much. So I did. And i think remembering why I began....helped a lot. So did support. 

Like I said, this is my reflection. I wish I had more advice, but truthfully the only thing I can say is write with passion and believe. Love what you’re doing. I didn’t always love my words. in fact I learned sometimes you just gotta convey information, but sometimes i would write one line, that just really...it was like soaring. other times, no lie I fucking hated it. I still hate that winter palace chapter, TBH. 

but I believed and I wanted, in the end. I fell in love. So I did. Above all, I implore everyone to believe. Trust me guys, to anyone who wants to write anything: I believe. You can do it. I wish I had something more profound to say, but that’s what I got. And I truly do believe. 

Thank you for reading, thank you for supporting. I’ll still be here. Writing Cullen, and falling in love. 

-Cheyenne (Shakes)

[roxy-davenport]

Eight Days of Winchester

Title: Eight Days of Winchester

Prompt: Jewish/Hanukkah/ For @saxxxology’s SPN Holiday Challenge

Word Count: 5,534 (Whoops)

Warnings: None

A/N: Fluff, Young Dean, Young Reader, Young Sam. This is told in the reader’s POV. I huge thanks to my beta @dr-dean for letting me pick your brain about Hannukah. You were a very thorough and awesome beta answering every single question I had. Thank you so much.

Also on A03

Day 1

 My mom invited this guy over to dinner. She barely even knows him but I can tell she likes him already. It’s been awhile since she found someone she liked. I promised her I’d be on my best behavior. She informs me the man has two very handsome sons -- she’s seen pictures apparently. I had an eye roll so epic I think my eyes actually rolled all the way back into my skull. But I put on my favorite dress just in case she wasn’t lying. I didn’t hold out much hope. My mom insisted the boys all come over and taste some good home cooking. The man, John I think she said his name was, said he wasn’t much of a cook and so mom insisted they come over. The holidays were supposed to be family time but I couldn’t hold it against mom. If this guy made her happy, I could give him a chance.

 Mom got out the Hanukkah menorah along with the candles. I always thought the menorah looked pretty with colored candles.

 “You remember why there are eight days to Hanukah, right?”

 I rolled my eyes yet again.

 “Yep, I remember. The eight branches represent the eight nights.”

My mother grilled me every year -- as if I could ever forget. Who needs religious classes when you got mommy dearest, right?

 “In Hebrew the word “Hanukkah” means “dedication.” The name reminds us that this holiday commemorates the re-dedication of the Temple in Jerusalem after the Jewish victory over the Syrian-Greeks in 165 B.C.E. The Syrian-Greeks had seized the Jewish temple and dedicated it to the worship of the god Zeus. The Jewish people resisted being forced to worship a false god and give up what it meant to be Jewish. If anyone practiced Judaism they would be given the death penalty. So Jewish rebels, the Maccabees, retook the temple to “purify” it by burning ritual oil in the Temple for eight days. They only had a small amount of oil which could only really last for only one day but surprisingly it lasted eight days so we now we celebrate that miracle. And because of this, the menorah in synagogues must always be lit; it must always have an eternal flame. You’re better than any religious school.”

 Mom chuckled.

 “The one candle that’s higher than the rest is called the Shamash, or helper candle, and that’s the candle you use to light the others.“

 My mom looked impressed that I actually remembered everything.

 “We have to light the candles right after sunset. If they’re late we’ll have to do it without them.” I told her hoping that we wouldn’t have to celebrate Hanukkah with strangers.

 “They won’t be late. I don’t know if John has ever taken part in Hanukah before.”

 “He’s not Jewish?”

 “No he’s not Jewish, but you should have seen his face when I asked him to celebrate with us. He was practically beaming. The poor man must be so lonely. It’s a shame his wife died. He’s such a good man. And besides, dear, we’re reform Jewish. If we were orthodox dating a goy (non-Jew) couldn’t be done.”

 My mother was so happy at sharing a tradition with a man she barely knew. Maybe my mom was as lonely as this John man. Maybe they could make each other happy. She was totally head over heels for the guy even though he didn’t see her an awful lot every month. This John character kept leaving to go off on “jobs.”

 Hello! Red flag right there, mom! He’s probably in the mob or a cheat. I mean how else could you explain the long absences? Maybe he even had another family somewhere. But I wouldn’t do anything until she came to the same conclusion. I’d play nice and get to know him until then.

 A ring at the door signaled their arrival. My mom tidied up her appearance, fixing her hair and her makeup. Mom opened the door beaming at John. I stood behind her my face not giving anything away. John smiled at me as he extended his hand to me.

 “You must be Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 “It’s nice to meet you, too, John,” I answered back somewhat sweetly.

 He had a firm handshake and a very friendly maybe too friendly smile. There was movement behind him and my eyes darted to behind his back. John introduced me to his sons, Sam and Dean. One was very shy and small but sweet. He shook my hand rather nervously might I add. The other boy was older and taller and he just winked at me. I shivered at the feeling, excitement coursing through my 18-year-old body. He spelled danger. And for me, a girl who never left the small town I grew up in or got into any trouble, this boy spelled a different, more fun kind of life. That wink spoke volumes to me.

 I haven’t even kissed a guy yet much less made out with one. Dean looked very experienced to me. I gulped nervously in his presence. Dean noticed and smirked back at me. Self-righteous prick. He was infuriating and sexy all at the same time. I never liked any of the boys in school. Then again boys like Dean never attended my school.

 Mom brought out the menorah and placed it on the table along with the kosher candles. Dean and Sam were intrigued to see what was going to happen. Dean of course took this moment to get closer to me this time his eyes roving up and down my figure. I rolled my eyes at him. This boy had only one thing on the brain. He was hot yeah but come on a girl needs more than just hotness. Or does she?

 Mother and I placed the candles in their respective places in the menorah. Mom used the match to light the Shamash, the candle in the middle first. I then took that candle and lit the one next to it before placing it back in the middle. My mom recited the blessings as a way to pay respect to God and our Jewish ancestors.

 “Adonai , shehekheyanu, v’kiyamanu vehegianu lazman hazeh.”

 You and your mother both said, “Amen” at the same time. Your mother smiled at you before addressing the guests at the table motioning everyone to sit down and eat.

 I could feel his eyes on me the entire dinner. To make matters worse my mom talked about me. I hate being the center of attention. I know it’s normal for moms to want to brag about their kids but with them? Ugh. At the mention of stellar grades, all eyes were on me. I looked down at the floor, blushing profusely.

 Sam perked up at the mention of good grades. He started engaging me in conversation about literature and homework. I went from being shy to outgoing in a couple of minutes. This Sam boy made me feel comfortable. I found out he wrote stories and so did I. He told me he would make sure to bring some of his next time when he saw me. I in turn promised to hand him some of mine. I was so excited to show someone my stories and read his. You can find out a lot about a person through what they choose to write about.

 Dean didn’t miss the exchange between his brother and me. He was making grumbly sounds throughout. I just chose to ignore his rather puerile behavior. He was probably grumpy that his brother was not only talking to me but responsible for my smile.

 As if that’s my fault. Dean got really moody and quiet, picking at the food on his plate. I liked Dean, I really did. I just bonded intellectually with Sam -- no biggie.

 I tried to engage Dean in talk about books or other things. I didn’t find anything in common with him, but I wanted to. I couldn’t explain it but I felt drawn to him like a magnet.

 “Thank you, John, for coming during the holidays. It’s nice to celebrate with more than just the two of us.”

 “It’s been awhile since I celebrated the holidays myself and I’m glad my boys can get some culture in.”

 Mom smiled at John before turning to me, handing me a present. I smiled at her. Dean raised his eyebrow at me.

 “We get one of these everyday.”

 Blushing I reached out to quickly grab the gift. I felt awkward opening it in front of everyone, but my mom’s warm smile egged me on.

 “Wait, you get eight days worth of presents? Dad, can we be Jewish?”

 “Dean!” John said forcefully in a hushed voice.

 I stuck out my tongue at Dean. He in turn rolled his eyes. On top of the present I got delicious little chocolates called gelt that looked like coins wrapped in a gold foil. The main present was THE game I wanted for my Playstation 4. Sam’s eyes went wide when he saw that. Dean groaned. They left soon after that, John saying that his boys needed some sleep.

 Day 2

 The second they came, mom ran to hug John and grab the menorah. Mom placed the candles in the menorah from right to left and then lit the shamesh, the candle in the middle. I then lifted the shamesh out of the menorah and lit one candle before passing the shamesh to Dean who lit another candle. Mom showed Dean where the shamesh belonged on the menorah.

 I started to blush at the intense stare he was giving me. Mother closed her eyes and started chanting.

 “Baruch Atah adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvitav v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukah. Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam, she’asah nisim l’avoteinu, b’yamim haheim bazman hazeh.”

 Everyone said, “Amen.”

 We all smiled and took our respective seats at the table. The more I talked with Sam, the more Dean slumped in his seat across from me. Sam and I just had so many things in common. I had no idea why Dean was being so dramatic. I didn’t like his brother like that. Sam was cute but I wanted Dean.

 “Y/N. Could you pass me the…”

 “The potato latkes? Sure Dean.”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, those.”

 “They’re really good, right?”

 “Man, I could eat these every day.” Dean confessed.

 “Wait till you try my mom’s homemade cherry blintzes. They are out of this world.”

 Dean’s face lit up at the talk of food. It was then that I learned the way to his heart. Thankfully, my mom had taught me how to cook.

 I fell into an easy conversation again with Sam but took quick glances at Dean who always smiled back at me.

 After dinner was finished, I opened my present and found another PlayStation game. This time Dean didn’t groan. Instead he watched my face light up and he smiled. He wanted to stay and talk to me but his father insisted they leave. You gave Dean half of your chocolate gelt, 5 pieces to be exact.

 “For good luck,” I told him.

 He slipped one into his mouth closing his eyes as the taste.

 “This is delicious.”

 Dean couldn’t stop smiling as he waved good-bye to me.

  Day 3

 John didn’t come today. He said he had to take the boys a few towns over to their aunt who had just given birth. Of course, I understood and my mom and I were happy for the new baby in their family. But I missed Dean. It wasn’t the same without him. I barely knew him and I missed him already.

 I lit the menorah adding another candle. I looked at the candles seeing just candles. When Dean was there, they looked like amazing lights. They made his face sparkle almost. He seemed so fascinated by the whole ritual. I was swept up in how he saw it.

 I sat there with my mom talking about school, nothing important but she noticed I was a bit apathetic. I didn’t smile like I did when Dean was there.

 I ate my chocolate by myself opening my present and smiling. It was the DVD of a movie I was dying to see. I was overjoyed and ran to my room to watch it, forgetting about Dean for the moment.

 Day 4

 I literally ran home from school smiling, only to find two place settings on the dining room table and not five. No Dean tonight, either.

 I went through the motions again lighting another candle and saying the prayer. Hannukah wasn’t as much fun without Dean.

 I was starting to get worried that maybe John had really left town not just away on a visit. He said he would be back by now. He called mom when we were having dinner and assured her that the boys would be there the next day. He sounded sure on the phone so I chose to believe it, looking forward to the possibility of seeing Dean.

 The present I got was a gorgeous silk scarf, the kind my mother said I had to be older to wear. I guess I was old enough.

 “I see the way you face lights up when he’s here. I see the way he looks at you. As much as I hate it, my baby girl is growing up.  And older girls need nice scarves, grown-up scarves. Dean is a fine boy to pick by the way.”

 I blushed and looked down at the ground. Mom smiled and kissed my forehead. I fall asleep with a smile on my face knowing that tomorrow Dean would be there.

 Day 5

 The second the door opened I looked over at Dean. He looked exhausted and he had a cut on his cheek. He was wearing long sleeves but he kept itching his arm. I glanced down when he lifted it up a bit to scratch noticing a deep cut. He followed my gaze and covered up his arm quickly. His father glared at him, which made Dean shrink. John then looked my way but I ignored the patriarch and instead hugged Dean. He was surprised by my actions before he hugged me back slowly, tentatively as if I’d run away. After a few seconds he smiled and sighed into my arms. I stepped back and looked sheepishly at him. He winked at me and whispered in my ear before walking into my apartment, “I’m fine, honey. It’s just a cut.”

He looked me up and down and I did the same.

 The two of us didn’t notice what our parents were doing or saying. We were in our own world. Dean only noticed that they were holding hands so he reached out to hold mine smiling at me. Sam cleared his throat feeling awkward. Dean tried to withdraw his hand not wanting to make his brother feel awkward but I grabbed onto his hand and wouldn’t let go. I turned to Sam and handed him one of my stories.

 “Oh man I’m so sorry I--.”

“No need to apologize, Sam. You’ll bring them when you can. I’d love to know what you think of my story. I really hope you like it.”

 “I would be happy to read it. Thanks.”

 I nodded at Sam who suddenly seemed to be more comfortable in the room. Dean smiled at me noticing the change in his brother.

 Mom lit the shamesh and you and Dean were tasked with lighting the rest of the candles. You divided up the task moving from left to right. Mom said the prayer, which always ended in a unison, “Amen.”

 The two boys ate almost all the food on the table. I stared at them confused. Didn’t their father feed them? I mean mom was a great cook but really?

 As I did every time, I gave half of my chocolate to Dean. He shook his head but I placed it in his palm and closed his fingers around it.

 “I’m Jewish, Dean. This is my thing. I get Hanukah gelt every year. There are 10 pieces here. Share it with me. Your family never gets them. Enjoy it.”

 Sam raised his eyebrows at me about to say something but Dean made a face and Sam backed away. He looked away sheepishly. Dean looked down at the chocolate in his hand and gave Sam two of his pieces. Sam’s face light up, his fingers anxiously ripping off the gold fold and putting them both into his mouth. His eyes grew wide tasting how delicious they were.

 I opened my present to find one of your favorite books, The Girl Who Owned the City.

 “You like books?”

 I looked over at Dean confused by his comment. So he doesn’t like books? Who doesn’t like books, I wondered. “This isn’t just any book Dean. This is a book about a virus that wipes out all the adults leaving children to run the world. It’s a feminist apocalypse sci-fi book. You should read it. You might like it.”

 “I’m not too big on horror or apocalyptic worlds. This world is scary enough.”

 I frown at his comment. That’s a bit dark for a 19-year-old to say. What kinds of things had he seen? Before I can ask what he meant, his father suddenly pushes Dean out of the door. I put the offhanded comment out of my mind not thinking anymore about it.

 Day 6

 We lit the menorah together before mom said the prayer.

 Dean’s eyes are on me during the whole dinner, completely distracting me and making me feel flustered. I didn’t notice the conversation John was having with my mother or how much closer they’d gotten. I do hear her laugh and it’s been so long since she even smiled.

 When I open my present I see it’s another video game I really wanted. I’m so happy and beg mom to let them stay over. Smiling she looked over at John silently begging him to say yes.

 When John nodded, the boys run up the stairs to my bedroom. I ran close behind them. I put the game in and immediately searched for multiplayer options. I handed Dean a black controller. He glanced at me like I was crazy.

 “You’re playing with us, Dean. Basically kick the bad guys asses.”

 “Oh honey, I can definitely do that. I have training in that.”

 Sam turns around and glares at his brother. Dean just shrugs. I watched the exchange completely confused.

 Reaching over Dean’s lap I place my hand on his controller. “You press this for a punch, this for a kick. This button is for a combo and this is to block.”

 Dean’s eyes glazed over at all the different buttons but once we started playing he got the hang of it, He cheered and groaned along with us. We were having so much fun we didn’t hear footsteps behind us. Mom told me that she found John just watching us. Creepy much? Mom joined in and they both watched us play games and smile. Even creepier. Thanks for telling me, mom. She even said, “When you’re a grown-up you’ll understand.” Whatever that means.

 Day 7

 Dean came to dinner dressed very nicely. I blushed when I saw him at the door. I was very happy that I had chosen a lace dress to wear.

 “I love a girl in lace,” Dean said suggestively.

 “And look at you. No more plaid lumberjack shirts but instead a leather coat and nice pants. You clean up nice, Winchester.”

 Dean blushed profusely and Sam laughed. Dean elbowed him to be quiet.

 Dean helped me light the menorah and even tried to pronounce the Hebrew words mom said.

 The second we sat down, Sam got my attention. He had a big smile on his face and a bunch of papers in his hands.

 “I just wanted to say that I love your stories, Y/N.”

 “Really?” you inquired, your eyes as wide as saucers.

 “Yeah they’re super creative. I brought mine this time.”

 “And I brought another story,” you added.

 “Awesome. I can’t wait to read it, Y/N.”

 “Same here, Sam.”

 The rest of the conversation with Sammy was about his stories. No one had ever taken an interest in your writing. I mean your mom did but she was your mom. That didn’t count. This was a boy taking an interest in you. I talked about the deeper themes in my stories and asked him about the themes in his writing.

 Dean didn’t feel jealous that I was talking to Sam. No moaning or growling from Dean’s side of the table. He simply beamed at me, happy and amazed that I could fit so well into his life.

 I watched him carefully after all the cryptic things he’d said in recent days. There was sadness in his eyes that night. I always thought it weird how I could read Dean so well. If soul mates existed maybe that would explain it. I don’t know how but I could feel guilt wafting off him in waves.

 This time I opened my small bag of gelt up and let Dean take as much as he wanted. Mom gave me my present, which I then shook trying to figure out what it was. It made a soft clicking sound.

 “A CD?”

 Mom shrugged.

 I tore open the wrapping paper and saw it was the album, Back in Black from AC/DC.

 “You love AC/DC?” Dean inquired.

 “Who doesn’t like classic rock?”

 “I’ve been trying to get Sam to enjoy more classic rock.”

 “I’d enjoy it more if you didn’t listen to it on repeat all the time.”

 Dean rolled his eyes.

 “Let’s listen to it upstairs?”

 I quickly nodded running up the stairs after him.

 “Door open kids.” Mom called out.

 “Yeah, Mom.”

 Sam took the hint and stayed downstairs. Glancing back, I saw him starting on his homework.

 The second that we got into my room I put on the album. I turned towards Dean. I was nervous so I closed my eyes and just listened to the music, letting it guide my movements. I danced in front of him occasionally opening my eyes to see Dean staring at me hungrily. He slowly walked me backwards into the wall. He put his hands on either side of my head as he looked down at me. I gulped trying to avoid eye contact. I was way too nervous for that so I stared at his chest. He carefully moved one of his hands from the wall to guide my chin up making eye contact with me.

 “Why so nervous, doll?”

 “I’ve never kissed a boy?”

 “Never? How is that possible? I would have thought boys would jump at the chance to kiss you.”

 “What school do you go to again?”

Dean chuckled. His hand slowly moved to my cheek as he caressed it. I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch.

 “That’s it, baby. Relax. I got you.”

 With my eyes still closed, I felt his face get closer and closer to mine, his forehead grazing mine. I felt his lips on my lips. Dean kissed me gently, carefully, almost reverently. He slowly moved his tongue inside my mouth cautiously playing with my tongue. My hands moved to his hair to hold him there. He took that as a sign and deepened the kiss, moving his tongue more inside my mouth. When we needed air he slowly disconnected his lips from mine. His thumb caressed my cheek. He stared into my eyes and I saw so much feeling there. He nibbled my bottom lip and my eyes fluttered closed.

 Dean and I heard a creak from the floorboards next to us. I saw him reaching into his pants to get what looked like a weapon out. Why does he have a weapon? His father cleared his throat and Dean’s hands fell suddenly to his side.

 “We gotta go, Dean.”

 Dean doesn’t argue with his father. I shivered silently at the harsh tone in which John speaks to his son. Before Dean leaves he kisses my forehead and smiles so mournfully. With several lingering glances he walked down the stairs away from me. John nodded at me and leaves quietly with the boys. I collapsed on the bed still high from that amazing kiss. If only John hadn’t interrupted us.

 Day 8

 Dean came over as usual. But everyone seemed uneasy, anxious even; their gaze never on me or my mother for too long.

 I lit the last candles for Hanukkah. Me, Dean, and mom said the Hebrew prayer.

 Dean looked at me sadly. I had no idea what was going on but with each passing second, I felt like I was dying. I could feel Dean pulling away. It was getting harder to breath.

 Moments later John shattered my world by saying that they had to move. I blinked continuously trying to blink away my tears, which Dean noticed. He looked more pained than before.

 The first decent guy to come along and make me feel amazing and then he has to leave? How cruel was fate?

 At that exact moment, the windows of my home were broken by some sort of creature. The creature was snarling at me. Mom ran away screaming. I stood my ground and started throwing things at it. Then I noticed another monster. The monster started barreling towards me. Dean acted fast tackling it to the ground. He gave the monster a hard kick making its head land painfully on the coffee table. Dean got up quickly grabbing you and ushering you into the kitchen.

 “We need silver. It’s a werewolf.”

 I didn’t ask any questions, I was beyond frightened and his voice commanded authority. I grabbed all the utensils and ran out into the living room with Dean. He threw two knives to Sam and John. I in turn threw a bunch of stuff at the monster, which distracted it. I clutched my knife focusing every ounce of strength I had into killing this werewolf. I thought about all the kids that teased me, all the bad stuff that happened, and channeled that anger. I pushed it backwards against the wall. I maneuvered under its claws and jammed the knife into its heart. It tried to scratch me as it was dying but I jumped high and rolled away from it.

 Everyone stared at me. John and Sam had already killed the other werewolf. Mom ran to me hugging and kissing me. The boys kept staring at me. I withdrew from my mother and walked over to Dean.

 “What the hell was that?” I nearly screamed at him.

 “I could ask you the same thing,” Dean answered back.

 “I take self defense classes, one. Two we lived in a very dangerous neighborhood when I grew up. So I learned how to fight at an early age. And three, I’m awesome. Thanks for noticing.”

 “Yes, you really are.” Dean said awestruck.

 Dean didn’t hesitate and grabbed the back of my head cramming his lips on mine. This wasn’t like the kiss before. This was passionate and rough. This was to show emotion, not to comfort a scared girl. I was no longer the scared, innocent, wide-eyes girl I was before. I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him back just as passionately. My eyes fluttered open when his lips left mine.

 Dean practically growled.

 “I’m not leaving Y/N behind, dad. You saw what she did. I’m telling her and I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He said the last part to me holding my hand.

 John was about to say something when I spoke up.

 “Tell me what?”

 “Dean!” John warned.

 Ignoring his father Dean spilled the beans. “We hunt monsters. That was a werewolf. Our mom died from a monster, a demon actually and we as a family hunt monsters. We keep the world safe. And we have to leave. There’s a town two hours away. Five people have already died. It’s definitely a monster. Possibly a ghost. We can’t stay here. When dad said we were visiting our aunt that gave birth? That was a lie. We were on a ghoul hunt that took longer than anticipated.”

 “Your family hunts monsters?” It made sense. His cryptic comments; the sadness, the cuts, the gun, everything made sense now.

 “Yeah I know that’s--.”

 “Hunting monsters, saving people the family business…that’s awesome.”

 Dean was shocked.

 “And you want me to come?”

 “Yes Y/N I really do.”

 “Give me a moment. One moment.”

 I nibbled Dean’s lower lip before smiling back at him. I turn to my mom walking with her into the kitchen. She hugged me handing me a large book bag.

 “I heard everything honey. I may not like it but I know I have to let you go. You’re an adult now you can make you own decisions. I know how you feel about Dean and the way you fought. That was incredible. You weren’t afraid -- you acted decisively. I knew in that moment you would be leaving and I packed your favorite things. You are meant to go with them and save the world. John was never meant to be mine. I was meant to meet him so you could meet your beshert, the one you are fated to love, Dean. I’m terrified. It’s so dangerous but if monsters really do exist, someone has to protect people like me. You were meant for this Y/N. Go with them and know I love you always. You better call me regularly.”

 I cried as I held onto my mom. I never thought she would be so understanding. She was right, though, I belonged with the Winchesters.

 Dean was trying to stall. His father didn’t want to take me with them and they were furiously arguing. I could hear them all the way in the kitchen.

 I threw my book bag in the backseat and turned to Dean. “Thanks for stalling, Dean. Mr. Winchester, I know I’m only 18 but I choose this life and I don’t need a lecture from anyone. I am technically an adult. I planned on taking a few years off before going to college anyway. Get some life experience. I could have died from the Werewolf that must have followed you. I could have run away like my mom did and waited for you guys to swoop in, but I didn’t. We all could have died. Your sons included. But what happened? I saved everyone. And if you don’t take me, I’ll give Dean my number and go out on my own hunting monsters. Your choice.”

 “I can’t be responsible for you.”

 “You’re not, John. I’m responsible for me. I choose this life. This is my choice, come what may.”

 “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

 “So what? I go back to my normal life? Forget about Dean? Forget about how I feel? I can’t do that. You can’t ask me to do that. I finally find someone I care about and you rip us apart? I finally feel like I am meant to be somewhere and you tell me to go back to a sheltered life? Too late, Mr. Winchester. I belong here, I know how to fight and I promise you that I am making this choice. I don’t want to live an ordinary safe live and have a nine-to-five job. I want more. I want to be a hero like Dean.”

John groans, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opens them, they bore into you. It feels like he’s looking into your soul or something.

 I pointed to the house.

 “Go inside and speak with my mom, please. She has the right to send me with you. Please talk to her.”

 Dean grabbed his father’s arm pleading with him. “Y/N could do research. Only research. No hunting. She stays back. I will make sure of that. You, me, and Sammy go hunting.”

 I nodded agreeing with Dean. I would do anything to go with them.

 John looked between the two of us and then walked over to the house. John was in the kitchen for an hour arguing with mom while Dean and I were making out in the backseat of the car. Sam sat as far away from us as possible.

 By the time John came back, he sighed heavily looking back at the two of you. You stopped mid kiss looking back at him.

 “Well, looks like you’re an honorary Winchester Y/N. Call me John.”

 “Well John, my mom’s one stubborn lady when she decides something and so am I.”

 “I can see that.”

 “But you’re doing research. Dean will train you but no hunting until you can outsmart him and he’s been hunting since he was a child so that’s a tall order. No arguments or I’ll turn this car around. “

 “You’ll receive no arguments from me.”

 And just like I sped off to my new life as a hunter finally feeling like I belonged.

 Tagging

Forevers: @purgatoan, @killerofthesouth, @charliebradbury1104, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @chelsea072498, @everday-supernatural-af, @kalliravennee, @toogardenenthusiast, @winchesterprincessbride, @one-shots-supernatural, @take-me-tonirvana, @hellsmother, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @faegal04, @deals-with-demons, @mamaredd123, @atc74, @hamartiamacguffin

Dean Folks from my list: @ellen-reincarnated1967, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @buckymetallicstump, @faith-in-dean, @bennyyh, @ruprecht0420 @supernatural-jackles, @jesspfly, @webcricket

@aprofoundbondwithdean, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @dr-dean, @nichelle-my-belle, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @thegreatficmaster, @salvachester, @blushingsamgirl, @bkwrm523, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @lipstickandwhiskey, @impala-dreamer, @samsgoddess, @frenchybell, @scorpiongirl1, @for-the-love-of-dean, @cici0507, @fiveleaf, @deansleather, @curliesallovertheplace, @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @waywardjoy, @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious, @kayteonline, @supernatural-jackles, @idreamofhazel, @wevegotworktodo, @ilovedean-spn2 , @quiddy-writes, @wi-deangirl77, @deantbh, @mysaintsasinner, @chelsea-winchester, @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @fandommaniacx, @teamfreewillimagines, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @castieltrash1, @supernaturallyobsessed, @memariana91, @writingbeautifulmen, @captain-princess-rose, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @idreamofhazel, @revwinchester, @supermoonpanda, @ageekchiclife, @i-dont-know-how-to-write, @vintagevalentinexx, @ohwritever, @ruinedbydestiel, @winchester-writes, @mysupernaturalfics, @thinkwritexpress, @sammit-janet @bowtiesandapplepie, @itsemmyb, @ezauraemmaline, @matteson-crazed, @castielspahdehrah, @charliesbackbitches, @crzcorgi, @gryffindorable713, @deerlululucy, @walkingencyclopediaoffandom, @MrsJohnSmith, @manawhaat, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @i-never-said-a-pilot, @thewinchestielboys, @supermoonpanda, @sis-tafics, @amaranthinecastiel, @kittenofdoomage, @samanddeanwinchester67, @prettyxwickedxthings, @ferferelli @lilyoflothlorien, @myfand0msandm0re, @olitzisbae, @iridianuniverse, @the-morning-star-falls,  @shortandlongstories, @strange-inhumanity, @ackleslaugh @noisilyyoungpuppy, @fangirling-instead-of-working, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess, @chrisatplay, @kayteonline, @spnsimpleman, @faith-in-dean, @gimmethepieandnoonegetshurt, @for-the-love-of-dean, @mamaimpala, @winchesterfiesta, @zanthiasplace, @sleep-silent-angel, @pada-ackles-reads, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan, @not-so-natural-spn, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @feelmyroarrrr, @beachy2014, @fandom-book-nerd, @tia58, @@sams-little-toy, @sunriserose1023, @saving-things-hunting-family, @winchesterswoonathon, @jotink78, @lucifer-in-leather,  @babypieandwhiskey, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @supernatural-jackles, @avasmommy224, @angelwingsandsupernaturalthings, @mysaintsasinner, @chelsea-winchester, @spn-fan-girl-173, @besslincoln-bruh, @wheresthekillswitch, @shelovesallthethings @maraisabellegrey, @notnaturalanahi

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 6

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There's non-explicit smut in this part!

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Remember that questionable morals remark? Yea, this chapter is the reason. Y/N, girl, you gotta stop... But at least it's kinda funny. Okay, it's pretty damn hilarious.

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She is amazing. I larb her. 💙

"And then I was like 'No Way!' and he was like 'Totally' and that's how I met Tony Stark," I finished excitedly, opposite a laughing Mr. Davies. The story of how I met Iron Man was a total hit with the teacher and my vigorous mimicking of the facial expressions that described my feelings during the time had my teacher busting a gut something loud. 

"I honestly have some trouble believing that but - hey, what the hell, he's a billionaire superhero, it's basically expected for him to be a little strange," When his laughing fit was over, Mr. Davies reminded me he was, in fact, a psychology doctor. There was serious brain power under that easygoing attitude.

I expected detention to be bearable in his company but Mr. Davies rose above expectations, welcoming me with another cup of tea and some colouring pages. Admittedly, I contemplated stealing some - those mandalas were really captivating.

"Oh, he's strange alright, but nothing I can't handle," I twirled a pencil between my fingers. 

Mr. Davies grinned knowingly, too knowingly for my comfort, and I had no choice but to make a stone face before looking him in the eye. 

He smirked. "So, anything else interesting for you going on?" 

"Nah, not much. Really looking forward to being done with high school and going out into the bigger world, y'know."

"You turned 18 already, right?" I nodded in confirmation. "Maybe get a job, something part-time? OsCorp always hands these leaflets out, they're looking for lab assistants."

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't need a job. Plus, I'm sure Bruce-err, Doctor Banner would smash me if I went to work at OsCorp," I glossed over my slip-up, hoping Mr. Davies would do the same. But no such luck happened.

"Right. Me and Bruce, we actually go way back," He smiled, stirring his tea. I perked up in interest. "We studied psychology together, sat next to each other in half of our classes. It's a shame what happened to him but I hope he's happy now," Mr. Davies was smiling earnestly, looking out of the window where rain had started flowing down on the glass.

"Really? That's cool," I said, lacking anything else to add to his statement.

"He used to skip classes and always lost his glasses even though they'd be on top of his head," My teacher continued. "Banner was actually quite a rowdy student," He added with a smirk.

"Hah, he still routinely loses his glasses, although he wears them on a string around his neck now," I chuckled fondly. Bruce was such a dork.

I chatted with Mr. Davies some more, just casual conversation about everything and nothing in between. His parents were hippies, he had two moms and one dad and according to him, Thor was very overrated. I didn't even notice we were up in each other's space until our knees brushed when Mr. Davies - "Call me Will" - was showing me the pictures of his cats, dog and lizard. I figured that as the hippy child, personal space was kind of a foreign concept to him - and that rang true, I've seen Will give out more shoulder grabs and high fives than anyone else sans the gym teacher.

The clock's ding announced 6 PM and I quickly gathered my things, hastily saying goodbye. I was stopped though.

"If you don't mind a quick stop at my house, I can drop you off. It's pouring buckets outside and I would hate you to get sick," Will spoke casually. 

Technically, I knew he was bending some rules of conduct. But it was also 55° outside and the water coming from the sky was unlikely to be warm. So I caved without any guilty conscience, obediently following Mr. Davies -Will- to the parking lot where a new-ish Jeep Cherokee proudly stood amongst several older, less gently used cars. With New York city traffic being the way it is, I didn't text Bruce yet, fully expecting for the trip to take a whole hour if not more. 

Thankfully the parking gods were merciful and Will managed to find a spot right across his two-story townhouse. "You're welcome to come in if you feel comfortable, I just need to fetch some documents," He said.

And that's where I fucked up. I nodded affirmatively, I followed him through the door and made myself as comfortable as I could on his living room couch. It was a cozy home, his iguana chilled opposite me in it's terrarium and the little mutt that was his dog really reminded me of the atrocity that my parents used to own before they had me. It yipped and yapped, wagging it's bushy tail at me and demanding pets.

The steaming tea mug was dutifully placed in my hand by Will who hopped upstairs immediately after that, skipping steps. I watched the man with a benign stare: he'd removed his sweater and I could see the defined muscles of his back and the admirable backside that he possessed. There was no harm in looking respectfully, right?

I was halfway through my mug when Will came back down, brandishing a truly impressive stack of manila folders, setting it on a nearby table before sitting down on the other end of the couch, maintaining a respectful distance between us. We chatted some more and the more he spoke about his current research, the more passionate he became; by the end of his truly epic description of the effects that anti-depressants have on the learning process of depressed adolescents, I was mesmerized by the way his pink lips formed words.

Sitting with my calves tucked under my butt, leaning against the armrest , I was a goner. He caught my eye, diverting his own stare from my exposed legs to the side, blinking furiously. It calmed my spirits somewhat, knowing that I wasn't the only one affected by the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. My mug landed on the low table with a loud clang as I leaned forward, the sleeves of my sweater accidentally brushing against his leg.

Will cleared his throat and I startled, tilting my head up towards him in confusion. He was staring at me with a mix of fear and delight in his eyes, like a boy preparing for his first kiss. I would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if the darkness in his stormy grey eyes didn't make my own breath do somersaults somewhere between my lungs and my esophagus.

Fifteen minutes later, both my sweater and my panties were thrown somewhere in the furthest end of the room and those thin lips were making me see stars. For some reason he was convinced I'd had only typical teenage disappointing sex up to this point and was really eager to show me what a grown man can do. I mean, I wasn't complaining, he was really, really good with his mouth - but I didn't have all night, so I flipped the tables and showed off my own oral skills until he had to bodily remove me from his dick and lift me onto it. Every movement felt surreal, like I was living in a dream. Despite my common sense yelling expletives at me, I kissed Will back with twice the heat and none of the finesse, each of us reaching the peak nearly in sync.

"Can I get that ride to the tower now?"

Will let out a decidedly unmanly squeak when he realised where exactly he'd be taking me after we did what we'd done. I smiled at him in hopes of calming down the man but it seemed it came out more predatory. He shivered, his dick twitching within me.

I texted Bruce the same time I was getting into Will's car. My brain was still somewhat in a state of shock and I used the brief moment to tidy up my hair and makeup, taking note of my sex-flushed face. I only hoped I didn't stink like man-sweat and Will's cologne. 

Another realization was startled out of me: that was my first time having had sex without a condom. I was on birth control since I was fourteen so pregnancy wasn't a scare; currently, I was more worried about the mildly uncomfortable, wet feeling in my panties where my teacher's cum had pooled out.

Yikes. That moment Will took a careful monitoring of my facial expression and it took me a lot to keep it somewhere between neutral and happy. Internally, I was freaking the fuck out, torn between horror and incredible arousal.

It morphed into full fledged mortification when I saw Bruce's lab coat from afar, the man standing next to the entrance door. Having had a dumb moment, I texted Banner that a former schoolmate of his was the one giving me a ride and it really shouldn't have been a surprise that Bruce would go downstairs to greet Will.

'Fuck you, you dumbass,' was my approximate train of thought, directed at myself, when all three of us gathered, hiding from the cold rain and the autumn wind under the safety of the roof. Both men shared a brief, warm embrace before Bruce's arm snaked around my waist.

"You go upstairs, okay? I don't want you to get sick," Banner said, eyeing the disastrous weather.

I looked at Will, finding his eyebrow cocked at Bruce's frivolous gesture and a faint flush blossoming on his face. The man shuffled awkwardly, giving me a small wave and a tight-lipped smile before turning his attention back to Bruce. I wished him good night, hastily retreating into the safety of the elevator.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-u-uck..." I chanted under my breath, acutely aware of the blossoming bruises on my hips where my teacher held me, the dampness of my underwear. 

The elevator doors opened, revealing the common room couch being occupied by Wanda. Peter, Wanda's brother and the two resident super soldiers setting the table for dinner. Tony was off bickering with Loki and Strange by the coffee maker and Thor was standing outside on the patio, doing something very strange with his hands and his hammer. Was he summoning the shitty weather?! The audacity!

"Hey," Wanda greeted me quietly. Her eyebrows raised upon seeing my face full of perplexed confusion. "You okay?.. Wait, what? Tell me you did not!" As my internal crisis reached its peak, I remembered that a) Wanda is a telepath and b) There were other people in the room.

One ungraceful landing next to her later, I turned my bleary stare onto her. "Oops?" I offered in the way of explanation. What was I supposed to say if I didn't know for myself what the devil possessed me to fuck my social studies teacher after school? He was fucking hot, okay.

The witch smirked, obviously following my defensive internal monologue. "Oops?" Her tone was laced with gleeful sarcasm.

"I'm a human disaster," I groaned, finally caving in and palming my face. Wanda began snickering. "I have zero impulse control," I continued wallowing in self-pity. The redhead just cackled harder.

"I feel so attacked right now," Tony's voice loudly announced the man's presence. I was thankful for the distraction, happy that today, out of all the days, he decided to make the situation about himself. "I am the resident hot mess and nothing you do will change that. Or get out of my tower," He made a dramatic gesture, waving along everybody to the table.

At the dinner table, with Peter on one side of me and Bruce on the other, Wanda's speech was clear. "I think you two are about on the same level, Tony," Her tone was dry. The looks she cast me were cheeky at best and downright gleeful at worst. Not only was she the resident telepath but also, apparently, a huge drama fan.

I, on the other hand, felt like a fish thrown out of water. My mind was still jumping between astounded and horrified like a rabid rabbit and Bruce's excited remark about seeing a former schoolmate only worsened the anxiety. My brain was telling me EVERYBODY knew EVERYTHING whereas in reality, it was only Wanda and it didn't seem like she was upset enough to give up my dirty little secret. If anything, the witch seemed almost impressed. And that dry, mildly interested facial expression only solidified when she put two and two together: my teacher, whom I fucked, also known as Bruce's former study buddy.

"I have some spare sweatpants that might fit you," Wanda directly addressed me as we were finishing up the wonderful chicken roast courtesy of Clint and Bucky. Nobody batted an eye at the sudden exclamation, evidently used to being around someone who could hear their thoughts. 

I nodded, mentally waving a big, red thank you note. With sparkles. And hearts. Wanda chuckled.

"Hey, did you change your perfume?" Peter's innocent remark made me nearly freeze in my spot. 

Kill Bill sirens started playing in my head on repeat as I heard Wanda choke on her asparagus, inadvertently drawing attention to the three of us. Peter looked at us in confusion: Wanda kept on gasping, but it seemed like the dam had finally burst and she was laughing in earnest, snorting, loudly, as I engaged my willpower to stop myself from doing the same. Needless to say, it was a spectacular failure and now both of us were bent over our dinner plates, absolutely losing it - much to the concern of the adults present at the table. The rest of the team was growing concerned.

"Oh my god, your FACE!" Wanda's incoherent mumbling and the accusing finger pointed in my direction did it.

"A lady doesn't... kiss... and tell...." I fervently gulped the oxygen as I tried to articulate my thoughts into something comprehendible. The hysterical laughter won by a wide margin.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Natasha seemed to get the gist, relaxing immediately and picking up her fork to continue her meal. 

I shook my head, unable to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. Bruce chuckled from somewhere beside me and just like that, the tension broke. The adults in the room traded knowing looks, chuckling and snorting amongst themselves. 

The moments I needed to calm down went to waste really quick: my first laughing fit over, I took one look at Wanda and yet again, both of us were puffing out our cheeks to try and prevent another hysterical fit. 

"Whew," I exaggerated, eyes wide and looking ANYWHERE but at Wanda.

"What a wild ride," She snorted and I put a palm over my face, shaking my head in... 

Disappointment at myself? I wasn't disappointed. Now that I got over the WTF factor, I found the situation to be pretty damn hot. Will was hot. Eh, whatever. 

My casual mood of zero-fucks-given began returning. After few of the last bites of potatoes, I was prepared to face  Natasha. I looked the Black Widow dead in the eye as I firmly stated: "And for the record? We are NOT having this conversation."

She elegantly arched her eyebrow whilst everybody else held their breath. "That bad, huh?" The retort was immediate.

I allowed myself to radiate a bit of that newly acquired smugness I had begun to feel: "You have no idea," I hoped my smirk was as devious as I wished it to be.

"Alright, heartbreaker, colour me impressed," Natasha nodded in affirmation. We shared another meaningful look and reverted back to our plates with the menfolk observing us akin animals at a zoo. 

Somewhat amazed, slightly afraid. Bruce's stare was somewhat concerned, too: he contemplatively eyed me from the corner of his eye, the same way I eyed him, checking out the fact that he appeared somewhat annoyed. Like a proper father would, I suppose. 

Luckily for me, I finished off the remaining food and drink quickly, with Wanda being my saviour once again as she all but bodily dragged me into the elevator, promising to return me to the science den in no more than an hour. Tony went to complain but was promptly stopped by Natasha inconspicuously reaching for the butter knife: the engineer knew how to pick his battles. I didn't doubt that Romanoff was going to hear "all about it" second-hand from Wanda and I was fully prepared to face the redhead spy's judgement. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, escaped that clever woman.

A quick shower and a change of clothes later, I sat on Wanda's couch, nervously fiddling with the two sizes too big sweatpants, occasionally stopping to straighten the plain white tank top that just barely fit me. I washed my hair but didn't  dry it before Wanda was impatiently telling me to hurry up: the mess sat atop my head held up by a single scrunchie.

"Okay... Where do I start?" She asked me, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

"Don't start," I stopped her with a raised palm. "It was a casual, one-time thing and I've no interest in pursuing that shit on the reg," I answered honestly. The fact that he was my teacher simultaneously worsened the situation and made me elated. But ultimately, I didn't want to risk the trouble that would come along with this mess. Besides, I had no feelings for the guy whatsoever. As I've said previously, it was just bad impulse control on some teenage hormone steroids.

"You're a strange one," Wanda's penetrating gaze made me shiver. "You live without a care in the world but at the same time, your mind is always all over the place. It is interesting."

"Uh, thanks? I guess?"

"I think we should try being friends," The witch remarked after a brief moment of awkward silence. I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Because of my powers, I can literally see through people and predict what they will do before they even think about doing it. With you, it's not like that," She explained, her Slavic accent making a full guest appearance.

"So...you want to be friends because I'm a fucking mess?" I couldn't help but feel a little offended. The occasional shitty decision aside, I didn't think of myself as that bad.

"I want to be friends because I like you," Wanda fondly rolled her eyes, standing up from the couch and motioning for me to follow. "Now let's get you to Tony or he'll blow a gasket. He's already insufferable as he is."

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem