#everyone will either really like this or really hate it

[supermassiveblackholeeyes]

Note: I wrote these at least twice but I can't find the last one.

1: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

yes. more so with my dad than my mom, but overall - yes.

2: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

margarita

3: Do you regret anything?

yes a lot of things. esp regarding my studying and career choices.

4: Are you insecure?

I thought I was not but I realized that yes, I am a bit. Regarding my body and youknowwhat.

5: What is your relationship status?

Single as always LMAOO kai-

6: How do you want to die?

I want to be able to tell the people who love me dearly that I will be alright and that I am extremely happy for the life and love I got to live and feel - After I tell them all this, and then I don't know.

7: What did you last eat?

lots of chocolates and now I'm not feeling good

8: Played any sports?

I kinda tried to learn tennis but I couldn't, was fine while it lasted though. I'm hoping I'll learn skiing or snowboarding this year. or boxing. I'll be very very content and happy if I do. (psst or calistenics)

9: Do you bite your nails?

just the ... skin around...........

10: When was your last physical fight?

have never had a serious physical fight I think. but slapped my sister a few days ago nothing serious. BECAUSE she pissed me off ok?

11: Do you like someone?

nope. A fictional crush Vi yes. but apart from that noooo. or maybe? no. or maybe....

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

wow. no.

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

Hate is a strong word. many do annoy me but I love them all. I hate many government officials though. obviously.

14: Do you miss someone?

Yes my relative who is in the states.

15: Have any pets?

YESYESYES. I have a cat and a little dog. one is 3 and the other is 1. and also two dogs. but the first two are the ones I am close to and love veryverymuch.

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

I am feeling a bit stressed and over stimulated. and annoyed. I don't know the exact reason why. maybe because I haven't left the house for days even though I wanted to. and I am angry at everybody who I could've gone out with but I did not.

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

no just a peck on the lips but friendly.

18: Are you scared of spiders?

Yes.

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

Yes. Yes. A hundred times yes.

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

I'll search up what that is n come back to yall.

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

I don't even know what day it is.

22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

I go from no to yes a lot. so it was yes for a long while and now, like now these past weeks I feel like I don't want any? I am a confused individual so I truly don't know. but if I do I want 2. a girl first and then a boy.

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

Noo. Only have ear piercings. I'm getting the itch to have some more either on the side of my nose, or brows, or lips. but I don't like the permanent scar that it leaves so I guess I'm good without them.

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

Now this question made me sad. because once, centuries ago, it was maths. and now? I do not know... Nothing. I really am good at nothing for now.

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

I always miss at least someone. I miss my relatives who are in the states... I miss my friends who were once my neighbors (or maybe the times I spent with them). I miss everybody always.

26: What are you craving right now?

A good balanced meal. A big jug of room temp water. My room and a new gym membership.

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

Yes.

28: Have you ever been cheated on?

I've never been anything.

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

Not boyfriendboyfriend or girlfriendgirlfriend but I think maybe... but of course not on purpose

30: What’s irritating you right now?

Everything. the temperature in the house. people. my friends. this country. the world. humankind and everyone.

31: Does somebody love you?

Idk about romantic love but other than that of course. :)

32: What is your favourite color?

Black. navy blue. pink. green. pink and green together. green and red together.

33: Do you have trust issues?

yes, but I also have trust issues towards myself because I don't remember shit.

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

A reaaaaaally weird and creepy dream that I was in a huge, tall hotel on the last floor and it was all dark except of the last floor where I was and I was shitscared. another was that some ti tu shkbi found me and found out I was spreading info about them (which I was not) and tried to beat me up but fortunately I was the one who beat them up in the end.

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

My sister.

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

Not really?

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

easier to forgetttt. I am not forgiving sh1

38: Is this year the best year of your life?

no but it was the best year after 2019 at least.

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

... girl don't ask.

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

no? tf.

51: Favourite food?

Maybe sushi? And there is this bomb ass tofu salad I love that too. and a nice pizza, there was one in Italy with some pears on it. fantastic. also anything with truffle. I love food... I also kinda became a pescatarian this year, Which I thought would never happen. Oh and add khinkali to the list!

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

No. I think that's a bit selfish and evil to think so. Not everybody deserves the things that happen to them. I believe more in the "meant to be"... that not everything can be predicted.

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

Unfortunately nothing. I did dance a bit and daydream, and ate an orange before that.

54: Is cheating ever okay?

nope. Unless the partner is like ab*sive or a cheater themselves. or something veryveryveryveryveryvery bad and you can't get out of the relationship.

55: Are you mean?

I-... I try not to be? I truly think I am not. I just.. sometimes ON accident I am mean.

56: How many people have you fist fought?

bruh... none.

57: Do you believe in true love?

Yea... Starting to doubt it a BIT. but yes. Also when I say doubt it I mean doubt that there is the ONE that is meant for you.

58: Favourite weather?

Spring weather... late may. When you can wear jeans/pants and a short-sleeve on top. and some sneakers. my fav.

59: Do you like the snow?

Yes. haven't experienced it in a long time.

60: Do you wanna get married?

yea........................................... I think?.......

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

Woof woof. Yes.

62: What makes you happy?

When I have my sh1t together. So eating good balanced meals, sleeping well, reading, ditching scrolling and daydreaming, GOOD GRADES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! my family, good weather, the sea, going out with friends in the evening when the weather is nice, food. which I already said... When I am good at something. Nice and pretty clothes (good quality fabric), pretty thrifted shoes, good skincare. Beauty.

63: Would you change your name?

No I love my name.

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

Yea I have issues.

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Reject them-

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

YES.

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

Just talked to? my stepfthr.

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

Maybe my sister? I don't know.

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

I believe you are meant to meet certain people.

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

yes.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[pshbites]

SUPER RICH KIDS ━ psh

pairing : richboy!sunghoon x fem!reader genre : sort of strangers to lovers, mix of angst and fluff but mostly fluff, sort of in an unspoken but aware relationship at the end warnings : mentions of fake friends, drug usage, and backstabbing, not proofread, excessive use of commas lol.. i think that’s it synopsis : the last person you expected to have a connection with was park sunghoon but you were proven wrong wc : 1.1k a/n : first fic of the new year LESSGOO. yes this is heavy inspo off of super rich kids by frank ocean AND this is dedicated to my lizzie bear larb u

if u enjoyed pls like & reblog, feedback is also always appreciated!!

“eating alone are you?” sunghoon spoke, making you look up from your lunchbox. he entered the dark corridor where you sat and looked down at you. “if you’re here to make fun of me then go away” you sighed out, taking a bite of the rice ball you made this morning. “i could, but that’s no fun is it?” he said, sitting down on the other side of the narrow hallway, stretching his legs out so they were right next to you. he crossed his arms and looked down in his lap. 

“surprised you’re sitting down, i figured a rich kid like you wouldn’t want to get his fancy clothes dirty” you scoffed making sunghoon roll his eyes at you. “oh shut it, i couldn’t care less about clothes right now, don’t you have any friends to eat lunch with?” you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “i could ask you the very same thing” you mumbled back, taking another bite of your rice ball. 

in your four years of attending this academy never has park sunghoon ever willingly talked to you. he acknowledged your existence which was better than what he did to most, but that never meant you were off limits to the constant teasing and remarks from his friend group. that was the norm for you, a non wealthy kid, to be going to a school surrounded by rich kids. always on the outside looking in. 

“isn’t it pathetic, i mean to not have any friends” sunghoon looked at you, tilting his head. you couldn’t tell if he meant that in a sincere way or a taunting way, either way your answer would’ve been the same. “i’d rather not have any friends than have ones who betray me” you said, mouth suddenly feeling bitter that the thought of your ‘friend’ who backstabbed you in the worst way possible. “i agree” sunghoon mumbled, now looking down at the floor. you furrowed your brows, “weren’t you just with them earlier?” making him roll his eyes once more. 

he shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. “you wouldn’t get it” you raised your eyebrow and sat up straighter as well, setting your lunchbox down, crossing your arms and staring back at him. “try me.” he sighed out and threw his head back, “i found out everyone in my life hates me, and my best friend slept with my ex-girlfriend.” you furrowed your brows, still looking at him. he adjusted his head straighter, looking back at you. “i feel like everything is so fake now, that this idea i had of them is just gone.” you nodded, pursing your lips in thought. you hesitated before speaking up. 

“i mean, did you really think they were your real friends?” 

“what.” 

you shrugged and threw your hands up, “your name holds value sunghoon, i’m sure you know that and i’m more than sure they did too.” sunghoon clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes again, clearly annoyed about what you were insinuating. deep down though he knew you were right, it was true. “guess no amount of wealth can get me a friend” he laughed dryly making you frown slightly. just before you could speak up, the bell for lunch rang out. you silently got together your things and stood up, sunghoon did as well. just before sunghoon left, you stopped him. “same time tomorrow?” you said, making him look back at stare at you before he walked off without a word. 

…

you didn’t expect much but sunghoon was there the next day and the day after and the day after. soon enough you had been eating lunch in that same hallway for one whole month. in that time you had gotten to know sunghoon more, causing the both of you to open up and confide in one another. you learned more about sunghoons fake friends and he learned about your friend, it was weird how one common thread could bring you two so close. 

“all they do is get high off their face, i don’t think im missing out much” sunghoon said, speaking of his friend groups infamous parties making you laugh. “and drinking ancient liquor” you added making sunghoon laugh along with you. the two of you sat next to one another, sharing whatever lunch you had packed for yourself that day. you quickly realized that sunghoon hadn’t ever had home cooked lunches, it was always dinner at a fancy restaurant or some world renowned private chef making luxury meals. it was odd, despite your differences you hadn’t expected sunghoon to grow so close to you. 

it fell silent between the two of you as you silently ate your food. sunghoon finally broke the silence with an interesting statement. “im finally gonna confront them, about it all” he turned to you, you giving him a shocked expression. “really?” he nodded, taking a sip of the water bottle you brought for him. “i have evidence and proof of everything so im gonna confront them tonight and i think it’ll all end.. my friendship between them” the two of you held eye contact in silence over sunghoons words, a part of you was proud of him the other part felt sorry for him. 

he looked ahead at the wall across from you two, setting down the sandwich you made. “it’s weird how i went from having it all to nothing. like no one even cares anymore” he sighed out, making you frown softly. you hesitated before reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers. “you have me, i care for you” you breathed out, making sunghoon look in your eyes. you both felt that. 

that weird feeling where everything clicks, where you feel.. okay after not feeling okay for months. that feeling where nothing else matters except the person sitting right beside you. that feeling when you tell this person more things that you don’t even tell your family. that feeling of pure infatuation and almost love. maybe you loved sunghoon or maybe you just strongly liked him. whatever it was it was real and you both could feel it but you could feel it even more in this moment. 

“i care for you too,” he said, still lost in your eyes. maybe that was your way of saying you liked each other but it didn’t matter because the message was across, he didn’t jerk his hand away from yours when you reached for it but instead he scooched closer to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you stared at the wall across from you. 

teenage love wasn’t something you desired but maybe, unknowingly, you found it when you least expected it. 

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - In My Brain and In My Blood

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: This story is non-canon compliant rewrite, but primarily plot wise. Think of it as we're cooking with all the same ingredients (i.e lore, characters, setting, and backstory) but with one change (you) that gets us to a drastically different ending.

What the means is that there will be a lot of similar plot points to the real Supernatural, but the further we go through the story the more it will diverge. I've also take some creative labor with the reader, adding lore that's defiantly not a part of canon, but crucial to this story.

If you have any questions about this, feel free to ask! If not, I hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter title is from The End by Halsey

Word Count: 16.3k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See the Masterlist for a Summary. Contains usual tags.

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

Chapter 2

Read on A03!

You know a few things about the dark.

It’s alive inside you. It has been your whole life. It makes your words too harsh and your brain too sharp and your love too big. It’s makes you too fragile, but still too sharp, and raises everything to a dangerous height you don’t know how to come down from. It makes everyone move away because they can see it. You can see it, always.

It covers every corner of your body, and grows roots in something white in your chest. Something no one but you can see. You’d asked your dad once—does he feel it too, feel the strange glow and pull of everything beautiful around you—and he’d looked at you like you were insane.

You might be.

But it’s hard not to be, in this line of work. 

Hunting. Monsters and ghosts and nightmares, all around you and calling to you in your sleep. It’s where most of the darkness lives, in the way that few monsters lay hands on you, no matter how much of their blood you shed. Ghosts will treat you like any other, but the monsters look at you like they recognize you. 

Like you’re one of them.

And that’s something you’ve never told your dad. You never will. He already hates that you do this, and not a month goes by where he doesn’t glare at you from across the table, beer bottle in hand, and ask you to stop.

“Kiddo,” he’d grunted the last time, narrowing his eyes at you over dinner. “That was the last one.”

“You say that every time-“

“And you ain’t listenin’ to me every time!” He’d snapped. “You don’t have to do this shit, not with your-“ He’d made a face, giving you a pointed look. “Ya’ know. Thing.”

“Witch.” You’d sighed. “You’re allowed to say it. I’m a witch.”

“You ain’t a witch-“

“I’m not a normal witch.” You’d corrected with a frown, picking at the wood of the table. “But I’m still not human.”

“You’re human,” he’d muttered your name, and when you’d looked up, he’d been staring at you with an exhausted expression and you’d felt something eat at your tongue. “But you’re right. You ain’t normal, kiddo, and it’s gonna get you fuckin’ killed-“

“It hasn’t yet-“

“It will. It always does.” He’d stood, giving you one last, tired look. “And I’m not tryin’ to lose you too.”

You’d given him a close-lipped smile. “You won’t lose me. I’m being careful.”

He’d rolled his eyes—you were being careful, and he knew it, but it still pissed him off—and nodded. And that had been it.

It’s like that every time. He tells you to quit, because you don’t need to do this, and you tell him you have to. You’re good at it. You’re more resourceful than half the hunters he knows, smarter than all of them, and better by a mile. He’d trained you. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d realized it was either him teaching you or you learning through trial and error, and he’d decided you being a pain in his freakin’ ass was better than you being dead.

Because—in the end—all he really cares about is that you’re safe. It’s why you know to be careful, why you know what hunts to call for backup on, and why you know that—if you need to—you can crawl back home with your guts in your hand and he won’t yell at you until you’re better. Keeping you safe is his job, more than hunting, more than research, more than cars. He’d chosen to do it when he’d found you—eight years old and starving on the side of a highway—and it had stayed that way ever since. It didn’t matter what you were, what seemed to be inside of you, or how you were certainly more trouble that you were worth. He always made sure you were safe.

Safe from your real family, for what you know and refuse to be. Safe from the worst of the monsters and ghosts, who don’t seem to care for that horrible kinship you don’t know how to stop. Safe from hunters, and how they’ll hate you for what you know how to do.

Safe from John Winchester, and how he’ll put a bullet in your brain without question for what you don’t know how to change.

It’s the top rule. Stay away from the Winchesters. When John comes around for a hunt, hide in your room. When he drops his boys off before vanishing for weeks at a time, sneak out and call your uncle. He’ll pick you up, keep you safe, and drop you back home when the brothers leave. They can’t see you, because they’re loyal to their father and will tell him about the witch-girl who made the wind howl louder than it should’ve. John can’t know about you, because he’s a complicated man with a good heart, but he’ll hurt you worse than any ghost or monster could. 

But you have to say—at least from this distance—he doesn’t look that dangerous.

You know it’s him. You recognize his car in the parking lot from seeing it in your dad’s yard, and recognize his voice from the living room of your house. It’s clearer now—no longer muffled through a door you’d keep an ear pressed to—and you’re certain it’s him. 

And he’s just a man. A broad-shouldered, tired man with a face that doesn’t seem like it’s ever smiledand dark hair that’s streaked with slight silver. He even sounds exhausted, his voice laced with a thin irritation he either doesn’t know how to hide, or doesn’t care to.

“Dean,” he grunts, and you can’t see who he’s talking to, the bookshelves of the library only revealing John’s cold, set face. “Go back to the morgue and look at the bodies again. See if you can get a blood type on the vics.”

“A blood type?” A second voice, this one so clearly younger, a little defiant and bright, asks. “Dad, why do we care about their blood type-“

“Because this bitch is spilling it left and right, and we need to work out what skin she’s got in that game.” John’s words are short, impatient. “And you’re not here to ask me questions, Sam, you’re here to get through these damn books. Dean, go to the morgue.”

“Yes, sir.” That’s a third voice. It’s pretty. Deeper than the second—Sam’s—but not as tired as John’s. Mostly just cautious. “Can I, uh, can I take Sammy-“

“No.” John snaps. “I need him here for the readin’. Take the car and go.”

There’s a soft sound of metal ringing through the air, a scrape of wood on the floor, and you almost don’t move fast enough. You almost don’t duck behind the shelf in time for the third voice—the pretty one, Dean—to pass you, humming something you’d recognize if you weren’t lost in your panic.

Dean doesn’t see you.

But you see him.

And it’s not just his voice that’s pretty. 

You don’t know a lot about the Winchester brothers. Only what your dad has told you. Dean’s three years older than you, Sam’s a year younger. Dean likes music, Sam likes books. They’re both good boys—better than your dad seems to think John deserves, although he’ll never say that out loud—but Sam can be defiant and Dean can be trouble.

You hope Dean’s trouble. He has to be, when he looks like that. 

Because in only a split second of his side profile, you’re sure Dean Winchester is the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Will ever see. It’s almost ethereal, and a little unfair. All of his features are clean and strong, like someone carved him from marble, but there’s a scar you could see on his jaw and a cut on his lower lip that made him seem human. Made his seem tangible. 

Touchable.

You’d like to touch him. You’ve seen him once, but everything in your body seems to think the world will collapse if you don’t touch him now. If you don’t at least talk to him. Hear his deep, charming voice directed at you. See at his face up close, see it’s clear resemble to John that feels pointless, because Dean looks like he smiles. He looks like he’s meant to smile, and you’d really like to find out if he’d smile at you. 

And that white thing—the one you feel all the time—seems to really like him. Even the darkness is trying to reach out to him, move into him, and you’re not really sure what the fuck is happening. He’d just walked past you, and your body is suddenly trapped by something overwhelming and dizzying in your lungs, your every nerve prickling the longer your brain circles him. The longer it spirals around his beautiful face, and full lips, and the way his voice sounded like something even bigger than the darkness in your body-

“Hey, Dad?” That same voice cuts through your thoughts, a little raised as Dean calls between the shelves. “Are you feeling anything from the beer earlier?”

“No.” John’s voice is clipped as he responds, and you can hear the frown in his voice. “You feelin’ alright, son?”

“Yeah, uh-“ There’s a heavy pause, and you can hear Dean shuffling slightly just out of your sight. “I dunno. Must’ve stood up too fast.”

“Dad, if he feels light headed he might not be safe to drive-“

“I’m alright, Sammy.” Dean’s words are fast. Not frantic, but rapid. “Nothing’s gonna happen to the car, Dad, I promise.”

John grunts. “Better not. Get moving, Dean, we don’t got all night.”

“Yes, sir.” 

You hear Dean shuffle away, sounds of flipping paper and scratching pencils re-filling the air, and you’re trapped in your spot. You shouldn’t follow Dean. Following Dean will almost certainly end in meeting John, and that’s the one thing you’re never supposed to do. Your dad doesn’t fight you when you leave for months at a time, or cross paths with other hunters, or run dangerous scams to keep yourself afloat. He’s okay with more than he probably should be, and he never tells you that you can’t do something. 

But you can’t talk to John Winchester. 

He can’t know who you are. What you are.

So you can’t follow Dean. Your brain is deeply aware that following Dean would be a truly horrible idea, and your body seems to be on board. There’s iron around your lungs when John mutters something to Sam, and a sore shot of electrically whenever one of them stands up to move books around. You’re really good at running. You know exactly when to call it and go. You can sense danger so easily—it’s the same chill of needles ice running up your spine, every single time—and John is dangerous. And you really shouldn’t follow Dean.

But the White thing keeps bucking around inside you. You can almost see it rush and roar in the air, feel it thrash deep down—past your heart chamber and embedded a little to the right—to try and follow Dean Winchester. And it feeds the darkness. It starts to twinge and pulse, seeping and infecting your muscles and blood, locking around your skull and making everything far too big. You can feel it all. The books on the shelves that all read Dean, and the squeak of the floors that say his name, and the lights start to flicker as the air turns humid and cool.

“Dad-“

“I’m seein’ it, Sammy, grab the gun-“

You raise the back of your hand to your mouth and bite. Hard. Grounding yourself before the flood can burst out of your body, before John Winchester could find out who you are in the worst way possible.

And when you run—out the back and to your stolen Lexus—you don’t even realize where you’re going until you’re halfway there.

To the morgue.

After Dean.

It’s a terrible idea. You have ten, long minutes of driving to figure out every way in which this is a terrible idea. You don’t know him. This will distract you from the case. John Winchester will try to kill you. Your dad will kill you. And there’s a high chance it will all be for nothing, because everything in you that’s calling to Dean belongs to that white thing. And that’s a part of you, and no one else. There’s a chance that this—whatever the fuck this is—is something driven by what you are, what’s wrong with you, so Dean won’t feel it at all.

You know all of that. And you still make it the whole drive without turning around. You park and rifle through your glove compartment for a fake ID, pull on your stiff, too-itchy well officer, would a fraud wear this? Jacket, and still don’t turn the engine back on and book it out of town. You even manage to justify it. You’re working this case too. You were here first. You’d noticed the blood thing from the start—it’s why you took the case—but you just hadn’t gotten to the morgue yet. You’d already been planning on it, and Dean just happens to be here at the same time. 

No matter what, you’ll get through it. You always get through it. And this might be a horrible idea, but that knowledge won’t stop you from stepping out of the car and making your way to the morgue. Know something has never really stopped you, and no amount of twisting bile in your gut—telling you to run, because you don’t love life, but you’d really rather not be murdered today—is going to prevent you from doing this. Nothing is stronger than the White in your chest, and it wants to talk to Dean Winchester. 

So that’s exactly what you’re going to do.

It is, as always, worryingly easy to get into the morgue. Half of the work is flashing the badge and saying the right words—Agent Smith, from the insurance company, I need to take a look at the autopsies for the claims—but most of it is the confidence. You carry yourself like a haughty, too-good-for-this-morgue insurance agent. Your chin is raised when you stop at the desk, and your words to the receptionist are impatient and clipped, and God, it makes you feel like the scum of the earth how she’s nervous and apologetic, but you get in the door. You always get in the door, because this is the simple part. The smiles with teeth, and the lies you spit through them are so fucking simple.

The hard part is always different. Sometimes it’s the ghosts that follow you after a failure, the ones that can’t be killed with salt and fire. Sometimes it’s long nights that you don’t have time tp sleep, and the tug and rot of that darkness in your chest tries to push to the surface. Sometimes it’s a puzzle you barely manage to solve, and it costs a little bit more of your flesh and soul each time.

But today, it’s Dean Winchester. Or, as the receptionist calls him, Officer Costello.

“Officer?” You raise your brows. “So the cops are looking into a serial killer.”

“I, um-“ The receptionist flushes, her eyes widening slightly. “I don’t know, he just said he was from a town over, and our Chief asked him to take a look, I’m not-“

“I’ll just ask him while I’m in there.” You shrug, the receptionist’s mouth opens in likely protest, and you call over your shoulder as you walk away. “I need to know for the report!”

You push through the doors—nobody chasing after you a sign of success—turn into the mortuary’s office, and freeze at the sight before you. 

Dean’s hunched over the mortuary’s desk, frowning at the largest stack of papers you’ve ever seen, and shit, he’s even prettier up close. Spiky hair and slightly tanned, freckled skin, rough looking hands sorting through the files and full lips in a frown and what the fuck is happening to you-

His head shoots up, eyes widening—green eyes, deep and vibrant and you need to get a goddamn grip—and you stare at each other for a long, confusing second before he finally speaks.

“Ma’am, if you could wait for the doctor outside please, this is, uh, official police business-“

You scoff, even as your whole body hums from the deep, smooth sound of his voice. “Is that really the excuse you’re going to use?”

Dean tenses, dropping the papers on the desk and rising to his full height, glaring down at you. He’s really tall, and broad, and probably warm-

“Excuse me? If you don’t exit this office right now, I’ll have reason to put you under arrest-“

“What reason?”

He blinks at you. “Interfering in police business-“

“Fake police business?”

“I’m not, this isn’t-“ Dean shakes his head, eyes narrowing on yours. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a fake insurance agent.” You lift your badge up from him to see, giving a sweet, fake smile. “And you’re a hunter.”

“Lady, I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about-“

“I think you do.” You step forward, dropping into a seat across the desk. “To start, you’re definitely not a cop. Cops don’t drive muscle cars and raid morgue documents.”

He frowns, still watching you wearily. “How’d you know that’s my car?”

You’d slipped a little. You shouldn’t know that’s the Winchester’s car. But you’re quick on your feet, and by the time you say the lie it might as well be the truth. “Only three cars in the lot. Mine, the black one, and a minivan. And you don’t really seem like a minivan guy.”

Dean grunts, his body still braced and words tense. “I could be allowed to drive whatever car I want on duty-“

You give him an amused expression, tucking your knees into your chest as you lean back in your seat.  “You’re like, twenty. There’s no way they’d let you drive your own car. Or,” you raise your brows. “Ask you investigate a bunch of weird murders by yourself.”

Dean frowns, but drops in the swivel chair behind the desk. “I’m twenty-one,” he mutters, and you snort. 

“Congratulations-“

“And you,” his eyes shoot to yours, voice dropping into a low drawl that felt like it could be dangerous, but mostly made you feel a little fuzzy. “Haven’t answered my question. Who are you?”

You say your full name—the real one, that you’d been given at birth and he’d never connect to your dad—and drop your feet back to the floor, extending your hand across the desk. “I’m a hunter too.”

Dean chuckles, but meets your hand with a grin. “Yeah, I figured that part out myself, Princess. Dean Winchester.”

You shake his hand, and your smile must make you look like an idiot. It’s far too wide just from him telling you his name and touching your skin—he is warm, and his hands are calloused and big and still so soft—but there’s something like lightning sparking and shooting over your skin, and the White inside you is shining like a star. Pulsing and glowing and molding with the darkness. Making nothing really seem that bad at all. 

Dean’s smiling back. And you’d been right. His face is meant to smile. It’s meant to have this broad, cocky grin that’s full of teasing joy and a bright-eyed delight in something you can’t quite place. You really can’t tell if he can feel it. There’s a glint in his eyes that’s full of promises, but you can’t figure out if he can feel this. This raging tug in your body that keeps your hand in his longer than it needs to be, that makes his skin feel like a furnace and your heart feel right in your body.

He might. He really might feel it. His hand stays in yours as well, his grip a little tighter than it needs to be, and when you manage to pull away, he clears his throat—a small, adorable blush covering his pretty face—and stares at you like you’ve fallen from the sky, and you’re still covered in stardust.

“So, uh,” Dean glances down at the papers, then back to you. “You here for the autopsy reports?”

You nod, crossing your legs under your body. “Yep. You gonna share?”

“That depends.” Dean shrugs, shooting you another, very mind-numbing smirk. “You gonna help us out?”

“Us?” You tilt your head at him, twisting a ring on your finger. “You’ve got a partner?”

“Partners.” Dean corrects you with a grin. “My dad and brother. We always hunt together, it’s safer and Sammy’s still a kid, so-“ He cuts himself off, his face falling into a small frown. “Do you, are you hunting alone?”

“Mostly, yeah.” You shrug. “But I can help you out-“

“You, you shouldn’t be hunting alone.” Dean cuts you off with a shake of his head, his voice almost disbelieving. “It’s not safe. Gonna get you killed.”

“Uh huh.” You narrow your eyes, your voice becoming dry and bored. “Do you want my help, Dean Winchester?”

“Sure, but-“

“Then drop it, give me the papers, and let me help.”

He frowns. “You’re kinda bossy.”

“Yeah, well, you’re kinda-“

“It’s not bad.” He pushes some of the files across the desk, shooting you a wink. “Just making sure you know.”

“Oh.” You stare at him. He’s so pretty, and his smile does weird things to your gut and ribs and the White inside of you. “Uh-“

“I’ll take these.” Dean taps the files still in front of him, watching you with a strange expression. “You got those?”

“Sure.” You mumble, pulling the papers into your lap. “Um, thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs. “More hands, we’ll be done faster. You, uh, you know what you’re lookin’ for-“

“Blood.” You flip open the first file, playing with the corner of a page as you speak. “Every vic’s been covered in it. It’s uh,” you grimace slightly, an image of a corpse painted red flashing in your head. “It’s been really gross.”

Dean hums in agreement, giving you a curious look. “You’ve seen all the bodies?”

“Most of them,” you look down to the file, flipping through it until you find the blood report “I’ve been here for like, five days.”

“Huh.” He frowns, looking down to his own paper. “We’ve been here four. Only seen two of them.”

“Well, maybe I’m just better at my job.”

He laughs, and when you glance back up, he’s grinning. “Sure, Princess.”

You kick him under the desk, and he makes a fake sound of pain.

“What was that for?!“

“Making fun of me,” you stick your tongue out at him, not looking up from your papers. “Not very nice, Winchester.”

“You made fun of me-“

“And if you wanna kick me, I won’t stop you-“

“I’m not gonna kick a lady-“

“Well then.” You shrug, unable to fight the smile on your face. “That’s not my fault, is it?”

He huffs, his voice dropping to a low mutter you can still defiantly hear. “Bossy.”

“That’s not being bossy, it’s-“ You cut yourself off, leaning down to re-read the file in front of you. “Shit.”

“It is shit,” Dean complains, and you can hear the pout in his voice as you grab the next file in your stack, rushing through the report to find what you’re looking for. “You’re lucky I-“

“No, that’s not-” you look up at him, your brain moving too fast to fully linger on why you might be lucky. “Give me your file.”

Dean frowns, but slides the paper over the desk. “What-“

You raise your hand, scanning over the file and grinning as you find what you’re looking for. “I’ve got it.” 

“Got what-“

“That blood wasn’t only the vics. It was their’s, plus,” you turn the page for Dean to read, pointing to the words. “All the previous vics. Mixed together. That’s why there’s been more and more every time.”

“Oh.” Dean leans forward, scanning over the page. “Kinda like a really gross blood cocktail?”

“Exactly.” You grin at him. “I know what we’re looking for.”

He looks back up at you, raising his brows. “You gonna tell me, or-“

“It’s a moroi.” You drop the files, leaning back and pushing your feet back up on the desk. “It explains the messiness perfectly.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “My dad says it’s just a normal ghost with a weird thing for blood-“

“Your dad is wrong. It’s a moroi.”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “My dad’s never wrong. And he’s more experienced than both of us combined, he’d know if it was a moray-“

“Mo-roi-“

“And look,” Dean leans across the desk, pointing to the files. “All of them had the same blood type. That’s what Dad said to look for.”

“They have the same blood type because it’s a moroi.” You hold his gaze, because every single part of you might want this man in a way you can’t possibly begin to understand, but you’re also fucking right. “They’re Romanian vampire babies.’

“Vampire babies-“

“Evil infant spirits that didn’t get baptized. They’re really rare, but this-“ You tap the files with a smug grin. “Is their exact MO. Specific blood type that they’ve probably got a taste for, mixing it with their previous victims, incredibly sloppy.”

“Because they’re babies.” Dean mutters, frowning into the air. “And babies, uh, don’t know how to clean.”

You nod. “Because babies don’t know how to clean.”

“And you’re sure?” Dean looks down to the files, his tone cautious. “I mean, you said they’re kinda rare-“

“They are.” You shrug. “And that’s why I’m sure.”

Rare things are your specialty. Things that even the most experienced hunters don’t understand, that were hard to track and harder to kill. Things that were stranger than strange, darker than dark, worse than evil. Things that wouldn’t hurt you, and you’ve taught yourself every way kill. It’s why you’d taken this case in the first place.  It’s why you’re fucking right.

“You, uh,” Dean’s words are slow, like he’s picking them carefully. “You know how to kill these things?”

“Yep.”

“You wanna come with me? To explain it to Dad and Sammy?”

“I, um-“ You start to pick at the skin around your nails, your skin suddenly itching and a weight forming in your lungs. “I mean, I can just tell you how, and you can deal with it, and I can go-“

“Go?” Dean frowns, his brow drawn. “Where are you going?”

“Out of town.” You keep your voice strong and even, because no matter how much the White inside you seems to be trying to move into Dean—no matter how much you’d really like to stay in this office and talk to him for a million years—you have to go. You cannot meet John Winchester. “If your Dad’s as good as you say-“

“He is-“

“Then you’ll be able to handle this. You don’t need me.”

“Well,” Dean leans over the desk, his voice dropping to a charming drawl. “If I ask you nicely, will you consider staying? Giving us a hand?”

You hold his gaze, unable to find enough willpower to shut him down immediately. “How nicely?” 

“Please,” Dean says your name, giving you a taunting, boyish grin, and the White inside you ignites. You’ve heard your name said a million ways, but never like that. Never in Dean’s voice, never like it’s some sort of curse and prayer all at once, never like it’s bigger than just a name. “Please stay in town and help me out. Please explain this moroi shit to my dad, and help us kill the son of a bitch. I’ll buy you a beer, and be in your debt for a million freakin’ years. Please.”

He’s already got you. If the way he said your name didn’t make you fold, the shit-eating smirk on his face and gleam in his eyes that tells you exactly how he plans to repay that debt made you cave. 

“I don’t drink.” You mumble, your face heated and eyes a little wide. “But I’ll take two million years and a promise that you’ll listen to me.”

Dean chuckles. “Awesome.” He grins, his eyes never leaving yours as he stands. “Let’s get outta here, I’ll drive you to our motel.”

That’s where you manage to draw a line. You’ll bow to Dean’s charming words and handsome face, you’ll follow him out of the office and into the parking lot, and you’ll agree to come meet John and Sam Winchester—no matter how stupid and deadly an idea it will certainly prove to be—but you’ll drive yourself. You didn’t steal that Lexus not to drive it, and when things inevitably go sideways, you’ll need a car to escape in. 

“You sure?” Dean walks you to the Lexus, standing right at your side and watching you in a way the White seems to feel. “I mean, it’s not a problem-“

“I’m sure.” You grab your keys out of your pocket, stopping in front of the car. “All my shit is in here, and I can just follow you. It’ll be fine.”

“Well, how am I gonna know you won’t just drive off?” Dean doesn’t budge, barely sparing your car a glance. “Leave me to deal with the vampire babies alone?”

You give him a flat. “I won’t just drive off, Winchester-“

“You might.” He shrugs. “I don’t know you that well, you could be playing me-“

“I’m not- Fine.” You roll your eyes, shoving your badge into his hands. “You can hold onto that, and I’ll have to follow you to get it back. Happy?”

“Very.” Dean winks at you, flipping your badge open to read. “Agent Smith- Who’s Smith?”

“Nobody. Smith is the most common last name in United States.” You shrug, and Dean looks at you like you’re insane. “What?”

“Nothin’, I just-“ He shakes his head, huffing a low laugh. “It’s practical. Smart.”

You narrow your eyes. “But?”

“No but,” He says your name with a bright, cocky grin, and tucks your badge into his pocket. “Can I not call you smart?”

“Not when you don’t really mean it-“

“I mean it. You’re smart.” His grin grows, and it feels like it’s burning its way right into your heart. Kicking it up to a higher speed, warming it until your whole body feels lost in a misting haze. It’s so fucking weird. “Are all your badges Smith?”

“No.” You mutter, crossing your arms to try and stop your heart beating right out of your chest. “Smith is just insurance. Johnson does wildlife, Brown is a cop, and Miller’s FBI.”

“Huh,” Dean looks at you like he’s never seen anything more amusing in his life. It’s not really helpful. “Sammy’s gonna like you.”

“Sammy?”

“My brother.” Dean shrugs. “He’s smart too. Not half as pretty, but smart.”

You flush, leaning back to ground yourself against the cool metal of the car. “You don’t know me, Winchester. I might be a dumbass.”

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Dumb people don’t know about vampire babies.”

“I’d argue vampire babies are the exact thing a dumb person would know about-“

“And I’d argue dumb people don’t say I’d argue.”

You scowl. “Touché.”

Dean laughs again. He needs to stop doing that. “Dumb people don’t say touché-“

“Shut up.” You kick him again, and this time his grin just becomes teasing and smug and a little fucking dizzying.

“That’s not nice, Princess-“

“I said shut up.” You mutter, turning to open your car door. “Go get in your car so we can actually do our jobs.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean’s still grinning at you, his eyes widening as they finally flick to the Lexus. “Holy shit, you drive this?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, dropping into your seat and pointing across the lot to his car. “Go.”

Dean raises his hands in surrender. “Bossy.”

You glare at him. “Winchester-“

He gives you one last wink you feel deep in your core, closes your door, and walks away without another word. But—right after he climbs into the driver seat—he pulls out your badge, holds it up to the window, and mouths Follow me, or this is mine.

You roll your eyes, flip him off, and watch him laugh as he pulls out of the lot. And you could leave. Badges are easy to make, you’re not emotional attached to Agent Smith, and this is your last chance to keep yourself away from John Winchester. To listen to your every instinct, to your dad’s stern voice in your head, and run. It would be so fucking easy to run. To turn around and never look back, never allow yourself to indulge Dean Winchester further than one conversation.

But you don’t want to run. You want to follow this odd pull to him, follow him to the motel, follow him wherever else he seems to be going. Which is fucking insane, because you don’t know him, he doesn’t know you, and he’s almost certainly better off without you. Most people are. Hell, you’d be better off without you, if you could figure out how to do that.

And you know all that. But you still don’t want to run.

So you follow Dean out of the parking lot, through the winding backstreets of the town, and to a backwater motel. You park your car right next to his, close your eyes to take a long, steadying breath, and try to rationalize to yourself how this could possibly end up not blowing up in your face. You’ll keep a hold on yourself. John won’t know who you are, or what you are, or who you know, or what you know, or-

“Shit!” You jump as something raps on your window, and hear a loud laugh from outside your car.

You’ll get through this. You always do.

“You yelped.” Dean tells you as you climb out of the car, a wide, teasing grin on his face. “Real tough of you, Princess-“

“Suck my dick, Winchester.” You glare at him, and his grin only grows wider. “And stop calling me princess.”

“Nah,” Dean places his hand on your back, steering you towards the motel. “Suits you too well.”

“I don’t know what that means-“

“You don’t have to.” He smirks at you, and it does something impossible good to your brain. Makes it calm. A little fuzzy, a little smooth, but so fucking calm. “C’mon, I texted Dad that I found you, he and Sammy’ll be in our room.”

Dean Winchester is dangerous. You should be scratching and clawing and fighting like a feral animal to go, to get back in your car and as far away from here—from John Winchester—as possible. But he says I found you with a proud grin and puff of his chest like he’s bragging, and all that your stupid body knows how to do is lean slightly into his chest and follow him wherever he takes you. Somewhere dark, or somewhere horrible, or somewhere gray or somewhere safe.

Or just a shabby, paint-peeling motel room, where John Winchester and a shaggy haired kid are sitting around a table, looking at you—standing awkwardly in the doorway, watching them wearily, your back straight but arms crossed in defense—like you’re the strangest thing they’ve ever seen.

“This is, um,” Dean glances at you as he says your full name, and you realize he’s more tense than he’d been before. Standing a little taller, his eyes a little more guarded, his expression impossibly neutral. “She’s the hunter I mentioned.” Dean says your name again, pointing to the table as he continues. “That’s my dad, John, and my brother, Sammy.”

“Hi.” The kid—he’s taller than you, and barely younger, but there’s something about him that still says kid—offers you a small smile. “Do you, uh, do you hunt alone?”

“Yeah,” you give Sam a smile back, trying to force your tone to be casual, your body to relax, and your eyes not to wander to where John is tall in his seat, just watching you. “He tell you that?”

You jerk your head at Dean, who frowns. “So what if I did-“

“So, you’re being a real dramatic bitch about that. You’re not my dad, Winchester, let’s calm down.” You give him a small grin, and feel something odd and bright inflate in your chest when his mouth tugs up for the first time since you’ve walked into the room.

Dean looks like he’s going to say something back, but John clears his throat, and something curls and rots in your stomach at how quickly Dean goes rigid, how fast his mouth snaps shut. 

“You got a father, girl?”

You look at John, and he looks even more tired up close, in the dim light of the motel. More threatening as well, watching you like you’re prey, or a parasite, or a disease. Like you’re going to go feral and destroy everything in the room. It would sting less if he wasn’t right. If his attention wasn’t making your skin crawl and the White in you start to twist and pound to escape your body, the darkness rushing out as everything becomes big again. If you weren’t digging your nails into your palm to stop yourself from proving him right, and if you weren’t raising your chin in a weak attempt to be a little taller than you are. 

“I do.” You hold his gaze, and wonder if he can see the darkness. If he already knows what you are, and is trying to work out how to kill you. “We’re really close, actually.”

“He know you hunt?”

“He does.” You shrug. “He’s fine with it.”

That’s a lie. Your dad hates that you hunt. You’re certain the only reason he doesn’t lock you in his panic room to keep you away from the monsters and ghosts is because he knows you’d escape, and he’d never see you again. But John doesn’t know that, and you’re a fantastic liar, so if he doesn’t believe you it’s not because you don’t sell the words, it’s because he just doesn’t trust you. Because whatever you say, he’s going to keep looking at you like he can see right into your horrible center.

John’s face twitches, and as he leans slightly forward, you’re not sure Dean’s breathing at your side. “Your old man a hunter too?”

You nod, realize this is getting a little away from you, and start to run your thumb over your palm as John narrows his eyes.

“What’s his name?”

You use your real father’s name—your biological father, who you’ll never see again if you can help it—and it stings on your tongue. You hate that you have to say it. You hate that you have to repeat it, adding your real last name, but it works. John grunts, and looks away.

“Dean.”

“Yes, sir?”

“How old is she?”

“I, uh-“ Dean looks at you with wide eyes. “How old are you?”

You raise your brows. “How old do you think I am?”

“Twenty…” Dean scratches his head slightly, looking a little afraid. It would be adorable if this wasn’t such an oddly volatile situation. “Twenty-teen?”

“Twenty-teen?”

“I dunno, I mean you gotta be old than Sammy, and you sound like you’re old, but-“

“I sound like I’m old?”

“Just cause of the words you use! You look like you can’t be old than me, but I don’t know-“

“Jesus Christ, dude.” You take pity on Dean—who looks like he’s about to have a panic attack—and pat his shoulder as you speak. “I’m eighteen. And,” you look back to John, cooling your voice and narrowing your eyes. “I can speak for myself.”

John doesn’t waver. You can’t really imagine a world where he would. “I don’t doubt that, girl. But I ain’t lookin’ for help on this case, and you’re barely votin’ age-“

“I’m aware of my age.” You interrupt, crossing your arms over your chest. “But I’ve also been hunting, alone, since I was fifteen, and this,” you gesture through the air, holding John’s cold gaze. “Is my type of case. So you need my help.”

John scoffs. “It’s a ghost, sweetheart, me and my boys will be fine without you-“

“She says it’s not a ghost.” Dean mumbles, paling as John’s gaze shoots to him. “It’s, uh, a moroi?”

You hum in agreement, offering Dean a small grin that John doesn’t seem to miss.  

Sam raises his hand at the table, his expression open and curious. “What’s a moroi?”

“Romanian vampire baby.” Dean says, shooting Sam the first real, full grin you’ve seen on his face since you entered the motel room. “They never got a chance to learn who Mr. Clean is, which is why there’s been so much freakin’ blood everywhere. Right?”

Dean looks at you with a hopeful, bright expression, and it makes the White glow and sing as you nod.

“It’s a ghost.” John grunts, and when you look back to the table, he’s glaring at you. “We got freezin’ temperatures, EMF, and no break ins-“

“Because they’re death monsters. And they can shape-shift, into a guy, or a bug, or a cat.” You shrug. “Wouldn’t be that hard to get into a house.”

John scowls. “And you’d bet all our lives on this-“

“Yes.” You say, the words simple. You’re good at your fucking job, and there’s no doubt in your mind. “It is a moroi. I’ve hunted them before.”

“You have?” Sam’s eyes widen, his tone filled with something that might be admiration. “That’s so-“

John cuts Sam off with a raised hand, his attention never wavering from you. “Well,” he drawls your name, and it’s mocking and cruel and awful. The opposite of how Dean says it, in a way you hope to never hear again. “If you’re such an expert, how the hell do we kill the asshole.”

“Easy.” You shrug, as if there’s not something wired and painful in your muscles that’s trying to force you to run, run, run, far away from John Winchester and his cold voice. “You stab it in the heart with a nail.”

“With a nail.” John repeats, his voice flat, and you scowl. 

“Well, that, or,” you stand a little taller, making your voice cool and bored. “We throw a Romanian funeral for it, and find a living relative to walk around its grave three times with a candle.”

Dean makes a choked sound from off to the side, and when you look, he’s staring at you like you’d fallen from space again. John doesn’t look half as awestruck. He mostly looks pissed.

“This ain’t the time for jokes-“

“That’s not a joke.” You snap. “There are multiple ways to kill something, and that’s one of the ways you can deal with a moroi. It’s that, the nail, or burning resin on a Tuesday, then a Saturday.”

John laughs, no amusement or joy in the sound. “You might think your smart, kid, but how about I see a plan. Stabbin’ something in the heart ain’t gonna be easy, and hell, girl, you said they shape shift. How the fuck are you thinkin’ we find them-“

“There will be blood in its nails and eyes.” You hold your ground, but your palm grows red as you break skin. “And there is a pattern to the tarbets, we’ve just all been looking in the wrong place.”

“A pattern?” Sam’s eyes are still wide, his voice a little eager. “But none of the vics have been the same age, gender, ethnicity, occupation-“

“Have they all been parents? Lived near graveyards?”

All three Winchesters gape at you for a second, and Dean looks at John with wide eyes.

“Shit, Dad, she’s right.” He mutters, running a hand over his face. “The one we looked at yesterday, the house had one of those baby gates-“

“And we’ve driven past a graveyard every time.” Sam adds, looking between you and John with a nervous expression. “So, uh, it could be-“

“I know what it could be, Sam.” John grunts, his glare fully focused on Dean. “You willing to bet on her, son?” 

Dean looks at you, and he shouldn’t be—you’re a stranger, you’re a liar, you’re a monster that’s attracted to him like a magnet—but he nods. He stares at you like he doesn’t really understand what’s going on either, like he’s looking for a reason to not trust you and side with his father, but can’t find one. And—right before he looks back to his father—you see a flash in his eyes that makes you think he feels it. That whatever the fuck is happening to you, it’s happening to Dean too, and he’s just as helpless as you are to fight it.

“I am, sir.” He says, hands flexing at his side. “Sammy and I can do door duty, figure out who’s next on this things hit list-“

Sam frowns. “I don’t wanna do door duty-“

“Blame Dean,” John shrugs, giving Dean a curt nod. “Take my car and be back in two hours-“

You raise your hand, and John cuts himself off with a glower.

“What.”

“They don’t need to do door duty,” you say, your fingers running over your palm. “The moroi will only target parents of infants, so you can look for baby seats in cars. And it’ll all be near same cemetery. Five miles radius.” You catch Dean raising his brows at you, and shrug. “They don’t like to stray far from home.”

“And by home,” Sam jumps in, words slow as he connects the dots. “You’re talking about their grave.”

“Or their coffin.” You offer him a close-lipped smile. “But yeah. It’s already dusk, our best bet would be splitting up and patrolling a few streets until we see the thing. It’ll probably be in its regular form, at least until it spots a house.”

Dean frowns at you. “What’s that gonna look like?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Hairy. Bloody and hairy. It’ll be gross, you’ll see it.”

“And how,” John grunts. “Are you thinkin’ we split up.”

“We’ve got two cars.” You shrug. “Three if you have a second one-“

“We don’t.” John snaps. “And I took a fuckin’ taxi back here, ain’t no way I’m not driving my car, or lettin’ a little girl go off to hunt this on her own-“

“How honorable,” you mutter under your breath—careful to make sure Dean doesn’t hear you—and raise your voice back to a bored, flat tone.  “Then you’ll take your car, and I’ll take one of them,” you nod between Sam and Dean. “So we’re off in pairs.”

“Dad, I could go with her.” Dean takes a small step forward, his tone slightly nervous. “I mean, it would be safer for you to take Sammy. And you know I’d be careful.“

John grunts, jaw ticking, and you can see he’s considering it. That, somehow, you’ve convinced him to go with this, and he hasn’t put a bullet in your brain. There’s a frantic, wired part of you along your skin that’s certain he’s just waiting for an excuse, but for now you’ll take it. You’ll take Dean volunteering to go with you, John not killing you, and everyone winning when you’re right, because you will be. You’re not good for much, but you’re good for this. 

“I want you to drive.” John tells Dean, and you’ll allow it. If it keeps Dean near you—as you so confusingly and desperately crave—you’ll let him drive your stupid, fancy car. Fuck, you’ll let him run it into a ditch if he wants, as long as you’re there with him, and what the fuck is happening to you- 

Dean says your name, and you blink at him as he continues. “I, uh, if you’re good with it-“

“Sure, I don’t give a fuck.” You toss Dean your keys, and he frowns. “I mean, try not to total it, or do donuts-“

Dean gasps, his face full of mock offense that pulls a smile onto your face. “Do I look like a hooligan to you-“

You raise your brows. “Did you just say hooligan?”

“Yeah,” he grins at you, and nothing else seems that real. “It’s a fun word, don’t bash it-“

“I am not bashing it-“

“Kinda sounds like you’re bashin’ it-“

“Well, it kinda sounds like you’re going to try and do donuts in my car-“

“Princess, I would never-“

“Winchester, I don’t believe you-“

John coughs, loudly, and you and Dean fall silent. That keeps happening. You talk to Dean, and everything fades until you’re just smiling like an idiot and watching him like he’s the sun, and you’re just existing in his orbit. And he does the same thing. Dean’s face is red, and he’s staring at the floor as John glowers at him, but you keep catching his eyes darting to you, a small furrow on his brow that you wish you could ask him about. You wish you could ask him a million things. About his life, about his likes and dislikes, why his whole family hunts and what he thinks of your dad—the one he’d know, the one that’s going to murder you when he finds out what you’re doing right now—and if he can feel this too. He must. It’s like a drug, and it’s flashing and loud in the White, and making the darkness blur into something you think would be better. Into something you wouldn’t hate, molding with something that feels foreign but right, strange but just as powerful and certain as gravity. Something secret, that you think you should be fighting but can’t bring yourself to raise a weapon against. 

Something bigger than you. Bigger than him. Bigger than the White inside your chest and the darkness that’s pushed down, down, down as you force yourself to stay in place, and not either grab Dean’s face and scream—shout at him in a begging question of do you feel this, or am I going fucking insane—or run. Flee as John Winchester gives you one last look like he’s imaging your blood on the floor, and you climb into the passenger’s seat of the Lexus.

But you manage to keep it together, and you’ll have to settle for this. For talking to Dean as you patrol up and down a darkened suburban street with white-picket fences, your knees up on the dash and your fingers growing bloody as you pick at them to keep the darkness down. 

“So, uh,” Dean taps his hands on the wheel, staring out at the road. “Hunting.“

You blink at him, raising your brows. “What?”

“I just, mean how’d you end up doing it? You’re young-“

“You’re literally only three years old than me-“

“But I got Dad and Sammy.” He scowls. “You’re alone.”

“Yeah, we’ve establish that.” You cross your arms, curling slightly into your seat. “I’m really good at my job, Winchester, I’m not that worried.”

Dean chuckles, glancing at your half-pout with an amused expression. “Still Winchester? When am I gonna get the honor of her majesty using my first name?”

You glare at him, and it just makes his grin wider. “Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue. “Bossy.”

And he’s so confusingly adorable and handsome—in the soft, shimmering light of the streetlamps and fog—that you speak without even thinking. “You have to earn first names, Deano.”

He freezes for a second, and his grin becomes his whole face. Wide and charming, sweeping you off your feet and knocking the breath from your lungs without even touching you. 

“So,” he drawls, still smirking like an idiot. “Nicknames you’ll pass out like party favors, but I need to work to just be Dean.”

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

“Well, can I at least shoot down Deano?”

“Maybe,” you hum. “On what grounds?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs, eyes flashing in the low light. “It kinda makes me sound like a birthday clown?”

You giggle. A small, soft giggle that he pulls out of you with barely any effort, that you want to hate but can’t figure out how to. “Maybe you are a clown-“

“Birthday clown.” He corrects, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Don’t drop the birthday part, that means I’ve got a job. And I can’t be a clown, Sammy’ll never speak to me again.” Dean glances at you, his voice dropping slightly. “He freakin’ hates clowns. Might shoot me before I explain that a pretty lady turned me into one against my will.”

You raise your brows, trying to push down the flush on your face from pretty lady. How he’d said the words like they were teasing, but still so serious, and looked at you with a small smirk when they had his intended effect. You can barely remember how to clear your throat and use words, let alone tease and spar with him when the White is blinding in your body.

“Unfortunately,” you manage to speak, nudging his shoulder with your own. “All sales are final. You’re Deano now.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but his grin doesn’t falter for a second. “Until I earn Dean, though, right?”

“If you earn Dean.”

He hums, shooting you another, oddly heated glance. “And what do I need to do for that?”

You only shrug, running your fingers over your palm to sooth the darkness. It’s starting to eat over your nerves and heart, trying reach out and touch Dean in a way you can’t allow, in a way that will end whatever this is before it begins. Dean only gives you a strange look, his smile still wide on his face.

“Well,” Dean says your whole name, over-pronouncing each syllable. “Am I allowed to return the favor?”

“What favor.”

“Callin’ you a nickname.” He winks at you, and it settles—warm and soft and strong—in your core. “It’s only fair.”

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even have a nickname.”

“Bet I could fix that.”

“Would be a losing bet. I wouldn’t take it.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

And just like that, you’ve lost. You’d seen it coming, too. It was too easy a solution for him to have, to easy a path to allow him to take, too easy to let the small part of you—that had wanted to hear him call you Princess again, because it soothed something that was always feral inside of you and blurred the darkness into the White until nothing hurt inside you—allow Dean to coax you where he’d clearly wanted you, and follow with a smile on your face. But all of this was too easy. Talking to Dean was too easy, because the conversation seems to flow and ebb without effort, and you’re almost always in danger of saying too much. He seems to know how to—without any obvious intention—get you to tell him anything he asks, leaving you biting your tongue to keep down bits of the truth that could prove deadly. But he doesn’t push you to speak—which is perfect and terrifying all within itself—and when you fall into silence it’s easy too. It’s easy to control the darkness, calmed only by your thumb and long breathes, and easy to keep everything small. Just you and Dean in the soft silence of the car, just you and Dean in the whole world.

“My mom died.” Dean says suddenly, frowning out the window. “It’s why I’m hunting. And,” he adds, his voice growing a little firmer, a little more defensive. “It’s why my dad’s so careful. I know he can be tough, but we’ve only got each other, and he’s just tryin’ to-“

“I get it.” You whisper, something deep in your chest aching for him. For this pretty, impossible man who might be bigger than the whole word, and how his brow is knit in a confusing kind of hollow pain as he defends his father. Goes to arms for him without prompting, like it’s a reflex. And you really do get it, but even if you didn’t, you somehow care too much about him to force him to rage and spit fire in John’s defense. It looks like it might rip him apart, and you never really want to see him go. So you just offer him a gentle, full lipped but toothless smile, and place your hand on his arm. “And that really fucking sucks.”

He lets out a dry chuckle, and doesn’t try to move his arm away. “It does really fucking suck. Thanks.”

“My dad’s wife died.” You offer, as if that would somehow make this better, and Dean gives you an odd look.

“Dad’s wife? Not your mom?”

You swallow. You did it again. You slipped when you’re usually so fucking careful. “It’s complicated.”

“Ah.” Dean has a little furrow between his brow that you’d like to run your thumb over, but he drops it. “Are you, you gonna tell me why you hunt? If it’s not your Dad’s wife?”

You sigh, a feral instinct of survive shoving the truth just a little further down. “That’s complicated too. I mean it’s not,” you glance up at him, his eyes fixed onto the road. “It’s not like yours. I didn’t lose anyone.”

“Is it a family thing? Like, your dad brought you in?” Dean’s every word is careful, like he’s afraid he might spook you. But that’s another thing that’s too easy. Staying next to Dean and not bristling or fleeing is far too fucking easy. 

“No,” you say, watching the light and shadows shift over his face in a strange, perfect dance. “He tries to stop me from doing it all the time. Shit, he called me last night and asked me to come home.”

Dean frowns. “You-“

“Dean!” You cut him off with a hand over his mouth, and he slams the breaks with a screech. You can see his staring at you from the corner of your eye, but you barely spare him a glance, your eyes locked over his shoulder, out the window, at a shifting figure in the dark. “Look.”

He turns his head, prying your hand from his mouth as he glares out the window. “I don’t-“

“There,” you hiss, leaning a little further forward. “See the-“

“That might just be a shadow,” Dean mutters, his voice dropping to a whisper as he scans over the dark. “Or a fox-“

You turn your head, giving him a flat look. “Do foxes look like babies covered in blood?”

“No.” He grins at you. “But I’ve seen weirder shit, Princess.”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are. How you’d leaned over the console and started to practically hang off of Dean’s body, how your faces are barely a breath apart and you can see every deep color and fleck of gold in his eyes. He really only gets prettier, and he’s so warm, and there’s molten silver in your chest trying to tangle into him. He smells like fresh grass and spice, his eyes are dilating—but maybe just from the dark—and everything seems to be slowing down as the silver looks for other places to leak out. Places that wouldn’t hurt anyone, like the mist of the night that seems to glow and the wind that seems to bend and creak the trees in your direction, and the golden streetlamps-

Dean’s eyes shoot to the road as the lights start to flicker, his body tensing against yours. “Shit. We should, uh-“

You nod, push yourself away, and try to pretend your body doesn’t grieve the loss of his touch.

John and Sam are taking too long to arrive. You’re tense and bouncing on the sidewalk as you wait, turning a sharp nail between your fingers, and Dean keeps a hand around your wrist as he frowns down the street. You think he can sense that, if he looks away for only a second, you’ll dart into the house and deal with this yourself. You could. This nail has killed three moroi before, and you’d been completely alone then. 

“Winchester.” 

Dean looks at you with a frown, and you tug your arm slightly.

“Let me go.”

“No,” he grunts, his grip tightening. “Dad said to wait.”

“He’s not my dad-“

“Doesn’t matter.” Dean mutters, his gaze moving back to the empty, dark fog. “We’re waiting.”

You scowl. “Fine. Can you let go-“

“No.”

“I swear to god, Dean Winchester-“

“If I let you go,” he snaps, his glare shooting back to you. “You’re going to run in there. So no.”

You narrow your eyes. “You don’t know me-“

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Look me in the eyes,” he drawls your name, holding your gaze. “And say you won’t run.”

It should be an easy lie, but it gets caught in your throat and you can only gape at him. Dean raises his brows as you continue to stare, and the White inside you starts to thrash as you clear your throat, forcing the words out.

“I’d handle it.”

He scoffs. “There is no way you’re gonna be able to handle it alone-“

“So, come with me,” You hiss, leaning forward until your face is only an inch from his. “And I won’t be alone.”

You don’t know why it breaks him. But something flashes in his eyes, he groans—running his free hand over his face and giving you a look of disbelief—and he caves. 

And from there it’s mostly a blur. It’s always a blur. The darkness inside of you latches onto something primal, and it’s all only a blur. 

Usually it’s all but a blackout. Like something overtakes you and you become just as monstrous as what you’re hunting, your brain only holding onto what you’ll need in order to survive next time, and a sticky smell of blood to haunt your sleep. But Dean’s here now, and things come into focus. Time is still a rush, and you’re still moving on pure instinct, but you remember Dean’s body being pressed to yours as you crept through the suburban house. You remember to set look on his face as you swept the rooms, figuring out what the moroi could be, where it might be hiding. You remember seeing it first, and the sound of flesh tearing as it launched at Dean—over you—and you swatted it with your arm like a baseball. 

You remember Dean shouting your name as you raced forward with the nail in your hand, and how it sounded like his chest was being ripped open. You remember finding that small patch of soft flesh on the moroi’s chest, driving the nail home, and tasting bile when it vomited blood up into your face. 

You remember Dean passing you his shirt on the curb a few blocks down, because the very ungrateful almost-victims threatened to call the cops, and you were covered in blood. He’d faced away as your changed—zipping up his own jacket and humming while he waited—and you could’ve sworn he was blushing when he turned back around.

Then John Winchester had arrived—looking at Dean like he’d just sprouted a second, hideous head and you like he was imaging how amazing you’d look in a casket—and everything grew sharp as they drove away. 

More of it comes together as you drive yourself back to the motel. Dean had dumped the body in the gutter, and you had given him your motel address. John had snapped at you to meet them tomorrow for a debrief, and told Dean that they’d talk back at the room. Sam had smiled at you, and it was a nice smile. There hadn’t seemed to be anything beneath it—just a kind smile for the woman sitting on the curb next to his shirtless brother, her hair matted in blood and fingers covered in monster hair—and you’d liked that. 

When you enter your room, it suddenly feels too small. Nothing is big enough for how strange this is, how you might need all the world and a little more to figure out what the fuck just happened. You miss Dean. You’d met him today, and you miss him more than you’ve missed anything before. You keep looking to the side to see if he’s there, when you know he won’t be. The White is bucking and keening inside of you, the darkness falling out of your body—you can feel the pain of the water as it becomes steam in the shower, and you’re almost knocked to your knees by the ache of the phone to be closer to the lamp—and you need to find out if he could meld them together again. If it had been a fluke, or an accident, or if you were simply losing your fucking mind.

You have to be. You must be going mad. It’s the only explanation for why you take a long shower and change into your own clothing, but you still smell grass and leather and spice. It’s purgatorial. You go through your whole routine—scrubbing all the blood off your body with rough sugar that bites into your skin, running your hands under white-hot water that leaves your skin raw but the darkness pushed down, tending to your hair until it frame your features easily, and you don’t look like a bruised and battered animal—but you still smell him. You toss his shirt off to the side, but he’s clinging to the sheets. You change into sleepwear, but your body can still feel a strong, warm touch. You turn your empty flask in your hands, watching light catch off the steel, and someone’s knocking on your fucking door-

Dean hisses your name through the wood, and you freeze.

“I know you’re in there!” He’s half-shouting, and the whole world feels more colorful, and what is wrong with you. “C’mon, Princess, open the door. It’s me!” He pauses, the knocking faltering. “Uh, Dean Winchester.”

He sounds a little defeated, and you can’t stop the smile on your face as you toss the flask back into your bag, cross the room, and open the door. 

Dean gives you an adorable, almost nervous grin and scans over you. Slow and deep and appreciative—taking in your sleep clothes, how your whole body is more relaxed than it had been all day—and his smile grows as his eyes find yours once more.

“You look pretty wearing normal stuff.” He leans a little on the door frame, and it’s so effortlessly and perfectly rouge-cowboy-white-knight-and-knave that he has to have practiced. “Better than that old-lady jacket you hand on before.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s my professional jacket, Winchester. What do you want?”

The words are harsher than you mean them to be, and his grin falters slightly. “I was, uh, I was wondering,” he rubs the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “I got my dad’s car. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go for a drive or something, but you’re obviously ready to turn in, so-“

“Do you want to come in?” 

You’re not sure how he’s doing this. Making you speak without thought, making your words reckless when they’re usually so carefully chosen. You have to be careful with your words, because you’ve spent years weaving a web that shows everyone everything, but not from every angle. And he’s fucking unraveling it. Dean just looks at you, and you pull at a thread so he can see whatever he wants, and you can’t understand how the fuck he’s doing it.

It must be on purpose, but he looks just as shocked as you are—gaping at you slightly, his features open and uncertain—and you don’t think it’s an act. Especially not as his voice becomes slightly hoarse, his feet restlessly shifting his weight as he speaks.

“Yeah, if you want, but I’m good to just head out if you-“

“Do you want to head out?”

Dean’s grin becomes bright once more, and the shake of his head sends a spark of lightning through your body.

“So,” you step to the side, offering him a small smile. “Come in.”

He shuffles inside, scanning over your scattered possessions and stopping at the side of the bed. 

“I can,” he looks back to you, his eyes a little wide. “I can sit on the floor, or we can go outside-“

You shake your head, moving to his side. “There are bugs outside. Sit on the bed.”

Dean glances at the mattress like the sheets might leap up and strangle him. “Floor looks good-“

“Winchester.” You point at the bed, giving him a stern glare. “Sit.”

“I am not a freakin’ dog-“

You place a hand on his chest and push him—just enough for him to get the message—and he sit on the bed with a wide happy? gesture. 

You drop at his side, watching him carefully as you try to work out what is happening. Why he’s here. If he’s looking at you like that—like you’re more than a human, but that’s hypnotizing, and he’d love to find what you actually are—because he can feel this too. 

But Dean beats you to it.

“Can I ask you something?”

You tilt your head at him, pulling your knees into your chest. “Can I ask you something?”

“Huh.” Dean hums, the smile creeping back onto his face. “How about we trade? I ask you a question, you gimme an answer, then we switch.”

You give him an amused look. “That’s just a conversation.”

“Nah, because if I ask you something and you answer, now I owe you a question. You can turn down a question, but you’ll still owe an answer.”

You frown. “What happens if you owe an answer?”

He shrugs, flopping onto his back. “Then the other person keeps asking questions.”

Dean looks so real. He’s grinning up at you, light dancing as his eyes as he obviously baits you into whatever he’s trying to do. 

And you fall for it. Despite your best judgement, you fall.

“I’m going first.” 

He chuckles, but raises his hand for you to shake. “Deal, Princess.”

The moment your hand folds into Dean’s he pulls you down, leaving your smushed slightly against him and his face only inches from yours once more. And your yelp was undignified, and he’s such an asshole—laughing and grinning as you shove his chest—and you’re smiling too. 

Because this is easy. And you have a feeling that, if this strange man—who’s too pretty, and that’s making you feel like you’ve never really been alive before this—dragged you right down to hell, you’d still be laughing and smiling at him. And that’s so fucking dangerous. And you know that, but you still can’t stop looking at him, and you can’t roll away. And you decide that, just for tonight, you’re going to indulge this. You’ll dedicate hours when he’s gone to figuring out what the fuck this is. Right now you get to laugh and smile and act like nothing in the world has ever—could ever—hurt you.

“So,” Dean says your name, and it still sounds too good. “You have a question to go first with? Or were you just bein’ bossy-“

“Shut up.” You swing your leg to kick his shin, he laughs, and it’s like music. Making you high and dizzy as you watch him, running your thumb over your palm. “I’ve got it, Winchester. You ready?”

“Born it, sweetheart,” he winks at you, and that’s dizzying too. “Hit me.”

“Why are you here?”

“I told you already, I wanted to talk to you-“

You hum, holding his gaze with a small frown. “Why?”

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s two questions-“

“It’s a ride off of the first question-“

“Well, I still gotta ask my first question before you get a second one.” He raises his brows at you, bump your knee with his. “We shook on this, Princess, you don’t get to change it now.”

You glare at him, but you think he knows it’s fake, because his grin becomes almost blinding. “Fine. Go.”

Dean rolls onto his side, holding your gaze as he speaks. “How’d you get that car?”

You frown. “The Lexus?”

He nods, and you sigh. 

“I borrowed it.” It’s not a lie, but it’s a half-truth. It’s a half-truth that will keep him here, at your side, for a little longer than you might deserve. “For the hunt.”

“Well, it’s freakin’ awesome.” He grins at you, and your face might burst into flame. “Your move.”

“Why are you really here?”

Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “Will you let it go if I say to talk again?”

“Nope. Answer me.”

“It’s, uh,” he rolls flat on his back once more, running a hand over his face. “Tomorrow’s gonna be Dad telling us about safety and Sammy asking you a bunch of questions.” He shoots you a small, amused grin. “I think he’s been writing them down. He’s into all that geek-shit too-“

“I am not a geek-“

“Yeah, you are.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry, I think it’s adorable. But Sammy thinks you’re the coolest person we’ve ever met. So after Dad finishes, he’ll try to use you like a freakin’ library, and I just figured I’m the one who found you, so I should get a night of you all to myself.”

You gape at him for a second, and you’ve defiantly burst into flames. He wants you all himself, and he thinks you’re adorable, and he doesn’t know you, but he doesn’t seem like the type to say all that just to get in your pants, and if he was, he’d be there already. He’d just have to roll on top of you, but he’s only looking at you like you’re something sacred instead of a disease or trophy. 

He must feel this too. He has too. And you want to ask him, but you don’t know how, because you don’t even know what this is. It’s magnetic and infinite and bigger than anything, forging something you don’t know how to name between where the White and darkness live in your body. And Dean might not even have the White and darkness. Nobody else does—that’s something that’s wrong with only you—so if you phrase it like that he’ll think you’re insane-

“My turn.” Dean says, and you’re dragged back down to earth, grounded in his smooth voice. “What’s up with your hand?”

You blink at him. “What?”

“That one.” he reaches over, tapping the back your hand. “You’ve been touching it all day, and I kinda, uh,” he gives you an apologetic look. “I saw the scar. If you wanna pass on this one, I’ll drop it, but-“

“No, it’s,” you take a long breath, because this would be an easy one to refuse to answer, but his fingers are lingering on your knuckles and setting off little sparks over your skin, and you want to tell him. It takes a moment of just staring at him to you find the words, and his eyes never leave yours, and everything about him seems to drug you into a loose-lipped, trusting ease. “I’ve have it since I was really young. There was, um, an incident.”

Dean still doesn’t look away, his voice slightly lower. “Hunting incident, or-“

“No.” You swallow, turning your hand for him to see the long, clean scar on your palm. Running through it in a neat, raised line. “Just an incident.”

He looks like he’s going to say something. Not push, but say something, and you blurt out your next question before he can get the chance. It’s not what you wanted to ask—you hadn’t offered yourself enough time to find the right words for something really fucking weird is happening to me, and I need to know if it’s happening to you too—but it’s dragged out of you in desperation to learn a little more about him. In a plea for him to only know that you’re marred where he can see, and never discover that you’re twisted where he can’t.

“What’s it like?” You watch him carefully, your fingers starting to trace over the scar. “Hunting with your family?”

“It’s fine.” He shrugs. “I mean, Dad’s a freakin’ genius at it, and it’s awesome to watch him work. Plus I get to keep an eye on Sammy like this. Know he’s safe.” He frowns. “I mean, it’s better than sending him off alone. Letting him be in danger.”

You hum, scanning over the wrinkle in his brow, your thumb starts to itch to press on it, sooth his whole face into a relaxed smile. “You guys are close?”

Dean nods eagerly. “Yeah, I mean, He’s a freakin’ loser, but he’s all I got. He’s a weird little geek-“

You laugh. “He’s taller than you are, De. I wouldn’t call that little.”

“He’s little in spirit-“ Dean cuts himself off, and his grin looks almost manic. “Did you just call me De?”

“No.” You hold his gaze, even as your face warms. “Shut up.”

“I heard you, Princess, you can’t lie to me-“

“Well, is that your question?” You grin at him, your body leaning a little further without you moving it, and Dean eyes flash.

“You gonna tell me the truth if it is?”

You nod, and he smirks.

“Then yeah, it was.”

“Okay. I did call you De.” Before he can gloat, you push on. “Why do you call me Princess?”

“I told you already, it suits you-“

You narrow your eyes. “Try again, Winchester. Real answer this time.”

He sighs, shaking his head at the ceiling. “You just,” Dean waves his hand through the air. “You’ve got a thing going. You don’t look like a hunter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean-“ 

“It means,” He gives you a strange look you can feel flash through your blood, melding the White back into the darkness, turning every simple and bright as he continues. “That if you asked me what I thought you were, I’d have said something fancy.”

You open your mouth, but he’s not done, and he won’t look away from you.

“I dunno, you just seem too pretty to be down here in the mud with us. You should eating caviar and wearing those poofy dresses-“

You snort. “Poofy dresses?”

“Yeah, like in movies, when they dance around like douchebags-“

“So you’re saying I seem like a douchebag-“

“No, I’m saying you should be somewhere that’s not here.” Dean’s attention is washing over you like a rising tide—slow and natural and deep—and you still can’t read that expression on his handsome face. “The mud.”

He’s so close. And if he thinks you’re pretty, he’s a work of art. You’ve never see someone look like him. Like he was created, and not born. Every freckle on his face is more like a star than a flaw, and there a slight crook to his nose that tells you he’s been punched there before, but it only makes you want to run your finger over the bump and see if his pretty eyes flutter or flash. His lips are chapped but they’d still be soft. His hands look rough, but that just means he uses them.

You think it would be nice to let him use you.

“I like it in the mud,” you whisper, daring to inch a little closer, until you’re sharing a breath. “It feels real. And,” you grin at him, everything blurring around you but pretty green eyes and shining silver in your chest. “I’ve got good company down here.”

There it is. The flash in his eyes as they darken slightly, a warm breath fanning over your face, and he looks golden. In the warm light of the lamp, glowing soft on his tan skin, Dean looks like something more than human. You feel like something more than human, and for the first time in your life, that’s not a curse. And he’s still so fucking close, and this is a terrible idea, but you can’t bring yourself to move away.

You should. He’s John Winchester’s son, and you’re not sure how you forgot that. It’s past midnight, and you have a feeling he wasn’t supposed to be here at all, and this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. 

But you still can’t move.

“You should, um,” you swallow, and your lips might have brushed over his. “You should get back. It’s late, and your dad-“ 

“Shit,” Dean mutters, but still doesn’t try to move away. “Yeah.” 

Your eyes dart down to his lips—full and pink, just a small movement away from yours—and you decide you don’t care what’s happening to you. This is—Dean is—too good to care. You don’t need to know why this is happening, or what it means, or if you should be trying to run from it. You just need Dean. You think that—if the world ended and time began to move slowly—you might plant roots in the motel floor and grow into Dean until the world flooded and you were both washed away. 

“I have one last question,” he mutters, breath ghosting over your lips. “If I leave you my number, will you use it?”

You nod without thinking, he grins, and you’re so fucked. You can’t kiss him. You might fall from a million feet if you kiss him. Down, down, down, clinging to him as you both try to find an end to whatever this is and likely fail to. But Dean sits up slowly—like the movement is painful—and when he helps you to your feet you think you might ascend from just his hand in yours. Touching him feels like it’s making you pure and worthy of something, and you have to know what kissing him will do.

Not on the lips. You still have enough of your willpower and caution to not crash all the way down, at least not right now. But you kiss his cheek, and that’s tragedy enough. It snaps something into place inside you, soft stubble and warm skin too much for your entire existence to handle. It’s all too much to handle, and if he hadn’t mumbled a low promise of seeing you tomorrow and left when he did, you would’ve jumped on him to chase whatever this feeling is. How it’s the only thing you’ve ever felt that might belong inside you, and the only easy thing that the darkness has ever bended for.

And when you sleep, that’s easy too. It’s dreamless and deep, no nightmares, no waking up in a cold sweat, no darkness wrapping around you and leaving the sheets only ash when you wake up.

But when you do wake up, something is wrong. You feel it first, gnawing at your nails and blood. And when you roll over to check the time, your phone is gone. 

It had been on the bedside table, a scrap of paper with Dean’s number under it, and it’s gone.

The paper is gone too.

You shoot out of bed, and Dean’s shirt is still in the corner, because he’d told you to give it to him in the morning, to trade it for your Agent Smith badge. But your phone is gone.Your window is open—cool breeze rushing through the room—and your phone is fucking gone.

You’d been smart to pack the night before. You’d been smart to keep your keys in your jacket, and park right outside your room. You can shove everything in the passenger’s seat and screech out of the motel lot in a second. You don’t know why, but you’re heading to Dean first. Something is wrong, and you don’t know what, but the White is trying to strangle your heart and the darkness is already eating up your spine and over your skull.

John Winchester’s sleek, black muscle car—Dean told you it was an Impala, and he’d said it with a pride in his voice that had dragged a smile onto your face—isn’t parked in the lot. And when you knock on the door nobody answers. All the lights in the room are off, there’s no shadows moving through the window, and the door is locked.

You move to the front desk and ask if the men in that room had checked out. And when the clerk gives you a weary look and says that they’d paid for another two nights, but dropped the keys off that morning, your gut twists. 

They were gone. Dean was gone. And something fragile and new shattered inside you, leaving small pieces lodged through your whole body. You stumble back to your car, the darkness moving out of your body and the whole world too fucking big, and you don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’d known him a day. He’d known you a day. Nothing was owed, but you can still feel it. How the White seems to be howling from the loss of him, and the darkness can’t stop growing as it sinks in. 

He left. You don’t know why, but Dean left. He’d probably taken your phone, taken his number, and just fucking left you. Maybe he’d seen you last night, really seen you, and realized what you were. Maybe he’d just been playing you the whole time for some sort of scam. Maybe you hadn’t kissed him, and he’d decided you weren’t worth the chase. And that would mean you had been going crazy, and he hadn’t felt anything at all.

The thought lets the darkness move over you, and you can feel everything everywhere. The electricity in the wires over your head, the wear of painted lines in the parking lot, the hope of the grass peeking through the concrete under your feet. 

The grass that smells like Dean.

It breaks through you before you can stop it. Reaching past your body and down into the pavement, cracking it open with all the force of how much this hurts. How it shouldn’t hurt, it doesn’t make any sense that it hurts, but you’re still breaking and bowing and bending to the way you feel like you’ve been fucking shot. You fall down to the curb, curling into yourself as the ground shakes under your feet, and the wind picks up until—in the forest across the parking lot—a branch falls to the ground.

Then a second one. 

You manage to bring your hand to your mouth, to bite down hard and force all the darkness back into your body, and you still don’t know what to do. 

This hurts so much, and you’re alone in the middle of nowhere, and Dean’s gone.

You still have your burner phone. Your dad makes you keep it in your jacket, just in case something happens, and it only has his number. You dial him with shaking hands, the darkness still trying to climb back out of you, take a deep breath as you raise it to your ear.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey,” He says your name, his voice already edged with worry. “I didn’t think I’d be hearin’ from you until after that blood hunt thing-“

“Hunt’s over.” You mumble, staring at the cracked pavement. “Got it last night.”

“Was it a vamp like I told ya’-“

“Moroi.”

“I’d call that vamp enough. Good work, kiddo, Rufus owes us a dinner-“

“Bobby?”

Your voice is soft, and he hears it. Bobby always hears it. 

“What happened,” he says your name, and you can hear the frown in his voice. It makes everything worse, because you can’t tell him. Not now, maybe not ever if you can avoid it. You can’t handle how he’ll help you fix this and let you rest, then spend a week lecturing you and telling you everything you already know. Because you really do know. You fucked up, and you know that.

But Bobby doesn’t have to.

“Nothing, I just-“ you swallow, your nails digging into your calf. “Can I come home?”

There’s a long moment of static through the phone, and when Bobby speaks again his voice is low. “You can always come home,” he says your name, and you choke on the clean air around you. “But you get a week of mopin’ before we’re grabbin’ that dinner from Rufus. Alright?”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “I’ll be there by tomorrow.”

“Should be two days, if you drive carefully like you’re supposed to.” Bobby grunts. “And ditch that fancy car you’ve been usin’, I don’t need the cops askin’ questions about it.”

You feel a smile tug at your lips. “You never let me have anything nice, Bobby-“

“You never let me have goddamn peace, kid.” Bobby snaps, and your smile grows. “Your bed will be ready for you. And I better not see that bells and whistles hunk of shit in my yard-“

“Aye, aye captain. No fancy cars.” You make a mock salute he can’t see, and Bobby huffs.

“Stolen fancy cars.” He grumbles. “Stop bein’ a smartass and get on the road.”

When the call ends, your smile feels real. The strange, fractured feeling in the White is still there, and the darkness might be trying to fly out of you, but you’re better than before. You’ll go home, Bobby will never know what happened, and none of this will last. You’ll be fine. Dean Winchester might haunt you like a phantom or cancer for the rest of your fucking life—or at least until you figure out what he did to you, and how to fix it—but you’ll get through this. 

You always do.

—————————

Dean’s grip was tight on Her phone. It was just a fucking block of metal—it would be useless when they tossed it off a bridge in a few miles—but he couldn’t let go of it. It felt wrong to let go of it. 

He’d be letting go of Her.

He hadn’t wanted to take it, but Dad said he needed to—Don’t want to let an angry woman have a line to you, son. Especially not a crazy one—and Dad knew what he was talking about, so Dean had done it. He’d snuck back into Her room through the window, grabbed Her phone and the paper with his number, and felt like the lowest piece of trash in the goddamn garbage can. The maggot-ridden chunk of food that nobody had wanted, but was still figuring out a way to fuck everything else up in twisted retribution. 

Because there was guilt eating at Dean’s stomach. He shouldn’t have taken Her phone, not when She wasn’t that much older than Sammy. Not when She’d said her dad would be waiting for her to call, and Dean might have stolen Her only line to safety just because-

Because She’d been using him. And he’d been falling for it. She’d given him that smile like he’d fallen out of the sun and into Her hands, She’d crafted some sort of perfect mask that had felt so real—felt like this strange, mouthy, clever woman had just appeared to him, and he could’ve had something nice for once in his goddamn life—and moved Dean like a fucking pawn. 

Dad had been waiting for him when he got back, and whatever weird spell She’d put Dean under—making him feel a little drunk on nothing, making him act like a fucking idiot—had been ripped away under his glare. 

But Dean hadn’t gotten yelled at. He’d just been sat down—Dad’s gaze filled with disappointment that Dean’s bones didn’t know how to handle—and had papers pushed across the table in his direction. 

“What are these?” He’d asked, and Dad had sighed, because Dean was too much of an idiot to just know, and Dad knew it. 

“Read them.” Dad had grumbled, watching Dean through narrowed eyes. “And tell me if you want to see that girl again.”

He’d frowned but scanned over the papers. Printed out website pages about… Her. Her family. How She was missing, how She’d stolen from them, and how they were rich. Normal, alive, and rich, looking for Her and whatever she’d taken. Warning that She was crazy, a chronic liar, and should be turned over to the police if seen. There was no picture, but there was a description that matched Her perfectly, right down to a scar on her palm.

“Dad.” He’d looked up with wide eyes, something strange bucking around inside of him, insisting that this was a lie. Dean didn’t know Her—they’d had three conversations for fuck’s sake—but this didn’t seem like Her. None of this seemed like the clever, beautiful, almost ethereal woman he’d been lying on the bed with. Dean didn’t know howor why, but this couldn’t be the truth. “I don’t-“

“She’s just usin’ you, Dean.” Dad had muttered, his eyes softening just enough for Dean to know he was sorry. He might not really like Her, but he was trying to protect Dean. He always was. “Chasing a high that her daddy can’t give her, lookin’ for a way to pull somethin’ on us. Probably huntin’ just for some sort of fucked up thrill. This,” Dad tapped the papers, his face twisting in disgust. “Isn’t someone who deserves our time, and I don’t know what her game is, but I ain’t just gonna let my boy fall for it.”

Something in Dean had still been fighting. Insisting that Dad was wrong, he had to be wrong, because Dean might not really know Her but he’d throw his life down at her feet. He’d plummet to the bottom of the ocean to follow Her down, if She called him with that siren-like voice and asked him to.

And that was how he knew Dad was right. Dean had no idea who She really was, and he’d already been ready to become a sword for her to wield. So he’d nodded, asked Dad what to do, and fallen back into the line She’d forced him out of. And it wouldn’t matter that Dean had been an idiot and almost fallen for Her—Her tricks, or just Her—because Dad had saved him. He’d protected him. And it didn’t matter.

Now, as they drove—Dad’s grip tight on the wheel, Sammy sleeping in the backseat—Dean repeated it over and over. That hadn’t mattered. It had been a mistake that Dad caught, so no harm, and it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that She’d looked at Dean like she could see him, or that Her voice sounded like an angel in a dream. It didn’t matter that Her lips had felt right on his cheek, and that his annoying brain kept trying to move the ghost of Her touch to his own mouth. It didn’t matter that he could still smell the sugar and fruit that had invaded his every sense when She’d been pressed against him. It didn’t matter that She’d fit perfectly at his side, like she was just another part of him he hadn’t known he was missing. It didn’t matter that something felt like it had been ignited in Dean’s chest. Golden and light and washing him over with a sense of calm he’d never known, making him feel like—if he had been stupid enough to fall further—the worst that could happen was She didn’t fall with him. And even that would be worth the way this feeling was like lightning over his bones, making him strong and fucking alive. 

But it didn’t matter. He’d fallen for a pretty, spoiled little bitch—his heart almost withered at that idea, still being a freaking dumbass and trying to justify why She’d done this—and he’d never even see Her again, so it didn’t matter.

And it defiantly didn’t fucking matter that he’d taken Her flask, because he was fucking pathetic. Because he’d been sneaking around her room, and the flash of silver had caught his eyes, and he’d stolen it like some sort of street urchin. He’d burn it, just to rid himself of the way She was becoming plague-like on his mind. It wasn’t like she needed a flask, anyway. She didn’t even drink.

But that might have just been another strange lie. So Dean would burn it. He wouldn’t tell Dad or Sammy that he’d taken it—they didn’t really need to know how weak and useless Dean really was—so he’d burn it and everyone would forget this had ever happened. He’d burn it, and never think of Her again.

Dean felt like he was being ripped in half for reasons he couldn’t even start to understand, but it had been nothing, and it didn’t matter.

Dean dreamt of Her when he finally drifted off. And his heart kept trying to beat him back down—back to Her—but he held strong. He could dream of Her and not go back. He’d never see Her again, and dreams weren’t real. 

None of that had been real, and Dean could dream of Her.

So he would.

End Note: I know we’re off to a rough start, and we’ve got a long road ahead of us, but just remember this. What’s about to come could’ve been entirely avoided if John Winchester wasn’t the actual worst.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[doraambrose]

This hurts my heart more than anything. I am an ally and an activist for everyone to have the same basic human rights as human beings. I'm a cis woman, but i know so many people who are trans that are the best people, but you dont have to know someone trans to know that they are humans just like us cis people. My dad is a trans woman (she and I had a discussion and she's fine with me still calling her dad) and she really is a perfect example for me of how trans people are just like everyone else. People like to showcase the extra flamboyant (which isn't even a bad thing either) in a stupid attempt to paint the trans community a certain way, but most trans people are just normal everyday people with families and jobs. My dad had some major depression for a good portion of my life, and is so much happier now that she feels like who shes meant to be. My dad likes to wear conservative dresses and pantsuits and minimal makeup. She works a 9 to 5 job, she loves dogs and cats, classic rock, video games, and her children more than anything. I love my dad and I'd hate to see her rights get stripped away and her safety in danger just because she's finally happy in her own skin. And i know so many people in this world have similar stories and loved ones who are trans who feel the same way. So please spread the news and keep up the good fight to maintain rights for everyone ❤️

Don't Fall for this scam.

Transgender community, please please please do NOT use this product! It will kill you if used, please do not use it whatsoever.

Please reblog and spread the word

[zorange13]

— love island, enhypen edition

— enha as islanders x afab reader (maknae line) | hyung line

so grateful for all of the love on the hyung line version. i love all of you and i hope you liked this one just as much. i suffered a bit of writer's block while writing this. but we persevere!!

warnings/content. suggestive content, sigh…i got carried away on like all of these, misunderstanding trope (it’s not that bad i promise), slowburn, i watched to all the boys i’ve loved before and ever after high while writing this (so healing), not much just love island stuff, no casa amor for riki’s tho (don’t hate me, i just didn’t think it was necessary)

not proofread, bro i gotta start doing that omg

word count. 6.3k

inspired by the aot edition written by @rynfiles !!

Jungwon 양정원

not the eldest (duh), he is kinda the dad out of the group

also an og

wins a lot of fans over by his cute, boyish looks (ofc)

and don’t let him smile, omg THE DIMPLES????? yeah.

also another that people go to for advice for

but somehow the girls there don’t go for him because he seems to be too cute

like, he’s one of the younger ones there and most of the girls preferred the older, more experienced guys

the girls took care of him and almost babied him

to which he would never reject the attention of beautiful women!! (duh) but he didn’t want pity

so it kinda balances out in a way

even though he is such a worrywart, he does in fact know how to have fun and enjoys cracking jokes, playing lil innocent pranks, and having lil dance parties

bc it’s not like yall have your phones 

anyways

you were not an og so…a bombshell lmao

and needless to say, you had such a huge wall up and didn’t know how to even handle men after your last relationship

you had been cheated on…baddd

and coming on this show was just something that you didn’t think much into but one day you auditioned and never looked back

the producers said something about you would make good tv

so why not?

you came in during week 3!!

at this point, won was coupled up with one of the og girls

but it wasn’t really going anywhere and that was ok!!

you came in, not really expecting much

but the great thing was that you were like the only girl that was jungwon’s age

so immediately his head was turnt

the prods did that dumb thing where they have you go on a date with all of the guys to see which one you like more

basically you sit at a table and the guys just kind of microwave their ways from the table to wherever they came from

but ngl…none of them were your type like

jake…hot asf but eh

sunoo…stunning but he was too cute

heeseung…just no lmao

jay…that’s just the bro ngl

riki…yes!! but oh…he’s too young for your liking

so nothing really stuck

UNTIL!!

mr. yang jungwon sat across from you

he was also very hot and very cute 

but still…you couldn’t show your cards yet like 

you had to be a lil mysterious

“hi y/n, im jungwon” he stuck his hand out waiting for your handshake, waiting to sit

to which you liked, all the other dudes just sat down and waved or kissed you on the cheek before they sat

none of them bothered you, it was just nice that jungwon wanted your respect first

the date was genuinely fun!!

you didn’t think that you and him would have that much in common

from what you saw before you came in, he was such a dad

he was the type to serve himself last when they made dinner

the type to make sure the girls put on their sunscreen before their makeup

just very considerate and selfless

almost too much at times

because then he’d find that his food would either be cold

or that he wouldn’t get the portion or piece he wanted

or when he wanted the girls to put on their sunblock, he’d forget to put his on

and would have to get aloe from one of their bags

you, however, did not gaf

you didn’t care to step on toes

you didn’t care to hurt feelings or set boundaries bc you’ve spent so long trying to make others in your life feel comfortable

why?? bc why would you watch everyone around you get what they want except for you? no. (real shit)

selfishness isn’t terrible all the time

so after the date with jungwon, you honestly did enjoy his presence

and vice versa for him so you ended up chatting a lot more

and you guys actually ended up bonding over his current need to people please

and where you lied now with that

“idk, i just feel like i should always look out for people. it’s just how i was raised.”

“yeah, that’s great but when do you ever get what you need? you can’t pour from an empty cup, you know?”

he frowned, not from sadness but it more so exhibited thought. “i guess i’ve never thought of it like that. i just like to feel useful…i feel like when everyone is good then so am i. 

you smiled faintly, “nothing’s wrong with that at all, won. but if it’s at the expense of your own happiness or skimming your wants and needs, then that’s a problem. i’ve been there.”

“really?” he said, genuinely curious. “what happened?”

now you’re kinda mad you even let yourself get this comfortable with him this fast

but this was a time where you had to let yourself be vulnerable

i mean you did sign up for a dating show like cmon

“well…” you sighed, “my last relationship ended about a year and a half ago, and it was pretty rocky. i just thought i was doing everything right, like i was rearranging my schedule to see him. i used to write down everything that he told me that was worth remembering in case i wanted to surprise him with a gift. i’d even bite my tongue when something upset me because i didn’t want to make him upset. now that i think of it, i felt like i was just trying to shrink myself into this little box of what i felt love was and what he wanted me to be or something. but i equated his love to my worth and then my worth to how useful i was to people.”

he let you express yourself but as you did, he slid his hand across the couch cushion where your hand was. though he hesitated, not knowing if you were comfortable

you saw this and decided to be bold and inch your hand forward as well

his ears perked up at the sensation but before he could get totally flustered he spoke up, “so what made you guys break up?”

you smiled bitterly, “he cheated,”

“that’s awful, i’m so sorry. truly, you didn’t deserve that.” anger, then sadness flickered in his eyes

“i know that now, but the best things that i learned was one: never love a man more than he loves me. then two: selfishness and self-preservation isn’t so bad.”

“this is pretty hard for me to hear, but also i think i needed to hear it”

you scooted a little closer to him, “well, you have a cute girl sitting right here with more than enough selfishness to spare. maybe some of it will rub off on you.”

that had to be one of the most cathartic conversations you’ve both had

but from there, he actually started to do for himself more

he wouldn’t wait for everyone to get their food first

he made sure to put his sunblock on 

and now the only other thing that he wanted to worry about now was you

bringing you breakfast, water, making you food when you were hungry in the middle of day, massaging you when you slept funny

in turn, ironically enough you started to do more for the friends you’ve made

you did more favors, said yes but only because you wanted to

you both brought out great things in the each other and it showed

you came in very guarded

but now you were like a butterfly, wearing brighter colors, your natural hair, you didn’t put on as much makeup as before, you laughed more than you have in a long time

all of those things were amazing, putting effort into yourself and looking nice

but you started to feel like your old self and you were gonna embrace for now

you spent more time doing the other girl’s hair and makeup and that was the most fun!!

you and jake’s girl developed a close friendship too!!

when casa came, you also left him a note!!

“ok so i totally left but it’s only for a little bit, i promise!! take care of yourself while i’m out, ok? please promise me, i know i’m not actually there to see you make the promise but i trust you did lmao. don’t miss me too much, or do, because i’ll definitely be missing you. you’re my won and only. love, y/n”

his heart BURST

especially at that last part, so creative it wasn’t like he’s heard that one before

he holds up at casa

still, he’s just being himself

there was one girl in particular that was very into him

she didn’t come on too strong…

i lied i'm sorry she did

but he kept it respectful though!!

you know…arms length

he did genuinely like you and just wasn’t feeling it with the casa girl

he told her, literally right after rejecting her with a smile, “you’re a beautiful girl but my connection is depending on me and i’m doing the same with her. i just wanna make sure i’m doing what’s best for me and her.”

very cut and dry, straight to the point!!

until it wasn’t????

over at the villa, the girls received that godforsaken video of what the boys have been up to

all of the girls were in shock and jaws agape at what they were seeing

when it got to jungwon, all you saw was him and the girl sitting down one of the couches

that wasn’t pleasant to see but whatever

then he sat there, marvelous dimples on display and said, “you’re a beautiful girl, i just wanna make sure i’m doing what’s best for me…”

you were not only, confused but totally shocked

fans hateddd that the prods tried to sabotage like that!!

you’ve made it clear to him what you’ve been through and this was a little more than hurtful

the whole environment was a damn mess like 

some of the girls were crying because their guys weren’t acting right, others were confused

the casa boys tried to help and support the girls but like ew get away we don’t know you wtf

when jungwon came back, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt

but you were just so withdrawn

at the recoupling he didn’t bring anyone back which surprised you

when asked how you felt about it, you didn’t really have an answer

as days passed and you kept looking at jungwon, it was a reminder of the person you were a year and a half ago

he was tired of it and finally sat you down

“you were flirting with her, won” 

“what?” his brows furrowed, he looked at you like you just said the most ridiculous thing in the world

“you said something about the girl being beautiful and that you’re gonna do what’s best for you.” rolled your eyes

he shook his head in disbelief, as in he was genuinely confused. “i never said that, wait no. i said that but that wasn’t what i said.”

after grabbing your given phone, seeing as you’re the one who it was sent to (conveniently), you both watched the video and jungwon legit burst out laughing

“ok, so they totally twisted the entire thing. what i said was something along the lines of—”

you cut him off, avoiding his eyes. “don’t lie, bro. if you liked the girl then that’s—”

“i don’t even know her! if i liked her i would’ve brought her back.”

“ok so if that was the case then what about me? what if you did like her then what was i supposed to do?”

“you know that’s not fair…”

you leaned back into the chair and huffed, folding your arms. “what did you say?”

“i said that our connection is strong and i want to do what’s best for me and you. i rejected her, i said i didn’t want her.”

you frowned, “i don’t believe you”

he knew you had trust issues, and understandably so. but with that all he could do was sigh, “i get it, you don’t trust me right now and i don’t blame you. that video was crazy but i swear to you—i never even considered her.”

you stayed quiet, folding your arms

he leaned forward, trying to bridge the gap

“what i said was, ‘i’m trying to do what's best for me and her.’ as in, us.” he gestured between you two

“so why even say that? why was it even twisted?”

“because i wanted to make it clear that i wasn’t wavering.” his tone soft, yet firm. “i wanted het to know she didn’t even have a chance. i was..i was hoping that you’d believe enough in me to see that.”

“it’s not just about believing you, won. it’s about what i saw with my eyes and heard with my ears. and it just reminded me of the shit that i wanted to leave behind.”

he leaned back with a sigh, “i didn’t come back to fight with you. i came back because i chose you. and i will keep choosing you, but you gotta trust me.”

“ok”

“ok?” he reached over to you to pull you in for a hug

but you stopped him before he could, “ok. just don’t let anything like this happen again. seriously.”

he nodded, “i promised and i’m gonna keep myself to it. i’m all in with you, baby and i will always choose you.” and you guys shared a gentle kiss

spoiler alert: he kept his promise!!

final 4!!

your last date was a picnic in a hidden garden, with fairy lights, a starry night, with a beautiful guitarist there to play cute mood music

his final speech: “when i came into this, i was so focused on making everyone happy that i lost sight of what really mattered. but with you, i learned that taking care of myself isn't selfish—it’s necessary. and you… you’ve shown me that it’s okay to do things for others, to give more than i ever thought i could. i know trust hasn't come easy for you. you’ve had to fight for it, and i’ve seen that. but i want you to know, the trust we’ve built, it means everything to me. it's not just about what we say; it’s what we’ve shown each other, day by day, that proves we’ve got something real. i don’t want to pretend i’ve got everything figured out, but i do know one thing: i’ve never felt this way before. and i want to keep building with you—slowly, carefully, but always toward something more.”

even though won was so beloved, you were the favorite between you both!!

“seeing her grow has been everythinggg” “they are so black cat and golden retriever” “love a good he fell first and harderrr” “these are my winners idc”

the prods hated that you guys were so loved

Sunoo 김선우

lowkey can see him as the host LMAOO

like he would be asking all the burning questions 

instigating

rolling his eyes at all the dumbasses in the villa

but as a contestant

he’d be a bombshell

i just see him being so sweet (i mean he alr is from my assumptions)

he gives me the couple that partners up like day one and stays solid through the rest of the show

everything about him is just very lighthearted like he’s just there to have fun!!

but when he sees you he’d know that he’d want you

this might sound crazy but just looking at all the other girls repulses him (love them tho!)

he makes it clear that he’s into you and honestly it kinda makes you…teehee

as he continues his journey in the villa he’s adopted as the sweetheart™

everyone goes to him when they wanna vent and just need a listening ear. 

another fan favorite: “bro where did they find this man” “OMGG a man that doesn’t play games and is actually not a literal pos ?/??//?? no way” “i need a man like sunoo in ways that are concerning to mankind”

you and him were talking at the beanbags one day and you were asking him why he seemed like he was too good to be true

“you just slept a lot”

“what does that mean?”

“because i’m the man of your dreams, so you like…manifested me”

you laughed, “shut up” you threw a loose pillow at his head

y’all would be like the boring couple

like gtfoh no one wants to see you two being IN LOVE

WE WANT DRAMA

it’s weird tho bc even tho y’all have been so solid, america kinda doesn’t believe you two

kinda like kendall and nicole like it just felt artificial

you would take losing challenges kinda hard because you were competitive 

sunoo, however, didn’t care but he cared because you did, they were just dumb challenges

were y’all in it for the money or…?

but there was genuine love between you two and it was weird when y’all were voted the fakest girl and guy

it just didn’t make sense, but maybe it was the editing of the show?

til this day you’re like 90% sure the prods sabotaged but it’s ok!!

he just looked at you with so much admiration

he’d help you with your hair if you needed it (only in the event that you were the last girl to get ready or if you were just moving extra slow)

he brought your breakfast like clockwork

he was there if you needed literally anything like it’s insane

when you girls had to leave for casa he was heartbroken

but fortunately, you did leave a note for him!!

“hi baby!! a part of me feels like you’re gonna be hurt  to read this but still we all had to go. i can’t wait to get back to you so we can catch up, i know it’s only gonna be a few days but you know how that feels like forever here. but still, all i’m gonna say is don’t be weird, use your best judgment, and make sure no one bugs out if you can help it. i’ll do the same. i left you a little keepsake, i’ll see you when i get back, precious!”

it’s so bittersweet because he loves the note and it’s like he can hear your voice as he reads it

but that’s the problem, he wishes you were actually here

but he looks across your vanity to see you left him his favorite perfume of yours in a sample just for him

would spray it on him and even spray it on the bed

when the casa girls came he was nice 

it made him sick to his stomach to see another girl sitting at your spot on the vanity table but he knew it was temporary (unless she was picked)

he kept it cute

unfortunately some of the other guys didn’t so he knew recoupling was gonna be a bloodbath

heeseung acting like an asshole

jake doing God knows what

sunoo kinda hated everything that came with love island

you, alongside the friends that he’s made, were the only truly enjoyable things that came with the experience

the useless drama gave him migraines

you ended up coming back with no one and he did the same

it was a happy night for you two 

he hated seeing the girls upset, as did you

but y’all were lowkey eating up the drama lmao

you guys didn’t make it to the final 4

you guys just barely made it in the votes

like out of the final 4, you guys were like 5th

tears

straight EMOTIONAL TEARS 

the couples that were left didn’t want to see you guys go

you guys were beloved still by fans

fans didn’t believe in you guys  until this moment

they were kinda sad that they didn’t bet on you guys earlier 

but you and sunoo didn’t gaf about the money or clout that you gonna get after

all that you needed were each other

Riki 西村力

he auditioned as a joke lmao

he was not betting on making it but when he got the email that was gonna be a contestant, he was shocked

but again, he’s young and turnt so why not

yolo yk?

riki was the youngest boy in the villa (og)

in general he wasn’t that experienced

he’s only ever had one girlfriend in comparison to the others

it didn’t take much for him to realize that

the girls that came in were all older than him and going for the older guys

but it didn’t take a blow at his pride

personally, he doesn’t find the appeal in women that were so much older

like they’re paying bills and he just graduated like

they have nothing in common

but as a person, he got comfortable with the other islanders very quickly and learned a lot about what women do and don’t like from the older sisters in the villa (kinda like bergie from s5)

“yes, riki, you have to flirt. pursue, you’re a man now. most girls will only take initiative to a certain extent, the rest is on you.”

“i know but…how?”

just asking questions, figuring things out blah blah

his relationship with the guys is still very much younger brother

they also give him advice on girls

it’s terrible but he makes note of it so he knows what to and what not to do

he plays stupid pranks on everyone to kill time

but after a while it gets boring when he sees everyone paired off and he’s kinda just…there

but never fear!!

he’s surprised the prods actually like him enough to send him a girl his age

well actually it wasn’t the prods it was the fans that begged for him to have someone (not like he knew that)

“he’s so young, y’all are dead wrong for not having girls his age” “poor riki :( he’s so lonely” “love island plz cast me”

when you walked in, of course he knew you were stunning

i mean, look at you!! just his type

so naturally, all of the islanders were interrogating you at the firepit

“so, y/n, what’s your type?”

you smiled, a little flustered but expecting it. “tall, funny, i like them slim, but like muscular? so i’d say lean?? yeah, lean is the right word. also funny, exciting! i never like to be bored.”

everyone laughed, “well you don’t have to worry about that here, trust.” [sunoo’s girl] said

“i know, i’ve been watching y’all” you say with a playful lilt

heeseung tilts his head, “really? so, who do you have your eyes on right now?” 

what a flirt i stg

you smiled, “not you”

to which that elicited a few laughs from the others, as well as him. “no seriously, anyone here catch your eye?”

you look to the boy sitting a few people down from you, “him”

he was dazed, half listening, and staring blankly at the wooden deck beneath his feet

the only thing that caught his attention was the fact that everyone was looking at him and that you called him out

“me?” he said, with some excitement

you nodded reciprocating, “yeah!”

jake intervened, “wait, how old are you?”

“riki’s age”

the islanders, sans you and riki, all ooooh’d and ahhhh’d 

[jake’s girl] grabbed your arm, locking hers with yours. “that’s so cute, well, we’ll leave you guys to it. you know, gotta give them space.” she looked around at everyone else with wide, indicative eyes. 

they all took hints and left, leaving you two just sitting there awkwardly

and i can’t say that y’all eventually found a groove because…you didn’t

it was so painfully awkward

it’s like all of those things that the girls spoke to him about just…left

but also when he would bring up things to talk about or would ask to see if you shared any interests, nothing clicked

“so do you like music?”

you smiled, “yeah…well who doesn’t like music?”

and vice versa

“do you like to watch tv?”

“of course,”

“cool! do you like anime?”

your shoulders slump, “i’ve tried to watch it, but i can’t seem to get into it. i watched the first season of hunterxhunter and—”

he laughed, “that’s because it’s hxh, that show is…strange. you gotta watch shit like death note, naruto–”

you groaned, “bro that show is mad long”

“you just need to skip all the filler episodes”

you stared at him blankly, “if i need a whole strategy guide to get through it, i’m not watching it”

“it’s a classic!”

wait…i take it back

there was SOMETHING

but somehow even after all of that he couldn’t get any further than just physical attraction

like he knew you were gorgeous but something about you felt dull

like there was nothing you guys had in common

a few days passed, but nothing. 

and you both tried so hard

riki felt so attracted to you, i’ve said it before and i’ll keep saying it

however, nothing stuck and it was really disappointing

you felt similarly so you were on the same page

however, you still didn’t see the appeal in dating anyone so much older

so in some way, riki was like all you had

and you hated the idea of using someone for convenience or obligation

you wanted to want him and for it to be real

in a confession, riki says, “it sounds so shallow to say this but, she checks off all of my boxes. stunning, 10/10. but i feel like nothing’s landing with us, you know? i want to get to know her but i feel like we’re just forcing it. and i don’t want her to feel like she has to settle for me either.”

fans felt him, but still just wanted you guys to work because they saw the potential!!

“but they look so good together!!” “a part of me is sad that there’s nothing there, but another part is kinda glad that riki is getting a taste of what love island and dating is like. it’s good for him.” 

so one night, you guys sat down and things finally came to a head

you guys were alone, all the other islanders kinda scattered throughout the villa and the yard space

“i’m just gonna be honest because i feel like you deserve that.”

he nodded curtly, waiting for you to finish, already anticipating what was coming

“i just don’t think this is working—and it’s not you! i just feel like we’re trying too hard. like you’re everything and more. funny, you’ve been really nice, you’re attractive, but i just feel like we’re missing something.”

there was a beat of silent but then his shoulders settled 

riki smiles, “it’s ok, i’ve been feeling the same way,”

your eyes bulged, “wait you too! omg, this sounds terrible but i’m so relieved wtf.” 

you both shared a laugh

you were both glad that the pressure to perform for one another was alleviated 

since then, things have been ok!!

you did couple up with each other 

mainly for the convenience, and you liked each other enough to not want the other to leave

you guys are hilarious and are sort of the comedic duo of the villa

you guys are kids in comparison to rest so…very childish

but not in an annoying way!!

sort of like spongebob and patrick

ok they’re annoying…

but THEY ARE FUNNY

you both express these feelings in confessionals:

riki: “since we talked about it, it feels different…like in a good way! there’s no pressure and we just vibe now, and i’d like to get to know her for real this time. i feel like i only know her on a friend level, which is nice. i want a friend first you know?”

you: “ok, so why is riki actually funny…? i’m honestly not sure how i missed all of those things the first time around. i feel like i was trying too hard to see if we’d work out and it’s made me miss all of the things that make him fun to be around.”

nonetheless the fans ate up yalls dynamic

but they were still skeptical like…

“...are we sure they’re just not too comfortable? i mean like i love their vibe but WE NEEDD THE ROMANCE” “my besties to lovers slowburn senses are tingling…” “i feel like they’re gonna realize they’re perfect for each other after all omggg”

the islanders couldn’t STAND yall omg

sabotaging challenges

messing up relay races

“you guys gotta stop plotting against us during these challenges” jake groaned as he wrung out his soaked tank top

“it’s just strategy, jakey” you and riki high five, as you then double over laughing

to which he watches you with a smile

but eventually…cracks started to show

when the nights were extra breezy and your dress didn’t cover you up that well, he gave you his jacket

he brought you breakfast every day and made sure jay didn’t put too much or too little of anything in or on whatever you wanted to eat

the way your smile lingered a little too long when he was teasing you

but of course, there’s cameras and fans see it!!

“bro they’re literally falling in love rn and they DONT EVEN KNOW IT” “this feels like the friends to lovers arc i didn’t know i needed” “riki’s smile when she was laughing???? yeah he’s gone”

and don’t kill me

but riki didn’t even peep his feelings until the godforsaken heart rate challenge

you dressed up as a referee: black and white striped crop top, low rise shorts, knee length socks, some cute converse, and of course a whistle

nothing too scandalous!!

you guys are young so no one is expecting a lot from either of you. it’s weird almost, you guys are like the little brother and sister to everyone

so you didn’t do anything extreme, just some funny one-liners.

until you got to riki…

saving the best for last, you sauntered toward him

the boys ooooo’d and playfully punched him; just guy stuff. gross. 

anyways!!!

you flung the string of you whistle around his neck and pulled him closer to you as you got on your knees in front of him

and said, “i think you’re my biggest rule breaker,”

not only were you pulling him physically, you were pulling him in every other way possible

his eyes physically couldn’t leave yours

his heart was beating out of his chest and you hadn’t even really touched him

you pulled him in with your laugh

you pulled him in with your silly little remarks and jabs

and now you were pulling him in with this cheap ass whistle

he smiles, as awestruck as can be, “what rule did i break?”

“you stole my heart”

you’ve never been this bold before

but you did pull him closer, whistle string still around his neck and now his eyes low. almost intoxicated by you

“and you got mine”

wait you didn’t think he’d respond RIGHT THERE ??? WAIT

luckily no one else heard exactly what he said

but you’re like 80% y’alls mics picked it up

STILL so corny, so cheesy, but oh so true

you ended up racing his heart the most!! (duh)

after everything, you guys ended up debriefing…

you guys sat down at the dock and sort of were reliving the chaos that just left you both

then when it got to you, “oh i didn’t know you even had that in you” he lightly hit your knee

you grabbed his hand as you laughed, completely oblivious to the tingling feeling in your stomach

“me neither! i mean it was crazy!! i’ve never been stared at for so long before”

“it was well deserved, especially what your ass put me through!”

you kinda gagged at that, some idiotic part of you was hoping that he just forgot or MAYBE wouldn’t mention it. thus, you ignored what he said and hoped he wouldn’t repeat it.

if you ignore it, it will go away

“do you really think i stole your heart?” he asked

“don’t bring that up! i was just trying to win the game”

he sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes, “shut up! you meant that shit, and i meant what i said too”

you looked around, “you’re serious?”

he nodded, reaching for your hand. “as a heart attack.”

your breath caught for a moment, and you weren’t sure what to say

your relationship with riki had been so playful and friendly (as far as you know it) for as long as you met him

yes, you meant what you said in the challenge but there really isn’t much you guys had in common.

i mean, you guys tried to find commonalities and things to bond over and it didn’t go anywhere

“that’s great, riki. but i just don’t want this to end up like how it was before. like it was so awkward and weird and i don’t want this to ruin us.”

his thumb brushed against your hand, sending sparks through it, “believe me, i know,” he snickered. “but this feels different now though, doesn’t it? i think so.”

you leaned back in thought, “it does, i…like the way this feels. but what if we mess this up again? what if we get—i just don’t want us to not be us again.”

he scoots a little closer to you, your legs now touching. his grabs your leg and placed it over his lap. “then let’s keep it simple,” 

you were a little startled by the intimacy but you maintained your cool when you saw that knowing, gentle smile play on his lips. “simple?”

“yeah,” his hand rested lightly on your shin. “think about it, we tried to be romantic without even knowing each other. now, i know you. i know you more than anyone i’ve known ever. even all 20 of your favorite colors. your favorite rom-coms, i even know your skincare routine in order.” he laughed, “at this point, nothing can bring us back to that.”

“and if it does?” you asked softly, eyes now meeting his own.

his hand slowly moved up and down your shin. “then break my heart. break it into a million pieces.” 

your ears perked up, “wait–you watched–you’re so lame! you watched to all the boys and didn’t even—”

he laughed, “shut up,” before he rested his hand on your cheeks and pulled you into the sweetest kiss you’d ever imagined

maybe being with riki didn’t seem so impossible after all

fans loved you guys!!

“i just love the childlike innocence that they bring to the sluttery of his show” “just a breath of fresh air honestly” “THE SLOW BURN BURNED I TOLD YALL” 

y’all made it to the final 4!!

the final date was something simple; honestly you both appreciated something chill in contrary to the hooliganism that you guys underwent everyday

the prods set up a stunning outdoor setup: a cozy blanket laid out in the middle of a private field with fairy lights strung on nearby trees, a telescope angled at the sky, and a basket of their favorite snacks.

ooh! and there was a special smores kit right next to card decks. 

playing cards, uno (you both avoided that one; no need to start arguing on a date), truth or dare

but his final speech, brace yourself:

“coming into this, i didn’t think i’d get attached to anyone. i thought it’d be fun, a chance to just...be myself and enjoy the ride. and for a while, it was just that. but then,” he paused, looking directly at you “you came along. and everything changed. at first, i thought we couldn’t be more different. we didn’t even make sense on paper, like literally the only thing that we had in common was our age. but then you started pulling me in—in every way possible. your laugh, your little comments, the way you carried yourself. i was hooked before i even realized it. and yeah, it wasn’t perfect, we had our awkward moments. but every time, we found our way back to something real. something i didn’t know i needed until it was right in front of me. i know i joke around a lot, but when i think about what you’ve given me—your time, your patience, your trust—it’s not something i take lightly. you’ve made me want to be better, not just for you, but for myself. so, if i’ve learned anything from this experience, it’s that love isn’t about finding someone who fits into your life perfectly or someone who likes everything you do. it’s about finding someone who just gets you and someone you’re willing to do things for. all because they’re worth it— and you’re so, so worth it. every awkward moment, every stupid rom-com i watched secretly because i knew you liked it, every marshmallow i burned trying to impress you. all of it. so, whether we win or not tonight, i already know what i’ve gained. you’re my best friend, now lover. you’re my world now, i love you, and i’ll do whatever i need to, to make sure that you’re reminded of it everyday.”

we all know who ended up winning

but still you guys are so beloved 

and you even brought a younger audience to love island!!

granted you guys are so happy and get a ton of opportunities now

you’re a brand ambassador for your favorite clothing brand

riki and you also have your own brand deals together and those photoshoots are so much fun!!

you guys also stream and crash out over cod and fortnite together

couples that crash out together, stay together <3

Copyright: © zorange13. 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

taglist: @brxght-world @aruumyne @cara9065

[sakumz]

a/n : istg I didn't think I'd cry so early in the year, there goes my one month streak of not crying hjhj and when i cry IT WONT STOP anyways I wanted to write a new years fic but darn it! inspiration isn't hitting um anyways cw reader cries.

____________________________________________

[ l. lighter, a. harumasa, l. seth x gn reader ]

____________________________________________

when lighter decides to open up with you about his past at chesetopia, he wasn't expecting you to cry. was it too chessy? was it too early to tell you this? he thought you were ready since you were his long time lover or friend to lovers, well you were a long time friend of his to lovers.

um either way, he didn't want you beating around the bush about his past. sure idiots come up to him, wanting a fight and they bring up fragments of his past. when he looks back at you, you only tilt your head in confusion. not knowing what the idiot was sprouting.

he shoves the tissue box at yoru direction, offering to order you a pudding but you shake your head. calming your last tears as you finally look up at him. red teary eyes staring back at him.

" i-im sorry, " he falters at your face. you can't help but chuckle softly.

" no I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry over your past. it's just so sad that you lost everyone and- " you feel another wave of tears floating back at the thoughts of him being alone. he quickly walks over to sit next to you, patting your back in an attempt to comfort you.

was this like a sad show to you? he can't help but laugh a little. he didn't cry over his past self nor would he ever expect someone to cry over it for him.

" hey, it's fine really. I'm no longer alone you know, since I've got you and the sons of Caledon. " he smiles at you as you feel your face flush.

" yeah, you're right. I'm glad you're all safe and sound! please keep living happy, " you press a kiss to his cheek as a suble blush grew but he quickly clears his throat to calm down any racing thoughts.

" I can easily live happy as long as you're around. "

---

another playful argument with harumasa. who would've thought this one would send the other one crying. you sniffle at your desk beside him, aggressively rubbing at your eyes. you excuse yourself but harumasa grabs your hand, yanking you back to your chair. you glare at him as he can't help but smile at the awkwardness.

" haru- asaba. " you said sternly, yanking your hand away.

" if you need to cry, just do it here. " he says so casually, making you rage. did he not care? it's embarrassing to be crying in an office. no less with the chief and deputy chief around.

" I really hate you! " you slam your hands on the desk, making a run to the toilet as yanagi voice fades in the background.

you've splash water multiple times on your face to cool and calm down. sure he probably didn't mean any words during the playful batter but it did strike your nerves when he called you the weakest fighter in all of H.A.N.D! he's the weakest person alive in H.A.ND!? you've work hard to keep up with everyone at section six, your efforts should be complimented and recognised, not thrown away so simply. wasn't it impressive to use a sniper or wield two swords? there's missions where you got to use your beloved sniper, to shoot the etereals and clear the path for your chief.

with one last huff, you decide to finally exit the washroom. your soft heel clicks come to a stop, when harumasa grabs you. pining you on the wall with both hands caging you.

you look away, a pout on your face as his gaze softens.

" I'm sorry. " he starts.

" you better be, " you step his toes as he winches but he doesn't move.

" you're not the weakest fighter in all of H.A.N.D and its pretty ironic hearing it from the weakest human alive, " he laughs as you glared at him to shut up and he quickly stops.

" I know you've worked hard and! it was really a slip of the tongue. I didn't mean anything I said and I'm really sorry it got to you. you're so talented and beautiful and I love you so much. break up with me if you don't believe a word I said. " he let's go of you and you pretend to think for a moment. it's too easy to let him get away with this. it did upset you heavily and he deserves to learn a lesson.

" alright let's break up, " you walk away, leaving him stunned for a moment before he's dashing behind you.

" protect me miyabi and yanagi! " you ran behind them. as harumasa stops to catch his breathe.

" is this one of your games? " yanagi asks as you shook your head.

" he won't leave me alone! " you whined as miyabi looks at the dishevelled harumasa.

" I say, you both should make up to this. don't come back until you're both okay, " she sholves both of you out of the office. locking the doors behind.

" I really hate you, " you spat as he sighs. thanking the chief for giving him an opportunity. he forcefully drag you to one of the seating areas in H.A.N.D. you seat yourself in one of the sofa, big distance away from him as he laid on one of them.

" have you broken up with asaba, l/n? " a co-worker walked past as he winks at you.

" why, yes I have. " harumasa quickly sits up, upon hearing the flirts and what not.

" no we have not broken up! " he shouts at the co-worker as he pushes him away.

he kneels next to you, hand in yours as you look away. he really doesn't want to let you go.

" y/n l/n. we can't break up! what about the child we have? " you try to pry your hands but it's not working.

" that's your child! " it really did sound like one was having an affair, a really interesting drama that some colleagues can't help but eavesdrop behind the walls.

" asaba, let go of me. "

" no way, " he jumps to hug you as you're just stuck, hoping the sofa swallows you whole. this is so embarrassing.

" I don't want to break up, and I'm really sorry for everything I've said. you mean so much to me and even if you were the weakest or the strongest I would still protect you, " he pleaded with you, voice so soft and fragile it sounded like he's about the cry.

" get off me, " you croaked. a few tears fell but you managed to quickly calm down. he pulls away, shocked slapped to his face.

" I didn't mean to make you cry! "

" I'm not crying! I'm sorry... for being difficult, " he pats your head, fondness in his eyes. he really does and truly loves you.

" you're not the difficult one... "

" I'm glad you've got self awareness. "

---

to think you'll be bawling your eyes out over a sad romance movie with seth next to you at the cinema, asleep.

the male lead protects the female lead and dies a tragic death protecting her. he didn't get to say he loves her before closing his eyes. seth stirs awake at your hiccups and trembling body.

panics fills him as he turns to you.

" huh! what's wrong? y/n did you hurt yourself?! " his panic voice fills the whole cinema, as everyone turns to the two of you hushing and glaring for ruining the moment. the movie was about the end. you take his hand and excuse yourself out.

maybe watching a sad romance wasn't the best idea for a break.

" I'm fine, the movie was just... too bittersweet that it got me thinking if that was me and you. " the sudden thought was about to bring you to tears but seth quickly pull you into a hug.

he didn't watch much besides the part where both characters were introduced. a security guard meets a cute cafe waitress. you weren't a cute cafe waitress but a pretty pubsec officer like him!

" what happen? " he runs his fingers in your hair. you hum slowly.

" the male lead dies for the female lead. "

" I'd do the same but I'll try to survive in the accident too. " you deadpan how can he survive when it was a killer stabbing the male lead multiple times from the back as he shielded himself for the girl?

you pull away as you wipe your tears.

" the male lead was getting back stabbed... "

" oh! I'll apprehend the killer, you saw me do it before. " he smiles as you pat his head. sure he'll protect you, but he'll definitely stop any tragedies from happening first.

" the movie sucked, didn't it? " you asks as both exits the cinema.

" yeah, what a lame security... "

[flower-boi16]

the "both sides have made mistakes" thing is actively funny to me because as usual it ignores that the real issue is in the framing

the worst ways the narrative twists itself to make Blitzo look better is by making what happened to Fizz just a freak accident (fr the guy carrying the candles if the circus was that flammable is just as responsible for that one) and by not really having M&M chew him out for the stalking. but the show never denies he has issues and causes problems by pushing people away before they can leave. and some places where the narrative suggested ambiguity in season 1 are actively removed to make Blitzo look worse in season 2 - he has a problem with Verosika's alcoholism in s1 but in s2 he's made unambiguously the only bad guy in their breakup

the worst ways the narrative twists itself to make Stolas look better is by: having Stolas and Blitzo both say cheating isn't bad/Stolas' cheating doesn't count as cheating because Stella is mean (basically) on multiple occasions, rewriting Stella from a classist jerk to an abusive monster, having an entire flashback episode devoted to making the viewer feel sorry for Stolas in the most on the nose way possible, retconning in Stolas treating Blitzo like a human being over the phone that happens entirely offscreen, comparing Stolas to all Blitzo's exes even though they weren't dating, massively inflating the number of people who hate Blitzo to make Stolas look better and the most telling thing of all: the entire awful argument in Apology Tour where the writers made Stolas look like a hypocritical gaslighter by ignoring all the ways he treated Blitzo in season 1 and never allowed Blitzo to mention any of them when it would have made perfect sense

Blitzo got a season that built up to the climatic point of having everyone he's ever wronged read him for filth in a mushroom samba sequence.

Stolas got a season where every episode that mentioned or featured him either retconned something to make him look better, inserted something that happened offscreen to make him look better or refused to allow other characters to bring up season 1 events to make him look better. S2 built up to the climatic scene of a trial sequence where no one gets to call out Stolas for making the deal to get sex, he gets to look like a hero for "sacrificing" himself (instead of it being framed like the book fiasco is equally his responsibility, which it is) and he ends the season having lost his daughter (but only because she somehow doesn't know how totally evil Stella is and how totally not responsible Stolas is because she's only allowed to be mad at him for the trial thing) but gets handed the consolation prize of Blitzo's unconditional love which he's done nothing outside of a single grand gesture to earn. Oh, and then he follows that up by freeloading off of Blitzo, trying to wreck his office during a temper tantrum and being a passive aggressive ass, none of which the show frames like something anyone should have a problem with

so, yeah. when it comes to the way the writers don't want to challenge the characters Stolas and Blitzo aren't even in the same postcode, never mind playing the same game. they're just not remotely comparable

^^^^^^^ THIS.

The entire argument that "they both made mistakes/their both in the wrong" falls flat on it's face when the narrative doesn't treat their mistakes as bad as they actually are. Blitzo gets dragged for filth for his mistakes and called about by both the narrative and everyone around him, and his truama and whatever baggage he may have is never used as an excuse by the narrative, which, is good writting, I'll give it that, the problem is that the narrative is holding him accountable using the wrong character.

Stolas' mistakes, however, are either ignored, downplayed, or justified by the narrative so to make it look like they weren't actually mistakes. Him cheating on Stella? Well, Stella was abusive, so Stolas was actually in the right to do that. Stolas repeatedly belittles and dehumaizes Blitz, making him uncomfortable around Stolas all the time and giving the impression that he views Blitz as nothing but a sex toy, continueing to make sexual advances to Blitz even when he can see it's uncomfortable? Actually, Stolas loves Blitz and thinks very highly of him, those sexual comments were actually Stolas thinking that Blitz enjoyed being treated that way, it's just Blitz's fault for not seeing that.

Stolas coercing Blitz? I mean, ya, the deal wasn't right, but let's just pretend it wasn't totally coercian guys!/s

You get the picture. Stolas' mistakes and actions are so frequently recontextualized and excused by the narrative multiple times, and, aside from maybe his mistakes as a father, the series has not called out the full extent of his behavior and I don't think it will.

Many fans like to counter this with "oh, the show will call him out later!", but, the thing is, it should have called him out now. Because the narrative's refusal of calling Stolas out actively harms the writting of not just Stolas, but Blitz as well.

Blitz's character arc of growing to become a better person was kickstarted by having him get gaslit and guilt-tripped into apologizing to his abuser. Even if the show calls Stolas out later, it wont change that unless it directly calls this out and recontextualized.

Series held Blitz accountable for something that he wasn't even in the wrong for. That's the issue, I don't care if Apology Tour was dedicated to calling out Blitz, it did a shit tier job of that because it didn't call out STOLAS. The series needs to start holding Stolas accountable and actually call out the full extent of his actions, not downplaying them, not justifying them, no excuses.

With Octavia their taking a step in the right direction but, we'll have to wait and see if they'll commit to it.

[dracooogone]

THIS.

yes i assure you i like payjay fanart but FUCK i hate the payjay mischaracterization specially as someone who only watched like half of the first season ONCE (only about a fourth those days tho((and the half was aboutttttttt 2 years ago)) so it fucking sucks everyone makes paper a softie and oj either a mean guy or someone with no personality. i see him as a balance between not a good person (theres difference between evil/abusive and not being a good person if you are not a 10 y/o) and a guy trying his best. you can see YES he cares about the his hotel a lot and sometimes puts himself over others but you can also see he is chill and outgoing who loves to take the leader role. AND GOSH this also happens a lot with lightbrush too (it kinda stopped happening often now tho) AND VRO??? CAN THEY BREATHE FOR A MOMENT OF NOT BEING AT EACH OTHERS SIDES AND TALKING TO OTHER PEOPLE?? the fandom kinda ruins their value and i wish that didn’t really happen

note: this is just my opinion and no i will not stop you from shipping them and yes i know it is expected for the fandom to make them ooc unless its the creators themselves but their relationship is starting to feel forced and i sometimes ask myself the question of either am i actually watching the same show as you, you have the attention span of a fly or you just didn’t watch the first season and you probably don’t even know about evil paper who is actually one of the most important things in the first season. to anyone who haven’t watched the first season and like payjay I BEG FOR YOU TO WATCH IT AND ACTUALLY ANALYZE THEIR PERSONALITIES INSTEAD OF SAYING “PAPER WOULD TOTALLY BE OJ’S E-KITTEN!!!!!” no man what the fuck 😭

I find OJ and Papers mischaracterization in the fandom really saddening. Its a main reason im not a big fan of payjay myself— Paper isnt a soft, uwu boy or whatever people call it. Shes shown to be physically strong (withstanding things being thrown at her, carrying a piano, etc.) and mentally strong. She's awkward and anxious but it doesnt make her a baby that needs to be protected? And don't even get me started on OJ. Sure , i do enjoy whenever people push his flaws and recognize them and incorporate them in his relationships with others (trust me, i do the same. I exaggerate them sometimes, even.) BUT its either they make him the most EVIL and Abusive guy ever, or they make him absolutely one-note with no personality. It makes me really upset.

I know its bound to happen in a fandom, especially with a ship and characters THIS old, and their fanon appearances are going to stick forever (I've done the same thing with both of these characters when i was younger) but i just wish there was some improvement on the understanding of their characters. And maybe some appreciation of them without the other. Let them have time to breathe by themselves. Not all paper content has to be with OJ, and not all OJ content has to be with Paper.

Thats just my little thought on it all, i suppose. It's just something I've noticed over the years

[anxiousnerdwritings]

It’s barely even Christmas and I saw a video on TikTok about a mum who somehow didn’t realize that she got three or four times the amount of gifts for one child then the other so there was literally like a massive pile of gifts and then a very noticeably smaller pile of gifts for the other child and all I could think about was Ginny and Twin!Reader and Molly having that issue

Them waking up and running to the Christmas tree and seeing everyone has a pile of gifts whether it’s from Arthur and Molly then maybe a few from some extended relatives or friends while the Reader just has a Weasley jumper in his least favourite colour and some homemade sweets and whatever it was Percy scraped the money for to get him and he’s all ecstatic because at least this year she didn’t forget to knit his jumper but Percy is trying to refrain from ripping out his own hair on the other side of the room because Ginny is unwrapping a Dudley amount of gifts while her baby brother is just sitting there, crossed legged in his ugly fucking sweater on the ground, smiling and trying not to cry the more gifts she goes through

I hate how accurate this would be for Molly regarding Weasley!Twin!Reader. She’s so tunnel vision on her precious baby girl that she totally forgets Twin!Reader altogether. It isn’t until she and Arthur are wrapping all the gifts late at night while all the kids are asleep that Arthur asks where Twin!Reader’s presents are. And you know damn well Molly won’t admit that she forgot to get him anything either. Cause she didn’t, she swears she didn’t. She just misplaced said gifts. That doesn’t make her a bad mother, accidents happen after all. Right? Meanwhile Arthur watches as she races around the house grabbing what spare yarn she has lying around and her magical knitting needles frantically knitting away as she tosses wildly different colors of yarn at them. The sweater Weasley!Twin!Reader ends up with on Christmas is a mash of hideous non-correlating colors and it wasn’t even wrapped in festive colored paper like the other siblings’ were, no his was crudely bunched up in brown paper. Not to mention the homemade sweets he gets with it aren’t even nicely wrapped either, they were instead hastily tossed into a napkin moments before the kids woke up and started making their way downstairs. The only true gift Weasley!Twin!Reader has is the one Percy managed to get for him, beautifully wrapped and overall perfect. (I also love to think that Ginny and Twin!Reader always hand make each other gifts every Christmas, something they’ve made into their own little tradition for one another so fortunately the Reader would also have that to look forward to.)

I just imagine a very half asleep Percy making his way downstairs, barely coherent about anything going on, until he notices the very tiny, thrown together “pile” off in the corner of the room and he just knows whose gifts those are for and suddenly he’s wide awake, blood pressure already rising. And it’s not even sunrise yet. When I tell you this boy would be staring Molly down, down to the depths of hell, I fucking mean it. Ginny may be Molly’s baby, but Twin!Reader is Percy’s and he won’t let this slide.

I could also see Molly telling Arthur to run to the shed and go pull something out of there to add to Weasley!Twin!Reader’s small “pile” of gifts. But I would really like to think that Arthur actually did get Weasley!Twin!Reader a gift on his own wholeheartedly with him in mind, of course it’s muggle related but it still means more than what Molly tried to put together. Especially if Weasley!Twin!Reader shares his father’s fascination with the muggle world. If that were the case then I could see Arthur being much closer to the Reader. He still isn’t necessarily a father to him as he should be but it’s a hell of a lot more of a relationship than what Molly can say she has with Weasley!Twin!Reader.

When Ginny is opening her plethora of gifts that just somehow seem to never end, she would wholeheartedly try to share some of them with Twin!Reader to open or trying to include him in on it somehow but Molly steps in, shooing Twin!Reader away and talking about how those are just for her and her alone. Meanwhile, Percy is clutching the Reader close as Twin!Reader smiles through watery eyes trying so hard not to cry and ruin the day for everyone. He wants to be supportive and he’s more than happy with the gifts he did get but seeing the looks on all his sibling’s faces, even the shameful look Arthur throws his way, he knows that none of this is acceptable. The only one who seems content is of course Molly.

I wouldn’t put it past Molly to hide/toss any gifts that Weasley!Twin!Reader got from any of their other relatives. Especially in the case of Weasley!Reader resembling the Black family side, courtesy of Grandma Cedrella. Particularly if Cedrella herself took to spoiling the Reader over any of the other kids in the family. I could just see there being a hidden wall in the attic with the ghoul where Molly has taken to keeping all the Reader’s other presents. Leave it to Harry and Ron to find it one day and finally so many things make sense. Like all the times Cedrella wrote to Weasley!Twin!Reader about how he liked the gifts she picked out for him and if there was anything specific she should get him next time or when she’d ask him in person at the next family get together. Meanwhile all this time everyone thought she was just in her old age and misremembering.

It isn’t until Weasley!Twin!Reader attends Hogwarts and makes his own friends that his little Christmas gift pile gets bigger and bigger each year until it goes unnoticed whether Molly actually went out of her way to get him something that year or not. Even his Slytherin housemates have gotten him more presents than Molly can ever admit to. Hell, not only them but their pureblood families have gone so far to add Weasley!Twin!Reader to their Christmas lists. So have the teachers. You should have seen Molly’s face when she found out one year the Reader went to the Zabini’s for the holidays after believing the Reader had stayed at Hogwarts over the break. And the only reason she thought that was because she never saw Weasley!Reader get off the train.

And Molly better brace herself when Lestrange!Daughter!OC (really gotta come up with a name for her) finds out. She would of course go absolutely hog wild spoiling her darling as he should be, but she will also be out for blood just as much. Imagine the look 👀 n Molly’s face when everyone wakes up on Christmas Day to an absolutely ridiculous amount of gifts littering the house, literally a pile touching the ceiling, nearly overflowing the house and each and everyone is addressed to Weasley!Reader. Lestrange!Daughter!OC going out of her way to not only spoil her darling herself but reaching out and making her rounds to everyone she knows who cares about Weasley!Reader and ensuring their gifts make it to him. Especially Cedrella’s. Her darling will never go without or feel less than ever again, not on her fucking watch. And even if Molly were to try and intercept Weasley!Reader’s gifts (literally imagining her pulling a Vernon with the Hogwarts letters), Lestrange!Daughter!OC has an army of house-elves tasked with making sure those presents get to who they’re meant for.

[twopoppies]

I’ve been in this fandom for a few years and i’m still here because i love some aspects of it but what i’ve been really struggling with and what annoys the shit out of me about being a part of a fandom (and it’s obviously present in every fandom not just this) is how far up someone’s ass people can be, it’s so ridiculous. Fans genuinely believe their fav can do no wrong, their fav never not once lied in their life, if they did something questionable then it’s justified. But this way of thinking is insane to me. The amount of comments i see about the blocking situation in particular that are like “i can’t imagine the horrible things you must say for Louis to block you!”, “if he did it then it’s deserved!”. Yes, because Louis is an angelic little thing known for never throwing tantrums out of nowhere, it never happened, sure. Solos feeling the need to defend his honour all the time is so parasocial as well. Saw someone with a hate tweet saying “I don’t hate on larries, i just stand by Louis standing up for himself and his family!!” What even?? They’re really fighting some kind of holy war in their imagination. Not to mention blindly adoring his entire family for no reason and calling them victims of “vile horrible fans” (larries) because “they should be able to share the children on the internet like everyone else!” Should they? Maybe let’s put our thinking caps on! So the point is this part of fandom culture is insane to me and i will never be able to take it seriously i fear

Yep. Totally agree. And I don’t understand it.

I know it happens with Harry, too. But the wild thing is that people feel justified calling him out/holding him accountable. And you’ll barely get any pushback when you do. Interestingly, what you’ll get criticized for is defending him. It’s the complete opposite with Louis.

Obviously there are blips of support/attack in the reverse on either side. But that’s been my experience as a whole.

The habit of fans just swallowing the narrative hook, line, and sinker is so aggravating. It’s like no one has any media literacy. No one thinks for themselves. And no one cares to look at anything drier than surface level.

[just-a-carrot]

I'm not really in the mood to make a festive Happy New Year's post. So instead I'll just say... we made it. I made it. You made it. The year is over and we're still here. And that is enough.

It's no real secret by this point but 2024 has been one of the worst years of my life. From constant anxiety and panic attacks over job stability in the spring, to losing two family members, to the depressive spiral I entered after finishing OW, to the second spiral in the fall just when I thought maybe I was finally doing a bit better and everything came crashing back down, my mental health has been worse than it's ever been. And I've spent a lot more nights than I'd like to admit wishing I wouldn't wake up in the morning. (And downed a lot more sleeping pills than I'd like to admit because it's the only OTC thing I can get to mildly decrease my anxiety and help numb me a bit LOL)

I just want... this year to be over. Even though I have no hope for 2025 either and mostly just feel anxious and hopeless about it. But I will continue trying. Continuing grappling for the bits of joy that can keep me going. And maybe I finally will get a little bit of calm and peace. Who can say. I guess we'll see what 2025 decides to bring. I just really want to feel a bit better finally. And I hope that 2025 might take pity on me and allow me some mental respite.

2024 did have its moments of joy. Despite it sending me into the spiral, I am ofc glad that I finished OW finally this year. I consider it one of my greatest accomplishments. And I still can't believe that I put 3 whole years of work into this thing and just how much of my soul went into it. Even if my depression keeps trying to convince me that it (and me) are worthless.

I feel like I grew a lot in my art over the year. Trying new and more complex things. Getting better at composition and poses. Which led into my starting Broomtail, which gave me really the first renewed spark of creative joy since releasing the finale and actually made me excited to work on something again.

Speaking of joy amidst melancholy, DD2 was released this year, and it became the one thing that could keep me going at times. It brought me so much joy and inspiration when nothing else would. And it still holds my heart captive in its grip. From all the DD2 art I did, to the O2A2 game, to my silly tragic music video, to a very self-indulgent fanfic, it gave me so much creative energy, and I want to do more art for it in 2025 too! (And I'm still waiting for that DLC, Capcom...) I can't think of another game ever that's had this much of a hold on me before. Though I do attribute much of that to the fact that in my head it's mostly an OW AU since I could make Iggy and Genzou and play out their tragic love story and it was so beautiful and Genzou was so so sweet and cute GUH. Yeah... that helped a lot.

I think my main goal for 2025 is just to keep trying. To keep surviving. To keep trying to find hope and joy where I can. To believe that I can feel better and things can be better. Even when it's hard. And that hopefully... hopefully I will be able to find some peace in there finally.

I do have various projects I'd like to work on too. Like finishing the remaster, continuing Broomtail, maybe working on another game later on. But I'd rather just think of those as things I'd like to do for myself and because they bring me joy, rather than as any kind of goal or pressure. Especially since I never want to make any promises given the instability of my mental health.

I'm just so tired always. And I hate feeling scared and worthless all the time. I hate feeling trapped. Even if I know it's my own life choices and debilitating fear of change that has led to a lot of this. So it's my own fault in the end. But I hope I can find some solace. And I hope you can, too. I hope 2025 will be a kind year to everyone. And even if it's not, that we can find some joy and hope to help us through it.

Sorry this felt a bit morose LOL I guess I wanted to just take this opportunity to reflect back on the year a bit for some catharsis. I shall now sleep for 24 hours to recover from my flight hahaha.

if you saw this post a day ago for a few seconds i'm sorry -- i was working on it in my drafts and must have accidentally clicked post instead of save(??) somehow(???) idk but it posted and i panicked and deleted it and then had to rewrite it from scratch LOL

[idiot-swanwich]

Golly! Uh ty 4 tag!!

Jirai kei cuz I think it's pretty but I'm either gonna get called emo or anime wannabe 💔

It fun :]

My first OC was this emo demon wolf hybrid who liked women and also was a hated child named Skylar in Gacha Life

My sweet son Finn 🥰

Idk uh ivory cuz she's pretty

Bungo Stray Dogs, Car Seat Headrest and Colorful Stage: Project Sekai feat. Hatsune Miku

Personality (not gonna name who cuz I feel this way about all of my favoritest people)

Uhh Mexico or Tokyo idk 😭

I'd really like to have a) a better personality or b) money 🤑

Red 😗

Chat idk how to ask questions...

Favorite color?

If you could become a cat or a dog, which would you rather be?

Favorite hyperfixation you've ever had?

What's the longest hyperfixation you've had and the length of it?

Favorite FNaF character?

Thoughts on Fukase (the vocaloid)?

If a strange old man came up to you and offered you superpowers, would you take it?

Have you listened to Car Seat Headrest before, if so did you like them? (If not you totally should ^_^)

What would you if one day you woke up and you were in the skibidi toilet universe and everyone else was also a skibidi toilet?

Favorite shape?

Tags: @charlies-trainhopping @yumeyleo @inherently-ungovernable-roadkill @the-real-loser-otaku-girl @amat3ured1t0r @canisesconstellation @irdk6969 @camera-was-here-art @i-love-waffles

Ten questions to ask a mutual

Instructions: prev asks ten questions and you answer them, then ask ten new ones and tag ten people to keep the chain going! I’ll go first

What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten? (For me it’s the time I accidentally drank ants)

do you like purple or green more? (For me it’s a 50/50 I love them both)

what is your favorite two color color combo? (For me it’s purple and gold)

are you a cat or dog person? (Dogs 100%)

what is your favorite painting (Miranda by John William Waterhouse)

Mountains or beaches? (Mountains)

what’s your favorite dessert? (Lemon bars)

are you right or left handed? (Right but I used to be left handed)

salty or sweet? (Sweet)

summer or winter? (Winter)

I’m tagging 11 people but it’s whatever

@wra1th-k1ng

@bladevoyager

@tragedyanddust

@kindred-spirit-93

@urfavgreekmythnerd

@sickneurotic

@ry-diggity

@we-are-but-dead-stars

@thestarryfalls

@tamaruaart

@hermesmoly

[thebreakfastgenie]

I'm not anti-vote or anything, but I think some of the liberals on here greatly overrate how much damage a bunch of bored kids (most of whom probably can't even legally vote) talking shit on social media can actually do to the Democrats. So what if they turn out braindead "Genocide Joe" memes by the thousands per week? No meaningful voter would pay attention to those, and anyone who does never had a vote worth chasing in the first place.

The problem is that it's not just a bunch of bored kids. It feeds a larger social media ecosystem. Remember "cancel culture?" Remember how that became a right wing talking point that conservatives whined about in mainstream settings? That has its roots on tumblr. If you ever doubted that fringe social media movements affect mainstream politics, 2024 should have been the final nail in the coffin. JD Vance has very signifcant (and, frankly, underreported) ties to online far right communities (known as "groypers" to the terminally online) and it absolutely influenced his campaign and now he's bringing those interests to the vice-presidency. Elon Musk (the owner of twitter) and Vivek Ramaswamy want to run a government office named DOGE after a meme. We're sharing the internet with the people in power; we're all playing with live ammo. It's often a ripple effect or butterfly effect, so it's very difficult to predict what memes and posts from "bored kids" will make it to real life politics and how they'll be transformed along the way. Because it's so hard to predict, we need to be aware of the possibility and act with care. "Genocide Joe" memes contributed to a general feeling of dissatisfaction with Biden that, intentionally or not, played into the Trump campaign's "everyone hates Biden" narrative. A similar thing happened with Hillary in 2016.

Elections are also won and lost on the margins. Campaigns spend billons on ground games that persuade a very small percentage of voters, but it's better to persuade that percentage than not to. If you don't know if something is going to make a difference, you act as if it is when the stakes are high. Is the drag from a constant negative social media narrative going to hurt a campaign? Maybe, and either way it's definitely not going to help, so it's better not to have it. 2016 and 2024 were both very close elections.

Liberals also tend to interpret bored kids' posts as statements of action. If someone says they don't want a Democrat to win, will try to stop it, and will tell other people not to vote for that candidate, liberals are going to object to that.

It's usually not "meaningful voters" who decide elections. It's low-information swing voters who make up their minds on the way to the voting booth. These voters are, consciously or unconsciously, often influenced by perceived popular opinion. A lot of people don't have deeply held values that they've spent time examining, but have moral compasses more akin to "if everyone I know thinks this, it must be right." The danger of social media is that is also distorts the meaning of "everyone I know." Your meme about how you hate Joe Biden finds its way into an algorithmically-generated bubble and someone says "gee, it seems like everyone I know hates Joe Biden, I generally trust my social circle, he must be really bad." And it's self-reinforcing. They start sharing it or making similar posts of their own and it spreads to their contacts in their own bubbles.

I don't think the exact mechanisms or limits or this phenomenon are fully understood yet because social media is still too new, but it's very real.

[vaultedoverthehorse]

As much as I like to be optimistic, I really think that Ponyboy would be the kind of person to not come back to his hometown much, if at all. As much as he loves his brothers and the friends he left behind, there’s too many memories associated with the streets of Tulsa. He couldn’t handle the sick feeling in his stomach whenever he walked near a certain street, hated the looming reminder of the empty lot, and outright avoided the park all together. The loss was suffocating him slowly, even in his own home. The constant pain of his mother not making breakfast, his father not reading the paper never got easier. So when he got a scholarship for a school in Massachusetts, he applied immediately. He needed to get out of Tulsa, out of Oklahoma, and away from all of this. It wasn’t even the bad memories he wanted to escape. He couldn’t live his life knowing that walking by a certain alley would remind him of the times he got high or did something stupid with his buddies from school. So he left.

After college, he moved into an apartment in the city. He works as an editor for a newspaper, and he gets a cat. The big city is almost comforting to him, since there’s too much for him to associate places with people or events in his mind. Besides, the quiet of his apartment is relaxing as well. He likes living alone.

Also, as much as I hate to say it, his relationship with his brothers does not stay the same. This happens as people grow older - they stop relying on their immediate family. The Curtis Brothers are no exception. He calls nearly everyday his first semester. Then it becomes once a week, to once a month, to maybe twice a year once he’s graduated.

He doesn’t visit for years either. It’s harder coming back after being gone for a while, and he just doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to go back, now knowing that one of his high school friends is dead (shot, like Dally was). He doesn’t want to go back, knowing that he doesn’t know the members of his gang anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to Steve and Evie, he doesn’t know if Two-Bit is still a drunk. Most of all, Pony doesn’t want to go back because he can’t remember Johnny’s voice, and he doesn’t want to walk the streets without him. It feels wrong.

The only thing that can get him to come back is a funeral. He flew in during the early morning, on a gray and cloudy day that mirrored how everyone was feeling. He walked through Tulsa as fast as possible, ignoring the lingering emotions. He stood outside of his childhood home (it was being sold-nobody lived there now). He stayed in Soda’s house, where he lived with his wife and daughter (whom Pony had last seen when she was a baby, right before he left for college; she’s six now). He didn’t see Two-Bit at all. Apparently he’d gotten arrested for something, Soda wasn’t sure what. His girl was keeping the house clean for him when he got back.

The conversation was stilted, because they hadn’t talked enough. And there was a missing piece. But that’s why they were there.

The only thing that got Ponyboy back to Tulsa was Darrel Shayne Curtis’ funeral.

[pancake-cat22]

The Hockey AU characters pt. 1

So I decided I’ll share some of my notes on each character of the AU so that everyone understands some things better :)

This one is for Big Dogs bc I won’t be able to fit everything in one post!

Joel Beans

He’s the team’s star player. Some people say that made him arrogant but those who know him well know that he’s always been like that.

He met Grian and Jimmy in high school and began calling themselves the Bad Boys. To this day nobody understands why.

He briefly dated Lizzie in high school before they broke up mutually. They remain on great terms even now

He and Lizzie actually have a running joke that they’re married which started when they once claimed to be married to get a discount at Starbucks

He’s been learning hockey ever since he was 8 years old and has always loved it

Despite denying it like his life depends on it, he’s an absolute softie for animals, especially dogs. Jimmy swears he once saw Joel cry over a cute puppy he saw passing by them on the street.

Grian Moon

He and Pearl are siblings

He has 10 identical copies of his favourite red sweater

He’s been friends with Jimmy since they were 9

He calls Jimmy Timmy because he misheard Jimmy when they were introducing themselves and decided not to correct himself ever again

He once bought a whole chicken costume just to throw an egg (read: several eggs) at Pearl in it. He still has the costume and still denies it ever being him to this day

He stubborn to the point where he once didn’t talk to Jimmy for a whole week for making a joke about him being short

The moment he met Mumbo in high school he declared the two of them brothers and decided he would protect that little ball of anxiety with his life

Scar Times

He moved from the US to play in the Big Dogs

He’s absolutely the kind of person to break his leg during a game and say he’s fine, so Pearl drags him off anytime he falls a bit worse than she likes just in case

Only about half of the insinuations he makes are accidental. He’s very capable of making dirty jokes and he will use that skill.

People often think he’s the most oblivious put of them but if he tries, he can easily put together the pieces. He just lives with the mentality of not wanting to pry and doesn’t look too closely into things. He knows the person would tell him if they wanted him to know

He once built a throne for his cat Jellie out of cardboard. In real scale. It stays in his living room and nobody other than Jellie is allowed to touch it.

He has an older brother, Cub. Sadly, Cub lives back home in the US, meaning Scar doesn’t get to see him much

Jimmy Solidarity

He and Lizzie and siblings

He and Martyn are the Big Dog mascots

He’s known Martyn since high school

He made a YouTube channel dedicated to vlogging funny moments from the Big Dog team, for which Gem absolutely hates him because it ruins their reputation a bit. Despite the complaints of said social media manager of their team, he is not willing to take the channel down

He’s publicly dating Tango and yet to his frustration, none of his friends notice. He even got laughed off when he told Martyn he was dating Tango! They even live together.

Martyn Littlewood

He’s the other Big Dogs mascot

He and Ren have a weird thing going on where nobody knows whether they’re dating, friends, or hate each other. When confronted, Martyn either laughs it off or tells the person (mainly Jimmy because it’s funny to see his reaction) that it’s a ‘mascot thing’. Everyone has given up trying to understand the two. Martyn himself doesn’t really know what he and Ren are. When he asked Ren once, Ren admitted that he didn’t know either.

Though he would never admit it, he only took the mascot job because Jimmy did and Martyn wanted to stay around his friend. He ended up loving the job anyway.

He once set a classroom on fire back in high school to get out of an exam. It worked but he got caught because he stayed at the scene of the crime laughing.

He and Scott once role-played secretly being mermaids for a week straight for no reason back in high school. Everyone hated them by the end for their terrible acting.

Gemini (Gem) Tay

She and Etho are cousins

She moved to the UK to pursue better career opportunities and see a new place and ended up getting a job as the social media manager of Big Dogs. She never regretted her decision.

She’s been dating Pearl for almost a year now. She forgot to tell Etho.

Everyone is unanimously terrified of her and yet delighted by her presence. It’s confusing.

She actually has a boating license. She never explains why or how to anyone. Not even Etho knows where and when she got it.

One time she literally flipped a guy who was being creepy to her onto the ground. A video of it went viral and was shown on the local small news channel.

Pearl Moon

She’s Grian’s sister

She’s the team’s doctor

In high school, she helped Martyn light the classroom on fire. She, however, did not get caught.

Ever since the chicken costume incident, she’s been determined to find that costume and burn it. She knows Grian’s kept it just for the fun of it. And so, every time she visits Grian’s house or is at one of the parties in his house, she looks through anywhere where it could possibly be. She hasn’t found it yet but she will. One day.

Despite living in the UK all her life, she has an Australian accent. Nobody knows why, not even her.

She and BigB are childhood friends. She’s the only one who knows anything about him from their friend groups, including his real name. She also, however, doesn’t reveal any of it because she thinks it’s funny.

She and BigB also have their weird nosy neighbour traditions. Most of their friends think they were (or still are) in a cult of some kind. It’s really just them being silly.

Mumbo Jumbo

He’s the Big Dogs’ team manager

He constantly wears a suit, no matter the weather or occasion

He used to be (read: still is) a ball of anxiety back in high school. Grian kinda just adopted him the moment they met.

He plays around with technology and creates little devices for fun in his spare time.

That’s it for the Big Dogs! I’ll hopefully post a part two for the Shadow team soon :)

[sapphicdib]

woo first post of the year! i finally finished my doodles of everyone in the streamer au :3 i’m rlly excited to post it cuz i love this au dearly!! some lil snippets of info about everyone is below the cut if ur curious abt this silly au :3

LTTM | Kamaria (she/her)

Works as a nutritionist, was inspired to go into the field because both her parents are doctors! Usually mods Sig’s chat and occasionally joins streams if she’s up for it. In a book club with Cyra, and is a little gym rat, specifically weight training and likes to joke that she can bench-press Sayani (she can.). Usually level-headed but gets extremely anxious when people get sick, especially Felix. Thankfully Sayani and Cyra are there to force her to rest and help if one of them is under the weather. Massive lesbian and Sayani’s partner.

SRS | Cyra (they/he/xe)

Sheltered catholic boy turned nonbinary librarian with like 3 boyfriends (gn). Started using they/them on accident when they got asked their pronouns in class and panicked and blurted “he/they” and then was too awkward to correct himself. Currently attends school with Felix, getting their masters degree in library science (xier bachelors was in history). On the very rare occasion they join sayani’s streams, xe wears a facemask which has triggered sayani’s fanbase to make a “headcanon” that he’s a vampire and doesn’t wanna show his fangs. Joined a book club to find some friends that he goes to with Kamaria.

SOS | Sylvia (she/her)

ngl she’s usually just a background character, probably an accountant or something

OSO | Felicity (she/her)

fun fact i literally googled “bitchy girl names” to get a name for her. looks like a tired office woman. probably works with sliver and hates her.

EOI | Echos (any/all)

haven’t really used him either but they’re vegan and like crocheting :3 probably has a small business on etsy or smth

CW | Chase (he/him)

straightest gay man in existence. had piper convinced he was genuinely straight until yui told them otherwise. sig’s childhood best friend and partner in crime. not a streamer but does play games with sig regularly. his last name is Gray-Windsor (clubs came up with that banger)

NSH | Sayani (she/he/it)

god i could dump so much stuff about this lil freak. she’s a streamer, obviously, and also a top-ranked esports player in multiple FPS games. refuses to tell chat its pronouns bc she thinks it’s funny watching them guess. gets hella bitches and is dating kamaria, cyra, & felix, and occasionally fucks around with piper, yui, & chase. his mom is from the philippines and his dad is japanese, and her mom speaks to him mostly in tagalog, which sig can understand but can’t speak (…aside from swear words, lmao). attended the same college as felix & cyra’s for one semester until the streaming thing blew up.

PI | Piper (they/them)

DEFINITION OF PRETTY PRIVILEGE. PURE OF HEART AND DUMB OF ASS. lowkey stoner and helps felix w his chronic pain. highkey gay whore, is with Felix officially and kinda Cyra and Sayani. competitive esports player & streamer who met sayani at a competition.

UI | Yui (she/they)

streamer & competitive esports player, can come off as a bit of a bitch due to being defensive in such a male-dominated space. from korea and makes fun of sig for not being bilingual like she is. very close friends with piper and phoebe.

ABL | Phoebe (they/them)

again, haven’t really used them much but they’re yui’s best friend. has a massive crush on yui but doesn’t really have the confidence to go for it. enjoys fashion design.

FP | Felix (he/him)

Kamaria’s adopted brother (hence why he’s a scrawny ass white boy). Battled cancer as a child and deals with chronic pain due to it, but has been in remission since he was 12! has to use crutches when he walks sometimes. artsy little fuck and getting his bachelors of fine arts, drew all of the emotes for sayani’s streams. used to be camera shy but eventually came to be a pretty regular guest on stream, and occasionally does little drawing streams. knows how to play guitar and sing, but thinks his voice sounds “girly” so he doesn’t do it often. dating sayani, cyra, and piper.

aaaaaand yeah! that’s all i can think of rn lmfao. i’m probably gonna hit post and be like “NO I FORGOT TO SAY—“ but oh well lmfao. feel free to send me asks abt it :D