#got off after that one bc i can. withstand the urge which is good it is an addiction game

[wizardnuke]

UNFORTUNATELY I AM FOND OF VALORANT. THE DOPAMINE RUSH I AM HAVING AT THE MOMENT IS UNPRECEDENTED

[sarcasmic-skies]

the dead poets vs. laundry 🧺

based on this post by @tuskofthyme <3

i’ve worked in the laundry industry for 4+ yrs so i feel qualified to speak on the matter 😌✨(jokes!)

**i wrote these hcs under the assumption the welton boys are responsible for their own laundry & i tried to adjust to be accurate to 1959!! the first bullet points for charlie & knox i based on a guy my sister knew in college! he was from vermont & yes, that’s the god-honest truth. it makes me laugh every time i think abt it, which is at least once a day

charlie:

him & knox never learned how to do laundry so they just. buy new clothes whenever they run out of clean ones. meeks & todd are horrified.

purchases only name-brand garments. never looks at price tags (trust fund baby)

calls the laundromat a “laundry-mat”

charlie’s mother washes his clothes for him whenever he’s home. he always says thank-you and kisses her on the cheek <3 (he’s a mama’s boy)

after rowing practice he throws his dirty uniform in a pile in the corner of his & cameron’s room. the pile grows through the term, along with mold and mildew :)

favorite garment: a bright pink polo shirt he bought after reading ‘a separate peace’ (1959)

has really nice clothes but doesn’t take care of em (“i can’t put my leather jacket in the washing machine??! what do you mean i’m gonna ruin it?!? cows don’t get ruined when it rains!!!”)

once, charlie was trying to be funny and got stuck in one of the dryers at the laundromat. it took the combined efforts of pitts, meeks, todd, neil, and knox to pull him out.

neil:

watched his mother do the laundry growing up & learned by observation. his aunt taught him how to sew at the age of twelve

always lays his beloved wool sweaters flat to dry so they wont shrink in the dryer

hangs his pants with a crease. color-codes his closet. repairs any tears in his clothes with his travel-size mending kit

pairs & rolls his socks, most of which are argyle

embroiders tiny hearts on the inside of all his sweater sleeve cuffs for todd to find

goes with todd, meeks, and pitts to the laundromat every sunday after welton’s mass

gave up on trying to teach charlie proper garment care years ago (he refuses to learn)

always makes an effort to look polished and sharp. takes really good care of his clothes. mr. perry loves to remind neil that “appearances are everything”

likes to read the movie magazines at the laundromat. gossips with the older women about montgomery clift, rock hudson, and tab hunter

has to fight the urge to jump in one of the laundry carts and roll around the store every time he’s there bc carpe diem!

todd:

he’s helped his mom with the laundry from the time he could reach the dials on the washing machine. todd’s learned just about everything there is to know abt household laundry & can fold fitted sheets. perfectly <3

todd finds laundry very calming and satisfying. nice to turn his brain off and just focus on folding & hanging his clothes nicely :,)

jeff always said “thanks little man” when todd ‘delivered’ clean clothes to him. todd misses that. a lot. so does jeff.

wardrobe comprised of almost exclusively jeff’s hand-me-downs (they are a little big on him)

is a GOD when it comes to getting stains out. not even spilled ink can withstand his technique

hangs his pants with a crease, doesn’t fold em. ALWAYS checks the pockets before washing

enjoys the trips to the laundromat more than he lets on. helps him feel less homesick

pairs & rolls his socks, organizes them by color in his drawer

always checks garment tags for proper care instructions. hates having to pay for drycleaning

meeks:

neil taught him & pitts the art of laundry

measures out the detergent with the utmost precision. refuses to use bleach

does not separate darks from lights from whites (“after you’ve washed them a few times the colors shouldn’t bleed or transfer! i refuse to do multiple loads!”)

does pitts’ laundry for him helps pitts with his laundry

always brings extra change for the jukebox <3

keeps forgetting he has pens in his shirt pockets and they explode in the wash. ink ends up all over his clothes more than a few times. (todd comes to the rescue in these situations)

not fantastic at folding but better than some

washes everything on ‘cold’ (“it conserves energy & water”), dries everything on ‘low’ (meeks is terrified of starting a dryer fire)

helps the older women in the laundromat a lot. they always compliment him and try to set him up with their daughters, nieces, granddaughters, etc. (“such a nice boy!”)

pitts:

forgets to check the pockets of his clothes before loading them in the washing machine

washes everything on ‘hot’ (“it sanitizes the fabrics!”), dries everything on ‘high’ (then wonders why his pants keep getting shorter)

doesn’t fold his clean clothes, just puts em in a basket. refuses to pair his socks

is asked to help fold sheets, comforters, quilts, etc. by the older ladies in the laundromat all the time bc he is so TALL! pitts is always happy to assist <3

endlessly appreciative whenever meeks does laundry for him

made the mistake of putting a brand new pair of red socks in with the whites the first time he washed his clothes by himself. his undershirts, underwear, socks, & rowing sweater all came out bright pink, like marilyn monroe’s satin dress in ‘gentlemen prefer blondes’. charlie never let him hear the end of it.

cameron:

gets up early every morning to press his shirts & crease his pants with his personal clothes iron

uses sock garters to keep his nylon stretch socks up. sometimes forgets to unclip them & they go through the wash lol

for the longest time he was using shirt hangers for pants and pant hangers for shirts. charlie pointed it out. they argued about it for 20+ minutes (“how would you know? you don’t even do your own laundry!” “big deal! anyone can tell the difference! haven’t you ever picked up dry cleaning?!” “sure i have, but who pays attention to the hangers?!” “i want a divorce, richard”)

bleaches his whites to keep em ✨pristine✨

sometimes overfills the dryer. forgets to clean out the lint trap. gets his quarters stuck in the machines. a lot.

pretreats all stains. scrubs them out with his designated laundry toothbrush and powder soap (this is the most time-consuming part of cam’s laundering process). he’ll ask todd for advice if a stain is particular stubborn

pairs & folds his socks in half like a heathen

his mother hand-sews labels with his full name on em into every single article of clothing he owns. he refuses to be made fun of for this

knox:

no idea how to do laundry. absolutely no clue. like charlie, he buys new clothes whenever he runs out of clean ones

always forgets to cut the sale tags off and remove the big paper collar stays n shirt pins from his new clothes n dress shirts. neil helps.

knox overstreet alone keeps the town dry cleaners in business with the two-dozen cashmere cardigans he drops off each month

“i have nothing to wear!” “knoxious i swear to god if you say that one more time i am going to slap you into next week”

tagged along to help the poets with their laundry once. started a dryer fire. twice.

his dad bought him his first ever pair of blue jeans, the exact same as those worn by james dean in ‘rebel without a cause’ (“don’t tell your mother”). knoxious refuses to wash them, he’s convinced they’ll get ruined. knox & charlie start to call them his ‘james jeans’

[waywardrose13]

Morrigan- Part One

Request from @thefaithfulwriter: Can I request a dean reader were the reader is very shy like stuttering and has glasses and is underestimated by everyone but really she is very powerful because she is possessed by someone like the character enchantress like off of suicide squad but they are very close to each other like they can talk to eachother and they are close bc the reader was being abused and the enchantress possessed the reader bc the reader help her escape so there very close but the guys never knew and when dean shows interest in the reader she trys to keep her distance bc she doesn't want anyone to find out about being possessed but her secret comes out when she has to save everyone like cas jack sam and dean from a group of demons or something( and if she can like transform it the enchantress like from suicide squad but has black wings with horns on top of that if possible) and she ends up saving them all but passing out bc she used to much energy and dean confronts her on his feels and she tells him how she feels about him and then they all get to meet enchantress and idk how you would want to end it I just want the reader to feel loved and appreciated even if she has a bad past and has glasses and stutters sorry if that's to much

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4981

Warnings: Angst, language, past abusive relationship, scared/triggered!Reader

A/N: Written for @badthingshappenbingo- Superpower overload & @spndeanbingo- Free space

This will be two parts. Send me an ask if you want to be tagged:)

The bunker was quiet.

It was mid December, one of my favorite parts of the year. The leaves had fallen, reds and yellows and browns mixing with the greens of the grasses, the air finally cold after the sweltering heat of the summer and the cool of the autumn. I never was a fan of the heat, even less so after Morrigan. She didn’t like the heat much, either.

I closed the door to my room softly, padding down the hallway to the kitchen. It was late, nearly three in the morning. Morrigan was a night owl, and we seemed to find our sleep schedule fluctuating with the seasons and moon cycles. We’ve slept more during the day lately, usually up until dawn most nights. Winter always kept us awake more.

Opening the fridge, I pulled out a bowl of fruit I had made previously in the day and set it on the counter before grabbing a fork.

I told you that you’d prefer the fruit.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

You should just accept the fact I’m always right. I could feel her smirking.

“Shut up,” I scoffed, a smile hinting on my lips. I felt her smile smally.

“Who are you talking to?” I jumped at the deep voice behind me, spinning around with a strawberry on my fork.

Dean Winchester stood at the entryway to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning. His sweatpants hung lowly on his hips, clad only in a t-shirt, which was a rare sight all on its own. He looked at me strangely, and I struggled for an answer.

“Uh… Nobody.”

Nice save.

I fought the urge to give her a bitch face.

“I thought I heard you talking,” Dean said, walking into the kitchen. He peered into my bowl, face scrunching up as he spotted the fruit. “Aren’t you tired?”

“No,” I said, popping the strawberry in my mouth. I pushed up my glasses, raising a brow at him. “So, uh… Why-why are you up?”

“I heard you walking around,” Dean said shrugging. “Thought I’d see what you were up to. Wondered what you were doing up so late- or, early, I guess.”

“I’m not tired I suppose,” I muttered, stabbing a blackberry with my fork. Morrigan had messed with my sleep schedule since she’d possessed my body. It frankly was quite annoying, the way it changed so much. Some days we’d sleep through the sun, others we would sleep like regular people. She never could make up her mind.

Dean gave me a look before leaning against the counter, his emerald eyes trained on me as I ate my fruit quietly. He reached over and grabbed a grape, eyeing it before eating it. His nose wrinkled and he gave me a side glance.

“You and Sam… I don’t understand it.” He shook his head.

I snorted, swallowing a mouthful of fruit. “Oh, I forgot to-forgot to tell you. I’m heading out tomorrow. Solo-solo hunt.”

He raised a brow. “Solo, huh? Reliving the old days? Sure you don’t want me or Sam to come with you?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I nodded, pushing up my glasses again. “I kin-kinda want some alone time, anyway. It’s just a simple salt and burn.”

Which was a total lie. Truth was, Morrigan was getting antsy. She hadn’t come to light in a while, and it began taking a bit of a toll on me and her. My moods changed too quickly, and I could feel her energy a bit too heavily a few days ago, nearly making me pass out. There was a case, a pack of werewolves actually. It would be too difficult for one person, but easy as pie for Morrigan. This way, she’d have some light and a dangerous pack would be taken out.

“Alright,” Dean sighed, pushing off the counter. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’m gonna try and catch some more shut eye.”

“Okay. Good night, Dean,” I said quietly.

“Good night, Y/N.”

***

The bed dipped slightly under her weight. Morrigan twitched inside her body, anxious to get out. Y/N sighed deeply, running a hand through her hair.

“Veni foras,” she whispered, closing her eyes and allowing her soul to the back of her body. It felt as though a rubber band had snapped inside, and suddenly Morrigan was brought to light, Y/N’s body transforming into Morrigan’s.

Morrigan stood up, walking to the mirror, flexing out her hands and rolling her shoulders. She smiled at her reflection, giddy to finally be in control again. She took off Y/N’s glasses, not needing them anymore, and set them gently down onto the shelf under the mirror.

Two small, black horns protruded from her head, rising out of raven black hair. It cascaded down like a waterfall, nearly the same color as the two wings growing from her back, a hint of deep crimson showing in the feathers as she moved them in the light. She was clad in black armour, a corset around her torso, her legs protected by gear resembling one of a knight’s. A cloak wrapped around her shoulders, trailing down between her wings. Made of crow feathers, it was jet black and gave the illusion that she was much larger than she was, appearing even more intimidating. The shoulders were flared out; small, silver, curved spikes shining in the dim light of the room as she moved. Her eyes were smothered in black, giving her a ghostly look that would make shivers run down anyone’s spine.

She turned away from the mirror, a devilish smirk on her face as she took a deep breath, transporting herself from the room to outside the farm the wolves were inhabiting. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, raising her arms and calling out to Mortem.

A caw echoed through the field, a great crow suddenly flying across the sky and in front of the moon. Morrigan held up her arm, which was armored as well, waiting. The crow swooped down, landing swiftly on her arm, cawing at her again.

“Hello again, my pet,” she said, voice like silver. Mortem shifted, flapping his wings and flying up to perch on her shoulder. He was old, almost as old as she was, soaring the planet for hundreds of years, and he always answered her call, ready to serve alongside her in battle. She raised her hand and ran her fingers lightly over his feathers, crystal blue eyes flickering over to the barn and small house. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I won’t let anything happen to us.”

I know you won’t, Morrigan. Enjoy the moon.

The sorceress looked up, a dark smile gracing her features as the full moon rose in the dark, spreading its light across the field and her pale face. “That I will.”

***

The wolves were taken care of rather quickly, no match against an enchantress like Morrigan. She felt much more calm and sated, the anger that had bubbled within her and transferred to Y/N over the past few weeks had dissipated. She sighed, not quite wanting to return back to her hiding place inside Y/N’s body. She never, not once, took advantage of her possession over her. After Y/N gave her the spotlight, she’d always return it, never forcing the girl into giving it over to her.

Morrigan had possessed Y/N almost two years ago.

She was trapped inside a moon stone, one that was inside Y/N’s ring she never took off. Morrigan was cursed to live inside the stone until the owner called out for help, and then, and only then, was she freed.

Y/N’s boyfriend at the time was an abusive bastard. It was rare when she didn’t have a bruise and she flinched at every little thing. Morrigan had grown close to the shy girl, watching as she wanted to fight back, but just wasn’t strong enough. Finally, Trent had taken her ring out of spite, laughing as Y/N yelled at him to give it back as he crushed in under his hammer, destroying many of her possessions.

But it freed Morrigan.

She found Y/N, explaining to her that she wasn’t strong enough to withstand a spectral life force. She promised Y/N not to harm or take advantage of their situation, telling her that she could protect her. Y/N agreed, and when Trent had returned from destroying her room, bringing the hammer up in the air, ready to strike, Morrigan made herself present, beating Trent to a pulp and scaring him enough that he never bothered Y/N again.

After that, Y/N and Morrigan grew quite close. Morrigan never had taken advantage of their companionship, enjoying the simple life with Y/N. She preferred to live in the dark, taking shelter inside Y/N’s mind, coming to light only when needed to, or when she got antsy. She and Y/N talked often, and Y/N soon found Morrigan her only true companion after Trent until she met the Winchesters.

Y/N had always been shy. She was quiet and introverted. She was surprised at how talkative she was with the brothers. Of course, she got nervous, especially around the oldest brother. She’s awkward and stutters, she wears thick rimmed, hipster glasses and keeps her hair simply down or in a ponytail most of the time. She still finds herself flinching time to time, and she can’t seem to trust people easily. It took a long time to finally open up to the Winchesters, and they still don’t know all about her past.

Morrigan sighed, transporting back into the motel room. Mortem fluttered his wings, flapping to perch on the top of the mirror. Morrigan’s eyes trained on her reflection again, another sigh escaping her lips.

You don’t have to go back so soon.

Morrigan’s lip twitched. “Yes I do,” she said. “The boys will be wondering where you are.”

It’s barely been a day. I’ll be fine.

“Are you sure?” Morrigan asked, furrowing her brows.

I’m sure.

She smiled. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Three Weeks Later

Dean dropped the duffel bag onto the motel room table, unzipping it and reaching inside. I caught the shotgun easily as he tossed it to me, and the angel blade after that.

“You know what to do when we get there?” He asked, giving me a look. His emerald eyes trained on mine, and my knees felt weak.

“Yes. I know what- I know what to do,” I said.

He nodded, looking over at Sam.

“Look, we get in, we get out. Shoot first, ask questions later. We grab Jack, and get the hell outta dodge, got it?” Dean said, looking between me, Cas, and his brother.

“Yeah, got it.” Sam’s jaw tightened and I let out a long breath.

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Dean said, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder. “Let’s do this.”

***

If you need backup-

“I’ll be fine,” I muttered. I surveyed the area around me, taking in the cracked walls of the old warehouse and broken shelves. “Besides, it’s not the greatest idea to spring the idea that you’re possessing me on Sam and Dean like this.”

I wouldn’t call it possessing per se.

I snorted.

Maybe… kindly inhabiting.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause that’s better.” I rolled my eyes.

Sounds better than “possessing.”

“Whatever.” I turned the corner, squinting my eyes into the darkness.

The four of us had split up, against Sam’s better judgement. The demons who had taken Jack ran in a tight circle, and there was a lot of them. I hadn’t run into any yet, but I had the inkling that they all were guarding Jack. There was no doubt that they knew we were here.

Pushing open a door, I stopped dead in my tracks as my eyes adjusted to the scene.

Sam, Dean and Cas were all being held by two demons each, beaten and bloody. The number of demons inside the room was astounding, and there had to be at least twenty-five. Jack sat in a chair in the center of the room, chained and unconscious. I swallowed thickly, holding up the angel blade.

“There she is!” A demon said. He stepped forward, smiling. “We were wondering what was taking so long.”

“She was talking to herself,” a voice said behind me. I whipped around, coming face to face with another one. He looked up at the brothers. “You know she was this crazy?”

I jerked the blade up, plunging it into his rib cage, puncturing the heart. Sparks burned from his eyes and mouth, and he collapsed to the ground. Turning around, I raised a brow.

“My, oh my,” the first demon said.

“Y/N,” Dean said. My eyes flickered to him. “Run. Get out of here.”

My eyes lingered on him for a moment, and I felt a torn expression flash over my face. I didn’t stand a chance against these demons. But I couldn’t leave Dean. I gave him a defiant look before moving my eyes back to the demon.

“Oh,” he said smiling. “You’ve got a thing for the older Winchester… don’t you?”

I took a step forward.

Y/N. Stop it.

My eyes flickered over to Dean again. He was giving me a pained look.

“You do… don’t you? This is too good,” the demon said, chuckling darkly. “Kill him.”

My eyes widened as a demon moved in front of Dean, Sam’s knife in hand. He reared it back, readying to plunge it into Dean’s abdomen.

Y/N, don’t!

“No!” I screamed, running forward. Panicking, I yelled the first thing I could think of, the thing I absolutely didn’t want to do. “Veni foras!”

And suddenly, I was put to the back burner. Morrigan shifted into gear quickly, her mace forming in her hand. She swung it, taking the demon’s head clean off. Orange flickered in its body, and it was then that I realized how much I’d underestimated Morrigan and her weapons.

I could feel her anger. She was pissed for putting us into danger like that. If I hadn’t said those words, we both would have been goners. She knew the extent of what I’d do for Dean, and it scared the shit out of her. I’ve jumped in front of him numerous times, Morrigan scolding me after each one.

But I realized that I may not have a place by the Winchesters’ sides after this. I kept Morrigan a secret for nearly a year and half. I remember Dean telling me how angry Sam was after he found out about Gadreel. And I wasn’t even related to them.

The brothers’ and Castiel’s faces were set in stone shocked. They watched as Morrigan made her way around the room, fighting off each demon easily. Some with her mace, others with the red magic that shot from her fingers. But I could feel the energy waning. She, of course, would be fine. But her possession itself took a toll on my body physically. The magic being shot from her fingers fed from both of us. It came naturally to her, but it was taken directly from my energy source. Something sharp lodged itself in her right wing, tearing through the feathers and muscle. She let out a yelp, which I reciprocated inside our minds, eyes burning red as she hissed.

***

“Mortem!” Morrigan called, and she swung the mace around, spinning towards the demon who threw the knife, her blade soaring through the air and slicing through the demon’s jugular.

A raven soared through a broken skylight, a caw bouncing off the crumbling walls. The men looked up at it, puzzled expressions crossing their features. Mortem joined Morrigan by her side, eyes burning a matching red as he swooped down, using his beak to peck at the demon’s eyes and slice at their throats with his talons.

“Who are you?” The first demon asked, platinum blond hair shining in the moon rays streaming through the skylight. Morrigan smirked, tilting her head.

“Valkin,” she said, buttery voice making the men’s eyes widen a bit. She took a few steps forward, but it seemed more like a float. Her graceful walk was captivating, the way she moved the definition of utter perfection. She was absolutely dazzling, but also extremely intimidating Dean noted, and none of the men seemed to be able to take their eyes off her. Both in fear and curiosity.

She looked like Y/N. Of course she did, it was her body. But the wings and the horns and the slight differences like eye color and attire made it clear that she wasn’t anything remotely human, and it startled Dean to think about what they’d have to do after this.

“What a pleasure,” Morrigan said, bowing mockingly. She kept her crystal eyes on Valkin the entire time, a sultry smirk on her face. A smirk that none of the men had ever seen occupy Y/N’s face.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Valkin said. “Not here.”

“Hm.” Morrigan began walking in a large circle around the demon. Inquisitiveness filled Dean. Valkin seemed… scared. He visibly shook, and his jaw was set tight. However, he made no move to escape.

“So, you killed the rest of them. Get it over with,” Valkin said. He stood straight, letting out a breath.

Morrigan laughed, a bell like laugh that had a dark undertone to it. “What a coward you are.” She stopped circling when she was in front of him again. “Won’t even try to fight back.”

A scream erupted from the demon as his head was thrown back, black smoke shooting from his mouth. Morrigan’s face changed to one of fury, and she raised her fist, the red magic swirling around it. The smoke stopped, before spiraling down to her fist. She opened her hand, laying it palm up. The smoke lingered over her hand for a moment, before the red magic shot up at it, the smoke dispersing in a shock of orange.

But when she was done, Dean charged.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, watching as he raised his blade high in the air, ready to strike, and Morrigan didn’t even flinch.

“Hurt me, it hurts her,” she said. His eyes widened again at how different the voice was. He took a step back, not lowering the blade.

“Who are you?”

“I’m not sure that concerns you,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She winced as her wing moved, blood dripping from the wound.

“What… are you?” Castiel asked, taking a few steps forward.

“That’s none of your concern either,” she said. “Now, if you do anything to harm Y/N… it will be the last thing you do. Understand?”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Dean snarled. Morrigan’s eyes locked with his, flashing red. He cringed.

“The one who won’t hesitate to end you if you touch her,” she hissed. “Just ask Trent Rider.”

“Her ex boyfriend?” Sam asked.

Morrigan smirked. “Let’s just say he won’t be around to tell the tale.” She licked her lips, pearly teeth gleaming.

Sam swallowed thickly.

In the blink of an eye, Morrigan began to transform. Dean took a step back, watching as her body morphed back into Y/N’s.

***

I blinked a few times, my vision blurring around the edges. My shoulder stung from where the blade cut through her wing, and I felt myself sway.

“Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” I said, my hand pressing against my temple.

“What the fuck?” He growled, charging towards me. His hand gripped my arm, and I flinched, suddenly reeling back into my Trent days. He jerked his hand back, and his eyes widened as mine rolled back into my head.

***

Y/N…

I groaned, shifting on the bed, moaning in pain as my shoulder flared.

Y/N… You have to wake up.

My eyes blinked open, the edges fuzzy. My body felt heavy and drained, the energy Morrigan took from me making me weak. I tried to push myself up, but my hand was stopped, a metal clinking sound making me flinch.

Y/N, please stay calm. Everything will be okay…

My heart leapt to my throat as old memories resurfaced. It’s like I could feel him again; the pain. The metal dug into my wrist and I pulled on it, whimpering as I realized both hands were bound and there was no way out. I leaned back on the pillows behind me, slightly elevated but not enough to be sitting up completely.

“Morrigan?” I asked, panic evident in my voice. Tears welled in my eyes as I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“So that’s her name?” A deep voice said beside me. I gasped, head snapping to the sound. Dean stood from his chair, angel blade in hand as he moved to tower over me. I found myself shrinking, Dean’s stance and all-too-familiar anger bringing me back to Trent’s rage induced assaults.

“Dean, please. I can-I can explain but you gotta-gotta let me out of these cuffs. I be-eg you,” I pleaded, blinking a few times as I realized I didn’t have my glasses. As he bent down, his face got blurrier and it made me even more anxious.

“Why the hell should I do that?” He hissed. There was just anger in his voice; no sympathy or understanding. Pure rage radiated off the man I love, and I could hear my heart breaking.

“Because you know me,” I whispered. “You know what kind of person I am. You know that I’m not a- not a monster.”

“No, but she is,” he said.

“No, she’s not,” I said, suddenly furious.

Y/N, let me out. I can help.

“Quiet, Morrigan,” I muttered as quiet as I can. But Dean still heard.

“You can talk to her?” He asked. I didn’t answer him.

No, he’s going to hurt you. Let me out before he does or else I’ll be forced to hurt him.

“No, Morrigan!” I insisted, turning my head away from Dean.

“Hey! Answer me!” He said, gripping my chin tightly. I yelped and flinched, Trent’s face flashing through my mind as he held onto me. He didn’t let go, though, not like before. He gripped me tighter, ignoring my tears.

That’s it. Now, Y/N.

I knew she was right. He wouldn’t relent. Letting out a shaky breath, I let her out. “Veni foras.”

I was snapped to the back of my mind, and a furious snarl found its way onto my face as Morrigan took over.

***

Dean jumped back as Y/N’s body morphed, and suddenly she was gone. Morrigan appeared on the other side of the room, her cape was missing, and her wings were spread wider than before, the feathers ruffling.

“I warned you, Winchester,” she said. “I told you not to touch her.”

“Yeah, well-” he shrugged- “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Foolish human,” she spit. “You’re all the damn same. I should have known you would be the same, too. She said you were different. That you wouldn’t treat her like Trent did. I warned her. I told her, I could see the darkness in you. But she still saw the light. Thought you were good.”

“You don’t know shit about me,” Dean hissed.

“Don’t I?” Morrigan smirked. “Dean Winchester. Thirty-eight. Aquarius. Has a secret anime addiction, and likes the feel of women’s underwear.” She laughed at his red cheeks. “Shall we get into the darker stuff?” She moved a few feet towards him. “You think about hell sometimes. What you did there. You feel guilt, sure. But you also remember the euphoria that cutting into those souls brought. You remember the high you had from watching them scream in agony, agony you inflicted. You look at people sometimes, and wonder what it would feel like to break them.” She smirked again. “You look at Y/N sometimes. More than others do. You find her fascinating, but now you wonder how it would feel to break her, too.”

Morrigan felt Y/N shudder, her heart shattering at that.

Morrigan, please.

“Isn’t that right, Dean?”

“No,” the hunter said. “It’s not.”

“Yes it is,” Morrigan barked. “You’ll hurt her.”

Dean swallowed, looking down for a moment. He raised his hand in the blink of an eye, sending the angel blade towards her. Morrigan held up her hand, the tip of the blade barely grazing the tip of her nose. Morrigan set her jaw, sighing.

Suddenly Y/N was back, eyes blinking back tears as Dean’s face dropped, guilt flashing across it.

***

“That won’t kill her,” I said quietly. Tears spilled from my eyes, and I resisted the urge to wipe them away, standing stone still. “It will just kill me.”

Dean lowered the blade slowly, swallowing thickly. His eyes pierced into mine, and I kept my neck slightly craned to look at him.

“Why?” He asked. “Why wouldn’t you tell us? Why the hell did you keep this… this a secret? Why the hell did you let her possess you in the first place?”

I sighed, blinking a few times. I squinted my eyes at him, desperately wanting to see his face clearly.

“Trent was going to kill me,” I murmured. “Morrigan was trapped inside a moonstone ring of mine. Trent smashed it and she was freed. She came to me and told me she could p-protect me. She told me that she wasn’t strong enough to be on her own yet. She p-promised me she wouldn’t take advantage, and so I agreed. I was going to die if I said no, and I figured there was a chance she was lying but, what if she wasn’t? She saved my life, and she’s saved it numerous of times. She never has taken advantage of our situation and she’s become the closest thing to family I’ve had in years. And then you all come along and I… I didn’t know how to tell you because I knew you’d kill me- us. Or, at least try to.”

“So, you’re just completely fine with having some sort of… being inside you? Can she see everything?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” I nodded. “And she doesn’t have to s-see everything. There’s a way I can push her out. It takes concentration but, it can be done.”

Dean let out a breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, hell. I don’t know what to do here.”

“Look, I’m still Y/N. You just know about M-Morrigan.” I shrugged. “Nothing has to change.”

“It already has!” Dean exclaimed. “You’re being possessed by something!”

“And I’m okay with it,” I said. “Morrigan is my fa-family. And I won’t let you do anything to her.”

“Dean, maybe she’s right,” Sam piped in. Dean whipped around to face his brother. “Y/N has always been Y/N. And Morrigan is here to protect her. She has never done anything to us.”

Yet.

I shook my head. Cas squinted his eyes at me in confusion.

“Morrigan is an ancient being. There’s nothing you can do to her that would hurt her. It would just hurt me. And she’s not going anywhere,” I said, standing a little bit straighter. “So-so deal with it.”

I saw Sam smirk a bit, and Dean’s face was simply confused.

“You know what, fuck this. I get you’re still Y/N, and I know that you’re no different now that we know, but I can’t deal with this. When we get to the bunker…” He trailed off, looking down at his feet for a moment. “You need to go.”

“What?” I breathed, panic bubbling in my chest.

“You have to go.”

“Where? I have nowhere to go.”

Dean sighed. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, okay? I just can’t deal with this. You lied to us for a year and a half. You have some ancient witch inside you and we have no idea if she will blow up on us or not. And you can’t be trusted anymore.”

“Dean, p-please I-”

“Stop, okay?” Dean said, holding a hand up. “Just stop.”

He turned away from me then, head still down. “We’ve all packed up. I suggest you do, too. There should be a car out front for you, but we’re heading back.”

“Without me?” I choked, biting my lip to hold back anymore tears.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered. He motioned something towards Sam, Cas and Jack, and they followed him out of the room. Sam sent me one last glance before following his brother, and Jack gave me a quick hug.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Everything will be okay,” he said. “He’ll calm down.”

“I don’t think so, Jack,” I said. “But… thanks.”

He nodded, giving me a smile, before following the guys outside, closing the door softly behind him.

I waited until I heard the engine rumble and fade before I collapsed on the bed, sobs racking my body. I never thought I’d have to see the look of betrayal and hate on Dean’s face pointed towards me. I loved him, more than I ever thought possible, and he couldn’t stand to be around me. He felt it necessary to kick me out of the bunker, a place that I finally felt safe and wanted. Tears stained my cheeks as I curled up on the worn comforter, the name quite ironic at this point in time, because I felt no comfort at all.

I’m so sorry, Y/N.

Somewhere, deep in my mind, I could feel Morrigan, a soothing presence trying to wash over me. I knew she was trying to help me, but I couldn’t be bothered with it right now. I pushed her away, trying my best to block her out. I couldn’t deal with her right now, not while I was trying to deal with the ultimate shattering of my heart.

Part Two

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[inadeepanddarkdecember]

⊙ My muse to hold yours back from self-destructive behavior (which is cy holding Jay back in royal au bc I want that Sweet Sweet Role Reversal)

After months of careful planning, the day was finally, finally here. Cyrus still wasn’t totally sure if his parents had bought it—that he and Jay were oh-so in love—but they had consented to this union just the same. Now, they just had to sell it to the rest of the kingdom.

Over the course of the past few weeks, nobility of all stripes had flooded the small town like a plague of locusts. He hadn’t invited them—but his parents had. After all, who could miss the disreputed crown prince’s marriage to such a lowly lovely bride. Their judgement of this farce would the difference between a life of peace and his parents’ rescinding their consent and pulling him back into their clutches. That much they had made clear, under smiles and gentle words, beneath the assurances of a good woman they offered should this not work out.

Cyrus could feel himself slipping back into old habits, snapping at servants, biting his tongue on the urge to ruin everything for the brief satisfaction of telling everyone exactly what he thought of them. It had worsened with the arrival of his parents several days ago, taking up residence in the estate and running it like this wasn’t the home they had foisted him onto for the past ten years. But soon, they would leave. The day was here.

Cyrus’s wedding clothes offered a new discomfort. Layers of hose, breeches, shirts, and overcoats offered him more mobility than his dresses and robes at the cost of their tightness around his limbs, and their excess of weight—every layer was crafted from heavy brocade made heavier with glistening embroidery. His overcoat especially had been structured to broaden his shoulders as much as his narrow frame would allow. His delicate jewels had been exchanged for thick metal pieces sporting large gemstones, a necklace that weighed down his neck and a crown heavy on his head. His stylist had apologized as she wove his hair into intricate braids, but he had waved her off. It was unpleasant, but it was one day. He could withstand it.

He, however, was not the only one stressed. He heard Jay’s shouting before he saw her, foul-mouthed furious curses echoing down the hall. He ran.

Panting, Cyrus arrived at Jay’s dressing room just in time to see a poor, cowering servant sputtering useless complacencies stumble out into the hall, shortly followed by Jay herself. She wore her wedding dress—a feat unto itself—and all its skirts were gathered, to the best of her ability, into one arm. Her face was twisted into a furious grimace with a knife sourced from lord knows where clutched in her teeth, and in her other hand, she held a fistful of her own hair, shorn from her head, which she hurled at the servant. She grabbed the handle of the knife and lifted it over her head, stretching the dress’s skirts out in front of her, but before she could strike, he moved.  

“Jay, stop!” He strode toward her as her gaze snapped toward him, and he pushed her back into the room. Over his shoulder, to the servant, he said, “Get Celestine.”

He shut the door behind him. Jay stood a few feet away, her knuckles white around the handle of the knife, as she started talking, “I gotta get out of this dress, Cy, I can’t fucking  do this, I can’t, I look dumb as hell,” she choked out a small, hysterical laugh. “No one’s going to buy this, I’m not a goddamn lady, nevermind a bride, and if one more person touches me, or tries to tell me how pretty I am, or, or, fucking asks if I think I’m gonna have kids, I’m gonna,” she gestured vaguely with the knife, “I’m gonna scream.”

“Okay,” he glanced around; there had so be something, something to say, something to inspire him—there. He snatched a pillow up off a chair and shoved it into her hands, and Jay back towards the couch behind her. “If you’re going to scream, then scream. Do it here, now. The ceremony’s in two hours, and it will only take one. That’s three hours, Jay, three hours, then you can burn the dress for all I care. Then we never have to deal with this bullshit or these people again.”

Stepping past her, Cyrus sat on the couch. Her struggle with thought and feeling was clear on her face, and for several seconds she stood there before she dropped onto the couch beside him. She stabbed the knife into the armrest, then pressed the pillow to her face and screamed, long and loud. He waited for her. When she ran out of breath and lifted the pillow away, he asked, “Feel better?”

She paused to think about it, then said, “No,”  and lifted the pillow to her face to scream again.

When she finished, he asked, “How about now?”

“A little.”

Cyrus found himself a little at a loss at what to say next. He couldn’t tell her she was free to strip it all off and go running off into the woods like she seemed to want to. He lifted his hand, but wavered and gestured to the knife. “Where did you get that?”

Jay lifted her skirt and stuck out her leg to reveal a hidden sheath strapped to her calf. “I wanted to be prepared in case any of those assholes tried something.”

He snorted a bit. “Good idea.”

She glanced at him. “You look like a fucking tool, you know that?”

“I feel like one.”

Now it was her turn to scoff, just a little. She nudged his shoulder. “Tools together?”

“Only for the next three hours. Then we can go back to being bastards together.”

The noise she made was closer to a laugh. “Next time I got to be a goddamn lady, I want a body double.”

“We can hold auditions. You can guard my scrawny ass full time.”

Her smile held, for a moment, but then it vanished into fear as her hand came up to touch the cut ends of her hair. Her hair had never been very long, but half of it was still tied and curled into style while freed strands hung in her face. “Have I ruined it?”

He guessed the ‘it’ in question wasn’t merely her hair, but nevertheless, he eyed her appraisingly. “Celestine can fix that.”

Right on cue, there was a knock on the door.