#and also to not have to explain anything to his family

[viperify]

HIIII my sweet baby mar !!!! congrats again on 1k u deserve it and soooo much more. u are the sweetest and ur writing is to DIE for. love u so much sweet angel <33 (i hope i requested this right)

could i request brothers best friend trope + smut (praise kink if u can! tom praising reader)

with “look me in the eyes when you lie like that” (tension) + “don’t stop. don’t you dare stop.” (smut)

1k celebration | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

‧₊ ⏾ Late Night Owls.

Short Summary: When you send Tom an owl, already past curfew, asking him to help you with an assignment—who is he to say no?

Warnings: 18+ only! rough sex, praise kink, hair pulling, slight choking, impact play (like once), hints of breeding kink, oral f!receiving, brief fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: hey babygirl kat!!! I love you so much, thank you so much for your sweet words and requesting. It really means the world. <333 (and thanks for being patient. Really. I am sorry. The end was for you. Based on that one discord message from a few days ago—yes, I know you too well.)

wordcount: 1,4k

Maybe it was boredom. Or your recklessness. Or maybe, it was the way he had looked at you earlier today.

Probably all three of these things combined led you to sending that owl to him late at night, well past curfew.

“Can you come over? I am having trouble with our latest assignment for Charms class.

Abraxas is asleep, don’t know who else to ask.

xx”

That’s what the letter read before you sealed it with your family’s stamp, a big M pressed into the drying wax.

You didn’t actually need help with your assignment.

You also didn’t change out of your pink satin pyjama shorts that barely covered anything.

—

Not even five minutes later, there’s a knock on your door.

Tugging at the hem of your shorts, you quietly walk towards the door, opening it just slightly—enough for you to peek outside.

You are relieved when you are met with Tom’s face, gesturing to come in. He strides right past you, hands casually tucked in his pockets as he scans the assignment on your desk.

A random assignment you found in those five minutes of time you had. Third year, maybe fourth. You don’t exactly know—and it also doesn’t matter. Not really.

Charms is your best subject, after all.

And Tom—who, of all things, first looks at the date in the top right corner—also knows you don’t actually need him to help you with spells from two years ago.

Still, he decides to play along. See how far you are willing to take it.

“What is it that you need help with, then?” he asks calmly, turning around to watch you from where he was standing, one eyebrow raised as he takes in your outfit for the first time that night.

“So— I’ve been having trouble with the execution of this one spell on the assignment.” you answer, cheeks growing hot as you feel his eyes roaming over your body. Perfect.

“Colloportus?” he half-scoffs, pulling your wand from your robes and closing the distance between you two.

You look up at him, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “It’s really difficult.” 

“Right,” he murmurs, handing you your wand and walking around you. His hand closes over yours, all warm and gentle—guiding your hand with precision only he could muster.

“Like this,” Tom explains, muttering the spell and subsequently locking the door. “Now you try it.”

“Mmmh, maybe if I try it like this—“ you murmur, gently backing your hips into his as you mimic the wand movement. Of course, on purpose. And as you do so, you feel him—cock already half-hard, forming a dent in trousers—pressing against the curve of your ass with every shift of your hips. Until a firm hand steadies you, fingers digging into your skin.

“Help with the spell, hm?” He mutters as he leans in, hot breath ghosting over your ear. “Is this really why you called me here, or is there something else you had in mind?”

You bite your lip in an attempt to stop the grin spreading on your lips. “No. Just the spell.”

He scoffs, taking your wand from you and carelessly throwing it onto the bed before. “Look me in the eyes when you lie like that, sweetheart.”

You turn then, no longer able to hold back the smirk tugging at your lips as you take in his expression. He isn’t disappointed—he already knew. Obviously, he did.

“I may not have been entirely truthful,” you admit, placing a kiss on his neck, right below his jaw. “Wanted to see you again.”

Tom hums in approval, hand gently wrapping around your throat as his lips finally connect with yours—and it’s messy, hungry, like the both of you have been starved for one another.

It’s only been a week.

Before you even know it, you are bent over the far end of your bed, face pressed into your silky bedsheets. Expensive. Luxurious. The same kind Tom recognizes from Abraxas’ dorm.

And oh, how he loves ruining you on them.

With one smooth motion, he pulls your shorts down your thighs, revealing your lace panties—already damp with arousal, clinging to your pussy.

“Look at you. Filthy girl.” He purrs, kneeling behind you—his thumb brushing over the soaked fabric, humming as he presses a kiss to your inner thighs. “Just needed me to come over and take care of you, is that it?”

“Yes, Tom. Please, I need you,” you whine, legs trembling at the soft gesture.

As soon as he tugs your panties down your legs, his mouth is on your cunt—tongue swiping through your folds before his lips wrap around your clit.

Just the way you like it. Slow. Gentle. Two of his fingers pumping in and out of you.

Curling just right, fingertips repeatedly brushing over your sweet spot.

And oh, how you wish you could bury your fingers in his hair, tug on his gorgeous dark curls to pull him closer. But in this position—it’s him who’s in control.

And just before you come, walls pulsing around his digits—he pulls away. Leaves you empty and aching.

“Tom, what are you—“ you complain, trying to turn your head—but you don’t get the chance. Just a moment later, his hand pushes you back down as he lines himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance. Then, in one smooth thrust, he pushes forward, burying himself inside—your velvety walls stretching to take him in.

“This is what you wanted, hm? Got you drooling all over your satin sheets,” Tom mocks, pulling out halfway just to slam back in again—all the way—his palm landing on your ass with a sharp smack. “If only Abraxas knew what his little sister makes me do to her. What she begs me for.”

His pace makes you lose your mind. It’s too slow, and he purposely angles his thrusts wrong. He’s messing with you—punishing you for being needy. Teasing you.

“Tom, please. Fuck me like you mean it. I am begging you.”

His fingers tangle in your hair, yanking your head back as he thrusts forward again. Rougher. Deeper. The way you wanted it.

“Like this, hm? This good enough for you?” He growls, grinding his hips against yours—making you take all of him at once. And you swear you see stars in that moment.

“Oh, God— yes, just like that—“ you whimper, fingers fisting at your sheets. The feeling of his tip nudging your cervix, leaving you gasping for air.

Tom loves having you like this. A drooling mess, all because of him and his cock. Begging for more, begging him to ruin you.

And who would he be to deny your wish?

You are his precious little girl, after all.

So, with one hand tugging at your hair, the other on your hips, pulling you back against his thrusts—he sets a rhythm. Fast and unforgiving, each thrust angled to hit just right.

“Good girl. Doing so well for me.”

It doesn’t take long for him to get you there. It never does.

And when you are right at the edge, legs trembling, walls spasming around his thick length—you feel his rhythm falter.

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.” You manage to grit out, and he lets go of your hair.

“I wasn’t going to.” Tom rasps, both of his hands tightening on your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh. “You are going to come all over my cock, like the good girl you are.”

And you do. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, your walls clenching tightly around him as your legs tremble—and still, he doesn’t stop. Keeps going even as your aftershocks have calmed down.

“Going to leave you so full of me, make sure you feel it slowly soaking your panties as you walk to the Great Hall tomorrow,” he groans, his thrusts growing erratic, cock twitching as he chases his own release. “Greeting your brother and friends—who think we are studying each time I visit.”

With one final thrust, he buries himself deep inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your walls white. His hand finds your throat then, pulling you upright, flush against his chest. “But instead, you’ll be sitting next to your brother. Who doesn’t have a single clue.”

Tom tilts your face towards his, so you are forced to meet his gaze.

“And still, you’ll be dripping with me, acting as though the innocent little girl your family thinks you are.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | 1k celebration. <- event masterlist.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[invaderzia1]

SKIPS SHADLEY HEADCANONS

Mainly before he’s realized

I think Skips got into most of his favorite bands because of the previous homeowners. They had a son who listened to 2010’s emo and metalcore, Skips always hung out in his room to hear more. Took a lot of notes on his clothes and the friends he kept around, which is why he looks like a 2010’s emo kid. Felt really comfortable in that style, so he made sure to perfect that look. Was so sad when that family did end up leaving.

Skips has been alive for a long time and has been alone for most of it. He had his online friends in the 2000’s, but they slowly stopped using DOL and he was back to being alone again. So he’s extra clingy with you. Like super touchy to remind himself you are here and with him. Probably needs a lot of reassurance too, but wont ask.

Comes up behind you and will poke you without saying anything. Scares the absolute fuck out of you, but he just wants you to know he’s here.

Messages you a lot on thiscord. Sometimes he’s just writing as if it’s his diary. “Today I saw a butterfly, Penumbra.” Other times, he wants your attention when you’ve used up the dateviators for the day. Asks Mac to message you often, which they find both annoying and cute of him.

9 times out of 10, he is watching you in whatever room you are in. Even if you don’t have the dateviators on, you can tell because there is always one shadow that doesn’t move.

Any time you play video games with him that lets him make his own character, he’s making a back story for them. Will shyly ask you if your characters are friends or not, and how they relate into the lore of his character. Wants to here in depth about your own characters lore.

If he sees you bleed, he freaks out. But he gets quiet and stares at you with wide eyes while almost hyperventilating. After seeing what happened to Zoey, he’s so cautious about things going wrong for you.

DO! NOT! SHOW! HIM! FINAL!DESTINATION!!! It will freak him the fuck out, even if you explain it’s not real. Like this will become his nightmare (same with the rest of the house if you romance them, but we aren’t talking about them right now.) He can handle most horror movies, but that series is his nightmare. God forbid when he is realized you try to drive behind a log truck or take him to an amusement park, he’ll be so paranoid.

When you get sick, he gets anxious. Makes sure Curt and Rod close the curtains so there’s more shadow in the room so he can take care of you. Tells Betty and Dorian to make sure you don’t get up from bed if he’s not there to stop you. Though he doesn’t fully understand what humans need to make them feel better, tries his best to make sure you are rested. It’s the most he’s ever interacted with the rest of the house.

Forgets you have to eat sometimes. Upsets him for like a fraction of a second that you’re leaving him, until he realizes you’ve been hanging out for 6 hours without interruption and your stomach is growling.

Also forgets how cold he is compared to humans. He’ll come up and try to hug you, then get confused why you jumped ten feet away. If you buy one of those giant heating pads and put it between y’all, it’ll almost feel like you are cuddling another human.

Authors note: I have more to share about him AND Curt & Rod

[friedesgreatscythe]

the reacher is maelle at her worst and also her strongest. she lets alicia's weakness, a fear of heights, control any enjoyment she could have with the wonder of the place. she brushes off the gift of wings--wings!--with a shrug. maelle never had any problem with heights before. she loved traveling across rooftops, loved being up in the hanging gardens with gustave, and even had no problem sitting on a cliff's edge with sciel, watching the night sky. but it's only after she remembers she is alicia does she let that fear override her, a fear she mentions so blithely as to take it as a fact that cannot be denied or changed. she laughs as nevrons kill each other, so disconnected from the consequences of these creatures fighting each other. maelle, the one from the start of the game, wouldn't find that funny. she might be surprised, but not amused. not entertained.

she is strong enough to separate herself from painted alicia, strong enough to know where they connect and can understand each other; strong enough to know that painted alicia deserves her chance to speak (figuratively), deserves a chance to decide what to do now that her painted family is all but gone. she remembers her life as alicia, uses that to empathize with painted alicia, and through that assumes (rightly) what her painted self wants more than anything. she is able to look at painted alicia and not be afraid. maelle is able to look at painted alicia and know that she deserves freedom, she deserves what to say and do about her life. especially since she let go (literally) of her dream (the letter verso gave back to her).

but maelle is cruel. she doesn't even considering giving verso a chance to say goodbye, doesn't even look at him as she puts painted alicia through the gommage. she looks at painted alicia fade with an expression that is almost terrifying in its ambiguity--is she disgusted? does she feel anything? is she proud of what she did? does she feel better? worse? does she feel triumphant, that yes, finally, the last hurdle of aline's painted family has been stricken from the canvas? that yes, finally, the other sister is gone, and now verso is hers? verso, who introduces the expedition to the area by saying "my sister is at the top." his sister. his family.

when verso grieves and tries to explain to maelle that his whole family is gone, maelle insists that he has her now and that's where she is perhaps at her worst, which is so heartbreaking. verso means his family, the painted family, the replicas of the living, breathing dessendres. they're all gone. the family he's known for his century in the canvas are gone. but maelle doesn't see that. she sees that she has family now, finally--but she doesn't want the family waiting for her outside the canvas. she doesn't want the living, breathing family. the freedom of being in the world again, of changing her life, of growing and healing. she rejects the wings made for her. she wants the painted brother. she wants the little doll she can cling to in a world where nothing and no one can take him away.

it makes me wonder how maelle would feel--maelle without alicia's memories. maelle, who only knew gustave and emma as family. what would maelle say about this? we can't know. we'll never know. that maelle is gone, completely. and that's its own kind of death.

[burrowkit]

I stare at myself in the mirror. It's been 4 days, 11 hours, and 13 minutes since I was brought back to life.

My eyes look the same as they've always been. A regular shade of brown, which, considering the many shades of brown eyes, is an underdescriptor. My hair is still curly and wavy in all the ways it feels like being.

I feel like me.

My parents won't allow me to return to school. To see all my friends. They insist something is wrong. That I'm not... me.

The doctor's notes are on the counter nearby, with the results of every possible test.

Twice.

We ran the tests twice.

I'm perfectly healthy. In fact, my cells seem to be able to reproduce just a little quicker than they used to.

Which we discovered after my father accidentally knocked me down the stairs.

Having a broken leg heal pretty quickly was a bit of a shock. Sure, that's not super normal, but how can they be angry about that?

My doctor wasn't sure how to explain it, especially as he couldn't witness it himself.

On the counter, next to the results, it my diary. I've re read it no less than 10 times since returning. I remember all these memories. They're mine. I don't get it.

My parents won't allow me around my siblings, either. They think I'll kill them or something.

My favourite foods are still my favourite foods. I still like to swim. And dance. I slipped out the other day to go for a walk with my best friend, but still.

I didn't tell my best friend anything. She'd been away when tragedy struck. My parents were careful to whisk my body away, and hid my death from everyone.

Everyone, except my doctor, who is well aware of the situation.

"Sam?" A soft knock sounds from the other side of the bathroom door, all tentative. "Sam, it's time for your doctor's appointment?"

"Coming," I reply, sweeping up my papers and opening the door. My mom is already quickly retreating from me, as I head for my room. I quickly log back into it, my password is still the oddity it's been for years, and sign into the virtual psychologist appointment I have.

She also knows about what happened.

"Sam," she smiles at me, as she accepts me into the meeting space. "How are you today?"

***

It was a productive appointment. She agrees, nothing seems to be wrong about me. No one but my family can explain why I'm not right.

It's only when the moon begins to rise, do I realize what they did.

What ritual they did.

What's wrong with me.

"Hello, daughter," a creature steps out of the moonlight cast on the floor of my room.

I don't bother lifting my head from my bed, lying on my back, staring at the ceiling.

"I said-"

"I heard you," I cut him off with a sigh. "Any chance you'll tell me what's wrong with me?"

I have an idea, now. Something about this demon. The full moon was required to activate whatever is wrong with me.

The being, surprisingly, takes a seat in my office chair. It's one that's in good shape, but I inherited from my grandmother. He looks... uncomfortable. "Your parents asked that I bring you back to life," he begins. "They did not, however, stipulate that you be theirs."

I frown, thinking over his words. "So, I'm what? A demon? Half demon?"

He chuckles slightly. "You are my daughter, child. Do you remember your time in the world beyond?"

I close my eyes, remembering the pain. I never want to dwell on it for too long. I shake my head, watching him.

He frowns, looking... hurt. "You stayed in my home. Any child taken too soon is offered a new life. One with a new family. I made you my daughter."

According to records, I was dead for all of three days.

Still, I remember it felt like years.

"And I'm here to, what? Cause chaos? Death? Destruction?" All of that's typical demon stuff.

He shakes his head, looking... apologetic. "No, my daughter. You have been reborn without the familial ties you once had. I have come to offer you knowledge on how to control your new gifts, and to bring you home. Bring you to where you are loved."

"Back to the land beyond?" I guess.

"No," he shakes his head, sadly. "No, you've been changed. You've been reborn. You will move to my home. And I will ensure you are safe. No one will ever harm you, again," he motions to my leg, the one that was instantly healed after being broken once more after a mishap after dinner.

"What about my stuff?" Because suddenly, despite my having no memory of this man-demon, I can't imagine being anywhere but with him.

I genuinely feel safe.

And I'm fairly sure that the latest 'accident' was no accident.

He snaps his fingers, and everything, including the bed I was on, is gone. "Here," he tosses me a box. I catch it, having landed on the ground, softly. I peer into it, finding all my belongings including... including my toothbrush. "Let's go home. You may pick out whatever name you would like for the next couple decades."

My name. A chosen name. "I think... I think I want to be Kali," I respond.

He nods, snapping his fingers once more, and replacing the clothes I once loved, given to me by my parents, with clothes... clothes I equally love but feel more like Kali than Sam.

One last snap, and we're no longer there. Gone. Home.

Your family's ritual brought you back to life and yet they start to become more and more paranoid around you, saying "it went wrong". You check in the mirror for decay or rot, nothing, you film yourself in sleep, nothing. You even see a doctor but nothing. You are completely normal, so why?

[calmcoldevening]

What are the slashers red and green flags?

Slashers GREEN and RED flags

Michael Myers

🔴 He's often not at home, especially during the Halloween season.

🔴 He might be a little obsessed with his little sister, but that's not certain.

🔴 Chocolate and other sweets tend to disappear quickly in his house.

🟢 He would never cheat on you.

🟢 He's not particularly jealous, and if someone bothers you, he'll just kill them and come back to hug you.

🟢 He values silence and personal space.

🟢 He won't become an alcoholic, drug addict, cheater, womanizer, or anything else.

Jason Voorhees

🔴He's quite shy and fearful

🔴 A mama's boy (he listens to "mother's voice" in his head, so you need to be careful with this)

🔴 Unconfident

🟢 Protective, loving, and gentle

🟢 A big hugging pillow

🟢 A good listener (but don't expect an answer or sensible advice)

🟢 An eco-friendly boy! He lives in nature, in the fresh air, protects you from "pests," and makes sure you eat well

Bubba Sawyer

🔴 He gets easily overstimulated and needs rest (but the fact that he needs your cuddles isn't so bad, right)

🔴 Quite emotional and sensitive, sometimes he can't explain to you what he wants to say, even with gestures

🔴 A slob, especially his workspace in the basement. His brothers didn't take good care of him, so it will take you some time to teach him cleanliness.

🟢 He's a very creative and gentle baby!

🟢 A family guy. If you want a big family, even with children, he's the right guy for you! Bubba knows how to take care of children, at least those over the age of two.

🟢 He's very diverse! You wake up with your boyfriend in the morning, and he falls asleep with a caring woman in the evening! (He's wearing a pretty lady mask) Role-playing in bed is guaranteed!

🟢 Your pet puppy who follows you obediently everywhere.

Thomas Hewitt

🔴 Jealous. He's pretty insecure, so he's afraid someone might steal you away from him.

🔴 You'll have to eat human meat.

🔴 Relatives 3/10 (Hoyt 2/10, Monty 5/10, Luda 9/10), so yeah, there's a problem. Although it's not his fault, of course.

🟢 Hardworking. He can fix anything, and he can do anything.

🟢 Modest. The ideal man, right? Doesn't brag (although he's very happy that you're dating him)

🟢 Loyal and family-oriented boy. Once he loves you, it's forever. He's a one-woman man

🟢 Protective

Vincent Sinclair

🔴 Modest and insecure (why are they all like this?)

🔴 Under the pressure of his twin brother

🟢 He's an excellent artist and sculptor. You'll be his muse

🟢 He always has time for you. He's a master of romance. You can sit and cuddle, watch the sunrise, and admire the stars

🟢 He's a great cook.

🟢 He's a very gentle and attentive boy.

🟢 You're the only one for him.

Bo Sinclair

🔴 Black humor and hard jokes (it's fun, but if you're too sensitive, it's a minus)

🔴 Problems with his mother. Well... he might compare you to her or complain about his bad childhood to you

🔴 Problems with anger. It's just... well... yeah

🟢 He'll just pick you up and carry you wherever you need to go. If he likes you, he doesn't care about your appearance; you're his treasure, and everyone else is a pathetic bitch

🟢 No matter what kind of bastard he is, he is a family-oriented and loyal person.

🟢 A handsome and charismatic bastard

Mark Hoffman

🔴 He may suddenly disappear for a few days without warning, because he's busy helping John.

🔴 He's not in the best of moods. At the beginning of your relationship, his "mood" meant that you should leave and leave him alone. Now, it means "baby, I'm tired, give me a hug, please." He also needs support, don't forget that.

🔴 He works late and drinks a lot of coffee and alcohol. However, your presence in his life may make his existence a little better.

🟢 Loving and understanding. He will put every problem of yours through himself, listen and support.

🟢 In his eyes you are beautiful, so he will make you forget all your complexes. You have no flaws, baby, only more reasons to love you

🟢 You have seen those lips, right? This is definitely a green flag. Dreaming of those lips

🟢 He will always have your back. No matter what, just call him and he will solve everything

🟢 Princess/princ treatment

Bughuul

🔴 Well.. he's a demon

🔴 He doesn't have a face

🔴 He has a lot of children who will demand your attention. Although time flows differently in his world, the children's energy is exhausting. But it keeps you from getting bored.

🔴 He's in every photo. When you develop or view your photos, he's always there, wrapping his arms around your waist. Baby, I know you love us, but we need a photo with us alone, without you!!

🟢 He has children, so you don't have to make them yourself, baby. But if you have it, he will be happy

🟢 A devoted, loyal, and wise man

🟢 Wears nice suits

🟢 Always by your side. Literally. Even if you can't see him, that shadow behind you is watching your safety

🟢 Quiet and unobtrusive, he has a gentle and calm love

🟢 He doesn't care about age or appearance. He truly loves with his soul. And even when you're 80, he won't leave you (although by then you'll be eternally young in his world, yes)

🟢 He's quite an intelligent man who loves art

Billy Loomis

🔴 Jealous as hell. Literally kills someone because they laughed too loudly at your joke

🔴 Psychologically unstable (although he has a calm face)

🔴 Loves blood, no matter whose. He might cut you for fun

🔴 He has problems with his family

🟢 He's a good listener and pays attention to details. If you mention that you like purple, he'll find purple roses for you

🟢 To some extent, he's a prince on a white horse. When he truly loves, he'll go to great lengths for you

🟢 You can watch cool horror movies with this guy, and he knows his way around them

Stu Macher

🔴 He's too cheerful and too unserious.

🔴 He quickly forgets what you said. He had trouble remembering your birthday (Billy put a date sticker on his front door).

🟢 He's a fun and lively guy, and you'll never get bored with him.

🟢 He's a cute and shy little guy (of course, that's just a facade. Beneath it lies a passionate tiger who loves caramel popcorn).

🟢 He spends all the money he has on you. Don't worry, they won't end soon.

[daddymaster21]

Okay technically I already read this chapter, but I was experiencing The Dread and didn’t have enough energy to write a review. So. Here we go!

1. Girl TF?? Why are we so nonchalant about a woman screaming 😭

2. Right okay I forgot girlie has spidey senses

3. Cas is an autistic icon and I love him

4. Crowley my beloved!!! They’re both so sassy, they’ll either constantly want to stab each other or be two wine moms gossiping about literally everyone

5. And so the game of “they’ll finally realize I don’t deserve them and leave” continues

6. I say this literally every time you mention him but,,,, JOHN WINCHESTER WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU

7. This shook me when I first read it. FUCK YOU MEAN THAT WAS PART OF THE PLAN???

8. See. She gets it. The yearning doesn’t mean anything if you never do anything about it.

9. Unfortunately I too am familiar with the darkness part of the grieving process

10. Ah yes. The age old “if I’m not helping I’m a burden” core belief

11. “What do you know about Gucci” he’s the funniest man alive, I fear

12. SEE. THE STABBING. WHAT DID I SAY????

13. DO IT. TELL HIM.

14. Unfortunately he does, in fact, know witches

15. THE APPLE BABEY

16. Girl you know I love you but how did that take you this long

17. God forbid women know things smh my head

18. All of your ideas are good ideas! Unfortunately, all of your ideas are also terrible ideas

19. Cas doing the bitch sigh when he doesn’t even have to breathe KILLED me

20. The bit about the hands is just. So cool.

21. The bit about Bobby finding the condom was HILARIOUS, but the way I now need a oneshot where Cas finds it instead and princess has to explain sex. The Creatures having that discussion would SEND ME.

22. “He would be receptive” literally the most oblivious man in existence is more aware of y’all’s feelings than you are. Please just have ANY conversation.

23. NOOOOO IVE READ THIS CHAPTER SO I KNOW WHAT’S COMING. I STG WHEN I FIRST READ THIS I ALMOST CRACKED MY TEETH.

24. The grin is so real. Gotta use those facial expressions to your advantage.

25. Not her just. Being God for a minute there (she’s the baddest bitch alive and I’m in love with her)

26. Ah yes. The nightmares that are definitely just nightmares and absolutely nothing else.

27. Can I just say. CAN I JUST SAY. I totally called Adam being the man of god to betray her. I am the smartest man alive

28. She doesn’t even know how much better she’s made their lives 😔

29. RAGHHHHHHH KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM

30. Okay. We’re good. (Not really but I can pretend)

31. Love that she immediately tries to kill him and Chuck (derogatory) is just like. “Aww. How cute.”

32. HES SUCH A PATRONIZING DOUCHEMAGGOT AND I FUCKING HATE HIM

33. Okay, maybe it’s just me, but if I was trying calm a woman I “loved” who was actively trying to kill me while also having a panic attack, my first choice for comfort would *not* be “man I should call her the name she barely recognizes and doesn’t identify with.” Just a thought.

34. Literally half of my review is going to be criticizing chuck’s every move.

35. “Is it the binds” he says, watching her actively claw and scratch at her wrists

36. “Not actually capable of holding it within itself” Jesus fucking Christ, Thea. You’re an artist. A poet.

37. Ew a person (entity?) being hospital clean in their soul would be. SO upsetting.

38. Ahem. Please take a quote from our lord and savior, Brennan Lee Mulligan: “Everyone you ever knew who told you that they would keep you safe as long as you behaved were already hurting you.”

39. No but so genuinely, SHUT THE FUCK UP. You do want her to “be good”, you just don’t want her to call it that, because you’re uncomfortable recognizing that you’re hurting her just like everyone else (found family not included)

40. Oh god ew the thought of him calling me sexy— 🤢

41. THAT’S RIGHT, BABEY. GET HIS ASS.

42. Once again. If he said that to me, I think I’d puke.

43. Babe. Honey. Beloved. I cannot emphasize how little you respect her, and the fact that you don’t see it makes it even worse

44. Okay kids, let’s all say it together: IF👏YOU👏THINK👏YOU👏OWN👏THEM, YOU👏DON’T👏RESPECT👏THEM

45. I- I know this man is fictional, but boy howdy my rage is real

46. Yes, because it’s her fault that she’s badly traumatized and had to find coping mechanisms to stay sane.

47. I. I can’t. I literally can’t even put into more words how much I hate him.

48. HEY. HEY WHAT ABOUT ASKING HER. WHAT ABOUT INSTEAD OF WATCHING MOVIES AND ALL THIS OTHER BULLSHIT, YOU ACTUALLY ASKED HER WHAT SHE WANTS. WHAT ABOUT THAT.

49. I truly wish there was a camera here, because it is tragic that you can’t see the withering stare I’m giving my carpet every thirty seconds

50. Sam smelling god and Dean IMMEDIATELY getting flavor blasted by her Fruit.

51. I cannot even imagine the whiplash of that conversation happening and then immediately having to put the mask back on for the boys. My actual worst nightmare

52. THE FOREPLAY COMMENT LMFAOOOO

53. Also. Bossy is to Dean what Brat is to Ben

54. Bobby is constantly fighting between permanently exasperated and YOU SAID WHAT TO HER????

55. YOU’RE JUST NOW GETTING THAT THERE MIGHT BE A CHANCE??????

56. Girl if Dean did that to me, Chuck could be in the room and I’d STILL jump him

57. Jesus fucking Christ, it TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH (it’s okay I also cannot recognize flirting. It’s the autism, I fear.)

58. Look, I’m bad at romance, but even I’m not this oblivious.

59. GIRLIE. YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HIM. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, “THAT IT WAS SOMETHING”

60. Trust Bobby, babe. You know.

61. Found family, save me. Save me, found family

62. “And can walk” DAMN YOU REALLY DID BOBBY LIKE THAT

63. Dean wouldn’t get any cake if I was there, cause the texture of cake is. So grainy

64. This is one of the only ways in which princess and I differ. I fuck at math, I can’t lie

65. Please, just one hug from this man. It’s all I need

66. Babe he’s so yours he fantasizes about being your weapon.

67. WOOF. BARK WOOF, SHIRTLESS DEAN. (I’m not a furry, and even if I was, I WOULDNT BE A DOG. WHY DO I DO THIS.)

68. “I’m gonna milk that half hour like you can’t believe” I’m in love with him

69. Him literally just sitting there internally googling “how to tell my wife I love her without telling her I love her”

70. THEY TALKED!!! LIKE PEOPLE!!!! AND NOW I GET TO READ ABOUT MORE KISSING!!!!!!!!

71. A pretty man having me would fix me, I fear

72. Please note that I didn’t miss the fact that Bobby said he knew because it was where he belonged, and the last line of her POV was her saying this is where she belongs. You can’t hide from me, Thea.

73. Ah yes, my old friend “I’m good at flirting but only when I don’t actually care”

74. RAHHHHH THE YEARNING.

75. “She liked to test him, though” I am. So Normal about their relationship.

76. She’s sooooo us-coded, I fear

77. She’s perfect, and also the stupidest woman alive

78. Hey man, I’m down for that plan. Chuck dead and y’all married? Count me tf in.

79. Haha. Yes. Who he’s going to lose, because definitely it’ll be only one of them.

80. Okay. I’m about 1000% sure I’m gonna be alone on this one, but Mark Pellegrino looked hot asf in the makeup where the vessel was falling apart.

81. Hey look! It’s my other old friend, “I got so good at masking that now I could be a professional actor!”

82. This is. Not going to go well.

83. Once again, when I read that Dean called Chuck to find all this out, I nearly set my phone on fire. I hate him SO FUCKING MUCH

84. YEAH WELL YOU’RE ABOUT TO CALL THE FUCKER, WHY NOT ASK FOR HIS INTERFERENCE

85. I will say, her surprising chuck by planning to throw both of them in there made me smile. Cause as much distress for him as possible.

86. I LOVE that Sam is like “goddamnit. This is another fuckass plan, isn’t it.�� Instead of actually believing she betrayed them. A loyal king

87. Someday these fuckers have gotta learn that hitting on her is the wrong move

88. Haha. This is fine.

89. Poor crow :(((

90. All my homies love rambling to powerful entities so their girlfriend can get the jump on them

91. I know Luci sucks, but he’s also a sassy king and I love that for him

92. Dean is the perfect man and I need him carnally

93. Seriously, they don’t understand ANYTHING about what she wants. It’s kind of impressive, in the worst way possible

94. This part makes my heart hurt

95. Not me realizing he finally finds out what the fruit is right as he loses her. Man, this is gonna go so poorly for… everyone, actually.

96. WHOO! BE FREE, CROW!

97. I am. Wrecked. What have you done to me.

Final thoughts: boy howdy, this was a doozy. Almost reached a hundred thoughts! Adam is in danger, and any monster who encounters Dean in the next however-long-they’re-gone should be terrified.

Chapter 27 - When You Go

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: I call this format of chapter “The Ol’ Razzle Dazzle”

Chapter Title from The World is Ugly by My Chemical Romance

Word Count: 18.8k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Dean has a birthday, and there’s no other way. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 26 - Chapter 28

Read on A03!

You don’t look up from your book, when you hear the woman scream. She goes silent a second later, and the Silver is still settled in your body, so everything is safe.

Not fine. 

But safe. 

In this moment, even as an eerie silence hangs in the air and a cold feeling sits in your bones, you’re safe.

“Dean told you to stop doing that.” You hum, and Cas sighs, dropping in the chair across from yours. 

“I do not have control over people’s reactions to my appearance-“

“That’s not what he meant, Cas.” You give him a flat look over the top of your book. “You landed in front of her.”

He shrugs. “I erased the memory from her mind. At worst, she will have a headache.”

“You’re going to get yourself shot-“

“And it will be ineffective. And Dean has already had this conversation with me-“

“It obviously didn’t work.” You drawl, and Cas lets out a long, dramatic sigh. 

“Would you like to yell at me about flying, or actually talk about the plan?”

You hum, crossing your legs under your body. “I think I can do both-“

“I think that Sam and Dean will only be occupied with the grocery store’s post-Holiday sale for about ten more minutes.” Cas gives you a pointed look, and you sigh.

“Fine.” You drop your book on the table, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. “I’ve got nothing. The Sioux Falls public library doesn’t specialize in the occult, and Crowley doesn’t want to play, so-“

Cas frowns. “Crowley?”

“Yeah. But he’s being a dipshit-“

“When did you speak to Crowley?”

“Yesterday.” You hold Cas’ gaze, but you expression must not be as casual as you want it to be, because his eyes narrow. “I didn’t make a deal, Cas, it’s fine-“

“Why did you speak to Crowley.” He doesn’t let up, and you sigh, running your thumb over your palm.

You know it had been stupid. And reckless. And if Sam hadn’t burst into your room, shouting that Adam was also missing, you’d probably owe Crowley two favors. 

But you’d been desperate. So fucking desperate, and a little broken, and right on the edge of snapping in half. Dean had vanished. He’d kissed you but then just left. And you’d been sure he was doing something heroic and fucking stupid, but the longer he’d been gone the more it had started to make your heart twist, and the louder the world had gotten. 

Ringing in your ears and sneering that of course he’d leave. He’d realized what fighting at your side meant, that you weren’t worth the extra trouble or effort when the world was ending, and he left. He’d been right the first time, he’d always been right, but John had been right too.

John would’ve shot you in your sleep, though. And Dean had tucked you in before bolting out in the dead of night. 

It had been a long, horrible day of replaying every single moment that might have made him leave. Your recklessness with Raphael, or the fact that you hadn’t been reckless, but just lied to him and left him out of the plan. Cas wouldn’t have told him that, but he could’ve found out himself. 

But he would’ve fought with you. Confronted you, or at least told Bobby and Sam. 

So it could’ve been the Bride of God thing. He’d finally gotten that you were a parasite or sickness, and that the day God came for you the world would be grateful. That you might have been made for heaven, but all you did was make things worse. Make Dean lose sleep and worry and pour care into someone who’d just leave in the end.

You didn’t want to leave. 

You’d tried to tell him in the dark, when everything had smelled like cinnamon and his Gold had been wrapped around you like a shield. That you never wanted to leave. That the Silver kept brimming a little too close to the surface, and you didn’t want to go outside in case God came for you, because you didn’t want to leave.

You couldn’t go anywhere you wouldn’t be allowed to hold Dean. Didn’t care for Michael’s promises of paradise when it would mean losing Dean. And you’d thought he’d understood. That you were sick and barely better than a monster, and there wasn’t a cure or way to put you down because you’d been made like that, but you’d keep using all your teeth and poison to fight for him.

That you’d fight God when he tried to take you, if that’s what it came to. 

And all of Heaven had just seemed fucking lonely.

The Sky had only ever seemed cold and angry and untouchable. Only ever watched and waited and abandoned you.

Dean had fought with you. For you. Let you falter because he’d keep you behind him, his hand in yours. The Spiderweb sang whenever he grinned at you, even when it was a smug, shit-eating grin and you’d wanted to punch it off his face. 

You’d thought he’d understand that. How this wasn’t a choice you were making. It wasn’t survival. It just was.

You loved Dean. You’d only ever wanted to be close to him. 

He’d kissed you, and it had remade little parts of you that had started to rot—something that had been festering in the cavity of your chest, about how maybe you weren’t human enough for him to touch—but then he’d left.

Bobby had tried to talk to you. Sam had tried to talk to you. They’d even called Cas, and he’d knocked on your door, as if he couldn’t just fly into your room. 

And you might have gone a little insane.

First with worry—he wouldn’t just leave, something was fucking wrong—then anger, then just darkness. A heavy pain that had swallowed you whole, and reminded you that God was waiting. Right outside your window. And if Dean had gone—if he was done with you but just was too good to shoot you in the skull and be done with it—you deserved it. 

He wouldn’t have done that to you. The Spiderweb, still singing and colorful in your body, had kept demanding that he wouldn’t do that to you. Just fucking kiss you like he dreamt about it half as much as you did, then vanish forever. 

You’ve never been good at ignoring the Spiderweb.

But you’ve been good at just sitting in the pain either. The way it makes the Silver riot, and how it spread to the very tips of your fingers, telling you to sprint for the hills or after Dean to fucking strangle him, then kiss him until you both maybe sank into the dirt, and God couldn’t see you anymore. 

You were supposed to be done running.

But you couldn’t just sit in your room, drenched in all of Dean’s Gold and still tasting him on your lips, and staring at the blue on your fingertips. 

So you’d, kind of, sort of, summoned Crowley.

“You know.” He’d glanced around your room, lingered on Dean’s shirt hanging out of the hamper—he’d left his shirt, he’d need to come back, and you’d needed to get a goddamn grip—and looked back to you with a grin. “I don’t normally do house calls.”

“I’m glad to be an exception.” You’d muttered, sorting through your notes, and he’d scoffed. 

“I’d hardly call it my choice, what with you summoning and trapping me-“

“What do you know about angel vessels.”

Crowley had blinked at him. “Pardon?”

“Angel vessels.” You’d snapped, fingers lingering on a Dean’s name, scrawled in Enochian in the margins of a notebook. “What do you know.”

“What do you know about Gucci?”

You’d frowned at him. “It’s Italian. What-“

“I’m not an angel, love, no more than you’re a Gucci wearing socialite. And I don’t understand how this question warrants a kidnapping-“

“I’m going to let you go, you fucking baby.” You’d rolled your eyes. “And you don’t have to be something to know about it.”

“Angels are secretive asshats, they aren’t exactly spilling state secrets to me-“

“I don’t believe you.” You’d snapped, and Crowley had given you an exasperated look. 

“Do you not have other demon friends to bother with insanity-“

“No. And I thought you wanted to be partners.” You’d grabbed your knife, spinning it in your hands, and you could’ve sworn Crowley paled. “You want Lucifer gone, I need a weakness.”

“I’m sorry.” Crowley had sneered. “Are you planning to give the devil an allergic reaction to defeat him? Are you insane?”

You’d shrugged. “Nobody’s sure. I need something, Crowley. Anything you have.”

He’d just looked at you for a long moment, dark eyes seeming to split right into your skull, then hummed, “Dean’s not here to reel your little plans in, is he. Mommy’s going a little bananas without Daddy to kiss it better.”

It would’ve been so fucking easy to stab him. Or let the Silver burst out and crush him to nothing. But part of this had to be keeping the Silver in control, and stabbing Crowley meant you wouldn’t get information, so you’d bitten your lip until you tasted blood and shoved it down. 

“I’m working on something.” You’d hissed through your teeth, and Crowley had hummed. 

“Oh, I’ve heard about the sudden injuries of Raphael.” Crowley had sighed. “He went on a rampage because of that. Killed a lot of my best demons.”

“Sorry.”

“Yes.” Crowley had drawled, his voice bored. “You sound it.”

You’d shrugged, watching him carefully. You’d had to know. “So it worked. It hurt him.”

Crowley’s jaw had twitched, but he’d given you a tight nod. “It quite seemed that way. Whatever you did seemed to cause him… strife. And an apology would be appreciated, love-“

“No.”

It had—sort of—worked. Your trial run had worked. You’d pulled Raphael out of his vessel like Zachariah, and maybe you hadn’t held him properly, but you just hadn’t been ready. You’d be ready for Michael and Lucifer, you just needed that weakness to hold both of them. And in the moment, that relief had been enough to distract you from the pain of Dean. Gone and maybe not coming back. Maybe done, or maybe just dead, but you’d know if he was dead, so he’d just left-

He wouldn’t leave. 

He hadn’t left. 

He’d crawled back to you with Death’s rings and apologies and another, sweet, world-ending kiss, and you’d wanted to scream it at him. That you love him. That you’re always going to want him with you, because you’re safer together and when he’s gone, there’s nobody to stop you from making really, really stupid choices. 

You tell Cas that. Not the part about losing your mind just because Dean was gone for a day—he likely already knows—but that Raphael had been injured in the forest. 

And that Crowley had looked at you, sighed, and said, “I’d like to bet on your success, for whatever little scheme you’re cooking up, but I can’t.”

Now, in the library, after a heavy, hanging silence, Cas frowns. “He can’t know what our plan is-“

“He doesn’t.” You mutter. “But he told me he knows witches, and they’re always looking to pull little tricks. That it won’t fly here, in the big leagues. Then I asked him for any books about souls he had, and Sam knocked on the door.”

Cas sighs. “Unsurprising, but still… Not ideal. We are not empty handed, though.”

You blink. “We aren’t?”

“No.” He reaches into his trench coat and pulls out an apple. 

An iridescent, glowing apple, so incredibly out of place on the chipped wood and florescent lights of the library.

“Cas-”

“Our primary issue is that you might have enough practice or power to take hold one Archangel. Two is even less likely.” He nods to the apple. “This will help.”

“I- How?”

“I went back to the garden.”

“Cas,” you keep your words slow. “You can’t get into Heaven, they’ve locked you out-“

“Joshua let me in.” Cas frowns at you. “I wasn’t reckless. I didn’t stay long, and Michael and Raphael tend not to bother looking there.”

“Well, why did you go back-“

“For the apple.” He’s looking at you as if you’re the crazy one, for not wanting him to be smited, and you let out a heavy breath through your nose. 

“Cas. I don’t understand how an apple is worth such a massive fucking risk-“

“It is not an apple.” Cas says your name, his tone slightly exasperated. “It is an apple from the Tree. And while we don’t understand how you being a Magdalene is connected to you being the Bride, that doesn’t change that you are one.”

You blink at him. “And?”

“Lilith was the tender of the Tree, before her exile.”

“The- Oh, fuck.” It hits you, and you gape at Cas for a long, silent moment. “You mean the tree. The Eden tree.”

Cas nods. “Yes. That tree. Its apples are holy, and consuming one will, theoretically, offer you a stronger connection to Heaven.”

“And me being a Magdalene matters because-“

“You are descended from Lilith.” He shrugs. “From what I understand, the apples run in your blood. It is not a sin for you to consume them.”

“Oh.” You swallow, glancing down to the apple on the table. “What?”

Cas sighs. “I do not know the whole story. It is not the exact one told in the Bible, and I was always told Michael preferred not to speak of it. But Lilith was the first wife of Adam. And eating the apple only became a sin after her banishment.”

“But- I-“

“It will make you stronger.” Cas mutters. “That is what’s important.”

You take a long, slow breath. He’s right. Now isn’t the time to dwell on another confusing angel story. “You want me to take steroids, so we can win.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“It’s like a drug that- Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

Cas gives you a tight nod, and you stare at the apple. It’s not crumbling away, like the ones that grow when you lose control. And Cas is right. You do need a boost. 

But even if it works, you still need more. 

“Okay. But,” You lean forward, and Cas frowns at you. “I have an idea.”

“You said you had nothing.” 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “About vessels. But Raphael was already on guard against me. He didn’t seem to trust that I actually was the Bride.”

“He had become disillusioned with God altogether.” Cas mutters, still frowning at you. “That is not surprising, but I don’t understand-“

“I need to get their guards down.”

Cas falls silent again. Staring at you for a long, stretched out moment before shaking his head, words low and firm. “No.”

“It’s a good idea-“

“It is not a good idea. There is no evidence it would be effective, and Dean will be furious. He will rampage-“

“Rampage-“

“Yes. Rampage. He

“Then we tell Dean.”

He hisses your name. “That will not go well-“

“Maybe.” You shrug. “But we don’t have any other options.”

Cas lets out a long, slow breath, and shakes his head. “There are too many ways it could go wrong. One misstep or slip up-“

“I don’t misstep.” You raise your chin, making your voice as commanding as you can manage when there’s a cold, wired fear running over your skin. 

It is a bad idea. One of your worst.

There’s no other way, if you want to keep Sam out of the cage. If you want your family to walk out of this intact, with little lost, and nothing broken. 

Dean gets to have Sam, so that when you’re gone, he won’t be alone. Sam won’t have to sacrifice himself for something that’s not his fault.

You pull Michael and Lucifer out of their vessel and toss them in the pit, you’ll be using the Silver properly. Salvation, not damnation. And you can’t die—you think, because you haven’t yet and something tells you God won’t let you out that easy—so you’re in the best position to play offense.

But a lifetime of fighting the Silver and self-inflicted torture on your body is, once again, catching up with you. You won’t be strong enough to just grab two archangels without the Silver exploding, and damaging a lot more than you can afford. You just need an extra boost, and an easier way in. 

So it’s a bad idea. You’re pretty sure Cas is only helping you because he thinks if he doesn’t, you’ll just do it behind his back. 

And this is pushing the bounds of bad idea into horrible, godawful, borderline insane idea, but nobody’s offering anything better.

And Cas is right.

You’ll just do it anyway, and he won't be able to stop you. 

You can see it on his face, as he stares at you. The slight twisting of his features as he tries to find a comeback, fails to, and concludes that this is happening. And he’s either with you, or not. 

“Sam can’t know.” He mutters. “We will need to make that clear to Dean. If he tells Sam-“

“Lucifer will know to.” You finish, rubbing your wrists. “I won’t tell him until he promises not to say anything. To Bobby, either. He’ll try to stop me.”

Cas gives you a flat look. “He’d be right.”

You ignore him. “It’s going to have to be Lucifer.”

“Michael may be safer-“

“No,” you shake your head, frowning at the table. “I think I ruined any chance of using Michael with the Raphael thing. It has to be Lucifer.”

Cas lets out a long sigh—he’s been picking up a lot of you, Sam, and Dean’s habits lately, namely the Sam Bitch-Sigh, and you know he’s doing it on purpose because the drama queen doesn’t have to breathe—and nods slowly. “That is… a fair point. And Michael will likely make no attempts to engage you, even at Lucifer’s side. But if you side against Lucifer, he will be… unforgiving.”

Fuck, that’s a good point too. “Okay. I- I think I can use Adam. Say that I went over to Lucifer because Michael didn’t have anything I wanted.”

Cas’ jaw twitches. “Dean.”

You give a small nod—you really don’t want to talk about it—and Cas tilts his head at you. 

You know Cas knows. Maybe not that you love Dean, but that it’s more than just friendship. He can see your soul, same as you can see all his hands folded into the two in his lap. He’s seen the way you’re embedded in Dean. Been with you when you’d confronted Famine, and he’d taunted you about how your hunger for Dean would make him so powerful he’d devour suns. 

He’d sat with you yesterday, when the sun had started to set and Dean still hadn’t returned. Gently tried herding you to bed, before telling you he didn’t know how to drive, but would eat ice cream with you in the kitchen if it was needed. 

And you’ve told him about the deals, while Sam and Dean were on a hunt last week. If the plan was going to work properly, he needed to know as much as possible. 

Not how you dreamt of Dean. Not how you’d always crashed into his gravity, and never been able—or really cared to—pull away. Not the full extent of your plan, or how God was watching you. 

But the deals were relevant to the plan. To being the Bride of God, and both Michael and Lucifer being so desperate to have you on their team.

So Cas knows. 

And that’s why his words are so careful. 

“Is Dean aware that he is the center of the deal?” He says, and you shake your head.

“No. And I- Cas, you can’t tell him-“

“I have no plan to. But if I would not count on him never knowing. When we tell him-“

“He knows they offered me deals. That I’d never really agree to either of them. But-“ You squeeze your hand on your wrist, the sting of raw skin makes the Silver turn in your body. “Cas, he can’t know. Please.”

Cas frowns at you. “Why. He would be receptive-“

“I can’t do that to him.” You whisper, bile rising in your throat. “It’s- We’ll tell him about the plan tomorrow, and I’ll switch sides when Sam lets Lucifer in.”

“There is still the chance Sam will overpower him.” Cas mutters, and you swallow.

“Then I’ll just pull him out there.”

Cas says your name, but cuts himself off with a frown. 

“Cas-“

“Dean is praying to me.” He mutters. “Their credit card got frozen.”

You still feel sick, but the Spiderweb is glowing and casting light around your body. He does that all the time, the adorable, perfect dumbass. Prays to Cas for small things, and you can see the annoyance on Cas’ face, but you know it’s fake. The same way that when you’re trying to read and Dean starts asking you questions, you roll your eyes but indulge him anyway, because it’s Dean.

“I have told him to stop using me for this-“

“It’s his birthday, Cas.” You give him a small smile. “Yell at him tomorrow.”

He glares at you. “We are not finished with this conversation-“

“Yeah, we are.” You pick up your book with a shrug. “I’m fake siding with Lucifer to get close to him, and pull him out of his vessel. If Sam gets the up, I pull him there. If he can’t, I get to pull him and Michael. That’s it. Easy.”

Cas stares at you for a moment longer, and you give him a wide, bored grin. It’s the one you learned from Dean, that says I have never done anything wrong in my life, and it’s unbelievable you’d even believe that I am capable of that. And somehow, Cas buys it. He sighs, and gives you a tight nod.

“You should test the apple.” He mutters. “I picked two.” 

Your chew on your lips, but hum an agreement. “Do I, just-“

“Eat it. Then try to do something.”

“Something?”

Cas nods, and you take the apple with a careful touch. It doesn’t melt or vanish. You can even taste it, and definitely fruit, but not quite apple.  

You swallow, and you’re about to ask Cas how long you should wait when it hits you. 

It is a steroid. 

The Silver is vast and bright and in perfect harmony with almost everything. No pain, just like when you’d been in Heaven. Just you, and you’re all knowledge of the books, the peaceful dreams of the librarian Cas knocked out, and the love of the knife in your jacket, ready to bloody itself however you want it to.

“It worked.” You mumble, and Cas sits a little taller.

“Good. Dean is still-“

“Wait.” You lean across the table, and you can’t just let this ebb away and go to waste. 

You press your hand over Cas’ brow, and he tenses, but doesn’t pull away. All the Silver flows easily, right into your palm, and dips right into that electric blue Cas is made of. Feeds like lightning striking an ocean, making it crackle and rises and grow brighter and brighter and brighter until you pull away, and Cas blinks at you slowly. 

You’re not embedded in him. And he seems to have absorbed all the Silver you offered him, but you don’t feel smaller.

If anything, you feel bigger. Brighter. More.

“I feel…” Cas trails off, giving you a look of disbelief. “What did you do.”

“Your Grace is back.” You pull your knees back up to your chest, grabbing your book from the table. “Don’t tell Sam and Dean.”

Cas blinks at you, and you sigh.

“They’ll ask questions. Now go get them before Dean tries to rob the store and they get arrested again.”

Cas still doesn’t move. “Thank you,” he mutters your name, and you give him a weak smile.

“Of course. You’re my friend, Cas.”

He nods, looking at you with an odd, unreadable expression, then vanishes into the air. 

You turn your attention back down to the book, but you’re not really reading. 

You hadn’t thought of the chance that Sam does overpower Lucifer. Not because Sam isn’t strong, but because you’ve seen Lucifer. All his teeth and Red and anger. Since Sam thought of the let Lucifer in idea, you’ve been having nightmares about bloodied teeth sinking into Sam’s neck, and Dean’s broken expression, and an empty seat at the dinner table.

There’s already one, still stained blue, deep into the wood. Now coated in a light orange, where Adam had sat for almost a month. 

Sam had been confused, as to why Adam would just up and take in Michael. But Cas had thrown you a look, and you’d know. 

Men of God never could resist a Magdalene. 

You’d done this. If you weren’t here, Sam and Dean probably would’ve grabbed Adam from Zachariah, and they’d be down one archangel to worry about. 

A lot of things would be better, if you weren’t here. Weren’t their problem. They wouldn’t be worrying about the Bride of God situation, spending too much time and thought on something that’s only your curse, only your sickness. And you’re not going to leave them, you’d promised you wouldn’t run, but anything you have to do so they both get to rest, you will. 

It doesn’t matter what happens to you. If God takes you right when it’s done. If you, someone, get one second longer to make up for all the ruin and wreckage you’ve brought into their lives. Something to, maybe, prove that John hadn’t been right. Even though you know he was. If someone had managed to properly muzzle or cage you, Dean wouldn’t be losing sleep. Sam wouldn’t be stretching himself thin to try and help you research any Bride of God legends you can find.

Legends that don’t make this better. Legends that only tell you what you’ve known. 

You’re destined to marry God. It’s written in old Babylonian ruins, painted and faded on cave walls, and carved into ancient, rusted Phoenician weapons. All in Enochian, all found by Sam on scholarly websites, all right under your nose your whole fucking life. 

All reminding you what you’d been told so long ago. 

The Sky was watching. It’s going to swallow you whole. 

And you can feel him, before you see him. And your gaze darts to the window, but he’s not in the sky. You can feel his eyes on you, and it’s all suddenly off kilter, like the whole world has been caught in a lense flare. Something strong is wrapping around your wrists, sending a rush of blinding panic up your spine and throat, the Silver has started to stir in your body. It’s stronger than before. Leaking out, until you can feel the wrath of the air around you, the tension of the earth as it welcomes it’s father home, and the hope of every space in between. To grab your attention, begging to be more than just nothing at all. 

You’re still you. Maybe it’s just the lasting effects of the apple, but the Silver seems to be running up and up and up without making you too big. But the Spiderweb is sinking. Trying to sink deeper and deeper into the Silver. Trying to hide as the pain hits you. 

So much fucking pain, because the Sky isn’t watching. 

You turn, away from the window, and he’s sitting at your table, right where Cas had been only a second ago. 

God. Small and bearded and smiling at you, like he’s your fucking friend.

You don’t think. The Silver seems to be in pain from ripping into itself—desperate to properly explode and attack him, but not quite powerful enough to break from that tie around your wrists—but you don’t need it. 

It’s barely a split second before you have your knife in your hand, and you’re vaulting across the table to drive it into God’s heart. 

His eyes widen just slightly, the odd, colorless white light flashing, and suddenly you’re back in your chair. And when you try and throw the knife, right for his heart, the light just flashes again, and it returns to your head. You let out a strangled sound, the grip of the white on your wrists starting to flood the Silver, pushing it higher and higher with panic, and you’re going to explode. When you try and aim a kick at his balls under the table, your feet meet nothing. A choked sob escapes your throat—not now, he can’t be coming for you now—and try to leap back over the table with only your nails, aimed right for his eyes. 

“Hey!” God grabs your wrists, and the Silver rushes up. “Stop, I’m not here to take you-“

You don’t believe him. The Silver is scratching under your skin, and you can’t go, not when Sam and Dean need you, and it’s Dean birthday and he deserves one good fucking birthday-

God snaps your name—Enochian, almost echoing off the walls of the library like you’re in a canyon—and it doesn’t calm you down. You’re still a little feral, and the white strength around your wrists feels like it’s strangling your throat-

“I- I can’t-“ You try to move away from him—it’s all you can do now—and claw at your wrists, trying to get it off, it has to come off-

“Can you please stop freaking out?” He says, his tone almost pleading. “I told you, I’m not going to grab you right now. I just want to talk, and- Wait-“

The light flares again, and you’re back in your seat. You’re still everything, and the line between what’s you and what’s not is blurring, and you can’t fucking breathe, there’s a dull pain on your wrists as you try to scratch the white-hot power off, and you might be drawing blood, but you can’t breathe-

“Is it the binds?” God says, and you can hear a frown in his voice, but you can’t really see anything but color and all the gaps between the stars. “If it’s the binds, I can take them off.”

You blink and make another weak sound, and God clears his throat.

“I can only promise so many times not to hurt you, at some point you’re going to have take a deep breath. And I’m actually risking a lot to be here. Sam and Dean could show up any moment, if the credit card thing doesn’t work.” He laughs to himself. “I mean, I could just freeze them, but, y’know. Whole free will show. So if you could please calm down-“

You are calming down. You’d heard Dean, and the Spiderweb had hummed, and a lot of panic had softened. Sam and Dean could come back. He wasn’t going to take you, or hurt them, at least for now. 

And you’re still right on the edge of snapping, but you’re drawing blood on your wrists, and the Silver is dragging back down. 

It’s fine. 

God wants to talk. 

You can fucking talk.

It takes a shaking breath and a sharp pang as you draw blood in your inner cheek, but you pull yourself together and meet God’s gaze. 

His eyes are blue. A cold, almost bottomless blue that’s filled with life, but the same way the Sun is filled with life. Burning and capable of giving it. 

Not actually capable of holding it within itself. 

All you can think it’s that Dean’s eyes have life in them. All that green and luminescent color, buried deep but flashing under the surface whenever you really look at him. And Dean always wraps around you, but it’s like a second layer of skin. Golden. A promise of protection. God is just white and demanding. Bright and blinding, like it should hurt to look at him. Clean in a way that reminds you of the floor and walls of your family’s home. 

Perfect. 

Too perfect. 

Like you couldn’t crash into it and destroy yourself without being punished. Like nothing would wrap around you and keep you safe, and no soothing, deep words would hum in your ear, telling you that you’re alright, and he’s got you. 

God’s voice is sort of high, too. And Dean’s nose is crooked, while God’s is straight, but the crookedness has always suited him. You’ve always wanted to run your finger down the line of it the same way he does to you. Just to feel him. 

But you’re wrapping your arms around your stomach, as God sits across the table from you. 

You don’t want him to touch you at all. 

“Take them off.” You whisper. “I’ll be good.”

God frowns at you. “You don’t have to be good, they’re just a protection. See?” He snaps his fingers, and you swallow a gasp of relief as the binds on your wrists release. “As long as you don’t try to kill me again, I won’t use them. I mean,” he laughs to himself, and the sound skitters over your bones. “It was sexy, and it’ll be a great story one day, but I’d like, y’know. Actually get to tell it.”

You swallow, trying to force your voice to remain even. “What do you want.”

“I told you, to talk-“

“Everyone always just wants to talk.” You’re almost spitting the words, your eyes narrowing on God’s. “What do you want from me?”

God raises his brows, the air hanging with the venom of your tone for a lone, horrible second, then his face splits into a grin. 

“You know, it’s been a really long time since anyone has spoken to me like that, knowing who I am.” His grin grows, all white teeth, and the Silver seems to plummet into your gut. “And you’re a lot prettier when you’re awake. This is going to be really, really good.”

You blink at him, your voice dropping slightly. “Awake?”

“Oh, not like that.” He shakes his head, his tone still so casual. “You know I don’t watch you when you don’t want me to. I respect you. I’ve been watching those, ah- The Hallmark movies? And they’re horrible, but humans are very good at making sloppy romances. I’m trying to study them, to see how human relationships work. I know you were raised with them, and maybe I should’ve had you raised in Heaven, but I like the symmetry of it. I give humans their life and loves, they give me mine.”

His. 

He thinks you’re his.

“And I know you’re not totally on board yet,” God adds, giving you a small smile. “But you will be. I don’t want this to be one of those stories where there’s no chemistry, and you can tell the characters are only together because the writer wants them to be. You have complete and total free will, promise! We’ll have hard times, but we’ll get through them. It’s called a third-act recovery-“

“I know how stories work.” You cut him off with soft words, and he won’t stop smiling at you.

“Of course you do. I’ve been saving all the stuff you like for when you join me, by the way. So we can have some easier stuff to talk about before, well- The everything. And that,” he sits up a little taller, like he’s please with himself. “Is a great transition.”

“Wha-“

“I know what you’re planning.” God says your Enochian name, giving you an almost disappointed look. “Not because I’m in your head. Again, total free will, but because sweet little Castiel is very worried about you. And he’s stopped praying to me lately, but I can still hear him. Especially when he’s in my garden, talking to my gardener.”

You take a deep breath, and it’s getting really hard to keep your voice properly steady. “So you don’t want me to go through with it.”

God shakes his head. “No. Not really. I just want to tell you that if it goes wrong, I’m not helping you. I sort of can’t, as long as you’re fighting me.”

“Fighting you-“

“The self-harm and starvation? Repressing yourself until your soul literally splits in half? Then shoving down all the pain you feel about Jo’s death so aggressively you can’t even control yourself? Not exactly the healthiest approach.”

You scowl. “If you’re here to tell me to go to love myself or some shit-“

“Oh, no.” He laughs again. “I’m talking about how you don’t want to be a part of this. Heaven, Hell, all the power you were born into. And you have to decides you want it yourself, or it really won’t mean anything. Again, I want you to want it. Does that make sense?”

“What if I don’t want it?” You’re speaking before you can stop yourself. “What if I like just being human?”

God just waves you off. “Sure you do now. But once you’re mine, nothing will hurt anymore. You’ll never have to worry about losing me, either. And I’m willing to wait forever, for you to come around, but you have to learn this lesson yourself.”

You can still breathe. You’re still yourself. But your fingers are curling around you knife, your hand under the table, and God seems to lost in his own monologue to notice. Maybe if you’re fast enough. Maybe if you let it all rip out, and-

“I’ve heard women don’t like you to do things for them.” He sighs, giving you an almost sad look. “But I do love you. And I want to help you. So I’m giving you a chance to back out, hit eject now. But it’s only a one-time offer. For both of us. It’ll be easier like this.”

“Like-“ You take a deep breath, his words banging around in your skull.

I do love you.

It’s in a horrible, twisted harmony with Dean’s voice. Baby. You know I love you, baby.

It’s sort of hard to think.

“Like what.” You manage to push out, and God shrugs.

“You and me. Together.”

No. One of your hands flies to your throat on an old instinct as the Silver rushes and roars, and no. “You- you said you weren’t going to take me-“

“Oh, I’m not.” He’s looking at you like he can’t even understand why you’d possibly react like this. “I’m offering you the change to run away with me. Tonight. If you got through with this, your little plan, you’ll be changing too much. Everything will be…” He sighs, and shakes his head. “A lot harder.”

“I-“

“Wait,” he holds his hand up, and your protests die in your throat. “Let me finish. You come with me, I’ll wipe everyone. Make things the way they should’ve been. But once we get past this, there’s no going back. I think.” He grins at you again, and it’s starting to make you want to claw out your eyes. “I’ve never done this before. It’s kind of exciting. But I just don’t want you to get upset when you break your favorite toys.”

You swallow, your words barely audible over the pounding of the Silver in your ears. “I- Don’t have toys.”

“Right, sorry. You’re not there yet. I meant Sam and Dean.”

Sam and Dean. 

You’re not going to break them. You’re doing this to help them, to save them, to make up for all the times you’ve made things worse-

“Speaking of Sam and Dean, I think they’re coming now.” God gives you one last smile, and he’s right. You can smell cinnamon. “I hope you make the right choice, but I’ll support you no matter what. You know I’m listening. Just call me, before midnight, and I’ll be there.”

You’re not going to call him. It’s not even a choice, it just is. You won’t fucking leave Dean. And if you are running, it’s not into the arms of fucking God. You’d rather drown yourself, or fall to the deepest pits of hell, because at least then you’d be all yours. And you want to spit and sneer that at him, but the white flares one last time, and then he’s gone. 

Barely a split second later, Sam and Dean round the corner. 

“Do you smell something?” Sam frowns around the room as Dean walks to your side with a wide grin. “It’s sort of like, um, batteries?”

“Batteries don’t smell like anything, Sammy.” Dean stops at your chair, passing you a chocolate bar with a small frown. 

“Yeah, they do, they smell like iron. And burning things.”

“Sammy, that’s-“ Dean sniffs the air, his frown deepening. “Huh.”

“Right?” Sam looks around the library, like he’s expecting something to jump out from behind the shelves. “It’s batteries-“

“It’s not batteries, bitch.” Dean glances down at you, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Princess, you eat any, uh- Fruit?”

You just stare at him. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that you love him, that God had just tried to ask you to run away with him, that you’re planning something insane, that you’re going to make everything worse-“

“You okay, sweetheart?” Dean frowns down at you, big, careful hands frame your face, and your hands fly up to cling to his wrists. “Can you, uh- I need you to say something-“

“I’m okay.” You whisper, and his frown deepens, his fingers trailing slightly over your brow.

“You know you can tell me anything.” His voice is lowered, and Sam’s seems to be busying himself with staring at books. “I’m here, I’ve got you-“

“I know you do.” You give him a small smile, and the worry in his gaze doesn’t waver for a second. “Did you get all the stuff?”

Dean stares at you, and for a second you think he’s going to push it, but Sam clears his throat first. “Yeah, we got it. Do you need us to do anything else-“

You shake your head, trying to ignore the intensity of Dean’s gaze. “No, once we’re back home I’ll take care of it.”

“I can help.” Dean grunts, and you give him a flat look.

“It’s your birthday, De. You’re not doing shit.”

“What if I want to help-“

“No.” You hold his glare, and his lips slowly curl into a teasing grin. 

“Bossy.”

“I’m gonna stab you-“

“Ah. Not until my birthday’s over.”

“Then sleep with one eye open, Winchester-“

“Hey, guys?” Sam cuts in, frowning between you and Dean. “Can you guys do, uh- That later? And not in front of me?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “We’re just freakin’ talking-“

“It’s not just talking, Dean, it’s foreplay.” Sam scoffs. “Actually, it’s worse than foreplay, because at least that would actually in sex instead of,” he makes a loose gesture between you and Dean. “This.”

You can feel the flush on your cheeks, and it doesn’t help that Dean isn’t pushing you away at the suggestion. He might be holding you closer. Moving his body in front of yours, blocking you from Sam—wide eyed and panicked, obviously realizing what he just said—as if he’s worried about your fucking modesty or something. 

“Sam.” Dean’s voice is almost a growl, and you can picture his set jaw and narrowed gaze. “Shut your face, or get shot.”

“Sorry.” Sam mumbles, and Dean grunts.

“You’re lucky I don’t tell Bobby you said that.”

You lean around Dean to see Sam shaking his head frantically. “Dean, c’mon, don’t- He’ll kill me-“

“I know.” Dean twists his arms slightly, palm spread, and you take his hand without thought. 

He glances down, and you give him a small smile. 

It doesn’t matter if you’re imagining the softening of his gaze. He’s here. Even knowing everything about you, having to deal with all your freak outs, Dean’s still holding your hand and grinning at you. Letting you smile back, and squeezing his hand once, just to make sure he’s feeling something like it. 

The light, dizzy feeling that comes with his proximity. The warmth in your core when he helps you to your feet and keeps your hands tangled together. Not the inescapable, magnetic pull that’s always told you to stay near him, with him, next to him. 

Not love, either. That might be too much to ask for. 

But just something like it. Something that might give you a chance—even if God returns and takes back all his letting you come to him bullshit in the morning—for you to kiss him just one more time. 

Because you’d kissed. 

Two more times. 

And Sam’s teasing isn’t anything new, but that had a sharper edge than usual. Like he knows—really knows something you don’t quite fully believe yourself—that there might be a chance.

It’s all you can think about, watching Dean shuffle around the kitchen as you and Bobby cook.

There could be a chance.

“Dean,” Bobby grunts, not looking up from his carrots. “Get outta the kitchen.”

“It’s my birthday, Bobby, I can be wherever the hell I want-“

“Not in here.”

“C’mon, Bobby-“ Dean’s words cut off, and you glance up again to see him starting at the cutting broad. “Carrots?!”

You can hear Bobby’s sigh from across the room. “They’re good for ya, Dean-“

“I don’t want shit that’s good for me-“

“Dean.” You interrupt him with a firm look, and his mouth snaps shut. “I’m making you cake and pie. You’re going to eat your carrots.”

He stands up straight, a smirk covering his face, and before you know what’s happening you’re pinned against the counter, and Dean is incredibly close to your face. 

It must be the lighting, or your stupid soul vision, but he’s glowing. There’s his usual Gold, the light off his slight tan—it’s January, how the hell does he have a tan—and all the little bits of blond in his hair that you want to touch. You just want to touch him, to check that he’s real, to kiss his smug expression and hear him groan your name again, like maybe he’s just as desperate to have you as you are for him. You want to maybe drown in him. Have his Gold painted all over you, and breathe so easily because his eyes are full of life. They’re the prettiest shade of green in the world, and they’re dancing with amusement at your slack expression, and you never want him to stop looking at you like that. 

Like he’s happy, and it’s only because you’re there. 

“What kinda pie you makin’ me, Princess?”

You swallow, your voice a little breathy. “Cherry.”

His grin widens. “That’s my favorite-“

“I- I know, De-“

“And I get pie and cake.”

“Only if you eat your carrots.” You whisper, and he shrugs.

“Fine. But you gotta eat everything I eat.”

You frown. “Dean-“

“Nope. I eat something, you eat the same.”

“I’m going to eat-“

“Yeah, you are. Everything I eat.”

“Dean-“

He drawls your name back with a wide, boyish grin, and you haven’t seen that expression on him in so long. Maybe since before Hell, and if after, not this wide. This relaxed. Making the Spiderweb feel like almost a supernova, with so many colors and so much color and heat. One of Dean’s hands is holding your hips, and it’s sparking so much heat-

“Dean.” Bobby grunts. “Out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” Dean pushes back like nothing happened at all, speaking to you like you weren’t seconds from jumping him right in front of Bobby. “If you guys need anything-“

“We’ll make Sam do it. Out.”

Dean rolls his eyes, whispering in your ear and making a small shiver run up your spine. “He’s grumpy.”

You don’t get a chance to respond—you’re not sure you remember how to speak—before Dean’s kissing your cheek, and then he’s gone.

And you get—as you sway slightly and reach up to touch your cheek, right where Dean’s lips had sloppily and easily pressed against it—why Sam has upped his teasing game. 

Something’s flipped in Dean, since the kisses.

He hasn’t blatantly flirted with you like this since you met him. As if there aren’t a million obstacles in your way and the world isn’t ending as you speak. As if this night isn’t a single island in the ocean, and you don’t have a long way to go before any of you see land again.

But Dean’s flirting with you. 

You think. 

He’s kissed the top of your head before. And he’s held your hand before. He calls you princess all the time, as if it’s a second name. He also whispers in your ear all the time, because he’s your best friend and that’s what friends do-

Jo would say she’s his friend too. That he doesn’t do that with her. And she and Sam are friends, but Sam’s never pinned her to a counter. Sam’s never held her hand, either-

Oh. 

Oh.

Fuck.

Bobby clears his throat and you blink down at him. “You alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah?” That shouldn’t sound like a question. “Yeah. I, um- Yeah.”

Bobby gives you an unimpressed look. “I’ve been askin’ you to grab the salt for a damn minute, and you’ve just been standin’ there. Try again.”

“I-“ You swallow, setting down the bowl of your batter carefully. It would be really nice, not to have this conversation with Bobby right now. Maybe ever. 

You’d gotten an awkward show of how to put a condom on a banana, when you were sixteen. And there had been a period, before the pain and White and Darkness had started, where Bobby had tried to send you elementary and middle school, under a fake name. There had been a few kids who’d made you feel fuzzy, and you’d told Bobby all about them, and he’d grumbled something about kids and their crushes. But then there had been Dean, no one else, and all of Bobby’s awkward attempts to tell you that he’s okay with it, and just wants you to be happy. 

But you hadn’t counted those as real. They’d been just like Sam and Jo’s teasing, because there might have been a ring of truth to it, but everything else was too complicated.

But there’s a chance.

Bobby grunts your name and you shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach. 

“Bobby?” You speak slowly, not wanting to meet his gaze. “When you met your wife, how did you know?”

He frowns at you. “Know?”

“That it was-“ You take a deep breath. “That it was something.”

There’s a long pause, and Bobby sighs your name. “I ain’t sure what to tell you. I wish I could say somethin’ like fireworks, but it just was. Nothin’ big, nothin’ special. She was pretty, and I was a little drunk, so I took the jump and asked ‘er out. Then we built from there.”

You frown at the floor. It had been something special with Dean. It hadn’t been fireworks, but just fucking gravity. A pull, then a strange, dizzying feeling close to euphoria, making your whole-body light up. Then a feeling of needing to know him. But maybe you’d just been young, and you’d seen the most beautiful man alive, and lost your fucking mind-

“John used to tell me ‘bout when he knew for Mary.” Bobby says, and your gaze shoots up to find him watching you carefully. “He said he just looked at her one day and got those fireworks. And they mighta been ordained for heaven or whatever shit Cas said, but fireworks don’t last. I’d gotten fireworks with plenty of ladies, before Karen. But with her, it always… more. Felt like lookin’ at the stars. When I decided to marry ‘er, it wasn’t cause of some movie like, time slowin’ musical bullshit moment. It was ‘cause I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.”

You swallow a lump in your throat, blinking sudden tears out of your eyes. “Bobby, I- I don’t know-“

“You know.” Bobby shrugs, giving you a gentle smile, and you shake your head.

“But- It’s-“ You take a shaking breath, sinking down to the floor. “It is the fireworks. And it’s where I’m supposed to be, but it can’t be ordained by Heaven and- It just- It feels-“ You wipe your tears with your palm, and Bobby passes you a cloth. He’s wheeled over to your side, and you haven’t felt this much smaller than him in a while. Like really just a kid. And his hand rests on your shoulder as you take deep breaths, trying to find an end to your sentence. 

“It doesn’t have to be anythin’ big.” Bobby mutters, low enough that you almost don’t hear it. “All you gotta do is throw that boy a bone, and he’ll eat out of your hand.”

You shake your head, sniffing slightly. “That’s a little dramatic-“

“Uh huh. When was the last time he said no to you?”

Fuck. “Bobby-“

“It’s his birthday,” Bobby sighs your name, and you look up to see him frowning at the air. “Like I said, don’t gotta marry ‘im right now. Whatever you can manage, long as you’re both happy.”

Long as you’re both happy. 

Dean deserves being happy with anyone but you.

But you’ve always wanted it to be you. For there to be another life where you’re still doing this—maybe not crying on the floor until you’re ready to get up, but making Dean a birthday dinner—and there are not monsters in the shadows or wars on the horizon. For you always to be the one at Dean’s side.

Just like now, getting to smile at him as he drops into his seat and bumps your knees together. And you’re not going break it or infect it. Not going to be the reason it breaks, because it’s your whole life, and nothing about that is complicated. 

Maybe—in that life—you have to pay a mortgage and student loans, and maybe sometimes you fight with Dean about stupid things, but nobody dies. There’s not a sense of one night, and one night only, as you, Dean, Sam, Cas, and Bobby eat and laugh and joke.

There’s no threat of God, wrapped around your neck like a noose set to yank you up without warning, so when Sam brings out the pie and cake—he has the biggest hands, and can walk—you kiss Dean before he blows out his candles. 

You don’t kiss him.

Not here, or now. But you sing him happy birthday, and watch his eyes widen on yours as his lips part, and you want to kiss him here. With the soft light of the candles flickering over his face, and that same peaceful look washed over his features, mixing with one of almost awe. 

You love him. And if it can only ever be like this—the painful, long, complicated way—you’ll be okay with that. It would be almost impossible not love him, which is why you’ve never been able to fault that faceless woman in your head. The one who someday comes along and takes Dean away from you.

But you’re the one who’s going to be taken away. 

And right now, you’re the one he’s looking at. The one he’s giving fireworks, and keeping his thigh pressed against, and the one who belongs at his side.

So even if you only get one of these moments every ten years, you’ll keep loving Dean like it’s written into the fabric of your soul. It’s impossibly easy. 

And Bobby’s right. It’s the only thing you’ve ever really known. 

The rest of the night is just about Dean. Eating the cake and pie—Dean hadn’t lied, he’s refusing to take bites unless you take them first, and you’re either going to punch him in the gut or climb on his lap at the table and see what happens—then playing poker. You lose, horribly, and very fast, but Dean lets you hang over his shoulder and explains all his hands to you before he plays them. 

“How are you this bad at poker, Princess.” He grins at you as Sam takes another million years to decide what he’s doing. “I know you don’t hustle, but that was- Real bad.”

“I’m bad at math,” you mumble, and Dean gives you an amused look. 

“You make spreadsheets for fun.”

“That’s not the same,” Sam frowns up from his cards. “That’s data organization. I do it.”

“And you’re good at math, Sammy-“

“That’s correlation, not causation-“

“I don’t know what the fuck that means-“

Dean cuts himself off as you whisper in his ear. “Correlation is two data points that move together, but it’s just a coincidence. Causation is when two data points are the same because one is caused by the other.”

“Ah.” Dean nods slowly, and twists to give you a grin. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You beam at him, Sam makes a gagging sound, and Bobby whacks him for taking a million years to make his move. 

After the poker game ends—Cas winning by a mile, shocking Dean and Bobby but pretty unsurprising considering neither of them, at any point, knew what Cas was going to do next—there’s a quick exchange of presents, and you try not to look too lovingly at Dean while he opens them. It can’t be written on your face. You still have rules, and you still can’t tell him or indulge or make it about you either—this won’t be about you, if you open the door a crack and Dean is the one who breaks it down—and you can’t show it on your face. 

But it’s hard, when he gives Cas a tight, sudden hug for the rare car parts he’d found during his God-travels, or Bobby gets the same treatment when he shows Dean the upgraded TV in the living room. Or when he grins at Sam for the joke toy gun, then crushes him in another hug for the rare jerky and Batarang shaped knives he found online. 

He looks so happy. And he’s retreating to your room, as the night comes to an end. Because he’s not yours, but fuck, he’s something close to it. And that’s more than you’ve ever dared to hope for. 

You never want to let it go.

“These are cool,” you hum, focusing on the Batarang spinning in your hand and trying really hard not to think about shirtless Dean, washing his face in the bathroom. “Do you know where Sam found them?”

“You know Princess, you can just have them.” Dean laughs, and you look up to find him walking over to where you’re cross legged on the bed, still not wearing a shirt. 

You want to touch him. All the slopes and panes of his chest, every scar, the lines of his tattoo and then the muscles of his back, and he’s so Golden and if you pressed your face into his stomach, it would be soft and safe.

“They’re a gift,” you manage to whisper, blinking up at him. “I can’t take them, De-“

“You don’t have to,” he shrugs, dropping on the edge of the mattress. “But whenever you wanna use them, they’re there.” He pauses. “Is it rude if I tell you I really wanna see what you got me?”

You let out a soft laugh. “No, it’s not. And maybe I didn’t get you anything-“

“Don’t try to lie, sweetheart. I’ll know.” He leans forward, and you can feel the heat from his body. “And you have to show me. It’s my birthday.”

You give him a flat look. “For thirty more minutes.”

“And I’m gonna milk that half hour like you can’t believe. C’mon, please?” he gives you a dramatic, pleading expression, and you can’t stop your giggle. “You’re not supposed to laugh-“

“Sorry.” You grin at him, and he just rolls his eyes. “You want your presents?”

He blinks at you. “Presents?”

You nod, and reach over to the drawer of your bedside table. “You’re not allowed to say anything until I give you all of it. Okay?”

Dean doesn’t respond, and when you look over your shoulder, he’s right there. Inches away and grinning at you, not saying a single word.

You roll your eyes, his grin grows, and you shove him slightly so you can sit back up. 

“I got you an iPod.” You say, holding out each item as you speak. “You need to get into the 21st century, Deano. But, I also got you a bulk pack of blank mixtapes because I know you won’t. And, um-“ You reach under the bed, not allowing your gaze to linger on his face for too long. “I also got you a cowboy hat, and I’ll watch one whole Clint Eastwood movie with you, and I promise not to say anything when it’s stupid.” You give him a small smile, carefully placing the cowboy hat on his brow, and tipping it up when it falls slightly forward. “Happy Birthday, Dean.”

I love you. 

It’s all you can think, as he stares at you. Not saying a single word, but not kicking you out either, and you can’t really read his expression. Can’t figure out what he’s thinking, if you’re about to lose him, if he’s going to grab you into one of those hugs, if maybe, you get to crash into him and feel it more than any possible pain-

Dean reaches up slowly, tucks a little hair behind your ear with a feather-light touch, and you blink at him.

“Do you like them?” You ask, trying not to let your voice waver, and he nods. 

“They’re awesome,” he mutters your name, and his eyes look slightly glassed over. His hand is still lingering on your face. “You’re awesome, Princess. These are- Really fucking awesome.”

You give him a nervous smile. “Did I break you?”

“No.”

“Then-“

He sets the cowboy hat off to the side and leans forward, but doesn’t kiss you. Dean’s brow just falls to yours as he cradles your face in his hands, and you’re really not sure what’s happening. 

“De.” You whisper, carefully dragging one of his hands into yours. “Are you okay?”

He nods, but his grip on you only tightens.

“Dean-“

“I don’t wanna fight.” He mutters, and you frown. 

“We’re not going to fight-“

“Yeah, we are. I’m gonna tell you, and you’re gonna get pissed-“

“No, I’m not-“

“Princess-“

“I’m not your Dad.” You say softly, and he lets out a shaking breath. “I know we fight but I- I’d never get mad at you for not liking something, or feeling something, or-“

“Being selfish?”

“You’re not selfish, Dean.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I am.”

“Dean-“

“I asked Death.” He mutters, breath ghosting over your lips, and you still in his touch. “Asked him if you had a way out, from that God bullshit. And Hell, if he’d told me all I had to do was trade you for someone else or do a fuckin’ volcano sacrifice- Son of a bitch, I would’ve done it. Wouldn’t have hesitated, either. Even if it ruined some poor assholes life, losing his girl so I could keep mine.”

His. 

His.

“De-“

“But he said no.” Dean’s voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and when he pulls you a little forward, you don’t fight him. “That you are the Bride of God, and there’s nothin’ I can do about it. Fucking- I don’t know how the hell you did it.”

You frown. “Did with?”

“Didn’t fucking kill someone.” He rasps. “When you knew you were gonna lose me. Hell, I’m not even losing you and I- Shit-“ 

Dean leans back, scanning over your face with an intensity you can feel lighting up the Spiderweb, and you just hold his gaze.

“I need you, baby.” He mutters, and your fingers curl on his hands. “You’re my best friend, and I need you. And I don’t care if it makes me selfish, if God needs a wife he can take anyone else, but he can’t take you.”

Baby.

I need you, baby.

Again, you don’t think about it. You’ve never had to think about it with Dean. He moves, so you move. 

And when you crash up into him, your lips slamming against each other like you’re trying to fuse together, you know it’s not going to go there. Not tonight. Dean can pull you fully into his lap and you can wrap your arms around his neck, but that’s as close as you’ll get. The bare skin of your thigh brushing his naked abdomen, as you try to climb up his chest. His hand tangling in your hair.

You can’t do more. Not when you can’t feel God watching, but some pain lingers on your wrists, and the deep, frozen fear that he’ll just take you.

That you’ll tell Dean the thing you’re never allowed to say—instead of just moaning his name down his throat or squeezing his hand three times—and God will rip you away. Or worse, that Dean will try to fuck you, and you’ll vanish from his hands. 

But this can be enough. It’s Dean.

So it’s always enough.

A high whine leaves your throat as he angles his mouth over yours, deepening the kiss until it’s all just Gold and a high feeling brimming under your skin and rising in your chest. Dean’s hands are rough but careful as they start to roam under your shirt, lighting small trails of fire on your skin, and he groans your name when your nails sink into his shoulders.

The sound sends an ache of warmth between your thighs, and you start to grind down, trying to chase some friction as your breath hitches and your mouth falls wide open for Dean to take, you just want him to take you and touch you, because there’s no pain when his tongue is tangled in yours and his erection is pressed right over your core-

Dean grabs your hips, kissing the tip of your nose and rubbing his hands soothingly, and slows your pace. 

“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, finger trailing up your spine and making you shake in his arms. “I’ve got you.”

He’s got you.

You melt into him with a happy sigh, and Dean’s got you.

You let him take the lead—you’d let him lead you anywhere, and apparently you can’t be trusted to control yourself when you can feel every flex of his muscles—and he turns the kiss slow. Not pushing, not demanding, just rolling you carefully onto your back, squeezing the skin of your hips and grinning at your soft sigh.

It’s more than the fireworks. It’s enough heat to maybe rewire a universe. But it’s also so gentle, the way he’s touching you and kissing you like he’s just as afraid as you are, that you’re going to vanish. 

But most of all, when Dean presses a final, sweet kiss on your swollen lips and rolls onto his side, keeping you pressed to his chest, it’s comfortable. Easy. The Spiderweb singing in time with the drum of his heart, and his hands pressed into your skin in a possessive way that might leave a brand. 

You hope it does. Or that the Earth grows around you both, and nothing ever tries to take you away from him. 

Because this, here, in Dean’s arms with the taste of him on your tongue, and your legs tangled together, is right where you belong.

——————

Dean’s caught. Suspended. Trapped like a damn animal, unable to even gnaw its own leg off.

The two people that he loves the most are trying to kill him. They’re both genius, unmovable, determined idiots that he’d lay down his life for in a heartbeat, even though they both keep being insane.

Sam had cornered him last night, while She and Bobby had been in the library. Sat across from Dean at the table with a firm expression, dead quiet until Dean had raised his brows.

You got something you wanna tell me, Sammy?”

Sam had sighed—as if he hadn’t been the one who cornered Dean—and spoken with a heavy tone that set a stone in Dean’s gut. “We need to move soon. On Lucifer.”

Dean’s jaw had clenched. “Yeah, man, I know-“

“And we’re doing my plan.”

The fucking plan. The stupid fucking plan that was going to make him lose Sammy forever, that Death had made him promise to go through with. “Sam-“

“There’s no other way-“

“We’ll do it.”

Sam had blinked at him. “We will?”

Dean had nodded, staring at his beer bottle on the table. “Yeah. No other way, right?”

“Right.” Sam had stared at him for a long moment, before clearing his throat. “So, um- I wanted to talk to you about after. When I’m…” he’d swallowed, and Dean’s fists had clenched. 

That wasn’t the Sam that hunted at his side and was addicted to demon blood and had all the same nightmares, but just strangled them in silence and kept moving. 

Across the table from him was Sammy. The little kid who had been afraid of the dark and cried when he saw clowns. The one who had gotten lost in a grocery store when they were kids and hugged Dean first when they found him. And Dean goddamn knew that Sam didn’t want to do this either. Just like he knew that the kid was a stubborn bitch, and nothing Dean could say would make them turn back now. 

“When I’m not here,” Sam muttered, and Dean might have been about to break the bottle. “What you do after.”

Dean had frowned. “The hell you mean what I do-“

“I know you, Dean.” Sam had sighed. “You’re going to want to try and bring me back, but if I come back, Lucifer comes back with me. And I- I don’t want you to have the stupid hunter death. You deserve better than that.”

That had pulled a dry, humorless laugh out of Dean’s throat. “No, I-“

“It’s not up to you.” Sam had cut him off, his eyes flicking in the direction of the kitchen, and something to the right of Dean’s heart had stuttered. “You know it’s there, Dean. I know you’re never going to be to- Y’know. With anyone else. And I- I’d feel better if I knew you guys would have each other-“

“We do have each other.” 

“That’s not what I mean, dude.” Sam had given him a tightlipped smile. “I know she’s got her own thing with, uh- God-“

“I don’t give a fuck about that.” Dean had grunted. “She might not be ready, Sam. And I’m not gonna-“

“Tell a girl that you have a crush on her?” Sam had raised his brows. “That kind of sounds like me, Dean, not you.”

Dean’s eyes had narrowed, and Sam had just held his gaze casually, his tone bored. 

“You could take another ten years to settle down. But I want you to stay with her, Dean. Try to stop hunting, don’t try to bring me back, and-“ Sam had sighed. “I don’t know, man. Have a life.”

“And you just-“ Dean had scowled, shaking his head. “Want us to leave you in there? The hell we’re just gonna freakin’ abandon you-“

“You’re not abandoning me, Dean.” Sam had given him a sad smile. “You’re saving the world, then resting. If not for me, for her.”

For Her.

Sam hadn’t needed to say what he meant.

That, if there was anyone to be worried about, it was Her.

Dean wanted it. God, he fucking wanted it. He’d never seen anything clearer than those fantasies in his head, where he woke up next to Her and got to kiss her good morning, and they showered together. Then he made her breakfast and she made him lunch and they ordered take out for dinner. He’d flip Her over on the couch and kiss down Her body, and She’d give him that blinding smile in the dark. Maybe he’d have a picture of Her in his wallet, and the assholes at his normal, tax-paying job would tease him about saying my girl all the time, but then they’d meet Her, and understand. 

If they to be in Her orbit, they’d never shut up about it either. Not when all the world moved for Her, but She only moved to Dean.

And he cared about the Bride of God thing. He’d been lying through his teeth to Sammy, because he knew he was going to lose Her. He’d always known, but now it wasn’t just a cold fear in his ribs, making his breathing sort of shallow. It was just the truth. Sort of gospel, because it had been told by God. And when Her time came, if She didn’t want to go, he’d still fight to keep Her. And he’d end up dead—it was God—but at least he would’ve died in Her name. 

The promise to Sam was the easiest one he’d even make. It was going to be real damn easy to stay with Her, when this was done. To maybe crack when he thought of Sammy, but then just hold Her until the pain eased a little. If he only got to have Her for a week, a month, a year, a decade, he wanted to have Her. To love Her well enough that when God came, She’d spend the rest of time knowing that Dean had loved Her. And he’d loved Her right, and She’d never wanted for anything as long as She’d been in his arms. 

He hadn’t fucked Her, on his birthday. He wanted to do it right. Not in a storm of confusing pain his chest, warmth in his gut, and a high in his head from how She’d been on his lap and kissing him like She was starved. Gentle. Romantic. Like in a telenovela or drama show, where someone did a big, sweeping gesture, and the other person realized that they were deeply in love, and then they fucked on rose petals. 

In the moment, with Her fast asleep in his arms and a tiny little bruise Dean had put on Her neck, it had felt like the right call.

But he should’ve known better. Sammy was right, Dean wasn’t the one to be worried about. It would fucking suck, and he might never sleep well again, but this was Sam’s last wish. And Dean had always wanted to grow roots with Her, and put up a white fence that She’d carve with Enochian, and hug Her from behind while they made apple pies for a dumb bake sale. 

She was the one who never stopped running. Who was going to want to do something insane to try and get Sammy back.

Hell, She already was trying to do something insane. 

They’d been hunting demon blood for Sammy, and She’d tipped Her head back on the Impala’s bench as they drove back to Bobby’s. Looked at Dean under fluttering lashes and with pouted lips, and his eyes had narrowed. That was Her expression when She wanted something. 

“Deano.” She’d said softly, and his grip had tightened on the wheel. “Can you pull over, please?”

“No.”

“Dean-“

“Whatever you want, ask me while I’m driving.”

She’d sighed. “I don’t want you to crash.”

Son of a fucking bitch, things could never just be simple and easy. Something in the universe had to be out to fucking get him, because he’d pulled the car off to the side of the road, and She’d given him a sweet, full-lipped smile, and he’d known this wasn’t going to end with anything good. 

“Remember how I completely and totally forgave you for going to see Death behind my back?”

Dean had given Her a flat look. “Princess-“

“This is like that. You’re gonna be mad at me, and I- I’m sorry, but-“ She’d taken a shuddering breath, and given him a nervous look. “We can kiss again, if that helps?”

It wasn’t fair how She was so damn adorable. How that would help, but She couldn’t know that Dean would probably let her get away with anything if She rewarded him with the right touches. If he had to carry Her out of playing in oncoming traffic, but got to make Her scream his name and arch off the bed, he’d never be capable of being really mad at Her. 

She liked to test him, though. Liked to see just how much She could bring out of him—the answer was all of it, Dean was never more than when he was with Her—and, just like Sammy, goddamn kill him.  

He’d muttered Her name, slinging his arm around the back of the bench and tipping Her face up to hold his gaze, and She’d let out a long, soft breath. 

“Please don’t be mad.” She’d mumbled, and before Dean could respond, She was rambling. “This isn’t just my idea, it’s Cas’ too. I mean, it was my idea, but he helped. He found the apples, and he- He backed me up-“

“Princess-“

“Remember how I was able to pull Zachariah out of his vessel?” She’d said nervously, and Dean froze. “And, um, I almost did it with Raphael too? I- I think I can just toss Lucifer and Michael in the cage.”

Dean had stared at Her for a long moment, unable to fully form a thought, his own voice sounding a million miles away. “You think.”

“Yeah.” She’d whispered, Her eyes shining on his. “But, um- You’re not going to like how.”

That was damn right. Dean fucking hated how. And he’d fought with Her about it. Told Her it was insane, to fake-join Lucifer, to take magic steroids, to try and grab archangels-

“Dean.” She’d grabbed both his hands, pushing up on Her knee under her body, and it didn’t seem like a fair fight. She looked heavenly in the morning mist and light, and She smelled like fruit and sugar and god-

“No. It’s goddamn bonkers, Princess.”

She gave him a small smile. “Bonkers?”

“No.” He’d pointed an accusing finger at Her, and her smile had grown. “You can’t try and joke me out of this one, sweetheart, there’s no way in hell you’re doing this.”

“Please.” She’d scooted closer, and he’d just stared at Her, a little enchanted like an idiot. Dad had been right. She was dangerous, and She might make Dean an idiot. 

But he could never hate Her, either. It wasn’t Her fault Dean liked falling under her spell, or dreamt about Her drowning him in all Her fruit and sugar and light.

“I’ll be okay, De.” She’d whispered, Her siren-like voice calling him down, down, down- “Sam will be okay, too, I just need to catch Lucifer off guard-“

“So we throw him a surprise party.” He’d grunted, and She smiled at him. The real, sweet smile that had always sort of melted him, because She didn’t really give it to anyone else.

“Dean.” She’d hummed, squeezing his hand three time. Fine. Everything was fine. “Please. I can’t do it without you.”

Fuck. He’d agreed. He was a weak willed, selfish asshole that wanted Her to love him and never look anywhere else for things she needed. And this could go wrong. This could, so goddamn easily, go a million ways wrong. Dean could think of about fifty off the top of his head.

But he’d always just been a weapon. A blood and dirt-rusted blade for the people he loved to wield. And apparently being that meant sitting awkwardly with Bobby while Sammy downed gallons of demon blood in the panic room, and She kept him company because She’d be the safest. 

He and Bobby hadn’t really spoken. They’d played a card game and glanced at the stairs to the basement, waiting for Her to come up and tell them that they were ready to go. The original plan had just been turn themselves over to demons, but She’d rolled Her eyes like that was insane and insisted on using Her tracking spell. 

And now, with Sam silent in the passenger’s seat, Her curled up in the back seat—slumped against a fully alert Cas, picking at Her fingers again, making Dean want to pull over and make Her stop, but they didn’t have enough time—and another bone guiding Dean on the dash, they were at the end. 

This was it. She’d told him that She had that apple thing in Her jacket, and that She’d be fine. Lucifer wouldn’t hurt Her. And if Sam didn’t get a hold on Lucifer, she wanted to go for Michael, too. 

Of course She did. 

Because She and Sam were trying to fucking kill him. 

Dean hated this. He’d never really hated anything more. He’d been staring at Death’s ring for hours last night, sitting up on the headboard and She’d been curled into his side, and hadn’t been sure it was worth it. The world. He was a selfish fucking asshole, and She might not be able to see it, but Dad had. Dad had known him better than anyone. He’d told Dean that the hard thing was the right thing, and that he just wanted Dean to be strong enough to do the right thing.

This didn’t fucking feel like the right thing. Letting the world fucking burn didn’t feel like the right thing either. The right thing maybe felt like using Death’s ring to kill God, because it was possible. Death had said God would die, and there wasn’t any damn reason it didn’t have to be now. Dean could use it to make God talk his asshole sons down from ending the world, then kill the douchebag anyway, so She never had to go. 

Selfish. 

This fucking sucked. And Sammy didn’t know about Her plan, and Bobby didn’t know Her plan—goddamnit, Bobby was finally going to shoot him—and Dean knew She was powerful or whatever, but fuck, She couldn’t just do this alone. She’d always told Dean she needed him, for when She fell apart or faltered and he could be Her weapon, carving them to the end. 

But they were at the end. And unless this went perfectly, Dean wouldn’t be allowed to go with Her. If something went wrong, he’d still lose one of them. 

That was the real fear, he knew. The cold, uncertain dread settled back in the cavity of his chest, splitting that pit more and more open until it was a canyon of just fucking empty dread. 

He didn’t know who he was going to lose. And there was a dangerous light of hope deep in the pit—that he’d get to keep them both—but it was just going make this so much fucking worse. 

“He’s in there.” Dean muttered, frowning at the abandoned building the Bone was angled towards. “Showtime.”

She and Cas exchanged at look that Dean could see in the rearview mirror, but went entirely unnoticed by Sam.

“Do I just�� walk in and tell him?”

“Ideally, yes.” Cas muttered. “And Dean-“

“Got the rings.” He muttered, his hand sliding into his jacket. “And the incantation.”

Cas nodded, and Dean wanted to roar that this a mistake, all of this was a mistake, something was going to go wrong, and they needed to turn back now, but the brake lines had been cut. 

They walked into the house, Cas waiting the car—She and Cas exchanged a strange look before they separated, making Dean’s stomach churn—and there was no way out. 

Lucifer was waiting for them, arms spread wide and a manic grin on his face. His burnt, rotting, ugly face, the substitute vessel already falling apart. Dean wasn’t sure if the bile in his throat was from the sight of the motherfucker, or just what he knew was about to happen. 

“Sammy! And Dean, and,” his grin fell to Her, and shooting his smug face wouldn’t do anything, but Dean really wanted to. “Hi, doll. I heard about your talk with Mikey. He really can’t charm a lady, can he? You finally realize that I’ve got the better deal?”

She didn’t response, just glancing to Sam, and Lucifer sighed. 

“Guys, this is a safe space. We can all talk about our feelings, before I climb into Sam and Sam tries to jump us both to hell.”

The room fell dead silent, Lucifer grinning at them with an amused expression, and Dean’s blood curled in his body. He knew. The son of a bitch knew, of course he knew, Dean didn’t have a goddamn clue why they’d even fucking bothered because now he was going to lose Sammy-

“Here, I’ll start. Sam,” Lucifer put on a simpering, wounded expression. “While I am hurt that you’d try to do that to me, I forgive you. I would still love to hop in for a ride, though. And if you get the reigns, hey! Fair game! I mean, I will torture you for eternity for putting back there,” he spat the word, and Sam paled. “But right now? Let’s fucking dance, baby.”

No. This wasn’t going to end well, and Dean glanced down to see Her braced and ready, and no-

“Ready, Sammy.” Lucifer spread his arms wide. “What’d you say? Ready to take on the world?”

No-

“Okay.” Sam stood a little taller, but her still just looked like a kid- “Yes.”

Dean lurched forward. This couldn’t happen. Lucifer had the jump on them, so he didn’t give a fuck about cut brake, they had to go-

“Dean.” She grabbed his arm, and shook her head. “You can’t.”

“Yeah, Dean.” Lucifer grinned at Her, his body starting to glow, and raised his brows. “C’mon, doll, you’re the last thing we’re missing-“

“No,” Dean’s grip tightened on Her arm, and he didn’t care about the plan. Both of them, he couldn’t lose both of them- 

“And you know Mike’s not going to be good to him.” Lucifer hummed, and something strange flashed over her favors. “I am going to win, but on the chance I don’t… Dean was the prettiest girl at the dance, and he turned Michael down. You remember my promise. You already lost the shoe in with Heaven, I don’t think you want Daddy coming back.” He extended a hand, attention entirely on Her, and no- “Join me. You won’t have to be the Bride. Just you, me, Sammy, and, well-“ He grinned at Dean. “You know the rest.”

She swallowed, and Sam’s eyes widened on Her’s. 

“Don’t,” he said Her name in a pleading tone, and Dean felt like he was drifting in the Ocean. 

He knew the tide had grabbed him. He knew what was going to happen. Sammy had said yes, and he couldn’t take it back. She had a plan, and Dean had the rings, but She wanted to go for Michael too. If he fought it, he’d just be dragged further and further down, but not into Her. Into the pit in his body, already feeling so fucking empty because he fucking knew-

Sam repeated Her name desperately, and She shook Her head. 

“You have to promise.” She whispered, Her eyes not moving from Lucifer, and Dean knew it was an act, but She was too damn good at it.

“Promise. Easy.” Lucifer grinned at Her. “You in?”

“Yeah.” She let go of Dean’s arm, and he could still feel the fucking burn from where She had been touching him. “I’m in.”

Sam shouted Her name, and Dean didn’t fucking care about the plan. If this was being selfish, he’d live with it. He was going to fucking fight the tide, and he was going to let it kill him because fucking hell, he couldn’t do this without Her-

The room started to glow a red-gold light, and Dean was thrown back like a hammer had slammed into his chest. Fully out of the room with Her and Sam still inside, and Lucifer growing brighter and brighter as She stood at his side. 

Their eyes met, for only a second. She gave Dean a small, sad smile and blinked three times, right before the door slammed shut. 

But nothing was fine. None of this was fucking fine. Dean slammed his fist of the door and roared their names, and it wasn’t for the show of it. He didn’t care if Lucifer found out about Her plan, he just wanted Her back, wanted Sammy back, needed Sammy to fucking know that She wasn’t betraying them, She was just insane and brilliant and reckless, so fucking reckless with Herself when She was the most important thing in the world-

The door broke open, and Dean stumbled forward into an empty room. They were gone. Both of them were gone, and he’d just fucking let it happen. The rings felt heavier than a black hole in his pocket, and they were both gone. 

He’d get them back. They had a plan, and he was going to get them both back. But he couldn’t really breathe. All the air felt like ash in his lungs. 

He wasn’t going to be able to breathe until he got them both back. 

Cas was frowning at him when he returned to the car, glancing past Dean’s shoulder to the dead empty house. “Did she-“

“Yeah.” Dean grunted, holding the rings up for Cas to see. “She’s going for the big game.”

“Michael.” Cas muttered, and Dean could feel his gaze. “We will need to find the location of the final fight, and meet her there. The prophet should be able to see it.”

“Chuck?” Dean glanced over, and Cas nodded. “You think he’s going to be able to see how this ends? If we get it?”

“I would not count on it. Without God’s interference…” Cas sighed. “We have no way of knowing what will happen.”

Dean didn’t understand the point of a prophet, if they couldn’t just know that everything was going to be fine. That he’d find them, open the cage, She’d pull Lucifer out of Sammy and Michael out of Adam, and it would be over. They’d have to figure out what the hell to do with Adam, if this worked. The dumbass had voluntarily handed himself over to Michael, like the dipshit hadn’t kidnapped him only weeks ago. And whenever he’d tried to bring it up with Her, she’d just shrugged and mumbled something about angels being convincing. 

She’d know. Michael and Lucifer had made Her offers, and She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Dean they’d give Her paradise, but there had to be more. If they thought She wanted paradise, Lucifer would’ve offered her more. Heaven’s whole deal was bringing paradise. 

And Lucifer had been a lot less suspicious of Her than Dean liked. As if he’d always known he’d win Her over. It didn’t make Dean feel any better, with how real the whole thing had felt. And he trusted Her, with more than his goddamn life, but son of a bitch She liked to pull the most insane shit without telling him. 

He couldn’t think about it. They had work to do, so Dean couldn’t think about it. Just like he couldn’t think about how quiet the entire world was.

Like it was already in mourning. 

He didn’t want to think about any of this. He just wanted to go the hell back, to when She’d been right next to him. To when he didn’t have to park the car and walk inside, look Bobby in the eyes, and tell him what happened.

Bobby just stared at him. And maybe Dean should just swallow the end of the shotgun, because whatever Bobby did to him for losing Her, he deserved it-

“She tell you she was plannin’ that?” Bobby grunted, his knuckles white on his wheelchair, and Dean nodded. 

“She would have done it behind our backs.” Cas injected, and Dean apprenticed it. He wasn’t sure he could say anything without choking right now. “If we didn’t help her. I got her an aid, to increase her power. And Dean will open the cage, so she can keep the upper hand on Lucifer.”

Bobby looked at Dean for another long, impossible heavy silence, then nodded. 

“We best get our asses to work then.” His voice was gruff, but Dean recognized the strain in it. It was the same strain he had over his own ribs. “If she’s doin’ all the work, she needs to two idjits to pull your share.”

Their share was making a fucking phone call. 

“So,” Chuck’s voice was a little static through the laptop speakers as he said Her name. “She chose Lucifer?”

Cas sighed. “She pretended to choose Lucifer. She plans to put both Lucifer and Michael in the cage, and this is the easiest way.”

Chuck frowned. “Why both? Lucifer is the one starting the end of the world, right?”

“I don’t think Michael made that good an impression on her.” Bobby’s tone was a little dry, and Chuck’s frown deepened, but Dean pushed on. They didn’t have time for this.

“I’ve got the key to the cage,” he held it up to the camera. “So nothing’s happening until we get to her. And she’s not making a move until she’s got them both in one place, so we need to know when that’s going to happen.”

“Um, probably the final battle?” Chuck glanced at Dean nervously. “It’s at noon, in Lawrence, Kansas. Skull cemetery. And she’s really planning to put them both in-“

“Yep.” Dean shoved the key back into his jacket. “Well, Chuck, if there’s another side, we’ll see you there-“

“Wait!” Chuck sat up on the screen, and Dean’s hand paused on the top of the laptop. “Do you want to know what they’re doing? Her and Sam?”

Dean froze. He wanted nothing more to know that they were okay, but Christ, if they weren’t-

“I thought you weren’t able to see in her head,” Bobby muttered, and Chuck sighed. 

“I- I can’t. But I can see into Sam’s, so I know she’s there.”

Bobby’s eyes flashed, and he wheeled a little closer. “She alright? Lucifer ain’t- He’s not hurtin’ her-“

“I don’t think he can.” Chuck frowned. “All I saw when I was thinking of Sam is- Um- Well he’s not really thinking clearly. He’s sort of angry, but mostly because she didn’t let him in on whatever she’s planning. And whenever I could see her, it was just kind of in a corner. Lucifer’s talked to her a few times about how when he’s done, he’ll help her burn her veil? But also that, um-“ Chuck brow furrowed. “She can do better than Dean. And she should take a second look at the menu, when they’re done.”

Dean’s grip on the laptop tightened, his words pushed through his teeth. “Alright. Bye, Chuck.”

He slammed the laptop, and turned to see Cas and Bobby frowning at him. 

“What?”

They exchanged some strange look, and Cas cleared his throat. “We are… worried about you, Dean. You may not be going into this with the most stable state of mind-“

Dean cut him off with a scoff. “Stable states of mind are for assholes who do yoga and business douchebags. I’m fine.”

“Dean.” Bobby grunted. “I know what you’re thinkin’ right now-“

“No, you don’t-“

“That you feel like your whole fuckin’ life is on the line, and you ain’t able to do jack shit about it?” Bobby’s voice raised, and he held Dean’s glare. “I know that’s exactly what you’re thinkin’ boy, cause I’m thinkin’ it. At least you’re able to go out there and do somethin’ about it. Don’t get blinded and let all the shit they’re puttin’ themselves through go to waste.”

Dean’s hands curled into fists, and he shook his head. “They’re both in danger, Bobby, I’m going to do whatever the hell I gotta to get them out of it-“

“I know ya are, Dean. But I-“ Bobby sighed, running a hand over his face. “Don’t be stupid about it.”

“I won’t-“

“Yeah, ya will.”

They stared at each other for a second, and Bobby let out a long breath, looking between Dean and Cas with the most open look Dean had ever seen. And it was filled with exhaustion, and desperation, and- 

Fear. Right on the surface of Bobby’s face was pure fear, and it was so wrong. Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever even seen Bobby afraid, but God, it was maybe the worst thing in the world. 

“Bring them home.” Bobby grunted. “Both of ‘em. And come back in one piece yourself.”

Dean nodded, and didn’t bother with a goodbye. If he said goodbye, that meant he might not come back. One piece or not.

And it wouldn’t be one piece, if he came back without Her or Sammy. If Dean came back with just Her, a large piece of him would be missing that would take a long, hard time to fill. 

If he came back, somehow, without both of them, the pit in his body would split open, and he’d never be whole again. 

Cas sat silently the whole drive, and Dean was grateful for it. Cas was there. Maybe his angel mojo was fucked, but at least he wasn’t doing this alone. At least Cas put on the music for him, dealt with the directions, and didn’t try to make him talk about how this was making him feel, because the only answer was dread. It was settling deeper than his bones, the closer they got to the cemetery. He could feel it, heavy like iron and cold like death, sunken over maybe just the fabric of his being. 

And the cemetery was dry. Gray and dry, with a dead crow sadly resting over one of the graves. Michael and Lucifer were glaring at each other and walking in circles like the worst high noon showdown in history, and Sammy looked fine, but he didn’t walk like Sammy, and She was sitting behind Lucifer. 

Silent. 

Her being silent had never been a good thing. 

Dean climbed out of the car, trying to keep his expression natural, or his lunch from falling all over the ground. “Hi. Sorry we’re late, guys, but Cas gave me a wrong exit on 81.”

Cas frowned at him, and Dean just shrugged. He couldn’t really hear his own voice, or see anything but a Sammy that actually Sammy, and Her flat-out refusal to look him in the eyes.

“Dean.” Michael frowned at him through Adam’s body, and Dean felt the dread rising to his throat, making him sort of sick. “You are lucky I don’t smite you where you stand, for daring to be here.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “He’s here to plead with Sammy and his Princess, Michael, let him get blown up in the mess-“

“I’d rather not get blown up.” Dean raised his hand, both archangels glared at him, and this didn’t really feel fucking real. “If we’re choosing horrible fates for me to meet, I’d veto blowing up. Cas, you wanna take that one for the team?”

Cas stared at him, and—thank goddamn Christ—seemed to pick up the insane plan Dean had backed himself into. “No. I would rather not.”

Dean nodded, gave the archangels an apologetic half-grin, and he was never going to be able to give Her shit about her plans again. This was what happened when he was left without Her and Sammy. His grand plan to save the world was the same one he’d had to coast through high school. 

Talk and talk and talk and say nothing at all, until the bell ran out, and class was over. 

Only here, the bell was Her doing whatever she needed to grab Michael and Lucifer, and class was her throwing them in the cage. 

It wasn’t a good metaphor. 

Dean needed Her and Sammy for that, too. 

“Lucifer.” Michael grunted, and Dean was pretty sure that glare might be capable of shredding him to ribbons. “Unless you have objections, I am going to blow them both up so we can continue-“

“I have objections. You know I have objections.” Lucifer said Her name, and she glanced up from where she’d been cross-legged in the grass. “Tell Mikey he can’t blow up Dean.”

“She does not command us, Lucifer.” Micheal muttered, even as he eyed her wearily, and Lucifer laughed. 

“Uh, yeah, she does. She certainly commands you. Dad spent so much time telling us about how perfect she’d be, how he’d done this all for her, can you imagine how disappointed he’d be in you if you made her cry?”

Michael didn’t visibly react, but Cas tensed at Dean’s side. Maybe it was only visible to other angels. “She chose wrong. I hold no deal to her, Lucifer, when she decided to turn her back on all I offered her-“

“You didn’t offer me anything,” She whispered, and Michael froze. “You told me you’d make me forget everyone. That you’d just hand me over to God.”

“He wants what’s best for you-“

She let out a dry laugh, pushing up to her feet. “Everyone wants what’s best for me. It’s usually ends with me in a basement.”

“It would have been paradise.” Michael hissed. “And you’ll see, when I win and offer you a second chance-“

“I don’t think she wants your second chance, man.” Dean cut in, trying not to think about how She was next to Lucifer. How all she needed now was to get between them. “She doesn’t really do first chances. You’re either in or out, and I don’t think you’re in.”

Michael scowled at him. “You should watch yourself, Dean. A hundred years goes faster than you think, and that is all it will take for Her to forget you.”

“Maybe.” Dean shrugged. “But I don’t think she’ll ever think anything good about you. Cas?”

“Dean.” 

He frowned, and turned to find Cas a whole lot closer to him than before. Braced. As if he was ready for something. 

“Uh-“ He shook his head, and watched her take a casual step forward in his periphery. “What does paradise look like?”

“A lot of nature.” Cas muttered, and Dean sighed, giving Michael a sympathetic look. 

“See, that’s where you’re going wrong. My girl doesn’t like the outdoors. Hates bug spray, says it makes her skin itchy. And you’re gonna have to keep soda fountains around. And, uh-“ Dean said Her name, and their eyes met. 

Her’s were a bright as when the door had closed between them. Not empty, but made of more life than he’d ever really been able to understand. 

Telling him to be ready. And to keep going. 

So he did. 

“What’s the name of that makeup store you like?”

A small smile that could’ve been nothing, but Dean would know anywhere, crossed over her lips. 

“Walgreens.”

“Right.” He looked back to Michael. “But she doesn’t buy from them, she steals. So you might need to make that, uh- Not a sin anymore. Or you can win,” he nodded to Lucifer. “But you’re gonna have to make sure the fires of hell don’t burn the books. She won’t like that either.”

There was a long second of silence, and she was just in Michael’s reach. One more second. They were so damn close-

Michael said that strange, musical sound Lucifer had made in San Francisco, and turned to her with a glare. “That is what you’re willing to betray the earth for? What you’re willing to side with my brother for, when my father, when I have been ready to give you whatever you want, since the world began?”

She didn’t say anything, but She didn’t move either, and Michael’s eyes narrowed.

“This is all in your name. And our fight,” he gestured between himself and Lucifer, who was mostly just frowning. “Is not yours. Come here. I’ll put you somewhere safe, until you understand.”

She still didn’t move. 

But Michael did. 

He lunged for Her, and Dean didn’t think. He’d never thought, when he was on a hunt. When She or Sammy were in danger. 

He’d only ever moved. 

Dean sprinted forward, trying to put himself between Her and Michael’s hand, and he couldn’t hear anything over the blood in his ears. She might have screamed his name, but at least if he died here, that would be the last thing he ever heard. And She’d pull out Sammy, and they’d be fine without him. She and Sammy had already survived when he’d been dead, and when God came for Her maybe she’d drop in on him in hell, because he sure as shit wasn’t going to heaven when Michael was about to kill him. 

But he wasn’t dead. 

He’d been yanked back by the collar of jacket, but Michael hadn’t grabbed Her. The archangel had been knocked back by Cas, brawling in Dean’s place, somehow holding his own for more than a second, until- 

Cas vanished, reappeared at Dean’s side, and Michael burst into flames. 

Dean stared at the lingering ash on the ground, then at Cas. “What the hell did you do?”

“I shot him.” Cas muttered, holding up a gun. “I did not know it would have that effect.”

“That’s Bobby’s gun.” She whispered, and Dean’s head whipped up to find her blinking at him. “I enchanted it.”

“Oh.” Dean grinned at Her. “Cool.”

“Castiel.” Lucifer hissed, and the expression on his face was goddamn murderous. It couldn’t be anything good. “You should be dead.”

“I know how not to shoot myself-“

“No.” Lucifer clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Holding a fight with Michael, even cheating should have destroyed you, but-“ His gaze slid to Her. “Someone helped you. Gave you a boost.”

She swallowed, and Cas grabbed Dean’s arm before he could launch forward again. 

“You shouldn’t be strong enough to restore an angels grace.” Lucifer hissed. “You ate an apple, didn’t you. You were going to betray me.”

“I-“

“Shh.” Lucifer held a finger to his lips, his gaze sliding to Cas and Dean. “You did a good job. It’s going to take a lot more effort than before to smite him. But I can still-“

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and Cas vanished. A shout had barely left Dean’s mouth when Lucifer scoffed, and appeared right in front of him, wrapping a hand around Dean’s throat and lifting him off the ground.

“He’s alive.” Lucifer sneered. “Thrown down to the bottom of the Pacific ocean, but alive. And I’d be more worried for yourself Dean.” He tossed Dean all the way back against the Impala, and the pain had barely even gotten a chance to hit him before he was being lifted up again, and slammed back down. 

She was screaming again, in the background. But Dean couldn’t get to Her, couldn’t calm her down or save Her from this one. He could only look at Sammy’s face, full of a pure hate that made Dean wish Lucifer would just get it over with, and feeling the snap of his ribs as a kick like wrecking ball slammed into his chest. 

"Hear that?” Lucifer sneered in his ear, and Dean’s vision was starting to fill with spots as his head got bashed once more. “She won’t hurt you, or she’ll try not to. But she’ll snap, and kill you, and then neither of you will get anything. I’ll lock her up, just like Mikey would’ve, and maybe Daddy will come and take her. Maybe she’ll just rot forever. Or I can bring her back, make a duplicate of you, and make her watch me kill all those too.” Lucifer laughed, and Dean wasn’t sure what was Her screams or just his own pain anymore. “I’ll kill that old coot you both got, too. And Sammy will live happily,” Lucifer raised him up, glass crashing somewhere in the background, and Dean felt a sting near his back. “Without any of you-“

Lucifer’s words cut off, and Dean blinked. The light was too bright. It was making his vision blur and his head throb, and he could barely see anything but Sammy’s face-

Sammy. 

That wasn’t Lucifer, looking back at him in shock and confusion and pain. It was-

“Sammy.” Dean’s voice was weak, and Sam’s grip slacked on him immediately.

“Fuck, Dean-“ Sam’s eyes scanned over him, wide and frantic. “I- I’m sorry-“

“Not-“ Dean coughed, the motion hurting his lungs, and She was still crying. He could hear it. It might be making everything hurt more. “Not you. Wasn’t you, Sammy, but-“

“Dean, I can’t hold him long- The cage-“

“No.” He shook his head, looking over Sam’s shoulder to Her. On Her knees in the grass, curled into Herself, a hand around her own throat. 

He couldn’t go to Her now. They didn’t have time. But after, he’d maybe hold Her for the rest of his life and not let go.

Dean whispered Her name, shoving the key into Sam’s hand. “Trust her. You gotta trust her.”

Sam followed Dean’s gaze, nodded—not a question, but Dean didn’t really Sammy’d had one about her since they met—and moved. 

He felt like he was floating. Like he was watching something on a TV, instead of it folding out in front of him. Sam stopped in front of Her, offering a hand to stand up, and She glanced at Dean but took it. Then She pulled an apple out of Her jacket—iridescent and glowing—and started to eat it as Sam tossed the key on to the ground. The earth started to shudder and bend, and Dean was still just suspended in nothing, unable to real feel anything but numb pain and that dread. The wind shifted slightly, blowing right against his face as She gave Sam a small smile, and placed a hand on his chest. And Dean- 

He could smell the fruit. Stronger than ever in his goddamn life, right on the wind. 

The apple. It was the fucking glowing apple, and he could smell it.

He was crashing right back down to earth, right as it all blew apart. 

Michael reappeared, a step behind Her. And Dean roared Her name in warning, ignoring the pain it shot through his chest., but Sam was faster. He grabbed Michael, turned them both to Her with a tiny nod, and when She slammed Her hand on Michael’s chest, Dean could see it. 

All the dry color of the cemetery, vivid. The dead grass turning green and starting to bloom in all those strange flowers Dean had never seen before. The ground shaking and the crow that had been dead on the grave a moment ago, cawing then taking off. 

Her pupils, blindingly silver as Her beautiful face sent in determination. All Her features seeming to glow as She pulled Michael and Lucifer out of their vessel. 

Michael moved first, and Dean felt like that thing deeper than his bones was being ripped apart. Michael was all yellow and a flurry of a million wings that were going to make him go deaf, and fitting in Her hand and somehow still bigger than the sun. 

Michael was thrashing. Trying to fight Her, as he was pulled all the way out and Adam’s body fell to the ground. But Lucifer wasn’t coming out. 

Lucifer wasn’t coming out, and She wasn’t throwing Michael into the pit. Every time Dean saw Her turn, Michael twisted and roared, Her eyes squeezed shut, and a goddamn tree shot out of the ground. She couldn’t let him go. She couldn’t let go of Michael, and Lucifer wasn’t coming out. 

Time seemed to slow, and Dean wasn’t suspended anymore, but he also couldn’t move. Lucifer had either broken his legs, or he just didn’t fully register what was happening until it was done. 

She looked at Sam, said something Dean couldn’t hear over the pounding of Michael’s wings, and Sam took her free hand and said something back. They just looked at each other for a long moment, and then they both looked at Dean. 

He tried to call for them. Tried to roar that whatever they were doing, it was insane, and he could do it instead. He could take the bullet, jump on the grenade, be the punching bag or put himself in the line of fire. 

He might have gotten his plea out. Maybe not. It didn’t really matter.

Because She and Sammy turned away and, hand in hand, fell into the cage together. 

It sealed shut before Dean could even get in a breath for a scream. 

And they were both gone. Leaving Dean alone with nothing but himself, and the wind. 

End Note: I think this might have counted as psychological torture? Please not call the UN on me, they’ll send me a strongly worded letter.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Buy me a coffee!☕️

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[bloomyyth]

How I accidentally manifest everything I want.

When you read the title you probably thought like: why accidentally? Let me tell you.

Since I was little I was daydreaming all the time. By now I know that I'm a maladaptive daydreamer. Im gonna explain how this helps me manifest and shift.

Im gonna show some examples from this year:

Example 1 : Beginning of the year I was constantly daydreaming about being at my new school with my new MacBook Pro/Air (I didn't really care). This is because I needed a new Laptop for school and I didn't have one. My family isn't well off but I constantly thought about that laptop being in my hands, it being mine. I did this subconsciously without thinking about manifesting. After some time I couldn't even fathom the idea of having any other Laptop. Some weeks ago my mother bought it. Didn't even ask me if I wanted a different one or anything. Example 2 : I have worked with one guy last year about over a year ago and we have been in contact since last year around this time. Since then, he doesn't work at the job anymore because he went uni. In about a month I'm gonna start full time and he knows that. I've daydreamed about him being there even though I knew he was never gonna return and it was literally impossible. As I got my work plan for next month, I saw his name on it with an already written work plan. Im gonna work with him again for about a month. (Isn't much but he is gonna work with me again.)

In both of these examples I've daydreamed about something that wasn't gonna happen/couldn't happen. This was also done in different kinds of daydreams, with different scenarios. In the 2. Example I also said that it was literally impossible for that guy to return and work with me again. I accidentally and subconsciously shifted to a reality where this is possible. (If some of you ask how I know that it wasn't possible before -> I literally asked him if he could return and he said he literally can't and its not possible because he is in uni and also needs to go to military.) Also I actually didn't want him to return but also I did? You get it.

This shows that we shift and manifest things mainly subconsciously and the reality you live in is built on you and your manifestations/thoughts on what happens next.

Over this year I've manifested many other different kinds of things and outcomes that I've only realized come from me a while after it happened. (Literally got a new couch that resembles the one in my DR without even wanting a new one.)

What I mean with this post: If you're a maladaptive daydreamer or daydream often, it can help you. I have seen many people say that you're making your DR "fictional" and not "real" if you daydream about it too often. But it can actually strengthen the connection to your DR and desires.

For me, I daydream so often that I don't know which kinds of memories are actually real and which kinds I've imagined. This is why sometimes I see my daydreams as real and can manifest through them effortlessly.

“Nothing comes from without; all things come from within - from the subconscious” ― Neville Goddard

[kyouka-supremacy]

I believe in the Dazai came from a rich family theory. Aside from him playing piano and all.... imagine if it was Dazai who actually gave Akutagawa the idea to wear those clothes? Like maybe Akutagawa looks like some goth kid because thats how Dazai's style was also like

That theory makes a lot of sense to me, I don't know why! His nihilism and disregard for material things really speak to me of someone who grew up with everything accessible to him and thus feels like all things material are equally meaningless. He so deeply lacks that strive to survive that is otherwise typical of Atsushi and Akutagawa's characters, so in a way it would make sense if his origins were the opposite of theirs. Then again, as I explained here, I would feel disappointed if that was confirmed: because I believe Dazai's real past should never be revealed at all and left to the readers' imagination, believe that he would suddenly become a lot more flat if there was a plain explanation to where he comes from, whatever explanation that was.

As for the piano, as it's been pointed out that's probably a reference to the author Ryuunosuke Akutagawa's work “piano”, so it may have nothing to do with Dazai– after all, it's just a vision of Akutagawa. That said, I have a feeling that if you were to ask the bsd author if Dazai knew how to play the piano, they would tell you “Of course he can play the piano, after all Dazai can do most anything!” (≧▽≦)

Finally, good news! Dazai canonly is the reason Akutagawa dresses like that! (At least as far as the coat and jabot go ahah)

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: July 15

2019

[text] Working Title... [dan/noah, E, 5,870, rpf] by @olive2read

Noah is really enjoying his first season on Schitt’s Creek and flirting with Dan in character. he’s hopeful that the chemistry on set will translate to chemistry off set. ——meanwhile, things are progressing between David and Patrick in a parallel track. which pair is doing what, now?

Family Visitations [david/patrick, M, 4,840] by @stargatewars

David was dramatic. There was no one that met him that would say different. So when he started complaining of pain in his abdomen, everyone assured him that it was probably a result of him eating his dinner too fast and left it at that. Except, for once, David was being the appropriate level of dramatic.

for feelings bittersweet [david/patrick, E, 10,311] by wardo_wedidit

“It’s just—this is the first time in my life that everything has been right. For any substantial amount of time. And I’m afraid if this one thing changes, what if other things start to fall apart too? What if us having this deed to this town is the glue that’s holding my life together?” Or, someone makes a serious offer for to buy Schitt's Creek, and everyone struggles with what that means for the future. It also means David has to wrestle with everyone else's emotions.

Rose Apothecary's Back Room [david/patrick, G, 2,730] by TobytheWise

Team Free Will rolls into the small town of Schitt's Creek, hoping to replenish some of their supplies at a little shop that happens to have the hunter's symbol in their window. Only, when they walk inside, the owner, David, has NO clue what the hell they're talking about.Patrick's got some explaining to do...

2020

[art] trying new things can always be a little dangerous [david/patrick, G, fanart] by @sparklesmagiclightlove

ships_to_sail asked me to draw these two beautiful scenes for ladyflowdi from their amazing fic. Read it if you haven't, it is stunning. Thank you, ships_to_sail, enjoy! title from the fic, a quote of Patrick's.

And I'm Terrified, But The Truth Is This [david/patrick, E, 4,333] by @streetlampsunset

“David,” he said, surprised at how even his voice came out. “You are not damaged goods.” He slid his hand through the back of David’s hair and it was an awkward angle, cupping his jaw like this, upside down. His fingers were tucked under David’s chin, thumb rubbing smooth circles in the skin behind his ear. “You, David Rose, are my very favorite person.” David frowned, trying to look away. “No,” Patrick said, “look at me, please.” He did, reluctantly. “You are so strong, and brave, and generous.” Patrick pressed a kiss to David’s forehead with each word. He pulled back some to look him in the eye. “You are who you are, because of your past, not in spite of it.” He ran his thumb over the shell of David’s ear. I love you. “You deserve kindness, David, you deserve to be treated well.” David is still hurting over the events of the barbecue. Patrick tries to show him that he is deserving of love.

Happy Birthday, Patrick Rose [david/patrick, G, 858] by @kindofspecificstore

Y’know it’s the first time I’ve woken up next to some one on my birthday.” He traces a finger down David’s neck and across his collarbone. David hums at the touch, though he can’t help but be confused. “I don’t think that’s true.” Patrick chuckles, both hands coming up to cradle David’s face. Warm hands, cold ring. “I mean some one I get to call my husband,” Patrick corrects himself.

Potluck [david/patrick, NR, 1,223] by @maxbegone

David grabs his shoulder. “Yeah, wait. I just want to apologize in advance if my parents say anything weird to you,” he says suddenly. “The last time Roland held a party this big, they got really high together and my dad told me that he supported my ‘sexual encounters.” David physically cringes at the memory and lets out a slow breath through puffed cheeks. Patrick is just smiling at him. “That must have been nice.” “He was stoned, Patrick.” -- 44. Tentative kisses given in the dark.

Something fine built to last [david/patrick, T, 1,115] by @kiwiana-writes

As soon as they open the door, Patrick realises that it’s — well, raining is really not a strong enough word. Absolutely bucketing down might be better. It’s coming down in sheets; the type of rain you know just by looking at it is going to soak you through in a second. David makes a small, distressed noise, and Patrick whirls to face him. “Oh God, your sweater.”

The Best Man's Wedding [ian/mickey, T, 2,612] by JosieMarieVivianWilkins

Ian and Mickey road-trip out to town after the wedding to avoid Terry's wrath and end up in Schitt's Creek. Oneshot request for Jools10

Workaholics [david/patrick, NR, 839] by @maxbegone

Patrick leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest. “I thought we agreed to not doing any work on our days off?” David doesn’t move, he just responds with a slightly-distracted muttering of, “I know but…I’m just trying to get this new display layout right. It needs something to bring it together.” -- 42. Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

2021

Begin Again [ted/alexis, G, 1,756] by @atlabeth

He didn’t know if Alexis still thought about him the way he thought about her. That was the funny thing about their relationship. Ted had never loved anyone more than he had loved Alexis, but that was why he had to let her go. They didn’t keep in touch much after he left for the Galapagos. There were texts, the occasional call, but eventually they just… stopped. A part of it was work, sure, but— It was too painful to talk to her, to be so close but so far away. To not get to be with her. Letting go of Alexis Rose was the hardest decision he ever had to make, but it was the only one he could make. And as he stepped out of the airport, some small part of him was hoping that he would somehow find the one who got away once more. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Or: On a Wednesday, in a cafe, two lovers watch it begin again.

Follow the unknown with something more familiar [ted/miguel, T, 874] by @designatedgrape

David overhears a very interesting phone conversation between Patrick and Ted about Ted's new relationship.

My Love, She Keeps Me Warm [stevie/twyla, M, 7,878] by @steviestoospooky

Stevie and Twyla have been friends for years, girlfriends for months, and fiancées for just a couple of weeks. Almost no one in Schitt's Creek knows about the second two developments. On a trip to Vegas to celebrate Alexis and Ted's upcoming nuptials, more wedding bells are ringing!

talk to me baby [rachel/heather, T, 2,617] by @hullomoon

After her disastrous trip to Schitt's Creek, Rachel decides to take some time for herself

You must be Kidding [rachel/heather, T, 2,650] by @agoodpersonrose

“David, Patrick, this is my girlfriend, Rachel.” Rachel freezes. She takes a moment to thank God that she isn’t the one holding the hand-blown glass salad bowl because it would certainly be in pieces across the patio if she were. Patrick seems equally as surprised, frozen in place, the fingers of his right hand laced tight in who Rachel can only assume is David’s hand. He’s here, stood in the middle of her girlfriend’s back yard, staring at her like he’s just seen a ghost. “Hi, Rach,” Patrick finally gets out, his voice rough.

2022

[Vid] Alright [johnny/moira, G, vid] by @n0connections

Johnny is going to be alright. Or a Music Video about Johnny Rose to the Darius Rucker song Alright

Hide Your Diamonds, Hide Your Exes [patrick & ted, T, 2,329] by @wearpersistencewell

Patrick and Ted talk ex-fiancees and true love. Takes place between "The Barbecue" and "The Rollout."

like a tide to the shore [stevie/ruth, M, 3,993] by @nerdframed

This is not a supernatural love affair... ... or that's what Ruth tries telling herself.

Simply the Vet [ted/david, M, 6,508] by @hullomoon

The new vet across the street catches David's eye

'Til we're running from it [rachel & ted, T, 3,492] by @smblmn

It's like she's the cute unsuspecting redhead from a horror movie who goes straight to get killed after doing the opposite of what she was advised to do. Because that's how she feels, like her life ended yesterday, in a way, and suddenly she can't wait to get out of this nightmare of a town.

time—curious, mystical, wondrous time [alexis/twyla, T, 5,942] by @sarahlevys

Alexis leans in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I already lived today. Like, yesterday was August 20. My mom got back on Sunrise Bay, and I gave you all my clothes, and—" "Alexis!" Twyla exclaims. "You did what?" "Okay, I promise I will circle back to that, but." Alexis flattens her hands on the countertop. "Like, am I losing it, or is this something that maybe you've heard of happening before?" Twyla purses her lips, thinking a little, before she turns her patient gaze back to Alexis. "I don't think that's ever happened to me, but nothing's impossible if you believe that it's true." Alexis finds herself reliving Start Spreading the News... over and over again.

Watch Me Unravel [david/patrick, G, 1,096] by @fictasticvoyage

Patrick has a big problem, and only Alexis can help. She rescues her favorite brother and they both get a little mushy.

you drew stars (around my scars) [david/patrick, G, 1,487] by @patrckbrewer

when patrick comes back from his business seminar to find david with a rash on his face, a very angry important vendor, and a closed account with the rosebud motel he doesn’t know what to do. all he wants is to be able to protect david from everything that can hurt him. but that’s hard when the person who hurts him the most is his own father

2023

closing early [david/patrick, M, 861] by @milklovexoxo

tumblr kiss prompt for ...out of lust thanks to my lovely friend @statueinthestone for sending this prompt! 💜

I'll Be There For You [david/patrick, T, 939] by mallpretzles

Alexis has some sad realizations about David's past and how absent she’s been in his life until now.

us, together [david/patrick, G, 830] by @rosedavid

Patrick comforts David after a stressful day.

2024

Happy Birthday, David Rose! [david/patrick, M, 2,300] by @a-noble-dragon

It’s David Rose’s Birthday. What will the day have in store for him?

I See You [david/patrick, E, 45,906] by @im-televisions-moira-rose

He exhales a shaky breath and then checks his watch; the train is running late, and the later it gets, the more the anxiety builds at the base of Patrick’s spine. The more his brain whispers this is a bad idea, asks is this really something you’re ready to know? He tries to distract himself by observing the myriad of other people waiting—an older, heavy-set couple wearing matching t-shirts, a large group of loud teenagers with seriously abrasive accents, a distinctly European trio of men arguing in what sounds like German. He assumes they’re mostly tourists; he is, after all, staying near Times Square, and he’s pretty sure any self-respecting New Yorker avoids this particular station at all costs. It’s not like he was dying to eat at a New York City TGI Friday’s himself, but the hotels really did seem to be the best bang for his buck. The distant whir of the oncoming train sparks him out of contemplating subpar American food, and he swallows, mouth dry, feeling more like a man on his way to a sentencing hearing than a college graduate on a solo vacation, going to a bar for a drink. It’s just a bar. It’s just a drink. A handsome stranger falls asleep on Patrick on the subway. Alt meet.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 or 2018 2019: 4 fics/23,751 words 2020: 8 fanworks (7 fics, 1 fanart)/11,864 words 2021: 5 fics/15,775 words 2022: 8 fanworks (7 fics, 1 vid)/24,864 words 2023: 3 fics/2,630 words 2024: 2 fics/48,206 words Total: 30 fanworks (28 fics, 1 fanart, 1 vid)/127,090 words

[adhd-fandom-and-gay]

WHAT? SORRY MY HEARING SUCKS...did you say stå på? Didn't know you spoke Norwegian but okay!! /j

Anyhow, that whole revelation about Mrs. Lanyon also hearkens to the fact that her family was racist and pretty openly made racist comments to Hastie's face:

(Cue Hastie regretting his life choices...)

Note the "half-savage" offspring comment in particular. Given that it refers to mixed children, I'd say that Robert definitely received scorn from his maternal family members.

Robert is also the one narrating this to Henry, and he clearly knows about the feelings his maternal kin had towards their situation with Hastie, so we can infer that he probably has had to spend time with his stupid racists other family members who never hold back on saying stupid racist bullshit and who likely were ashamed to have a mixed child in the family. They probably made it a point to not let Robert play with his cousins or to exclude him from other family events even though the Lanyons would likely be in attendance, they probably never held back on shaming him both to his face and behind his back, and they probably shamed his mother specifically whenever she (If she even) made an attempt at treating him better. Hhhh my boy,,, my boy you've been so wronged,,,

Friendly reminder that this is who they're shaming:

(LOOK AT THE HORSE THING IN THE LAST PIC AWHHHH!!! SOMEONE GET THIS BOY A HORSE. Also Hastie has some freckles in the first image and that's so cuteeee)

So Hastie had to explain this to him at some point, right? Like, Robert most certainly realized that he wasn't welcome in his own family soon enough and Hastie knew not to sugarcoat things too much when it came to describing the struggles that black people went through.

Robert is clearly still small here, so he must have figured this out early, but Hastie is a tad older than in the previous pics. Robert's still very young regardless, but either way, the point still stands that Robert has known that his skin colour affects the way people treat him ever since he was a child—one of those hard parts of life is trying to explain these things to a child when you know that it's unavoidable and trying to figure out how/when to explain it to them—so I assume that Hastie likely had to also have this talk with little Robert where he basically had to explain that half of his family hated him including his own mother.

Family reunions must have been so awful. I imagine Robert must have gotten...I don't wanna say numb towards it, but just generally more disillusioned with the idea of family as time went on considering that half of his family hated him, his mother probably also hated him and/or was shamed whenever/if she tried to be loving towards him openly, and his father was basically pressuring him into being a perfectionist. No wonder Robert threw himself into that confident, snooty playboy persona he had going on; not only did he want the control but he also might have wanted to try and form connections without actually knowing what those kinds of bonds were supposed to entail. He didn't have any good example of romantic love and likely nothing familial, either.

(On that note, I always thought Jasper must have been like gobsmacked when he heard Jekyll say this. I would be, too...like damn you don't just SAY THAT about someone's home life jeeeeesus...! /lh)

He had to be cocky and self-assured because he didn't have anything to give him self worth otherwise since he was raised in a family that viewed him as inherently inferior because of his race or who never gave him any encouragement for his achievement. He didn't have many other people who would consistently give him praise or affection besides the boys he slept with, and even then he pushed them all away once they started getting attached because he both wasn't sure how to handle that affection and was scared that he'd start losing his only sense of self-worth if he ever actually dropped his overconfident veneer long enough to be vulnerable.

Not that that excuses his actions in anyway I'm just psychoanalyzing him

Sighs...this stupid man is gonna be my Roman empire from now on.

I <3 getting to overanalyze things

I just realized that Mrs. Lanyon's family apparently being racist means that they likely raised Mrs. Lanyon to be the same and that probably didn't change when she got into an arranged marriage with Hastie so does that mean Robert had to deal with racism from his own mother—

[stars-obsession-pit]

Danny always hated Vlad’s attempts to forcibly adopt him, but honestly at the moment he found himself wishing he could go back to them.

Because at least he wasn’t blood related to that fruitloop. Unlike his newest problem.

Oh yeah, it turns out after that whole series of fights with Vlad about him being “Jack’s son”, Jack wasn’t even his actual biological father. Vlad had never known it (despite literally cloning him??), but Danny had been adopted by the Fentons when he was still very young.

And if that’s where things ended, he’d have been fine with that realization. The Fentons are still his family, blood or not. He doesn’t have any issue with that part.

But it turns out his biological father was another creepy rich fruitloop who somehow suddenly found out about Danny and now wants to force his way into his life. A fruitloop that’s even richer and evidently also better at being subtle than Vlad.

Bruce Wayne.

Yeah. He’d never thought he’d use the word “subtle” to describe Gotham’s ditzy playboy, but evidently the man was hiding a lot behind his dumb smile. If not for Tucker’s hacking ability and his own experience with being Phantom, he’d never have even noticed he was being spied on.

But he did notice, and now he’s been barely functioning from the anxiety. They must be planning something, but what? Are they going to try to hurt his family? Blackmail them? Do they believe the GIW’s lies? What if they find out about his powers? Can he even do anything to fight back without Bruce using his money to ruin their lives?

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

okay! here's the first poseidon 'snippet' . this takes place before and during this scene!

second snippet

there's a masterlist now!

hope you guys enjoy! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

*a few months after poseidon had left apollo’s infirmary finally all free of holes all healed up*

*up on olympus*

zeus: *bored outta his godly mind after 20 years of entertainment (especially those last 10 years)*

zeus: *suddenly struck with an idea*

zeus: *to no one in particular* i think i’m going to go pay my brother a visit… just to check on how he is…

zeus: *disappears in a flash of lightning*

hera: *entering the room*

hera: *stares at the scorch marks on the ground where zeus just was*

hera: *to herself* as long as its nothing to do with a woman or illegitimate child… then i don’t care.

*below the sea in poseidon’s palace*

*poseidon enjoying some peace and quiet; when in a flash, zeus on one of his very rare visits, appears in front of him*

zeus: *looking around the room* so… how are things?

poseidon:

poseidon: *sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose*

poseidon: what do you want zeus?

zeus: *ignoring poseidon’s question* where’s your queen?

poseidon: amphitrite is out visiting her sisters…wait never mind that-

poseidon: what do you want?

zeus: *now looking at poseidon* can’t i come see my big brother?

poseidon: you never bother, unless you want something.

poseidon: *anger now in his voice* so out with it.

zeus: *putting his hands up in front of him* whoa! no need to get angry…

zeus: *putting his hands down and a smirk appears* ...remember how that ended for you last time?

zeus: *smirk gets bigger* how you let odysseus beat you like that, i have no idea…

poseidon: *glaring at zeus* do not speak that name in my home

zeus: why my dear brother? are you perhaps… scared?

poseidon: *falling right into zeus provocations*

poseidon: i am NOT scared of that mons- mortal!

poseidon: he merely took advantage of my state after using a lot of my power!

zeus: *under his breath to himself* that power still didn’t kill him though, did it?

zeus: *to poseidon this time* but you’re not in that state now, are you? nor have you been since you left olympus… so what’s holding you back now?

poseidon: *raising an eyebrow at zeus* holding me back from what?

zeus: *knows he has poseidon hook, line and sinker*

zeus: i understand you can no longer hurt him or his family; unless you want to incur the wrath of my daughter… and i suppose even my wife

zeus: but you can make trouble for him still, can’t you?

poseidon:

zeus: *notices the slight hesitation*

zeus: or maybe you are truly fearful of him now? the mighty god of the seas, terrified of a mortal king.

poseidon: *blinks and then goes back to glaring at zeus*

poseidon: i told you i am not sca-

zeus: -then what’s stopping you?

poseidon: NOTH- *coughs* nothing.

poseidon: *crosses his arms and looks away from zeus*

zeus: *laughs knowing he’s done what he came here to do*

zeus: well, i shouldn’t stay too long away from olympus... enjoy the rest of your day brother.

zeus: *disappears in another flash of lightning*

poseidon: *looks at the scorch marks on his floor*

poseidon: he always leaves a mess…

poseidon: *thinking over the conversation again*

poseidon: i’ll show him who’s scared.

*outside the shores of ithaca*

poseidon: *looking the nice clear weather and seeing the merchant ships coming to and from ithaca*

poseidon: it would be a shame if something disrupted this...

poseidon: *smirks* *summons his trident & lifts it to the sky*

*the wind picks up and storm clouds quickly start forming*

poseidon: *can hear distant shouts of mortals reacting to the sudden storm*

poseidon: *laughs to himself* perfect.

poseidon: well, i guess i’ll leave this to brew. i’ll check back later to see what damage has happe-

poseidon: *a full body shiver comes over him out of nowhere*

poseidon: *turns to look at the ithacan docks where he can see..a mortal?*

poseidon: why i am i bothered by that mo-

poseidon: *sees deep red eyes and realises who the mortal is*

poseidon: -oh no.

*the king of ithaca odysseus stands there, glaring into the storm*

odysseus: *in a cold voice* I am going sailing with my son. There will be no issues, is that understood?

poseidon: *even though he knows odysseus can’t hear him* aye aye captain!

poseidon: *with a whimper calls off the storm immediately and quickly dives back under the water*

poseidon: *before he can completely leave, he can hear the voice of odysseus saying “good.”*

poseidon: *about to head straight back home but pauses*

poseidon: *remembers odysseus said he was going sailing with his son*

poseidon: *knows he may be god of the sea, but he can’t always be there to control what the residents of said sea get up too*

poseidon: maybe i should just make sure there’s nothing to make him angrier at me

poseidon: *secretly follows & stays near odysseus’ and telemachus’ ship*

[angelpuns]

Everything is very horrible today in an autistic meltdown kinda way so either I'll pop off and draw a lot or lay face down in bed doing nothing for several hours we'll just have to see

[iratempestatis]

I really don't think there's anything more tragic than the fact that Xiao used to have siblings. That once, he had a family too. Two brothers and two sisters. And he lost them. I don't know how to articulate it. Unless you have one already, I'd have to contrive you a sibling somehow. 

There's you, and there's your sibling, and sometimes you get along, and sometimes you don't. If you're close enough in age there's this… hyperspecific connect. You go to school together. You come back. You share a space with your friends. You leave, outgrow it. You share a space with parents. You leave it. You're always with your sibling, though. Sometimes there's no space. Sometimes you share a room. Sometimes you grow up and sometimes you don't. Sometimes you worry about something they're yet too young for. Or too old for. When you disappear and don't speak to anyone for weeks because you just need a break, your sibling is exempt. You ask them if they finished their assignments and they send a twelve second voicemail. It's silence for ten seconds and in the final two they whisper “cheese” and go offline. They're not a different person. They're just your sibling. You don't tell them everything about you. You don't have to. They don't have to know. They beg and beg for a bit of your french toast when they didn't do jack to help you make it and you say sure, I'll give you this tiny corner. But you have to do the dishes. You end up giving them a bit more anyway because they make puppy eyes at you. You remember being too young to understand why they always needed you but being there anyway. You remember no one raising them so you do it yourself. You yell and mess up with every step but there's nothing but love. I don't know. I can't explain it. If they asked me for a heart on a whim I'd tear out mine with my nails. Only for them. Parents die and friends move away and you move around but you have siblings. 

I think I've done a poor job of explaining it- but Xiao was the one who'd have eyed the toast without asking, I think, and one of his siblings would've given him a corner. “You have to polish my weapon in return, though!”

Did he ever wake up to Indarius’ screams? When the Karma got so bad and she feared everything? Did she try to overcome it? Did he see it? What if she screamed and he flew into her room? What if he watched her cry and begged the skies for an enemy he could kill, instead of this thing, this Karma, that was inside of her? That he could do nothing about? Did he despair? What if she looked at him as though it was her he was going to kill, what then? What if she tore his heart to pieces just by flinching away. What if he remembered eyeing her toast and her sniggering and giving him a tiny corner. She didn't even put any honey on it. “You have to polish my weapon in return, though!”

What if she saw him fly into the room and saw an enemy, juxtaposed over her brother. Her brother. What if she didn't remember that piece of toast. What if it wasn't that important a memory. What if a sweeter memory was of him sitting on a rock staring out at the stars, what then? What if it was a moment that passed him by and he'd never remember but what if Alatus looked at the stars once? Turned his face upwards and sat there illuminated by the moonlight? What if she wished she could keep him that way in amber forever? What if she didn't remember this memory either, because Alatus is before her, wings splayed and spear in hand and reaching for her? How could he become the enemy? How could he hurt her? What if she screamed for him and begged him to save her from himself?

“Who raised you?” Menogias maybe huffed once. “Were you raised in a barn?”

Maybe he'd realise no one raised Xiao, and quietly swear to do so himself. “Use these utensils. Why don't you find me funny?” Maybe Xiao looked at him, face carefully schooled into neutrality. What does this guy want from him? Why is he continuously dissatisfied with whatever Xiao does?

Why does this punk avoid me? Menogias maybe wondered. I'm trying to help. I'm just trying to help.

Maybe it took years, but maybe they thought they had forever, once. Maybe Menogias caught him clutching his chest and retching and crying and asked him what was wrong. Maybe there were no words either could have said, so he just stayed close. Maybe he got him new clothes. Maybe when Xiao got back Menogias threw out all of the old ones, and any goodwill he earned vanished in an instant. Unfitting and unflattering and undignified and un. But maybe they were his and Menogias threw them out. Maybe Xiao spoke to him in a fury, just once, genuine rage. They were his. Maybe Menogias understood, finally understood. The need to have something that was his. Maybe he laughed and laughed and Xiao grew angrier and angrier and maybe Menogias told him with sincere satisfaction- “you're finally telling me how you feel. Good job.” Maybe he gave the clothes back. Maybe Xiao gave Menogias a chance and wore what was made for him. Fitting and flattering and dignified and comfortable and nothing un. Tailored for him. For Alatus, not General Alatus. Because Menogias understood. Maybe he remembered Menogias quietly teaching him court etiquette when he didn't have to at all. Maybe when stone spires pierced Bonanus’ heart and tore it out with enough force to splatter godly blood all over Menogias’ aristocratic face, he remembered his brother quietly staying awake for days on end. Stitching together new clothes and a new understanding and a new life that he never even had to ask for. 

What if sweet, gentle Bonanus took one look at him and realised she had to love him. She had to, you see, because life without love is misery, and everyone needs a little, and this boy knows only his master's orders and his master's whims and his master's punishments. She didn't have to and it didn't happen in a day or a week or a month but she chose. What if she thought he needed love and what if she never thought she needed it too. What if he never reciprocated the caresses in his hair and piling of food onto his plate and introducing him to her friends and when he felt silent, giving him space. What if she was struck in battle one day and lay wondering if he loved her. What if Xiao saw his sister get struck down by an enemy he had no sympathy for in that moment. What if all humanity left him and his opponent, just for that moment. What if he left his post to fly at that wretched bastard because that was his sister, and just the day before she insisted he eat something nasty. He didn't know what was in it and he doubted she knew either but he remembered them gagging and retching and spitting it onto the grass outside and she laughed and laughed and cried “I've never seen you make that face before!” 

What if he abandoned his post- what if he thought his new master just as firm as his old. What if he left battle to bring his sister a medic. What if he quietly took whatever punishment was doled to him. What if she fought his master and asked furiously to be punished instead. What if Bosacius drew on him in his sleep and she laughed as she wiped it off because he nearly walked into the Guili Assembly with an inked face. What if he saw her cough blood and stare at Menogias with despair. Her heart a few inches from her torn chest. What if this time, Xiao came too late. What if he thought I've seen you make that face before. Just once, millennia ago. 

What if- where do I even start with Bosacius? Bosacius who remembered every tiny thing about Xiao? Bosacius, his Marshall, his brother, his brother. What has Bosacius not done for him? For all of them? Four arms for his four siblings. His. To bear the weight of the oldest for a bunch whose lives were torn asunder by a war none have a stake in. Bosacius raised them, loved them, led them. Who raised Bosacius? Who did Bosacius pray to? Did Xiao catch him sitting quietly alone, wondering how to do- everything? How do you teach something you never learned? How do you serve out of an empty basket? But he did. 

After Perilous Trail, Xiao stands quietly behind Pervases’ temple. The Chasm yielded closure. The Chasm yielded a rock. Did Xiao wish the Chasm yielded his brother instead? When it callously imitated his dead brother's arms- when he thought for a moment that it was Bosacius- did he want to run right into them? He fell right in, after all. He shut his eyes and fell right back in.  

After Perilous Trail, Xiao stands quietly behind Pervases' temple. "Unlike me, he was both a formidable warrior and a talented commander,” he says. But they're not around to tell him anymore- that he was one, too. 

[sunsetsandsunshine]

If I may request a Rise fic!! I’m a huge sucker for comfort/cheer up tickles, so could you possibly write a disaster twins fic with Lee Leo and Ler Donnie where Leo’s been having a pretty bad day (because of what is your choice!) and ends up feeling self conscious about himself and stuff, so Donnie decides to cheer up his twin!! Please don’t feel rushed and make sure you’re taking care of yourself ^_^

~ 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜!!! ~

💜💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 💜💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝚂𝙺𝙽𝚂𝙽𝙺𝙼𝙳𝙽𝚂𝙹 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄. 𝙶𝙴𝚃. 𝙼𝙴!!! 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝙹𝙰𝙼!!! 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚜…𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢..𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎??? 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!!!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟹𝟿𝟺

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝙱𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜:  @shut-up-jo @itzsana-kiddingmenow @aceofspades-doodles @ziipzeepzop-eez

@tmntheadforever123 @rice-cake-teen10 @aninabanina6969

@savemeafruitjuice @cedarrthefluffylee @saturnzskyzz @titters-and-tingles

@someone1348 @my-l0v3r-v3rse @snipersiniora @mistyandsnow

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙰𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚣𝚢…

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙷𝙴𝙴 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.” Leo grumbled under his breath as he rested his mouth on his palm, glancing away from his brother as he sighed loudly. 

“Well maybe if you weren’t so fucking reckless I wouldn’t need to.” Donnie growled lowly, glaring down at his twin.

“I’m not a baby, Don. I don’t need to be supervised like I’m some bomb triggered to explode.” The younger said in exasperation, lying down on his bed whilst grabbing a comic book to read off of his desk.

If Leo was going to be told off and scolded by his dear beloved brow-loving brother, he should at least have something to occupy himself with in the meanwhile. 

The softshell groaned eternally at his little brother’s action, quickly snatching the piece of literature out of the other’s hands and throwing it effortlessly to the ground. 

Uninterested lime green eyes locked with a determined yet fierce light golden, both of them refusing to look away or blink to show their dominance.

But after a while, the red eared slider grew more impatient, looking away again as he picked a hangnail on his thumb, “If you’re going to yell at me, can you just get it over with? I saw a reddit post predicting what’s going to happen in The Umbrella Academy season four and I need to read it.” 

“You can read that later, Nardo. I promise you, that reddit post isn’t going to fly away.” The elder said as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “What I need you to do right now is acknowledge what you did today was stupid, alright?” 

Leo looked away from his older brother, scoffing lightly, “I do stupid things all the time. What stupid action of mine are you wanting to scream at me for this time?” 

The softshell turtle took a couple deep breaths at that comment, drumming his fingers on his left arm in a soothing motion because he was NOT going to give into the urge of strangling his twin brother…

…No matter how much he deserved it.

“I’m not planning on screaming at you— that won’t help anyone or anything.” The purple banded turtle explained calmly…but you could see and tell he was starting to lose his paitence. 

“But you want to.” The red eared slider pressed on. 

“Leo…please. I don’t want to argue right now.” 

“We’re not arguing. We’re just kindly discussing my oh-so stupid descision that unfolded earlier today, right?” The younger twin smirked smugly, his eyes locking once again with his brother. 

When it came to arguments, the leader in blue always had this wonderful tactic to avoiding things: attempting to annoy the other person so much that they drop the subject they wanted to discuss with him completely.

It always worked with Raph…which the red eared slider didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But the only downside of doing this tactic was his dumb twin saw right through it…

…And Leonardo despised it. 

“Nardo…you know what I’m referring to. And stop picking, please. Your going to hurt yourself.” The older attempted to say in a tranquil voice, but it personally just sounded like he was one second away from losing. his. shell.

“I sadly do not know what your referring to.” The blue cladded teen said coyly, picking on his hangnail more desperately now, “Care to enlighten me, Tello?” 

Donnie’s expression hardened ever so slightly at his younger brother’s absolute persistence on annoying him out of his right mind so he could eventually drop the subject…but the softshell turtle was not budging.

His twin would have to try way harder than that.

“I’d love to.” The light golden eyed mutant said in a fake sweet tone as he walked over to lean his shell on Leo’s closed door, crossing his arms in disaproval. The elder grabbed his brother’s sword, planting it right next to his foot so the blue banded turtle couldn’t reach for it. 

The red eared slider’s cocky grin turned to a small grimace (shake) as he soon came to terms with what his older brother was doing…

…He physically could not leave from this conversation…literally.

Leonardo crossed his arms, trying to mimick the other’s serious demeanor but was only met with an icy glare in return. 

“What you did during today’s mission was completley reckless and idiotic, Leonardo…and you know it.” The second oldest said, “I had that thug exactly where I wanted him but noooooo. Because you saw me trip you thought it would be a spectacular idea to throw yourself on top of me as that hooligan tried to hit me with his bat!!” Donatello seethed. 

“We’ve been over this multiple times, Leo! There was no reason for you to do that!” The light golden eyed teen yelled, his glare only hardening more as he saw the younger stuttering over his words to try to defend himself.

“I’m not done.” The taller teen growled, all of his calmness and collectiveness thrown completley out of the window.

The slider slightly flinched (which went un-noticed by the other) at his brother’s genuine angry tone, his left leg fidgeting and bouncing up and down like crazy. 

His tactic was really starting to not work in his favour at all…

“Just…stop putting yourself in the middle of danger like you’re just expecting the rest of us to just watch. We’re your family…and most importantly, we can defend ourselves just fine.” 

“Well ihisn’t that hypocritic!” Leonardo scoffed before creasing his eye ridges together in genuine confusion, mumbling to himself, “Hyp…uh…hypocrotic? Hyp…Hypocratic…?” 

“Hypocritical?” The older deadpanned.

“YES! THAT WORD!” Leo said, “When we were fighting Kraang Prime on the ship and he went to take a blow at Mikey…what did you do?”

Donatello scowled, his eyes not leaving his twin, “…I went in front of him and shielded him with my mystic tech.”

“Exactly.” The lime green eyed mutant scoffed, “And how is that any different from what I did, hm?”

“BECAUSE I HAD A PLAN!!!” Donatello shouted, “I planned to accordingly go in front of Mikey so my sheild could protect both him and me. Did it end up turning out perfect? Fuck no. Kraang Prime slashed right through it and me and Mikey went tumbling towards the ground…” The glasses wielding teen said through clenched teeth. 

The light golden eyed teen rubbed his face tiredly, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration, “But I had a plan. You on the other hand, just zoomed recklessly on top of me and hoped for the best.”

“…I saved you, didn’t I…?” The younger twin mumbled out meekly, causing Donatello’s blood to absolutley boil. 

“That’s not the point!!!” The elder said as he clenched his hands at his sides again.

“Then what is?!” Leo said desperately, “Because from the looks of it, it just seems like you want to yell at me for just doing my job.” 

Leonardo pulled on his mask tails anxiously, trying to calm himself down but ultimately just making himself feel worse by doing the action, “I’ve been trying to be a better leader—“

“Leo—“

“—For you and Mikey and April and Raph and Casey and C.J. a-and Dad! But it seems like no matter what the hell I do there’s always something I’m doing WRONG!!!” The younger twin shouted, blinking back tears as he glared at the ground as if it took his Jupiter Jim comic.

Which…it did. The blue banded mutant wanted it back now, actually…

“I saved you! I-I didn’t even get hurt by doing it but somehow there’s an issue…” The lime green eyed teen murmured, both of his legs bouncing up and down as he tugged on his mask tails harder, “There always is…”

“Leonardo can you please just listen to me?” The older twin said in irritation. 

“But Don I’m—“

“No, Leo! Just listen! That’s all you need to do!” Donnie snapped as he cut his brother off, “I don’t want you leaping head first into harms way! At all! Especially if you don’t have a plan!” The softshell turtle exclaimed as he flapped his hands against the side of his thighs, but his eye contanct remaining on his little brother.

“Oho so now you don’t trust me well enough to know that I can handle myself in combat?” Leo said in a last desperate attempt to make his brother drop the conversation.

“I…” The young scientist’s eye twitched, his eyebrows creasing together as he had to physically restrain himself to not beat the ever living crap out of the other teen, “THIS IS NOT ABOUT TRUST, NARDO!” The light golden eyed mutant screamed desperately, his hands flapping faster as the red eared slider shrunk at his usage of tone, “This is about you not even thinking about what would happen to yourself when you do reckless nonsense like this.”

Leo glanced to the side, his eyes watering as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He just wanted to help and be the leader his brother’s deserved…

But he always found a way to fuck it up without even noticing, huh?

"You don't think about what could happen to you and I hate it!” The elder cried, “What would’ve happened if Raph didn’t come behind the guy and knocked him out cold at the last second, huh?! Would you have just stayed right on me as he continued to beat you with his bat?!”

Leonardo bit the inside of his cheek harder, his legs bouncing up and down more as his fingernails dug unforgivingly into his arms, “I-I’m sorry, Donnie—”

“Or would you have tried to fight him instead?! Mind you, you dropped your sword before coming to me so you’d have no weapon to defend yourself.” 

“You don't think about how much it scares me when you do dumb shit like that! I hate seeing you get hurt…I freaking loathe it.” Donnie rested the back of his head on Leo’s door, taking a couple deep breaths and hugging himself in an attempt to calm himself down.

Jeez…when the hell had he started yelling? His throat stung like a bitch now…

And when had he started shaking like a bobby head?!

The older twin’s expression softened, pinching the bridge of his snout once more, “I care about you…so fucking much, okay…?” The purple banded turtle said gently as he gradually started to simmer down and become more calm, “Your my twin…my little brother. And I hate to be repetitive but I-I just despise seeing you hurt…physically or emotionally…so please just…”

The young scientist’s eyes widened, peering down at his brother who did not seem to be following…at all. 

Leo’s eyes were wide as saucers as he hit his arm with his fist repeatedly whilst obviously trying to suck in whatever tears dared to try and escape. 

The taller turtle basically ran to his distressed twin, trying to stop him from harming himself any further but was only met with a low grunt.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Fucking shit. 

Wonderful job, Donatello! You yelled at your brother so much he shut down!

Even though you knew he can’t fucking stand being yelled at and the whole point of you even being here was to explain what he did wrong collectively and calmly because that was the exact oppositeof what Raph does when he’s worried…

But no! You yelled at him anyway.

Wonderful job, Donatello…wonderful. job. 

The older twin sighed sadly, gently grabbing his brother’s wrists so he would stop hitting himself. The two brother’s shared eye contact once again, an unsure lime green meeting an understanding yet uncertain light golden.

“Nardo…” The softshell started, squeezing the other’s hands gently, “…Are you with me, bud…?”

Leo just nodded quietly, squeezing back. 

“God…Nardo I’m so sorry…” The older muttered, “I don’t…I don’t know why the hell I lost my cool like that. I-I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t of yelled…I-I just…” Donatello sighed, squeezing his brother’s hands once again. “I’m not angry with you. I…I was just frustrated.”

“Well, no…let me rephrase: I am angry with you— livid even. You know damn well enough that when you do those kinds of things my heart literally jumps out of my shell. I need you to put into consideration that I would like to live to at least seventy-seven…”

The younger twin giggled wetly, fidgeting with his brother’s fingers as he spoke, “…Why seventy-seven?”

“Albert Einstein died when he was seventy-six…I can and will outlive him.” The light golden eyed teen said matter-of-factly, “But back to what I was initially saying…I know you meant well. You saw that I was in trouble…and you dropped literally everything in order to help me get out of said trouble. You don’t think of what happens to you…you just do it because you’ll know if you do we’ll be alright…”

“I-I just…I just wanted to protect you…I-I just wanted to help…” Leo tried to explain.

“I know. I know, Lee…” Donatello sighed, rubbing the slider’s knuckles gently with his thumb, “But you need to understand that with you trying to protect us that way, your putting us in the same situation your trying to keep us away from.” The elder explained lightly, smiling softly as him and his twin’s forehead’s touched. 

“You’re getting hurt— or at the very least almost getting hurt. We’re feeling the same anguish and guilt you would feel if any of us did that. I get that you want to be a good leader and shit…but you can lead well without doing that…okay?” 

Leo fiddled with the other’s fingers a bit more, his bouncing leg starting to calm a bit, “I’ll…try to be more careful when it comes to me protecting you guys like that. When I see you all in trouble…I just…react. I don’t really care about what happens to me as long as you guys end up okay. But…I’ll try to be more careful. And if I ever end up, like, being a bit too reckless…you can just tell me…deal?”

“Deal.” Donnie nodded, squeezing Leo’s hands one last time before letting go, wiping his twin’s eyes with his hoodie sleeve, “Now please stop crying or you’re going to make me start crying.” 

Leo snorted, examining the other’s now tearing up expression, “I think it’s a bit too late for that…” 

“GAH! FUHUCK!” Donnie cursed, wiping his own eyes as the slider laughed loudly at his exclamation.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Leo…don’t you think you’re getting a bit too big for this…?” Donatello grumbled as Leonardo was on his lap, getting all nice and comfy as he rested his chin on the older’s shoulder. “Noooope.” Leo drawed out, making a dramatic popping noise at the end of the 'p', “'Sides, this is what you get for making me emo earlier.”

“…I said I was sorry…I didn’t mean to shout at you like that. I was just concerned…” 

“I know that, you worrywart. I was just kidding.” The lime green eyed teen said lovingly, squishing his brother into a tighter embrace. The older let out a short shriek at the hug but of course didn’t mind the other being so clingy. 

If the young scientist really and truly did mind? Leo would’ve been pushed to the floor by now. 

The two twins shared a comfortable silence…well…a semi-comfortable silence.

The purple banded teen felt…off. His younger brother had this…look in his eyes; like he wanted to say something but was afraid of what Donnie would say or how Donnie would react.

Which was so damn dumb Donatello didn’t even know how to explain it.

“…There’s something else on your mind.” The taller turtle hummed, his suspicions only rising as the other glanced to the side. “Uhm…no there isn’t. See? This is why I call you a worrywart.” Leonardo said, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously. 

Very convincing Leo…very convincing.

“Don’t even try lying to me, Leon. My older brother and twin senses are tingling. You can’t argue against that kind of logic.” The scientist said matter-of-factly. 

“What are you, Spiderman?” The younger snorted. 

“We shall never know.” The older shrugged, a small smile spreading to his face as he saw the other snort softly at his statement, “Now stop deflecting. Spill.” 

“…Can you…adjust my elbow braces…?” The red eared slider muttered.

“…Why can’t you do it?” The other questioned. Not in a malicious way; he was just genuinely curious. 

“I like it when you do it. You make it more firm, y'know?” The blue banded turtle whined dramatically, “Pleeeeeease?”

“Ugh, Jesus— fine. But drop the pout…you look ridiculous.” The taller mutant sighed, lightly grabbing his brother’s arm as he readjusted the braces. 

The purple banded turtle meticulously took off the other’s left arm brace, tracing his twin’s elbow to make sure it was healing correctly— which the slider couldn’t help but wriggle slightly to.

As the older twin put the brace back on, he looked at the other turtle in complete worry, “…Why are you squirming around so much?” Donatello asked in confusion. 

“…No reason.” Leonardo stated, but let out a tiny squeak as Donnie lightly pinched his forearm. 

“Yohou okay…?” The glasses wielding mutant giggled.   

“I-I’m fihine!” The smaller turtle insisted, covering his mouth as he let out a loud shriek in result to his brother now lightly scribbling his forearm. “EEEEE! P-Plehease moohoove yohour hahahand!!” The younger sputtered out, hiding his face in the crook of the scientist’s neck which the older turtle couldn’t help but let his heart melt to.

“Oh.” Donatello hummed, biting back an amused laugh, “Sorry. Sometimes I forget how ticklish you are…”

“Snrt I-Ihihi’m nahat ticklish. I juhust don’t wahant your hand thehere…” 

And isn’t that quaint. 

If Donnie had a penny for every time Leo said he 'wasn’t ticklish', the softshell would be richer than Elon Musk.

“…Right. So…you wouldn’t mind me doing this then?” The young genius mused as he scribbled one hand over his twin’s ribs. “EEEEHEH! Duhuhude noHOH!! F-Fuhuck yohou!” The younger twin managed through his small giggles, pushing on his brother’s plastron to try and escape while he still could.

The elder laughed fondly at his little brother’s futile actions, hugging him closer as he lightly tickled him, “Nahardo! My brohohother in Christ gehet back here or you’re gohoing to fahall off of the bed!

“N-NOHO!! LEHET ME GO!” The lime green eyed teen screeched loudly, kicking his legs and pushing even harder on the other’s plastron, his eye’s widening in panic as his older brother casually lifted him up and pinned his arms above his head, his plastron now facing up on the bed.

Eugh boy…

Donnie grinned, sitting on the other’s thighs as he wiggled his unoccupied fingers in the air near the slider’s side, “That’s better~!”

“WAHAIT WAHAHAIT snrt PLEHEASE DEEHEE!!” The red eared slider cried, kicking his legs from underneath the scientist.

If he was going to go down…he would at least go down fighting. 

“I haven’t even touched you yet, you goof…” The older twin chuckled. 

“B-BUHUT YOHOUR GOHOHONNA!” 

“'Gonna' what, exactly?”

“TihiHICKLE ME!!” 

“Tickle you? Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Donatello snickered, using his free hand to skitter his fingers along the crook’s of the younger’s neck. 

The blue banded turtle squealed, shaking his head back in forth whilst scrunching his shoulders, “GAHaha— snrt EEEEHEEHEH oho cohome snrt OHAHAN!!” 

“What’s wrong, Leo? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish~?” The older teased.

“Snrt STHDHAHAH! Shuhut UP! IHI’M naHAT!” The younger shouted, tugging and pulling his arms to try and get his hand’s free from the other’s grasp. Donnie just laughed softly at the action, wiggling his fingers above his little brother’s stomach. 

The lime green eyed teen’s eyes widened in panic, thrashing in the hold to try and loosen his brother’s grip but the purple banded turtle did not budge even a smidge. 

Leo’s laughs became more giddy and loud as he continued to squirm, small squeals and snorts escaping his beak as his twin brother’s hand went sloooooowly to his stomach. 

“N-NOHO NONONONO DAHA— snrt DOHON!!” The smaller turtle snorted, hiding his face in the side of his arm which Donnie couldn’t help but giggle to. 

The light golden eyed mutant rested his hand on the slider’s plastron, making the younger turtle’s laugh raise almost a thousand octaves. 

“DOHON’T snrt DOHON’T DOHOHON’T snrt YOU DARE!! YOHOUR SOHO MEEHEEHEEAN!!” Leonardo whined, hiding deeper into his arm and becoming a giggly flustered mess.

The older twin shook his head fondly at his little brother’s embarrassed state, taking the opportunity to tickle the younger’s stomach while he wasn’t looking. 

Leo let out a loud scream, descending into high-pitched cackles as even louder snorts followed, “HAHAHAHELP!! IHI’M SNRT BEEHEEING SLAHAHAUTERED!!” 

“I’m quite literally only using one hand, Nardo. Stop being dramatic.” The light golden eyed teen mused whilst watching his brother snort and squirm, “And here I thought I was the dancer of the family. Look at you! You’re making up a whole dance routine right now!” He said as he let go of Leo, crossing his arms in amusement. 

“S-Shuhuhut snrt up…” The younger twin wheezed out, hugging his middles as he playfully glared at his purple loving brother. 

Then, a lightbulb went on in the scientist’s brain, a smug smile spreading to his face, “Hm…you know, Lee—”

“Dohont call snrt me thahat!” Leo giggly interupted. 

“Uh-huh. Well, Lee…did you know that the underarms are one of the warmest places on the human body?” The scientist said. 

The lime green eyed mutant cocked his head to the side in confusion, “Soho?” 

“Soooo my hands are cold. Very cold, in fact. I’d be forever in your debt if you could—”

“NO! NONOHO WAHAY IN HEHELL! G-GOHO AWAHAHAY!” Leo squealed, reaching for his brother’s wrists as the elder tried to tickle his neck once again.

Sigh…Leonardo made this too damn easy sometimes.

The glasses wielding teen wasn’t just going to miss this oh-so-definetly-not-planned opportunity! The softshell scribbled his fingers along the slider’s underarms, making the younger let out a loud squawk as he shot his arms down. 

“NAHAH AHAHAHA— snrt GEHET THEHE HEHELL OHAHA— snrt OHOHOUT!!” Leonardo cried while banging his heels on the bed. 

“What~?” Donnie hummed inocently. 

“GEHEHET AHA— snrt GEHET. OHOUT. OHOF THEHEHERE!”

“Awe…why~?”

“BEEHEECAUSE IHIT’S SOHO BAHAHAD!!!” 

“And?” Donnie chuckled, “That sounds like a you problem, little brother.” 

“AHHHAHA— snrt GAHAHAD FUHUCK YOHOU!!!”

“Pardon…what was that?” Donnie questioned as he pinched where Leo’s hip met his thigh. “N-NONO— snrt NAHAHAH!! I CAN’T— snrt PLEHEHEASE I’M snrt SORRY!! I-IHI TAHAHAKE IHIT BAHAHCK!!” 

“Nah…I think I’ll just stay riiiiight here for a bit…” The taller turtle smiled, using both of his hands now to tickle Leo into a laughing and snorting blob.

The younger weakly hit his big brother’s arms, throwing his head back as he squeezed his eyes completely shut. 

“…And you know what, Lee~?” 

“WHAHAHAT NOW?!” 

“I’m feeling…kind of famished.” The elder mused, his smile almost looking like the signature Joker’s as he saw his younger brother’s face pale. 

Leonardo scrambled to sit up, fighting with his brother’s arms as he giggly protested, “PLAHA— snrt PLAHAHEASE! PLEHEASE snrt D-DOHON’T!!” 

Donnie pinched his brother’s thighs unforgivingly, “You should have thought about that before yapping such ill nonsense about yourself.”

“WHAHA— snrt WHAHAHA— snrt WHAHAT DIHID snrt IHIHI snrt EVEN SAHAHAY?!” The lime green eyed turtle cackled, flapping his hands on the mattress. 

It took literally everything in the older twin not to coo his baby brother’s adorable actions; instead, he lightly moved Leo’s hands away, smiling evily as he lowered his head to the other’s plastron, “You don’t even know. Guess you really want this, huh~?” 

The blue banded teen kicked his knees into his brother’s shoulders and shell, throwing his head back in complete hysterics whilst waiting for him complete and utter demise. 

The softshell wasted no time blowing raspberries after raspberries in the middle of his younger’s stomach, making sure to move the other’s hands away any time he tried to push at the young genius’ head. 

Donnie didn’t feel like getting brain damage after all.

Plus, he had his signature glasses ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ᴛᴍ on! And those were trademarked…as you can wonderfully see. 

“God…can you get more ticklish?” Donatello giggled, squeezing and squishing the red eared slider’s knees with one hand and scribbling his sides with the other whilst contuinung to raspberry Leo’s stomach. 

“DEEHEE DEEHEEHEE SNRT PLEHEHEASE!!! IHI SNRT DAHAHAH— SNRT DAHA— SNRT DAHUNNO!!” The smaller turtle screamed, happy stimming with his arms on the taller twin’s shoulder.

Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, deciding to show his twin a tad bit of mercy as he nibbled his stomach lightly. 

The slider let out bloody murder from his beak, happy tears threatening to fall from his eyes as his bubbly cackles and snorts bounced off the walls of his room.

“Jeez…I think Peppa Pig has some competition, huh~?” The light golden eyed mutant snickered.

“PLEHEHEASE!! TEHEHELLO SNRT IHI’M GOH— SNRT GOHOHA— AHAHA SNRT MYHYHY SNRTGAHAHAHAD!!!” The smaller teen pleaded.

“Do you promise to stop putting yourself in between danger and your family?” The older hummed. 

“YEHEHES!!” The younger cried loudly.

“Do you promise to go easier on yourself?” 

“YAHA— SNRT YAHA— SNRT YEHEHES!!!”

“Do you promise to accept your doing an amazing job as leader and we all love you—”

“MY SNRT FUHUHUCKING SNRT GAHAHAD!!! IHIHI SNRT GEHET IT!!” Leonardo shouted, his blush now completley blending into the red stripes on his face. 

The softshell turtle got off of the other, sitting next to his little brother as his little brother in question hugged his middles and giggled tiredly. 

“Y-Yohou could ohof juhuhust sahaid ahall of thahat wihihithout tickling meeheee…” The younger grumbled despite the evident smile on his face.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Donnie smiled back, his expression softening as Leo got up and leaned against him softly. The older wraped an arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him closer into a warm, protective gesture. 

“Ahand would yohohou look ahat that! Ihi got yohour emo bahad boy ahahass to smile todahay. Your eheeven hugging me~!” The blue banded leader spoke softly, his voice filled with affection as he poked his twin’s forehead cheekily. 

“You tell anyone that and I will not hesitate to deny that extremely untrue statement.” The scientist huffed, rolling his eyes fondly as his smile spread.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[luriddaze]

"oh, absolutely. the big thing that sucks with working with family is work drama is also family drama," he explained with a shrug of his shoulders. luckily, it was usually stupid tifs that passed in a day or two. he took the last swig of his drink and turned his focus fully to her, noticing that hers was dwindling too. he hoped that didn't mean she was going to leave too soon. "that does sound refreshing. if i wasn't a fucking clutz, i'd try it out for myself. i also don't have the ice skater look, i'm afraid. you'd have to let me down easy if i decided it was something i wanted to do," he faked a pout in her direction. "uh, do you want anything else?"

" yeah... no, it's nice to want to keep it in the family. makes it a little better. selling to the starbucks would make it lose it's soul or whatever and that's never good. " ezra's hand circled around the glass, eyes falling to the lack of liquid that now filed it. she could finish it, quick and easy. it was what she had intended when she picked up the glass. " i don't mean to brag, but i am pretty good. " or at least she was until she got herself injured. " trick for finding ice skaters is the go to the ice rink super early. nothing better than waking up with the cold air on your face. " ezra set the glass down, still with the last sip of her drink.