johnny storm x fem!reader
content warnings: none! all fluff!
summary: on a mission, Johnny gets sprayed with something that makes him way too honest. you try to keep him quiet, but he blurts out all the things he’s been holding back, especially how long he’s been in love with you.
wc: 2k
masterlist.
It was supposed to be a standard sweep.
Alien bunker. Low threat. Weird tech, strange symbols, and enough glowing crystals to make Reed’s voice crack with excitement. Johnny had been bored from the start—hovering in the back of the group, tossing a ball of flame between his fingers while Ben kicked open doors and Sue cleared the path.
“I could be on a beach right now,” Johnny muttered, singeing the edge of a scorched blueprint with his pinky. “I deserve to be on a beach.”
“You got terrible sunburn last time,” Sue reminded him without looking back.
“It was a controlled burn.”
The air in the corridor felt stale, like something hadn’t breathed in there for centuries. They moved cautiously through the underground chamber, scanning for trip wires or pressure plates. Nothing. Just strange writing etched into the walls, humming with quiet energy.
That was the first sign something was off.
The second?
The pod.
It sat in the corner of the room. Dull silver, cracked slightly open, leaking a strange violet mist that curled and floated like it had a mind of its own.
Johnny, naturally, poked it.
“Johnny.” Ben snapped, too late.
The mist shot upward in a perfect puff—like a firework in reverse—right into Johnny’s face.
He blinked. Coughed once. Waved the smoke away.
“What the hell was that?” Sue asked, backing up with her arm half-raised for a shield.
“I’m fine,” Johnny said, squinting. “That was barely a breath. Not even spicy. Smelled kind of like lavender.”
Reed was already scanning him with some handheld monitor, muttering calculations under his breath.
Johnny grinned. “Relax, I’m fine. I feel great, actually.”
Then he looked at Sue and said, completely deadpan:
“By the way, your meatloaf sucks.”
A beat of silence.
“Excuse me?” she said, affronted.
“I’ve been pretending for years. I’m sorry. It’s bad. It’s like sadness in a pan.”
And that was when Reed declared the mission over.
The Baxter Building lobby smelled like smoke.
Not the scary kind. No alarms, no shouting, no flaming holes in the ceiling. Just a lingering warmth in the air, like someone had lit a match and forgot to put it out. You looked up from your notebook as the elevator doors slid open and the Fantastic Four filed in, one by one.
Reed had a sample tube in his hand. Sue was wiping green goo off her shoulder with a sigh. Ben was muttering something about “next time, I swear I’m bringing a flamethrower.”
And Johnny…
Johnny was beaming.
“Hey, guys!” he said way too brightly, his eyes going wide when he spotted you. “Look who it is! It’s the prettiest person in the tri-state area. No, the planet. Actually, the universe. Easy.”
You blinked. “Johnny?”
He marched right up to you with zero hesitation and zero regard for personal space.
“Hi,” he said, grin full blast, cheeks flushed. “You look amazing. I love that shirt on you. And your hair? Perfect. Is that a new lipstick? It’s making me go crazy. In a good way.”
“…Are you okay?”
“Me? Never better,” he said, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Got sprayed with a weird puff of alien gas in a tunnel, but I feel fantastic. And also, I’ve been thinking about how your laugh sounds like windchimes, and how it makes my chest all floaty and-”
“Johnny,” Reed interrupted from across the room, brows furrowed behind his glasses. “I need you to sit down.”
“I am sitting down,” Johnny replied.
“You’re standing.”
“Well, emotionally I’m sitting. Emotionally I am in a beanbag chair. Staring at-” he turned back to you, “a literal work of art.”
Sue groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Reed, tell me he didn’t breathe that stuff in.”
“He did,” Reed said grimly. “And based on his current behavior, I’m hypothesizing a psychochemical compound similar to a truth serum. But stronger. Less filtered. More impulsive.”
“Sweet,” Ben said. “So he’s just gonna be running his mouth until it wears off?”
“Correct.”
“Oh, this is gonna be good.”
You turned back to Johnny, whose attention hadn’t wavered once. He looked like a golden retriever that had just discovered affection. His smile was stupid. His eyes were shining. His hair was a little windblown and he had a small scratch on his cheek, but he looked annoyingly good.
“I am so sorry,” you whispered, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You probably don’t feel like yourself right now.”
“I feel great,” he replied. “Your hand is soft. Did you know that? Have I told you that before?”
“Johnny-”
“And I love that perfume. It’s not too much. It’s, like, subtle but deadly. I would let it kill me.”
“Okay-”
“I’m in love with you, by the way.”
Silence.
Your mouth dropped open.
Sue choked on her coffee.
Ben muttered, “Aw, hell.”
Johnny blinked. “Oh. Should I not have said that?”
The words just…hung there.
Like a balloon popped in the middle of a silent room. Time slowed. You felt your ears go hot, your heart skip. Johnny stood there, blinking at you like he didn’t just say that, like he hadn’t just detonated the emotional equivalent of a nuclear bomb in the middle of the Baxter Building.
“Okay,” you said, voice tight. “Okay. So you’re, uh. You’re drugged. That’s cool. That’s fine. Everything’s cool-”
“I’m not drugged,” Johnny said proudly. “I’m just finally free.”
Sue set down her coffee with a loud clunk. “Johnny, shut up.”
“I won’t!” he declared, like he was giving a toast. “I have been in love with her for, like, six months- maybe more, who’s counting, not me, except that I definitely wrote it in my notebook at one poin=t”
“Oh my God,” you whispered.
“And I didn’t say anything because I thought, hey, you’re normal, right? And I’m me. Human torch. Fire boy. Disaster man. I figured if I told you, you’d run for the hills or laugh or worse. But I think about you all the time.”
“Johnny-”
“Like, all the time. Like, embarrassing amounts. Like I have quotes you’ve said stuck in my head like song lyrics.”
"Johnny can you-"
“I memorized the way you say my name,” Johnny added, eyes wide, honest to God sincere. “You say it different than everyone else. It’s like…softer. Like you’re letting me be someone else when you say it.”
You wanted to disappear.
No. You wanted to melt into the floor.
Or maybe fly into the sun.
But instead you stood there, frozen, while Johnny kept going, still not done.
“One time I flew over your apartment window to make sure you got home okay after that dinner with that guy you didn’t like. And I pretended it was a patrol run, but really I just wanted to make sure your lights turned on. And I saw them. And I smiled for, like, an hour.”
“Oh my God,” Sue muttered into her hands.
“Also!” he added brightly. “I have a collection of vinyls in a box labelled ‘If She Ever Lets Me Kiss Her’ and I will be playing it in full if that moment ever comes."
Ben was red in the face now, shaking with laughter. Reed just looked concerned.
You finally grabbed Johnny’s arm and pulled him into the hallway with a rushed, “I just need to talk to him, excuse us.."
Once the door clicked shut behind you, Johnny looked up at you with a dreamy smile.
“You’re holding my arm,” he said, like it was the best part of his whole day.
You stared at him. “Johnny.”
“Yes?”
“You are not in your right mind.”
“I’m in love.”
“No, you’re chemically compromised.”
He grinned wider. “Wow. That’s my favorite way someone’s ever said that.”
You ran a hand down your face, trying not to laugh. Trying not to feel the way your heart was pounding.
“You can’t just…say all that to me,” you whispered. “You can’t say things like that and not mean them.”
Johnny paused.
The smile softened. For the first time all afternoon, he looked a little serious. A little still.
“I do mean them,” he said quietly. “Every single word.”
You stared.
He wasn’t grinning now. He wasn’t performing. He was just looking at you like you were the only real thing in the room. No sparks. No flash.
Honest.
Open.
Yours, if you wanted.
“But,” he added, blinking slow. “If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I can…walk that back. Just, like, tell me, and I’ll make myself forget. Or I’ll pretend this never happened. I’ll do whatever you want. Just…don’t stop being in my life. I need you. Even if I don’t get to have you.”
You didn’t realize you’d moved until your hand was on his face, fingers cradling his jaw, thumb brushing the side of his cheek.
He leaned into it instantly, heat curling off his skin like instinct.
“You didn’t even ask if I feel the same,” you said softly.
“Do you?”
You nodded. Barely.
He didn’t say anything.
He just kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fiery.
It was warm. Solid. Real.
He tasted like cinnamon gum and something a little electric. He sighed into it like it was the one thing he’d been holding his breath for all this time.
When you pulled back, he looked dazed.
“You taste like strawberry chapstick,” he whispered. “I knew it.”
You laughed, breathless, forehead pressed to his.
“What happens when the serum wears off?”
“I panic. Sue makes fun of me. Reed writes a report. I pretend I don’t remember any of this.”
“And then?”
He looked at you again.
“Then I kiss you again,” he said. “But on purpose this time.”
By the time Johnny woke up the next morning, the serum had long worn off, and the crippling realization of everything he’d said had kicked in.
He lay on his back in his bed, arm over his face, replaying it all in horror:
“I think about kissing you, like, constantly.”
“I flew past your window to make sure you were safe.”
He groaned. Out loud. Into the void. Into his pillow.
“Oh my god.”
There was a knock at the door.
He flinched. “Go away.”
The door opened anyway.
“Morning, lover boy,” Ben said, way too cheerfully.
“I said go away.”
“Too bad. I brought company.”
Sue followed behind, sipping her coffee. “How’s our little truth bomb?”
Johnny rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. “Dead. Gone. I’m quitting the team.”
“Aw, come on,” Ben said. “You were adorable. Real rom-com material.”
“Kill me.”
“I didn’t know your middle name was ‘romance’” Sue added.
“I swear to God-”
“And Reed says he’s almost done charting your ‘emotional spike timeline,’” Ben said. “Apparently you got more honest every time she smiled at you.”
“I will burn this entire building down.”
A soft knock interrupted his growing spiral of despair.
You stepped into the doorway, holding two mugs of coffee. One of them had little flame doodles on the side. Johnny peeked over his pillow, eyes wide like a scared cat.
You gave him a slow smile. “You, uh…remember yesterday?”
He groaned. Again. “Please say it was all a dream.”
“Nope.”
You walked over and handed him the flame mug.
“But it was a very good dream for me.”
His ears turned red. Bright red. Like the serum had activated all over again.
You sat gently beside him on the edge of the bed.
“I liked hearing the things you said,” you added. “Even if they were…sudden. And chaotic. And a little concerning.”
“So…you’re not never speaking to me again?”
“Nope.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“Definitely not.”
You leaned in, brushed your hand across his cheek, and kissed the corner of his mouth, warm and quick and real.
“I kind of want to hear more of the truth,” you murmured. “This time without the alien chemicals.”
His eyes widened. “You do?”
“Only if you promise to show me that collection of records.”
Johnny grinned, wide and stunned, like he couldn’t believe his luck.
“I’ll even throw in choreography,” he said. “But I’m warning you—it’s a lot of finger guns and dramatic pointing.”
“Perfect.”
And for the first time in twenty-four hours, Johnny Storm thought:
Summary: When James catches you swooning over a guy in your alchemy class he decides to make a move before it’s too late.
A/N: Blatching: Flying with the intent to collide with another player. Blagging: Grabbing an opponent's broom to slow them down. Also if your name is Julie no it isn’t. WC: 4.2k
James walks behind the group, listening to the marauders argue about where to sit during lunch
“Moons, our next match is in three weeks!” Sirius stresses. “We need to talk about strategies!”
“That’s precisely what practice is for.” Remus answers as they continue making their way to the great hall. “What better place to strategize?”
Sirius throws his head back, groaning in annoyance.
“Sorry Padfoot.” Remus apologizes halfheartedly, “But I really don’t want to spend lunch hour listening to you lot talk about blatching and blagging.”
“It’s Davie’s birthday today.” Peter chimes in. “His mum is sending a cake.”
“Pete, they serve cake every day.” James reminds him with a chuckle.
“Yeah, regular cake.” Peter clarifies. “This is a birthday cake, it’s a completely different thing.”
The infamous group of four enter the great hall and the conversation temporarily comes to a stop as they scan the Gryffindor table, weighing the odds of where to sit. James is about to let the other three decide when hears your voice cut through the chaos that is lunch hour.
“Are you mad?” You shriek.
James doesn’t know whether it’s out of shock or anger, but he’s determined to find out. He walks past his friends, not knowing or caring if they followed, and makes his way to where you were sitting.
“Hey ladies.” James greets with an easy smile as he reaches the table, watching in amusement as you try to hit Lily’s shoulder only for her to dodge it.
He gets a chorus of hello’s in return as the rest of the marauders join him.
“So who’s gone mad?” He asks, starting to serve himself food. “What are we talking about?”
“Perfect timing gentlemen!” Dorcas announces, clasping her hands together. “We were just in the middle of discussing Y/N’s-“
“Nothing!” You exclaim, cutting her off with a pointed look. “We were talking about my nothing.”
Dorcas holds her hands up in surrender, biting her lip as she lowers her gaze.
You let out a sigh of relief.
“We were talking about Y/N’s crush!” Dorcas squeals excitedly, unable to contain herself.
“Dorcas!” You whine, covering your face in embarrassment.
James, on the other hand, chokes on his water.
“Sorry?” He wheezes, hoping someone will elaborate.
“What? We were!” Dorcas defends.
“Yeah, but I didn’t wanna tell them!”
“Oi! That’s not fair, love. I always tell you about my crushes.” Sirius complains with a pout.
“I don’t ask you to. In fact I specifically ask you not to.” You deadpan. “Besides, it’s a different girl every day. Those aren’t crushes, those are conquests.”
“Pish posh.” Sirius waves you off, taking a bite of his chicken. “Now spill the beans. What’s his name?”
“Pads,” You sigh exasperatedly. “I really don’t want to-“
“Chris.” Marlene interrupts.
“From Ravenclaw?” Remus asks before nodding his head in approval.
“Ravenclaw?” Sirius repeats, brows furrowing as he tries to think before his eyes widen in realization. “Wait, you mean quidditch Chris?”
“The very one.” Lily confirms with a nod.
“Not to be weird, but he’s pretty cute.” Peter comments casually.
“Isn’t he?” You gush, covering your mouth with your hand. “Not just that but have you heard him laugh?”
You don’t give anyone at the table a chance to answer before you continue rambling.
“He like, closes his eyes when he laughs and it comes out high pitched? Which is odd because you know, he’s a guy so naturally he has a deep voice; but it suits him! It’s so…joyful. It’s soooo cute. But I think he’s kind of insecure about it because sometimes he’ll be laughing and like, he’ll catch himself and try to stop but even then he’ll still be giggling which is even cuter! And ughhh, what do I do?” You groan, covering your face with your hands.
“Have you told him?” Remus asks curiously.
“What? That I like his laugh? Of course I haven’t.” You shake your head.
“Why not?” Sirius chimes in.
“Because it’d be weird!”
“No it wouldn’t.” He assures. “It’s a compliment. Everyone loves being complimented.”
“But- I- What do I do?” You stammer. “Just walk into alchemy and announce to the whole class that I like his laugh? That’s mental!”
“Well, no.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “Obviously you’d talk to him first.”
“See that’s the thing, Padfoot…” Dorcas says.
“Talk to him?” You repeat, wide eyed. “Are you kidding me? I can’t talk to him!”
“Why not?”
“I’m shy…” You bashfully admit.
Everyone at the table erupts into laughter and you stubbornly cross your arms.
“Y/N, I’ve known you since first year.” Remus reminds you fondly. “I could think of a million words to describe you. Shy definitely isn’t one of them. Right, Prongs?”
James shoots Remus a subtle glare, rubbing his side where he’d been elbowed before turning his attention to you.
“Yeah! I mean, how hard can it really be? You’re not shy around me! You talk to me nonstop.” He nods happily.
“Wha- that’s totally different!” You argue. “I don’t like you!”
“Oh.” James says simply, caught off guard by the statement.
“Wait, wait, wait. That’s not what I meant.” You rush to explain. “Of course I like you.” You assure him. “But it’s totally different!”
“How’s it different?” James asks, tilting his head the tiniest bit.
“Well, I mean Chris is a man.” You shrug.
A few of your friends snicker in amusement and Peter’s jaw actually drops open.
“Wowwwww.” James complains.
“Way to make it worse.” Sirius teases.
“Oh, shut it.” You scold, tossing your balled up napkin at him.
“I’m a man.” James insists, voice cracking at the last syllable.
“Of course you’re a man, Prongs.” You assure, carefully thinking about your next words. “But you’re not my man… like, for me…”
This time Peter and Remus start snickering, finding James’ distraught expression and your struggle for words incredibly amusing.
“Not that I want you to be!”
“Ouch, love.” Sirius comments, thoroughly enjoying the show.
“What I’m trying to say is that it’s different!” You stress.
“How?” Peter asks curiously.
“It just is!”
“But how?” James presses, taking the ego hit personally. “We’re both on the quidditch team, we both have good marks-“
“I don’t understand why you’re comparing yourselves as if it’s some sort of competition.”
“Hear that, James?” Lily teases, joining in on the fun. “She said you’re not even in the competition.”
Sirius, Peter, and Remus all burst into laughter while James pouts pathetically.
“Awe, James.” You coo, cupping his face affectionately. “You’re cute.”
James smiles at the compliment, cheeks appearing smushed as you’re still gingerly holding his face in your hand.
“But Chris is a love interest! A possibility!” You clarify.
“As opposed to?” He asks.
“You.”
James gives you a deadpan look.
“Y/N?” Sirius calls.
“Yeah?”
“Stop talking.” He all but begs.
“Yeah…” You agree.
The professors announce that lunch is over and you all start to gather your books, preparing to head to your next class.
“Jokes aside, I love you James. You know I do. But it’s more of a platonic love.” You tell him as you all start to make your way out of the great hall. “I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with you, because there isn’t! It’s just-“
“I’m not a man.” James cuts you off, giving you a weak smile.
“Tosser.” You scold teasingly, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. Stay out of trouble.”
“We make no such promises!” Sirius calls after you as you turn the corner and disappear. Once you’re out of sight he turns his attention to James.
“That was painful.” He grimaces.
“You’re telling me.” James sighs, loosening his tie. “I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.”
“The girl you’ve fancied since the start of seventh year just spent all of lunch telling you how much she doesn’t like you, how are you still alive?”
“I dunno, mate.”
“I take it you're throwing in the towel, then?” Remus asks.
“Fuck no.”
“Then what?” Peter asks, looking up at him.
“I don’t know yet…” James tells them. “But gimme some time. I’ll think of something.”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
James walks out of the bathroom, wiping his lenses on his pajama shirt when Peter calls out to him.
“Prongs, mail.”
James looks up excitedly, putting his glasses on and running across the room, grabbing the parcel.
“It’s quite thick. What is it?” He asks curiously, noting that it was bigger than a letter but smaller than a package.
James hastily rips open the envelope, holding the item up as if it were a trophy.
“Yes! Thank you dad!”
“What is it?” Sirius asks, tossing himself onto his bed. “A playboy?”
“No!” James immediately denies. “It’s just a magazine he’s subscribed to. I glanced at the cover when it arrived over break and asked him if he still had it.”
“Okay…” Sirius nods. “Why’d you want that specific issue?”
“Because- there’s an article I want to read.” James answers, quickly flipping through the pages. “Aha!”
Sirius, Remus, and Peter huddle around the magazine, wanting to see what the article’s about.
“Oh fuck off.” Sirius huffs, going back to his bed.
“You’re joking.” Remus says. “Right? You’re having a laugh?”
“Become the man of her dreams in 3 easy steps.” Peter reads aloud.
“Guys, at least give it a chance.” James defends, holding the magazine up. “They wouldn’t publish just anything.”
“Yeah they would.” Sirius says.
“It happens more often than you’d think.” Remus adds, putting on his robes as he prepares to do his rounds. “I’d say you’re better off chasing her shamelessly like you did Evans than following whatever that gossip column says.”
Peter and Sirius burst into laughter as Remus walks out the door.
“Yeah, alright. Laugh it up.” James remarks. “We’ll see who’s laughing when it works.”
“If it works.” Sirius warns.
“When it works.” James corrects. “It’s a new crush. What’s it been? A week? Less? I can totally steal her away from him.”
“Can you?” Peter asks, not looking up from his comic book. “Because she doesn’t even fancy you. At all. Remember?”
“Yes, Wormtail, I remember. I was there.” James nods.
“Why do you have to steal her anyway?” Sirius asks. “You’ve fancied her since the start of the year. You had months to make a move.”
“Can you guys keep it down?” James asks instead, drawing the curtains from his bed. “I’m trying to read and you’re kind of distracting me.”
“Sorry.” Peter apologizes.
“Wanker.” Sirius says childishly.
James sticks his hand out from behind the curtain and flicks him off.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Step One: Put an effort into your appearance. Women do not want to date slobs. Just as women prim and pamper themselves daily, men too should take grooming seriously and put thought behind their outfits. Do note that doing too many changes at one time is cause for alarm as the female gaze is more observant. Instead one should spread out their changes through time.
Somehow James had gone the whole day without running into you once. He dejectedly walks back to the Gryffindor Tower after his rounds, thinking that he wasted time doing his hair for nothing, only to bump into you in the common room.
“Hey.” He greets, standing up straight. “You’re doing rounds tonight?”
“Yeah. I’m covering for someone.”
“Oh. Lame.” James nods, only for his eyes to widen when he realizes what he’s just said. “I mean, it’s lame that they bailed! Not that you’re doing rounds. That’s ni- that’s a nice thing for you to do. To take someone’s shift.”
You throw your head back in laughter and only then does James stop his rambling.
“No, you’re completely right. It is lame.” You nod. “But no one else was available.” You shrug.
“Well, I hope it goes quickly for you.”
You don’t acknowledge what he’s just said. You’re too busy analyzing his appearance to even think of answering him. The more you stare at him, the more uncomfortable he feels, smile dropping and feet shuffling as he finds it hard to keep still.
“Did you cut your hair?” You finally ask.
“Huh?”
“Your hair.” You reiterate. “You cut it?”
“N-no.” James shakes his head. “Just combed it.”
He shrugs before running his hand down the back of his head, hoping it casually draws attention to his neat hairdo. And it does. Gone are his wild, curly locks. Instead they’re neatly styled up and away from his face, giving him a sleek and polished look. With James no longer hiding behind his hair, his sharp features really stand out like his bright eyes and defined cheekbones.
James sees your eyes bouncing all over his face, taking in his features. He watches as you gaze at his new hair, then his eyes, then his lips?? Before bringing your gaze back up again.
Keep it cool, Prongs. He thinks to himself. Stay cool.
You have a slight furrow between your brows and your bottom lip is jutted out just slightly, a telltale sign that you’re thinking. James is starting to think that maybe the lads were right when finally, you nod.
“Looks good.” You say simply before heading out to do your rounds.
As soon as the coast is clear, James raises a hand in victory.
“Yes!” He whispers to himself before clearing his throat and straightening out his robes. He walks to the dorms with a bounce in his step.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Since that night in the common room James has kept up the habit of styling his hair into a neat quiff. While at first he hated waking up early, he’s since gotten used to it. After that first night you didn’t mention his hair again, but he has noticed you staring at him quite often. This encourages James to start applying cologne as well. Not much, just a tiny spritz because “a little goes a long way, Prongs for fucks sake.”
He’s so lost in his head that he doesn’t even see you walk into class, snapping out of his spiraling only when you pull your seat out, your chair scraping against the cold dungeon floor.
“Good morning James,” You smile politely, taking a seat in your chair and then scooting forward.
James sits up straight in his seat and clears his throat before speaking.
“Morning.”
You smile sweetly at him again before turning your attention to your school bag, digging out your parchment and ink well. You look up a moment later with a focused stare and scan the room.
“You okay?” James asks, worried something might be wrong.
“Yeah.” You answer absentmindedly. “Just…” you trail off, continuing to scan the class.
“Just?” James repeats, hoping you’ll elaborate.
You lean across the aisle, closer to the classmate setup at the station to the right of you before returning to your seat with a frown.
“Y/n?” James asks.
You turn your head slightly towards him and take a small breath in. Then you turn your full attention to him.
“Are you wearing cologne?” You ask, completely ignoring his previous question.
“I uh- yeah.” He stammers. “My dad sent it to me…figured I might as well-”
“It smells good.” You cut him off.
“Y-yeah?” He asks.
You lean closer to him and take a deep breath while James holds his, freezing every muscle in his body, afraid to move even an inch.
“Yeah.” You answer, leaning back with a satisfied nod. “Really good. You should wear it more often.”
“Okay.” James says breathlessly.
At that moment Professor Slughorn walks in and he starts going over the lesson plan for the day.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Step two: Establish romantic intent. Men are laid back and easy going by nature. While these are good features for making friends, it can also cause problems to arise when trying to court a woman. To avoid miscommunication it is important to act with thought and intent. Flirt boldly. Be direct. And use respectful, physical touch to create a romantic, rather than platonic, connection.
“Okay, Prongs. Time for phase two. Now, we flirt. You can do this. You’ve flirted before.” James says to himself, hyping himself up as he heads toward the Black Lake. Somehow you were both paired up for rounds, and he’s looking forward to being able to talk to you away from the watchful eyes of his very nosey friends.
The prefects from Hufflepuff informed you that they had already patrolled around the quidditch pitch, so you and James decided to start by the greenhouses and then go from there. He sees you standing at the edge of the Black Lake, quietly staring at the water. He’s just about to call out to you when he remembers what the article said.
Use teasing and humor. Use respectful, physical touch.
James quietly sneaks up behind you. When you least expect it, he grabs onto your upper arms and pushes you forward before pulling you back. You immediately scream, turning around and whacking him on the arm.
“Holy fuck! Are you crazy?”
“Crazy about you.” James immediately replies.
“This isn’t funny.” You whine. “I could’ve died.”
“Nooo.” James rebuffs with a shake of his head.
“What if I had fallen in?” You argue, crossing your arms.
“That never would’ve happened.” James says matter of factly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
“How are you so sure?” You ask skeptically.
James tilts his head to the side, before smiling softly, knowingly.
“Because I had you.” He shrugs simply. “When there’s something I want, I don’t let go.”
Your breath hitches at the quiet confession. You try to form some sort of reply but nothing comes out. Sensing this, James comes to a stop right in front of you, leaning forward slightly to match your height.
“I didn’t want to drop you, so I didn’t.” He says softly.
The weight of his confession is still there but James doesn’t push for an answer you don’t yet know yourself. Instead he gives you space, he gives you time. He gives you an out; and you take it.
“You scared me.” You admit with a shaky laugh.
“That was the point.” He answers truthfully, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. “We’re gonna be out here until 1:30. I need you to be alert and awake.”
“What are you talking about? I’m always alert and awake when doing rounds.” You scoff.
“Mm.” James hums, turning on his heel and starting to head towards the greenhouses. “Are you, though? Because you didn’t even hear me coming up behind you just now.”
“That’s totally different.” You argue, hurrying to catch up to him.
“Suuuure.” James agrees sarcastically.
“No, really!” You continue. “That one doesn't count! I wasn’t ready.”
“Whatever you say, beautiful.”
The nickname throws you off. So much so that you don’t see the gopher hole up ahead. Your right foot slips right in and your lurch forward. You’re prepared to fall on your face, so you’re pleasantly surprised when James is by your side in an instant, hand wrapped around your waist to keep you upright.
“You alright?” He asks softly.
He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your face. It takes you a minute to get your bearings and give him an answer.
“Yeah.” You nod. “Good catch.”
James chuckles, taking a step back and nodding.
“I told you.” He says, watching fondly as you dig your foot out of the blasted gopher hole. “I don’t let go.”
You rotate your ankle slowly, and when you don’t feel any pain, you give him a thumbs up.
“See?” You huff. “Alert and awake.”
James snickers in amusement before clearing his throat.
“Very nice. Shall we go?”
“We shall.” You nod.
“Do you wanna hold onto me?” He asks, offering his arm to you. “Since you stumbling seems to be the pattern of tonight.”
“Oh! You-“ You slap his hand away and James laughs.
“One of them was your fault!”
“You were so scared.” He laughs, mimicking your terrified shriek before turning his head to look at you.
“Awe, come on. I’m just teasing.” He consoles when he sees you pouting. “It was cute.”
“Oh yes, I’m sure me screaming my head off was a sight to behold.” You snark before walking ahead, leaving him behind.
“You always are.” James says softly before hurrying to catch up.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Step three: Show off your feathers. When courting a woman the most important thing is to not lose momentum. The second you become “comfortable” in your relationship you become friendzoned. While other men are being wishy washy and “playing it cool” it’s your time to strike. Just like a peacock, show your feathers and strut! Show her what you have to offer, who you are and what you can be!
“Y/N?”
“Hmm?” You look up and find Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas all staring at you.
“I asked about Chris.” Dorcas repeats with a smile. “You haven’t mentioned him in a while.”
“Yeah…” You trail off, finishing the sentence you were writing before putting your quill down. “That’s over.”
All three girls gasp.
“Why? What happened?” Marlene asks.
“Did he turn you down?” Lily asks, gripping her quill tighter.
“No, nothing like that.” You assure them. “I just don’t have a crush on him anymore.”
“Oh? That was sudden.” Lily comments.
“Mm, not really.” You shrug. “I didn’t really know anything about him.”
“You could’ve gotten to know him.” Marlene offers.
“Yeah…but I just didn’t want to.” You admit. “After some thought, I realized I wanted something with someone that I know. Someone who I’m comfortable with but makes my heart race at the same time. Someone who teases me one second but worries about me the next.”
“Wow. Sounds like you already have someone in mind.” Dorcas says.
You try and fail to hide your smile.
“Maaaybeee…” You tell them bashfully.
“Who?” Lily asks.
“Is it someone we know?” Marlene adds.
“Yeah, actually.” You nod. “It’s-“
“James!”
You all turn your heads to see some girl from Hufflepuff approaching James who stands a few meters away in the middle of the courtyard.
“Yeah?” He asks, looking at the girl confusedly.
“You know how the spring equinox is next week?” She asks, playing with a lock of her hair as she gazes at him.
“Yeah…” James repeats, still just confused as he was a moment ago.
“Go to the celebration with me?” She requests, getting straight to the point.
“Wow. Um…”
“Julie.” She supplies, thinking he was asking for her name.
“Julie.” James repeats. “I’m flattered…”
He scans the courtyard, trying to buy himself some time. His eyes pass over your figure before locking onto you once more. James looks quickly between you and Julie before returning his attention to her. He remembers the article and knows what he has to do.
Be direct. Avoid miscommunication. Show off your feathers.
James stands up straight and rolls his shoulders, releasing some of the tension he was feeling.
“I’m gonna have to pass.”
“What?” She says, dropping the piece of hair she was previously toying with.
“There’s someone I’m interested in.” James tells her. As if that wasn’t clear enough, he raises his hand and points a finger in your direction. “It’s actually that girl there.”
Several gasps are heard throughout the courtyard, your friends being the loudest. Still, that doesn’t deter James from his confession in the slightest.
Don’t be wishy washy, Prongs. He thinks to himself. It’s now or never.
“Her name’s Y/N and I've fancied her since the beginning of the year. I’m planning to ask her to be my date.”
James looks past Julie, locking eyes with you and smiling sheepishly.
“Though I guess it's not much of a secret anymore, huh?” He asks, taking slow steps towards you, almost as if he’s scared you’ll run away.
“Not really.” You shake your head, smiling softly as you stand from your seat and take a tiny step towards yourself.
“Confessing your feelings for someone in the middle of a packed courtyard is quite the opposite of a secret.” You inform him, very clearly poking fun as you take another step closer.
“Oh, ha ha.” James laughs sarcastically, though judging by his fond smile it’s obvious that he isn’t bothered in the slightest.
“Awe, come on. I’m just teasing.” You assure him. Repeating his own words from that night you had rounds together. “It was cute.”
“You’re cute.” James flirts back.
You cross your arms, staring at him skeptically.
“Last time I was beautiful. Now I’m cute. What’s with the demotion?”
James rolls his eyes with a huff but grabs your hands nonetheless.
“You are beautiful.” He confirms with a nod. “And cute.”
You beam at him.
“And I meant what I said.” James clarifies, leaving no room for doubt. “I really, really like you.”
“So do I.” You admit shyly, swinging your clasped hands.
James smiles at the confession before it turns into a mischievous grin.
“Really? Even though I’m not a man?”
It takes you a moment to register what he’s just said, and when you do, you can’t help but let out an incredulous laugh.
“Oh my gods. Are you serious right now?”
“What? I was just asking.” He manages to say in between giggles.
“You are so annoying.” You tell him, shaking your head.
“You love it.”
You roll your eyes with a smile because you know he’s right. Teasing and all, you do love being with James. And James smiles back at you because he’s just the same.
Last year, your father sponsored a science project you didn't agree with the concept of. Yet, you must visit that place with him because you were sympathetic to the Creature. One day, the project was over, and the Creator intended to burn his own work to cover mistakes. It was the Creature's luck that he could survive and find your manor. And it was your luck to meet someone whom you could be yourself with. Today, after months of residing in your place and learning how to be human, the Creature asked you for kisses and love.
ONE MORE LEAF FOR ONE MORE KISS
Sweet! The Creature (Adam) x Naughty! Fem! Reader (2.6k words) — It should be fluff, but I really can't help myself, so it becomes smut. You'll give him kisses, and your mouth will be full (blowjob). I hope you enjoy reading this short story!
“I saw a man… giving a flower… to a woman…” the Creature, Adam, said, smiling to himself.
He was sitting on his favorite rug, lap covered with the comfortable blanket you had used when you were younger, hands holding dry leaves he collected from the tree in front of your cottage.
This place, your cottage, was the small space after your family’s manor, locating close to the pine forest, where you secretly let Adam reside. No one but you and your sweet creature cared about your cottage, since you claimed that this place had only books and stuff for your hobby, which your family didn’t want to know about it, or you would keep talking about this and they would walk away. You weren’t a young woman who needed to marry for wealth or dignity, at least not yet, so you lived freely than other young women you knew.
“She held a flower in her hands, then she kissed him.”
But what Adam just said wasn’t the thing you expected to hear.
“He seemed happy. She seemed happier.”
You paused for a brief moment, before replying: “Kissing a person you love will always make you happy.”
You didn’t look straight at Adam’s seamed face, only staring at flames in the fireplace. As your heart was throbbing, your body was tense on the armchair next to his cozy spot, especially when he leaned his side close to your legs covered with the exquisite skirt.
It wasn’t the first time he was close like this, but you both had never done anything that needed to be closer.
“Love…” He whispered that word to himself, but you heard his voice, full of curiosity and pureness.
You taught him to repeat your words, you taught him to speak with confidence and read with attention, and you taught him to study human behavior to help him understand how to use words.
It had been a long while since the day his creator tried to eliminate him, and to be with you, for almost three seasons, were the most meaningful thing Adam had ever experienced.
“Love… It’s like fairy tales you had read,” you added, tone sultry. One darkest thought you had never revealed to him was: your heart attached to him.
You didn’t admit to yourself that it was love, although recently, you found no way to lie to yourself. You thought he was looking for a companion, you as well, which you secretly imagined the thin line for you to not cross, the thin wall for you to not break.
But another part of you shouted too loud inside your mind: you loved him. You longed to be with him. Your feelings were too intense to sit calmly like you tried to do at the moment.
“I still remembered that tale,” Adam said, looking up at you. In your sight, he was so beautiful, like a broken yet still delicate statue, like a charming stag in the wild forest.
Like a man you would make love until you forgot the time.
You still remembered the day you instructed him how to wash his hair and clean his body. You still remembered when his large hands grasped your hips when you tried to dry his dark hair with a cloth. You still remembered that he wore nothing while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, although you told him to cover his lower body when he was around a gentlewoman… You still remembered that your eyes dropped when he was exposed again and again, although you tried to cover him again and again.
The Creature had a thing like a normal man had, probably having more than a normal man. His figure was incomparable, tall and lean. You liked those seams, since it made your thighs wet for some reason… You didn’t know why. Or, because he was so fragile?
He had what you needed the most from the man you would devote yourself to him: seams on the broad chest and the big cock.
Oh, no. You were blushing. Your breath was ragged, and the curious creature just looked at you with a question. Why did you keep sitting like this? Frozen and nervous.
“Are you all right?” he asked, one of his large hands touching the back of yours. You looked at entwined fingers, warm and cold on two fleshes. How could it feel if you took him deeper—?
“I’m fine,” you said, suddenly pulling your hand from his grasp, although doing that quickly might make him feel vulnerable. You told him to not be frightened by your sudden thoughtless expression, but you had never told yourself to be gentle. “I—I should go home—The sun is going down—”
“I looked around the forest, but I can’t find a flower.” Adam said, his gaze like a sweet plea from a sweet boy. “I… I can find only these leaves.”
Before getting up, Adam placed one dry leaf on your lap to make you sit on the same chair. Your eyes widened with surprise, because his hand was still on your knees.
You stuttered:
“A leaf? For me?”
He nodded, and if your eyes didn’t lie, you thought the pale skin on his cheeks had a tint of red, as if a shy boy confessed something to a girl he adored.
Then, you recalled what he just talked about.
‘I saw a man… giving a flower… to a woman…’
‘She held a flower in her hands, then she kissed him.’
You gently held a leaf, and Adam averted. He looked at his own lap where other beautiful golden leaves were. You began to understand what he tried to talk to you.
“You gave me your leaf for a kiss?”
You swore to yourself that you noticed how shy and sweet Adam was. In many fairy tales you let him read, all men got kisses from women they loved. And he saw a man in the real life got a kiss from a woman…
“You… love me?” you asked, your voice laced with hesitation. But your heart fluttered as if you would get a thing you had waited for a long time.
His love.
Adam took a deep breath and looked up at you again, as if he was begging for something.
“I love you,” he whispered, your name on his tongue such a gentle thing you had ever heard. “I love you… and… and I want to kiss you.”
You froze, fingers almost tearing a leaf you just got.
“You want to kiss me?” you asked, the air around you warmer.
“I want to kiss you,” he repeated his own answer, smiling shyly.
Forgetting all thoughts you had, holding a leaf in hands, you leaned close to him and pressed your warm lips against his cold ones. He was surprised by your sudden move, so were you. He froze, but you knew that it was his first time, so you weren’t bothered at all.
Then, you pulled back, your eyes looking at his face. He murmured your name, as if he was praying to the God he believed.
“You kissed me,” he said, smiling with contentment. You loved this picture, since it was you who pushed him out of innocence. “Your lips are so soft.”
“Thank you,” you replied, a hand with a leaf on your lap like it was, another hand cupping his seamed cheek, thumb stroking his bottom lip. “When you kissed a woman you loved, you should shut your eyes.”
Adam chuckled, fingers fidgeting at leaves—Right, he had more leaves in his hands. And he got an idea.
“If I give you more leaves, will you kiss me more?”
That question, from the most purest heart, broke your sanity. You wanted nothing but him for so long—too long it hurt—but today, right here and right now, he asked for more kisses.
You smiled at the idea, before saying:
“One more leaf for one more kiss.”
Oh, but how could you cage your intrusive thoughts when the perfect opportunity was here?
“But if you give me all leaves, I’ll not kiss you only on your lips.”
“My cheeks, too?”
“Your cheeks, too,” you chuckled, before shifting yourself to the floor. Since he was taller than you, you were smaller than him at this moment. “But when you love someone so much, you won’t kiss another person only on lips or cheeks.”
“You love me?” he asked, his voice soft, like the time you asked him the same question.
“I love you,” you reassured, biting your bottom lip as your gaze observed his rugged form. He wore proper attire, staying comfortable and adorable, but this picture wasn’t less tempting at all. He made you want him more… That gentle kiss wasn’t the thing you desired.
Your twisted thoughts urged you to teach him a new lesson—a sensual one you had only read from famous erotica you got from markets.
“Your leaves,” he said, smiling as if he saw an angel before him, offering you precious gifts you knew you would keep forever.
And you did… You exactly did what you thought.
Without a word, you grabbed leaves from his hands and placed them with caution on the table nearby. You shifted close to him and pushed the comfortable blanket aside when you straddled his lap. Your skirt wasn’t an obstacle but luring you to press your hips against his lap. Your hands held his cheeks, your mouth kissing him once again.
You had waited to kiss him. You had longed to kiss him. And you now did. Your tongue trailed the line of his lips, urging him to gasp and open his mouth for you. As tongues touched, you felt his large hands grabbed your waist.
Instinctively, Adam was a quick learner. He shut his eyes and absorbed the love he was supposed to receive, as if to collect all of feelings deeply in his sacred mind. His tongue followed your lead, tasting your warmth and sweetness with admiration. His hand touched your back, like the way he held a leaf with tenderness. You heard him groan, soft and vulnerable, and you liked that noise so much.
You poured kisses on his cheek, your tongue trailing the seam without any second thought. So arousing… You were enjoying the broken part of his, and he were willingly giving it to you.
“Move to that chair,” you commanded, your voice thick with craving, as your throbbing core clenched nothing. But no, you shouldn’t push him too far, especially when he just discovered that giving love, like a flower, should receive love, like a kiss.
Right now, he must learn what true pleasure felt like, and he should understand what his tempting body needed the most by himself.
Adam did exactly what you said; he sat on the armchair you just got up, yet he froze when your hands caressed his broad chest, tracing down to his stomach. He had never known how intense this feeling was… It was exciting. It was warmer than he had felt, melting coldness inside his body completely.
“Relax, my dear,” you cooed, hands undressing his clothes. “I’ll take care of you.”
Adam leaned against the backrest, trying to relax like what you said. He looked down at you, sitting on the floor, staying between his thighs, taking off his pants so eagerly. He didn’t know if he was desirable or attractive enough to make you do this… He saw charming men kissing charming women, and what was he doing now?
You looked beautiful for him, delicate and fragile. And he wouldn’t judge you from what you were doing, the sweetest mouth kissing his bare chest, the eager tongue lapping his nipples, one of soft hands holding his length, one of gentle thumbs tracing his cold skin.
You would always be the pure soul for him, and he doubted that he could belong to you or not.
“Should I go and collect more leaves…?” he asked, his hand touching the back of your head as your mouth found his groin. “I don’t know if I… if I deserve you.”
“I don’t kiss you because of your gifts,” you said, your lips touching his ball, your hand stroking his shaft gently. “You deserve me, Adam. I love you… I know I love you since the day I met you. And you love me. That’s sufficient for us to be here, to make love.”
Adam hummed as your tongue trailed over his length, from the base to the top.
“Make love…”
“It’s what I’m doing right now, Adam. It’s not just a kiss anymore.”
He was tense, like the day you dried his hair and saw how thick his cock was. He didn’t know why he was drawn to this feeling, but his instinct told him that it would be fine, as long as he was with you.
His eyes were hazy with desire, almost shut, but he wanted to look at you, wanted to watch you, wanted to observe the way your tongue swirled around his tip. Whenever you glanced up at him, he felt nothing but heated. He began to love it. And when your mouth sucked him… his hand tangling with your hair was the only anchor he could grasp.
Adam whispered your name, his voice gravelly and sensual. That made your thighs slicker, but you knew you should be patient with him. Your warm mouth provided him the new passion he might not know that he needed, your hand still stroking him—making him harder. His skin wasn’t cold like he used to, right now he was as if a mere human, and it all was because of this new lesson.
His instinct told him to buck his hips up, seeking the friction around your lips and in your mouth. You almost choked, but that was fine.
His breath quickened, his chest moving. And you knew what it would happen. You had doubted if his body would work like a human, but spending time with him for months only told you that he was the real human. He knew. He felt. You witnessed it all. His taste was like berries he enjoyed eating, sweet—bitter, intoxicating.
You moaned against his cock, gulping but trying to send pleasure to him. You felt his fist around your hair tighter, his movements against your mouth rougher, and your breath almost faded away. You tight heat clenched nothing, spilling wetness… And when he shuddered, groaning so deeply, filling your mouth with his seed, you knew what you wanted to do in your lonely life.
You wanted to make love to him, deep and senseless. You wanted to become a vice and fuck him until he came inside you, but you should let this beautiful creature learn this new thing.
“If I want you to do this again, what—what should I do?” he asked breathlessly after spilling his release in your mouth.
You pulled back, letting his cock slip from your mouth. You swallowed that taste and said: “Just ask me when you need me.”
His hand shifted from your hair to your face, thumb stroking the drop of his own seed on the corner of your lips. He didn’t know that he could do such a thing, but seeing you smile and blush made his heart throb with affection.
You kissed his thumb, teasing him by lapping his skin. “Or, say you love me.”
“I love you…” Adam said immediately, spent yet eager to lean forward. His mouth captured your lips and tasted himself through this slobbery kiss. Your hands grasped his shoulders, letting him pull you up to the armchair and straddling his lap.
“So… you need me?”
“I always need you,” he whispered against the kiss, begging for your attention.
“Actually, there is more than my mouth you could feel,” you suggested, hands cupping his seamed cheeks. “Would you love to try?”
He nodded, smiling.
“Please…”
Thank you for reading my fic! This film consumes my soul in the best way. I can write 2.6k words in 24 hrs again after a long, long time, and I'm so happy to do it. And it's a bit dirty 👀 I hope it's not that strange since it's the first English smut I let people see. If you love it, you may tell me, scream at me, or suggest some new plots in my humble ask 💗 Have a nice day, the Creature's girlfriends!
Edit: And the new part is here 🫣 This time, Adam truly made love to you! Xx
Edit 2: And if you like something fluffy, check my new story here!
hey if you're the type of writer that's like me where you tend to write specific scenes first that vaguely weave together into a plot, you might like using obsidian as a writing app.
my frustration with other writing applications is that i will write my scenes out of order and it's hard to move things around and rearrange them on a regular document.
but with obsidian there's this canvas feature where you can just write all your scenes and plot moments on these little cards that you can freely rearrange. you can color code them and connect them too.
here's the canvas i've created for my current multi-chapter fic:
(if you zoom in you can see all the text in each card this what it looks like zoomed out)
as you can see, i color code them based off chapters and will group them next to a document card with the working title of the chapter. anything not color-coded are scenes that don't have a proper place quite yet or it's just world building references. this app can also be good for note-taking and collecting research!
best of all, it's FREE!!! the only downside is that if you want your stuff to sync across devices, you do have to pay for that. i constantly hop between my laptop and desktop so i pay for the syncing. but if you write on only one device it's completely free!
i typically use it for organizing my thoughts for a first draft. once i get all the scenes arranged and mostly written out, i will copy and paste them into ellipsus (also free & highly recommended as a google doc alternative) so that they're all in one document that i can edit.
As Google has worked to overtake the internet, its search algorithm has not just gotten worse. It has been designed to prioritize advertisers and popular pages often times excluding pages and content that better matches your search terms
As a writer in need of information for my stories, I find this unacceptable. As a proponent of availability of information so the populace can actually educate itself, it is unforgivable.
Below is a concise list of useful research sites compiled by Edward Clark over on Facebook. I was familiar with some, but not all of these.
⁂
Google is so powerful that it “hides” other search systems from us. We just don’t know the existence of most of them. Meanwhile, there are still a huge number of excellent searchers in the world who specialize in books, science, other smart information. Keep a list of sites you never heard of.
www.refseek.com - Academic Resource Search. More than a billion sources: encyclopedia, monographies, magazines.
www.worldcat.org - a search for the contents of 20 thousand worldwide libraries. Find out where lies the nearest rare book you need.
https://link.springer.com - access to more than 10 million scientific documents: books, articles, research protocols.
www.bioline.org.br is a library of scientific bioscience journals published in developing countries.
http://repec.org - volunteers from 102 countries have collected almost 4 million publications on economics and related science.
www.science.gov is an American state search engine on 2200+ scientific sites. More than 200 million articles are indexed.
www.pdfdrive.com is the largest website for free download of books in PDF format. Claiming over 225 million names.
www.base-search.net is one of the most powerful researches on academic studies texts. More than 100 million scientific documents, 70% of them are free
The 1940s was a time for great change in the world and in fashion. Marked by rationing and shortage of fabrics, the silhouette and availability of different cuts was limited so the women of the era turned to more fitted, shorter cuts.
Undergarments
The undergarments of the era were not as restrictive or complicated in WW2 as they were pre-WW1, but there were a lot of moving parts to the set-up.
Bra/Brassiere: Bras got shorter in the 1940s due to the rationing of fabric. They look much like they do today, made of light coloured fabrics and hooked with metal eyelets.
Panties/Knickers: The underwear. Elasticated underwear was around and actually exempt from rationing.
Girdle: The girdle rests on the lower torso, past the hips and were used for shaping as well as support.
Garters: Were worn at the top of the stocking just above the knee to hold the stocking in place.
Garter Belt: Was a belt worn around the waist and used to hold up the stockings and garters thanks to fastenings.
Slip: A slip is a light loose dress that is worn under another dress. It is long or short depending on the size of the dress you're wearing over it. The slip has slim straps and was usually plain though lace and embroidery were no uncommon. Most younger women favoured the half slip which was like another skirt.
Stockings: Stockings were worn over the lower legs, clipped and held in place by the garters. If your lady is lucky enough to have a friend on the black market, she might be lucky enough to have proper nylon tights. But if not, some ladies in this period dyed their legs with tea bags and drew the seam up the back of their legs to give the effect.
Outfits
Most women still wore skirts and dresses in the 1940s though some women switched to pants. Most of the outfits of the time followed a similar silhouette due to rationing: it was simple, unsophosticated, fitted, belted and hems remained just below the knee. A suit jacket and skirt combo was popular. Blouses and jumpers were also worn. Dresses were worn as well. Women would pair their outfit with accessories. They would always wear a hat outside and gloves.
Shoes
Shoes were effected by the war, with leather and rubber being limited. Most were brown, black or two two-tone shoes were popular. Oxford shoes, saddle shoes, loafers, court shoes, slingback were popular. These could be lace ups or have fastenings. Heels were usual, but rather short and stocky if worn in the day time. Most would be plain but some would have embellishments.
The Reality of the 1940s
With war on and rationing well underway, the question of clothes was always on the mind. Most women did not have a large wardrobe and with clothing coupons little help, most women made and made due. Hems would be let down, larger sizes cut down and a lot of clothing reused. Fabric choice was limited, silk and nylon were used for parachutes and military applications. Clothing rations were the only way to get new clothes in the war. The average person was entitled at first to 66 clothing coupons per year. But that only would buy an outfit of clothes not including the necessaries. And the number of ration coupons went down as the war went on, down to 36 coupons in 1945. It was illegal to transfer coupons but even despite this, in 1947 hundreds of women offered the future Queen Elizabeth II their rations for her wedding dress. The offer was declined but the government had to approve the release of extra coupons to the Princess. Women also turned to alternatives to create clothes especially wedding gowns even made them out of parachutes!
Make up and Hair
Make up and perfume was one of the many things that was rationed due to their chemical components such as glycerine. Women could access make up but due to rationing and many make up companies not having the ingredients or changing to more profitable and patriotic output, supplies were low. Women often turned to DIY, burnt cork for mascara and eyeliner, natural stains such as beetroot or cochineal for lipstick, crushed rose petals for blush, soot/charcoal for eyeliner, facemasks of egg white or oatmeal, beeswax for moisturiser and cold cream. As for hair women often turned to DIY to care and wash for their hair. Homemade shampoos were made from soap, vinegar and baking soda. Egg yolks were used for conditioner. Lemon juice was used to lighten hair. Olive oil was used to make hair shiny. Some popular hairstyles of the era:
Victory Rolls: This is the hairstyle you're probably thinking ofwhen you think of the 40s. It involves rolling the hair away from the face and rolling them at the top of the head.
Pin Curls: This is a hairstyle involving the curling and pinning of hair overnight got tight curls for the next day.
Pageboy: This is a shoulder-length style, curled at the ends
Waves: This style involves soft waves
Pompadours: The hairstyle involves the sweeping up of hair back from the face and sculpting it to be more voluminous.
Snoods: This is a sort of net worn over the hair, usually with a rat (a sort of device used to increase volume at the front of the hair)
Scarves: Were popular replacement for hats, used to cover their hair when going out.
Summary: A chance encounter during a murder investigation forces Spencer to confront his past when he comes face-to-face with Y/N, his ex-girlfriend and new victim, rekindling old feelings and tensions.
AN: It's basically Daisy Jones & the Six meets Criminal Minds type of vibe.
"Another day, another case."
Spencer Reid had grown accustomed to the relentless pace of his work with the BAU. Evil, it seemed, never took a day off.
This explained why he now found himself en route to interview the latest victim, accompanied by Morgan.
Four murders in two weeks, and the body count showed no signs of slowing. All signs pointed to a disturbing connection within the music industry. The first two victims were singers, their vocal cords savagely ripped out. The third, a guitarist, had his hands severed. The most recent victim, a band manager, had his eyes gouged out in a grotesque display of violence.
As they walked briskly down the bustling Nashville street, Morgan voiced his frustration. "I can't wrap my head around why each murder was so different. It's like we're dealing with a completely new MO each time."
Reid's brilliant mind was already piecing together the puzzle. "Actually, there's a twisted logic to it," he explained, his words tumbling out rapidly. "Each mutilation corresponds to the victim's role in the industry. Singers silenced, a guitarist robbed of his ability to play, and a manager blinded, unable to oversee his clients. The unsub is targeting what makes each victim valuable in their profession."
"Do we know who we're meeting?" Reid inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Morgan nodded, consulting the notes from their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. "Her stage name is Y/S/N, twenty-six years old. She's the lead singer of a band called The Springs. The band's manager reported an attempted abduction last night. She fits our victim profile perfectly: female, location in Nashville, related to a band. This is our first witness, Reid. She could be our key to catching this guy."
As they entered the recording studio, a frazzled assistant greeted them. "Hi, I'm Cary, the manager's assistant. Thank you so much for coming! Jason has been a nervous wreck. Please, follow me."
Morgan took the lead, his FBI credentials at the ready. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We need to speak with Y/S/N as soon as possible."
Cary nodded, guiding them towards a red door. With each step, the muffled sound of music grew louder, and a hauntingly beautiful voice became clearer.
"The band is actually recording their latest song right now," Cary explained in a hushed tone. "You'll need to be quiet, but the manager will brief you further."
As they approached the studio, the lyrics washed over them:
Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me
A chill ran up Reid's spine. Something about that voice tugged at his memory, but before he could place it, he collided with Morgan's back.
A man stood before them, his face etched with worry. "Thank you for coming. I'm Jason, the band's manager. I wanted to take her straight to the police station, but she insisted on—" His eyes widened in recognition. "Spencer?"
Reid froze, suddenly face-to-face with a ghost from his past. "Uh, hi?" he managed, his usual social awkwardness winning again. How does one greet their ex-girlfriend's best friend after years of silence?
Morgan, sensing the tension, stepped between them. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We're here to speak with Y/S/N."
Jason's eyes darted between the two agents, his expression hardening. "Actually, I'd prefer if he wasn't here," he said, gesturing to Reid. "No offense, but I don't think it's wise for either of you to cross paths again."
Morgan, though confused by the unexpected connection, maintained his professional demeanor. "With all due respect, Dr. Reid and I work as a team. We both need to speak with Y/S/N to conduct a thorough investigation."
As the two men argued, Reid's gaze drifted to the recording booth. Through the glass, he caught sight of the band, and his breath caught in his throat. There, at the microphone, stood a face he thought he'd never see again—a face that to this day still haunts his most amazing dreams.
I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance
The lyrics pierced through Spencer Reid's carefully constructed walls, flooding his mind with memories he'd long tried to suppress. He was transported back to a time when life held more than just case files and criminal profiles—a time when he had someone to come home to, when he felt truly free rather than trapped within the labyrinth of his own brilliant mind. A time when he and Y/N L/N couldn't imagine a life without each other.
You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you
Despite his best efforts, Spencer's heart threatened to burst from his chest, yearning to reunite with its other half. For that was what Y/N had been—his perfect complement. They had met when she was seventeen and he was nineteen, initially friends until, two years later, they could no longer deny the intensity of their feelings.
Their love had been a force of nature—intense, pure, raw, and undeniably real. Until life's cruel realities came knocking at their door.
Y/N was a free spirit, driven by her passion for music. She'd twirl until dizzy, her long hair a wild tangle, singing until her voice grew hoarse. Music moved her in a way nothing else could.
Meanwhile, Spencer was on the cusp of graduating from the FBI Academy, with whispers of a fast-track position in the prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Two paths diverging, leading to an impossible choice.
He did what he thought he had to do, breaking things off for both their sakes. He had run the probabilities, analyzed every scenario, and a happy outcome seemed frustratingly out of reach. They wanted different things, or so he had convinced himself.
That fateful night was seared into his memory. Y/N was about to leave for New York to meet with a record label—an opportunity that Jason, her best friend and now manager, had excitedly relayed during their date. Spencer saw the yearning in her eyes, the spark of a dream about to be realized. And so, he made the agonizing decision to end things.
Her tears, her desperate pleas, her hands clutching at him as he walked away—it all haunted him still.
Was I just a fool?
I'll follow you down 'till the sound of my voice will haunt you
Spencer watched, transfixed, as Y/N sang in the recording booth. She swayed to the rhythm, smiling at her bandmates, lost in the music. Everything about her still captivated him. Their relationship had been a bittersweet dream he never wanted to wake from.
Give me just a chance
You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you
He stood rooted to the spot, oblivious to Derek's hand on his shoulder or the sudden silence as the band stopped playing. Then, Y/N turned towards the glass, and their eyes met for the first time in years. The world seemed to stop spinning.
Her gaze flicked to Jason, her expression morphing into a glare as she mouthed, "What the fuck?" The spell broken, she grabbed her bag and bolted through the back door.
Everyone sprang into action. Jason was the first to follow, with Derek close behind. Spencer remained frozen until his partner turned him around.
"Look, I don't know what history you have here," Derek said, his voice laced with concern and confusion, "but we have a job to do. If you can't handle this, go wait in the car. If you can, let's move." He pressed the car keys into Spencer's hand before chasing after Jason.
Against his better judgment, Spencer followed. A selfish part of him needed to be near her, even if it meant causing more chaos.
As he approached, he heard Y/N's voice, sharp with anger and pain. "I don't give a fuck if he's the president of the goddamn country. I'm not speaking to him. So you can either throw them out or let me leave."
Spencer rounded the corner to see Y/N already in her car, engine running, poised to flee.
"Look, Miss," Derek began, his voice firm but empathetic, "we can't let you go. You're the only survivor of this serial killer. If you don't talk to us, more people will die. Is that something you can live with?"
Jason, his arm still through the car window, pleaded with his client. "Come on, Y/N. You and I both know they're here to help. Let's get this over with, and then we can get you out of state within hours. This is for your safety and the safety of others."
Y/N's gaze flickered between her manager, the new agent, and Spencer, who was approaching hesitantly. With a heavy sigh and her heart in her throat, she turned off the ignition and moved to open the door, forcing Jason to step back.
"Get me a whiskey and a glass of milk," she demanded, grabbing her purse and striding back into the building without a glance at the agents.
Jason turned to Derek, his expression grave. "I strongly advise against having him there," he said, nodding towards Spencer. "As you can see, it won't end well if he's present."
Derek, still loyal to his partner, bristled at the suggestion. "And I advise you not to tell an FBI agent how to do his job. We've got it from here." He turned to Spencer, concern evident in his eyes. "Is he right? Should I listen to him?"
"No. I'm fine," Spencer insisted, though his tense posture suggested otherwise.
"And what about her?" Derek pressed, before noticing Carly, the assistant, anxiously tapping her foot nearby.
"She's in room 24, waiting for you," Carly informed them, pointing towards a door. "Um... good luck!"
As they entered the room, they found Y/N and Jason in the midst of a heated discussion.
"Everything alright?" Derek intervened, causing Y/N to roll her eyes dramatically.
"Yup, everything's perfect!" Jason's forced cheerfulness was palpable. "You guys can have a seat. I'll be right outside." He looked at Y/N sternly. "Be good. And tell them everything, please."
"Yes, Dad," Y/N replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she took a sip of whiskey. Once Jason left, she glanced between Derek and Spencer. "Well, are you going to sit down, or are we having a stand-up interview?"
Derek motioned for Spencer to sit beside him, both agents studying the woman before them. Y/N held a cigarette in one hand and whiskey in the other, while a glass of milk sat on the side table—an odd combination that spoke volumes about her state of mind.
"I'm Agent Morgan, and I believe you know Dr. Reid," Derek began cautiously. "We just have a few questions about what happened to you yesterday."
Y/N took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly before tapping it on the ashtray. "And what exactly do you want to know, Agent?"
Spencer cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Jason mentioned you survived a failed abduction. Can you walk us through what happened?"
Y/N tilted her head, her gaze fixed on Spencer with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. "We finished recording one of our songs yesterday, and the band wanted to go out for drinks. I was still hungover from the night before, so I decided to sit that one out." She took a gulp of whiskey, chasing it with milk in a bizarre ritual. "I stayed in the studio for a few hours, just writing. Around three a.m., I decided to head back to my hotel. I'd parked two blocks away, and as I approached, I noticed someone loitering near the parking lot entrance."
"Did you engage with him?" Derek interjected, earning an eye roll from Y/N.
"I'm not fucking stupid," she snapped. "I walked past as quickly as possible. He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him. Guess he didn't appreciate that, because the next thing I knew, he was behind me, trying to force a plastic bag over my head."
The room fell silent as the gravity of her words sank in. Spencer leaned forward, his analytical mind already piecing together the details. "Can you describe the attacker? Any distinguishing features, voice, or mannerisms?"
Y/N's eyes locked with Spencer's, a flicker of their shared past evident in her gaze before she quickly looked away. "He was tall, probably six feet or so. Muscular build. I didn't get a good look at his face, but his voice..." She paused, taking another drag of her cigarette. "His voice was deep, with a slight Southern drawl. Not local, though. Maybe Texas or Oklahoma."
Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "How did you manage to escape?"
They could see Y/N physically reliving the traumatic experience, her leg bouncing with increasing anxiety. The calm facade she had maintained began to crack under the weight of her memories.
"Hey, it's okay," Derek said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time."
For a moment, Y/N seemed to relax, but just as quickly, her emotional walls snapped back into place. She crushed out her cigarette and downed the rest of her whiskey in one swift motion.
"I'd heard about the murders before," she began, her voice steadier than her trembling hands. "Even before that, I always carried a pocket knife and pepper spray. Call it paranoia or just good sense in this industry." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "I managed to scratch his left arm before kicking him. When he loosened his grip, I turned and pepper-sprayed him. Then I just... ran. Got to my car and drove straight hotel. That's when I called Jason."
Derek leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "And you didn't think to call the police?"
Y/N's eyes flashed with anger. "I wanted to forget about it," she snapped. "I was planning to leave anyway. Sometimes denial feels safer than facing reality."
"Yet you still came in to record a song right after that?" Spencer's quiet question drew her attention, earning him a look that was equal parts resentment and something harder to define.
"I have a job," Y/N replied, her tone clipped as she turned back to Derek. "We have an album coming out soon, and we needed to finish recording. We love working in Nashville, so yes, I wanted to get it over with and then leave. Music... it's always been my escape."
Spencer cleared his throat, treading carefully. "Can you describe anything else about him? Any details you remember?"
Y/N's gaze softened almost imperceptibly as she looked at Spencer. "I think he was wearing a blue sweater, but I'm not certain." She paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. "What I do remember clearly is his smell. It was... odd. Like scented candles, the kind you'd find at Bath & Body Works. It was strangely out of place, but unmistakable."
Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "Alright, thank you for your time, Y/N. Here's our contact information if you remember anything else or need assistance." He stood, extending his hand, which Y/N shook briefly. As he walked to the door, he noticed Spencer hadn't moved. "Spencer?"
Spencer glanced between Derek and Y/N, who was now staring at him intently. "Give me a second," he said quietly. "I'll meet you at the car."
Derek hesitated, giving Spencer a questioning look. The younger agent's eyes pleaded for understanding, for a moment alone with the woman who had once meant everything to him. With a slight nod, Derek acquiesced and left the room.
As the door closed, the air grew thick with unspoken words and years of regret. Spencer and Y/N sat in tense silence, neither quite ready to bridge the chasm between them.
Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, I... I'm sorry. For everything. I know it doesn't change anything, but I need you to know that."
Y/N's carefully constructed mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of the pain she'd been carrying for years. "Why now, Spencer? After all this time?"
"Because I never stopped caring," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "And seeing you in danger..." He couldn't even finish that sentence. "Please, promise me you'll be careful.
Y/N studied him for a long moment, conflict evident in her eyes so she does what she does best. Ignore it. "Congratulations are in order, Mr. FBI," Y/N said sardonically, reaching for another cigarette. The acrid smell of tobacco filled the air, a scent that brought back a flood of memories for Spencer.
"Smoking causes about 90% of all lung cancer deaths," he recited, unable to stop himself. "More women die from lung cancer each year than from breast cancer." It was an old argument, one they'd had countless times before.
Y/N took a long, deliberate drag, exhaling slowly as if to challenge his statistics. "We're all meant to die one day, Spence," she said, her voice tinged with a familiar fatalism. "I always told you that."
Indeed, she had. It was her motto, her way of justifying living life to the fullest, consequences be damned.
"I thought you quit," Spencer said softly, his eyes fixed on the glowing ember of her cigarette. "When did you start again?"
"A few months after my twentieth birthday," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. "The record label signed us, and suddenly we went from doing a few covers a week to churning out originals every month. Needed a stress reliever."
Spencer studied her, noting the way she avoided his eyes. There was more to the story, he was certain. "Y/N/N," he said gently, using the old nickname that once came so easily to his lips, "are you okay?"
Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Why would you assume I'm not?"
"Well," Spencer began, slipping into his analytical mode, "you drank that whiskey rather quickly. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you're flushed—signs of prolonged alcohol consumption. The fact that you're willing to record and drive in this state suggests it's become a habit. And then there's the cigarette addiction. So, naturally, I'm concerned about your well-being."
Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words and years of separation. Y/N broke first, standing abruptly and grabbing her purse. "I've told you what you needed to know," she said, her voice brittle. "I have to leave. Hopefully, Jason's already arranged my flight out of here."
As she turned to go, Spencer's hand shot out, catching her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through both of them—a spark of electricity, familiar yet now terrifyingly foreign.
Y/N's eyes traveled from his hand to his face. "Let go, Spencer," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
He couldn't. Not yet. Not when he'd finally found her again, when there was so much to explain, so much unfinished between them. But he also knew that Derek would come bursting through the door at any moment.
With reluctance, he released her wrist and pulled out a post-it note and pen from his bag. Hastily scribbling his number, he held it out to her. "Take it. Please. If you need anything—and I mean anything—call me, okay?"
Skepticism clouded Y/N's features. Did he really expect her to take his number, to even consider calling him after everything?
Seeing her hesitation, Spencer pressed on. "Look, Y/N, I know you have every reason not to trust me, to want me out of your life. But please, give me a chance to prove that I'll be there for you. We'll catch the guy who attacked you, and if you need help with anything else, anything at all, come to me. Please."
Y/N stared into his pleading eyes. A part of her recognized his sincerity, but the wounded 20-year-old inside her still ached from old betrayals.
With a resigned eye roll, she snatched the note from his hand and left without a word, leaving Spencer rooted to the spot.
As she passed a trash can in the hallway, Y/N paused, the note burning a hole in her hand. For a moment, she hovered on the brink of tossing it away. But something—sentiment, curiosity, or perhaps a stubborn refusal to let go—made her slip it into the back pocket of her jeans instead.
You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you
The lyrics of her song echoed in Spencer's mind as he watched her go. And in that moment, he realized with startling clarity that he didn't want to get away. Not anymore. Not ever again.
As Y/N disappeared from view, Spencer was left alone with the lingering scent of her perfume and cigarette smoke, and the weight of years of regret. He knew that solving this case was now about more than just catching a killer—it was about second chances, redemption, and the possibility of healing old wounds.
With a deep breath, he steeled himself to face Derek and the investigation ahead, all while knowing that the most challenging case of his life might just be winning back the trust of the woman he'd never stopped loving.
Author's Note: I absolutely love Silver Springs. I belt it out all the time lol. I also was obsessed with Daisy Jones & The Six when it came out. Used to read a lot of those fanfics.
Disciple Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe and their Shizun Shen Qingqiu (Yuan) AU
Some of the work I have done so far for the Bingjiuyuan AU that the we are all brainstorming on twt. More to come for sure, because this is just so much fun and everyone has so many cool ideas ^^
if you reblog any of my posts about men in crop tops or short shorts and youre like "ill do this when im skinny," i need you to take my hand. sweet summer child, listen to me. you do not have to be skinny to show skin. please be fat and show skin. you deserve to wear what you want to wear, and to be cool in the heat. you do not have to punish yourself for being fat.
im not going to lie- some people will judge you. sometimes you will see or hear them judging you. you have to be able to move on. you are not living your life for them. pleasing them by sweating to death is not going to help you, and it's not going to appease fatphobic assholes. you do not need to make yourself small for them.
there are, on the other hand, also a plethora of people who are going to find you smokin hot, and others who will be inspired by your bravery- whether or not *you* feel brave- and it will make them brave too. there will be fat children who see you and realize they too can have all the autonomy and free will skinny people do. please dont hide yourself.
I know that the fandom likes to the joke that Shen Jiu hates men and is noted to have feminine traits, but I think his feminine traits go deeper than just him having those traits. Have you ever noticed that no woman in PIDW has ever been truly punished by Bingge? Sure, he might get angry with them, but he doesn't ever actually harm them/intend to punish them because Bingge finds comfort in women, like how Shen Jiu does. Although in different ways (Bingge uses them for sex and for love, but Shen Jiu just feels more comfortable within the presence of a woman.)
Yet, Bingge is the most gruesome towards Shen Jiu, aka the only person who has feminine traits to ever be harshly punished/tortured by Bingge in PIDW. While Shen Jiu did do horrible things to Bingge, I feel as if he wasn't the only one who did extremely horrible things against him. For example, the people who beat Bingge when he was a child for trying to take some food for his sick mother before she died. Yet, there is no explicit punishment for those people, aka people who may or may not have indirectly killed Bingge's adoptive mother. Which is weird because this is the type of slight that Bingge would never let slide, yet he does. Even Qin Wanyue takes advantage of Bingge because she coerces him into having sex with her.
There's been a lot of people who have definitely wronged him, but the focus of revenge is put so much on Shen Jiu. And I think I know why; it's because all the women in PIDW are supposed to love Bingge/ be a comforting towards him. They're supposed to be submissive, find him attractive, and unconditionally support them no matter their background. Human, demon, cultivator, etc. It's one of the universal laws of PIDW. But Shen Jiu is not submissive, caring, or loving towards the protagonist despite some of the traits he shares with women. (The distrust of men, his reliance on his intelligence and focuses less on brute strength, his damaged spiritual veins, him waiting for Yue Qi to come back aka yearning, him being able to be empathetic towards courtesans without looking at them in lust, the way he dresses, his fans, etc.) All these traits sound like the traits one of Bingge's harem members.
You could imagine it too; an intelligent and powerful cultivator cold towards the protagonist because of their distrust of men, but uh oh, their poor spiritual veins are damaged and now need to dual cultivate with a heavenly demon. Shen Jiu is the perfect mold for a female character like this. But, he lacks the most important trait, he doesn't love the protagonist. Women in PIDW are allowed to be a little mean towards Bingge, but they never hate him. Shen Jiu does hate him though, he'll never love him.
So, the PIDW universe punishes this error in the universe because women are supposed to love Bingge, including Shen Jiu because of his characteristics he may share with love interests. Shen Jiu defies this rule so he gets punished the harshest. Women bring comfort to Bingge but Shen Jiu would rather die than even give Luo Binghe a glimpse of hope. And that's why Shen Jiu gets the worst punishment. Not because he was a horrible person to Bingge, no, it was because he broke the rules of the universe and had to be punished.
