#had a thought and had to rant for a while

[sugussugar]

best friend! satoru who pinches you in public then blames it on someone who wasn't even close enough to have been able to do it. (he tried to trip you at first, but you caught him sticking his leg out and called him out.)

best friend! satoru who insists that your hangouts only take place at your house. he doesn't care if your house is big or small, he'd rather your house over his since yours feels more like a home.

best friend! satoru who, somehow, always manages to convince you to get fast food when you guys hang out.

best friend! satoru who loves baking with you. though, it's mostly you doing all of the baking while he opts to throw flour at you and lick the spoon once you're done mixing the batter.

best friend! satoru who's never had a girlfriend. well, okay, maybe he had one girlfriend during freshman year of highschool, but it only lasted a month. you still ask him why he refuses to go out with anyone despite the girls and boys who throw themselves at him. he shrugs it off.

best friend! satoru who is really really affectionate with you. he plays it off as a: “oh, no, it's not weird, we're just super close like that!”, type of thing. you've gotten used to it; him holding your hand in public, kissing your forehead, cuddling you 24/7, hugging you every time he sees you in the school hallways, ect.

best friend! satoru who doesn't deny it when people ask if you're a couple. and when you scold him later on, ranting about how now everyone is gonna get the ‘wrong idea’, he just smirks and says: “you never know.”, before walking away, leaving you totally dumbfounded.

best friend! satoru who, behind your back, never shuts up about you. it's comical how everyone but you knows how totally head-over-heals he is for his best friend.

best friend! satoru who hates all of your exes and crushes. every time you even mention having even the tiniest hint of romantic feelings for anyone, he loses his mind. he always has something to say, whether it be about their appearance or personality, he's never short of insults when it comes to your romantic partners. but of course you play it off with a simple: “oh, he's just being overprotective! all best friends are.”. oh, you. clueless you.

best friend! satoru who decides one random tuesday morning in the middle of january that he's gotta man up and confess to you.. but how?

best friend! satoru who decides since valentine's day is coming up, he'll confess then! i mean, that's what the whole holiday is for, no?

best friend! satoru who didn't take into consideration how long it'd be till valentine's day and what could happen in that time- till you get a boyfriend.

best friend! satoru whose heart is crushed. he hates how seriously this is affecting him, and he hates even more how perfect your boyfriend is. kento nanami. of course you'd fall for him, he's a total gentleman, a personification of the perfect man.

best friend! satoru whose heart is even more crushed when you tell him he needs to take a few steps back. apparently, nanami said he's uncomfortable with how close you and satoru are, and you totally understand. so you tell him no more cuddling, no more sleepovers, no more 4am taco bell drives, no more forehead kisses, no more “what if” questions involving you two being in a romantic relationship.

best friend! satoru who you stop talking to as much, too occupied with your new life, leading to a falling out in your friendship.

exbest friend! satoru who figures he should throw out the love note he wrote and all the gifts he bought. but he just can't.

exbest friend! satoru who, even twenty years later, still can't rid of his feelings for you.

exbest friend! satoru who, while you're happily married to nanami, stays your clingy exbest friend; a distant, blurry memory that swims deep in the back of your mind, though you can't be bothered to give it or him a second thought. even now, as a grown man, he looks through all the things he was supposed to give you that valentine's day. he rereads the love letter like somehow that'll make everything go the way he wanted it to.

[writingslob]

Yandere X x Lin ling where he fell inlove with Lin ling because Lin ling is inlove with his office worker persona and dislikes his hero one

[YANDERE X] x [LIN LING] 

Author’s note: I hope you guys enjoy!

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Lin Ling was a new hire, brought on board to be the company’s new creative director for commercials and the like. Originally, he thought nothing of him until one day—while hurrying to his cubicle, he couldn’t help but overhear his boss and Lin Ling. His boss was excitedly telling him that XFC wanted Lin Ling personally to direct a commercial before Lin Ling brutally shot it down. Not backing down even when the boss revealed how much money he was throwing away by saying no.

This caught X’s attention. So, that day at work, instead of sitting by his lonesome, he walked to Lin Ling’s empty table and took a seat directly in front of the man. He was confused before X explained that he couldn’t help but overhear his conversation and asked why he didn’t take the deal. Lin Ling’s eyes brighten with the rage of a thousand suns, and X sat through a 30-minute impassioned rant as Lin Ling listed all the reasons why X sucks and how he doesn’t deserve his title and he should go burn in hell and—

During his rant, X realized that Lin Ling inexplicably had been caught in the crossfire of every fight X ever had. “That fight 2 years ago with a fish-themed villain?” Lin Ling was on a run when he got caught in it (his jacket still smelled like fish to this day). “Oh, how about the one in the countryside, far away from the city?” Coincidentally, that small town was where Lin Ling was planning on going on vacation, and because of the attack, he had to cancel (and there was no refund.) “Well, certainly the fight at 2 am today couldn’t affect him?” Wrong again, Lin Ling woke up to a car being thrown into his building. 

After that talk, Lin Ling and he became fast friends, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the day and night difference between how Lin Ling treated his two personas. With civilian him, Lin Ling was all bright smiles, thoughtful consideration, and a warm gentleness that X can’t help but adore. Meanwhile, with hero X, Lin Ling could rant for days about all the ways X screwed him over (intentionally or not), and when he did run into Lin Ling in this form (which he did do intentionally), Lin Ling gave him the weakest customer service voice and smile he has ever seen or heard. (It was amusing to see how Lin Ling tried not to crack when X began to tease—he couldn't help it; he was too cute to resist.) 

As their relationship progressed, however, he couldn’t help but have doubts creep into the back of his mind. Lin Ling, while capable, has no Trust, and while thankfully nothing has happened yet outside of a few unfortunate annoyances, what if something does happen? What if, during a fight, rubble crushed him? Or what if a stray weapon flies off course and hits him in the head? Or what if he gets caught in a massive villain attack and X wasn’t fast enough to save him? What if-

(He smiles as he lifts the sleeping Lin Ling in his arms. He won’t understand at first, but he’ll come to accept that this is the best outcome for everyone involved. He snaps his fingers. Time to bring him home.)

[souredgrape]

Fake a** Friends

George Clarke x (Fem)reader

WC: 4.1k

Synopsis: in a tight knit group of friends, there’s always one bad egg. However she just can’t seem to let her obsession with a certain man go. The same man you’ve liked for years.

Warning: bullying behaviour. Swearing. Obsessive behaviour. Alcoholism. Smoking. Willne being the no.1 wingman. James being himself.

Sitting in your living room, you were helping Rebecca do her roots, apparently the hairdresser was closed. So you ‘had to do it’ , as she had said. For the past hour you had been listening to her ranting about all the boys she’d be dating recently. You were exhausted. Both of your phones pinged simultaneously, an alert from the group chat. Rebecca looked.

“It’s Georgie!��� She squealed, unlocking her phone. “Oh my god he’s invited us all out tonight!” You hummed in response to her loud voice.

“Where?” You asked, pinning up the last of her bleached hair.

“Uhm an Italian restaurant, he’s sent the address. Then he said drinks afterwards. Everyone is gonna be there.” Rebecca told you, replying to him in a sickly way then tossing her phone onto the couch. “I gotta look hot.” She said, looking right at you. “I know you probably don’t own anything sexy, so we can go to mine when you’re ready yeah?” The slight dig was nothing new to you, so you just nod, telling her how long she had on her hair. “I have to wear red, oh and it has to be tight. I need him to ogle me all night.” Rebecca smiled to herself, daydreaming about George like she did most days.

“What about Dan?” You questioned, reminding her of a man she’d been on a date with that week. Rebecca just rolled her eyes, hitting your arm playfully.

“That’s just fun. George is the man I want. And I know he wants me to.” She was so confident. You gave a fake smile, ignoring your own sadness. Because she was probably right. You’d had a stupid crush on him for a while, but you were nothing compared to her. She was curvy in all the right places, a blonde with bright green eyes, her lips and lashes were done. It’s what most guys wanted nowadays.

Whilst she was washing out the bleach, you hunted through your wardrobe, trying to find something nice for the evening. You wandered why you were even trying. With a sigh, you pulled out a dress, looking at it before putting it back. Then you spied a new item you had recently bought. A short black, leather skirt. Yeah, that could work. To go with it you pulled out a long sleeve, off the shoulder top in a colour that would compliment the leather well. Getting dressed, you looked in the mirror, the skirt hugged your hips, the top was tight to your figure too. It was part classy, but nice enough to know you were going out. With this, you put on your boots, tying up the laces when Rebecca came out of the bathroom. She looked you up and down with amusement before shaking her head.

“Do your make up at mine?” It was more of a demand than a question, but you nod nonetheless. “You look adorable by the way.” Rebecca smiled patronisingly.

———

At Rebecca’s house, you were sat at her dresser, applying your makeup carefully.

“How about this?” Rebecca came into the room wearing a fitted, short red dress. It left little to the imagination, with her breasts hanging out and her ass peaking out the bottom. You thought maybe it was a little too revealing for dinner but, if she was happy.

“Yeah it’s nice.” Rebecca scoffed at your compliment, applying a little more red lipstick.

“Nice? It’s not just nice, I look amazing.” She looked over. “Pink eyeshadow? Really?” She asked, looking at you critically. You frowned, holding the brush midair. Letting out a soft breath, you finished off your make up and sat waiting for her. Rebecca was doing a thick Smokey eye, a bold red lip. A little too much for a casual Thursday. But who were you to judge? It took over an hour but she finally finished and you both began walking into town. Rebecca stopped just outside the restaurant, pulling out her perfume and proceeding to spray herself far too many times. You coughed, stepping back. “Oh stop being so dramatic. It’s just vanilla.” She rolled her eyes before walking inside, you following shortly behind. A waiter lead you both to a table in the window, where George was sat with another two mutual friends. Rebecca rushed over. “Hi guys!” She squealed. The group looked up, wincing slightly. George stood, getting out of the booth and giving Rebecca a polite hug in greeting.

“Hey, you’re late.” He chuckled, helping her to sit down in his previous seat. You stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“Well look at me, this takes time you know?” Rebecca swished her hair right in Wills face. George turned to you with a smile, swiftly pulling you into a hug as well. You hugged back, relaxing, all the tension that had built up over the day just faded away.

“You okay?” He asked quietly, not pulling away just yet. You hummed, nodding slowly. George looked at you unconvinced, but let it go and guided you to sit on the seat opposite to the others. He slid in beside you, handing you a menu then retrieving his drink.

“Why aren’t you sat next to me Georgie?” Rebecca asked with a pout, making Will and your other friend, Lisa, look at her funny. George hardly looked up from his menu.

“I’m comfortable here thanks.” You could see that she was annoyed, and you opted to look at the food options as well. “See, should I be really boring and get pizza, or step it up a notch and get the-“ he paused, pursing his lips “-Brand-…brandacujun…” you laughed at his poor pronunciation.

“What is it?” You moved a bit closer, following his finger to where he was looking.

“Dried cod and potato’s.” He drawled, glancing at you with a knowing look. “I’m getting pizza.” You both laughed. Shaking your head, you sat back and placed your menu down.

“I’m probably gonna get the tomato pasta.” You said, getting a nod of approval from Will opposite you.

“Are you finally trying to bulk?” Rebecca questioned. You turned to her confused. “You’ve just gotten really thin lately, that’s all.” She shrugged, whilst you sat there a little shocked. Instead of replying, you checked your phone, not noticing the shared look of disapproval from Will and George.

A waiter had brought your drinks and food, now everyone sat eating quietly. The only noticeable noise was Rebecca’s long nails clicking her phone aggressively. George looked up from his Pizza.

“Who are you talking to? You’re gonna break your phone screen.” He laughed a bit, gaining the tables attention. You put your fork down, wiping your lips free of tomato sauce.

“Oh uh, no one.” Rebecca quickly put her phone away.

“Oh I see, boyfriend?” George wiggled his brows but was met with a deep scowl from the girl opposite.

“As if! I only have eyes for one man!” She declared. You rolled your eyes, wondering if anyone believed her lies. Will leant over, talking into her ear quietly. “Shut up! That’s not true!” Rebecca yelled with anger, slapping Will on the shoulder rather harshly. However Will just chuckled at that, before looking at you. Confused, you tilted your head but he just shook his head in dismissal. George sat back, his arm resting on the back of the booth behind you. You froze slightly, unsure of what to do. Rebecca was glaring daggers at you.

“Ignore her.” George muttered, tossing his used napkin on his plate. Letting out a breath, you rested back, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I like your outfit.” He grinned, shocking you slightly. Gazing up at the man, you blushed slightly.

“Thank you.” You replied sheepishly, playing with the rings on your fingers, causing George to notice. He shifted closer, gently touching the ring on your index finger. It was a simple silver band with a black stone in the centre.

“This is nice.”

“It was my mums.” You clarified with a smile. George simpered, the hand that was on the booth, coming to rest on your shoulder.

“You’re coming for drinks next right? We’re going to that pub that’s just been done up, booked us a table so we’ll definitely have a seat.” George knew of your anxiety, clearly trying his best to persuade you. And it worked because you found yourself nodding. “Good, I’ll make sure you’re sat next to me.” It was as if he were protecting you, but you weren’t sure why.

“Fuck off Will!” Rebecca suddenly shouted, making everyone look at them. The Geordie put his hands up in surrender.

“Stop saying that shit then.” He shot back. You were confused, but Lisa asked for the bill before you could question anything. Her boyfriend was on his way, she’d said so just before the food arrived. The bill was split and everyone got up ready to leave. George took your hand, helping you down from the higher booth. However, he kept your hand in his grasp as your little group began walking down the street. He looked down at you with a cheeky grin.

“This is fine right?” You nod softly, inching just a little closer. Up ahead, Rebecca looked back at you with a look so cold it almost made you flinch. Instinctively, you tightened your hold on George’s hand, which he noticed and tugged you towards him.

Will cheered as the pub came into view, and Lisa ran up to her boyfriend happily. When you went inside, George gave his name and you were lead to a table in the back, by a lit fire. It was cosy, the seat against the wall being cushioned, the chairs opposite mahogany. Quickly, George ushered you into the side against the wall, slipping in beside you. Will sat across from you again, letting out a quiet groan when Rebecca took the space on the other side of George. Lisa’s boyfriend was clearly confused, sitting by Will and listening to the man as he told him something under his breath. You watched them with furrowed brows, wanting to know what the issue was.

“I’ll go to the bar, anyone wanna help me?” Lisa asked hopefully, Will piped up quickly.

“Rebecca will.” She looked at him annoyed but got up and went regardless. You took the chance to lean forward.

“What’s going on?” You questioned lowly. Will shared a look with George.

“She’s getting on our nerves. She’s obsessed with George, it’s fuckin’ creepy man.” He explained. You sat back slowly, looking around for a moment. “Don’t tell us you didn’t know?” Will scoffed with amusement.

“No I know she has a crush on him.” You said, tapping your nails against the wooden table. “I guess I just thought the feeling was mutual.” You admitted, looking from Will to George. He raised his brows in surprise.

“Oh my god, she’s got no chance.” Will laughed, as if it was the most obvious thing to say.

“What?”

“(Y/n), she’s insane.” George looked right at you trying not to laugh.

“Yeah but she’s pretty.” All three of the men sat there started laughing, your eyes widening.

“She’s fake, and toxic. A new man every week. Her lips are about to pop. She’s not pretty, she’s plastic.” George shook his head as he spoke. “And she had the nerve to comment on your body? Ridiculous.” You went a little red, looking down at yourself for a second. “Does she always say things like that?” He turned to you, and you went very quiet. George looked deep into your eyes, but you couldn’t respond as the girls came back with drinks. Your silence was your answer though. Taking your drink, you sipped on the straw, deciding that the fire was more interesting to look at now. Rebecca was being very giggly, moving insanely close to George. It was clear he was uncomfortable. You frowned, sitting forward and watching them interact for a second.

“(Y/n).” Will spoke quietly, gaining your attention. “He doesn’t want her.” He whispered, taking a drink of his beer. You stared at him, trying to read between the lines.

“I’m going for a vape, anyone coming?” No one responded to Rebecca, so she looked at you. “(Y/n)? You’ll come with me.” It was more of a demand than a question. Unmoved, you shook your head firmly. Her jaw tightened, as she left out the back door in a huff.

“Why does she smell like a coffee?” George wafted his hand around in the air. You giggled slightly, turning towards him again.

“A hundred sprays of Kayali.”

“Oh it’s vile.” He shivered, then smiled at you. “Are you cold? You’ve got goosebumps.” He noticed, gently touching your shoulder. You shrugged softly.

“I’ll be fine. Old pubs are cold.” George hummed at what you said, but still, he moved forward and wrapped his arm around you. You went stiff for a moment, but allowed yourself to relax. They were finally starting to notice that Rebecca really wasn’t that nice. So, maybe you could allow yourself to enjoy this treatment. When you finally leant against George’s chest, and picked up your drink, finally just relaxed, the man was beaming. Will gave him a nod of approval, clicking their beer glasses together. George gave your waist a gently squeeze as you all settled into a comfortable conversation.

———

“-no that was James not me!” Will breathed in defiance, the rest of the table laughing at him.

“No im pretty sure you’re the one who stood there blushing like an idiot.” George cackled, his fingers tracing idle lines on your side.

“One, I was not blushing, two, he called me babe!” Will exasperated, finishing his beer off.

“I dunno man, I say you both just kiss and get it over with.” When George said that, Will gave him a very pointed look.

“You can’t talk.” The two men looked at each other challengingly for a while. Lisa shook her head and you both giggled. Coming back from the bathroom, Lisa’s boyfriend took a seat and said.

“Rebecca is still in the beer garden. She’s chatting with some forty year old bloke?” He let the group know, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest. Placing your empty glass down, you sighed.

“Maybe she bumped into Dan.”

“Who’s Dan?” Lisa asked, standing and picking up your glass.

“Her hinge date from last week. He’s like thirty eight. Seems lovely though. She giggles every time he texts…” you trailed off, realising that Rebecca most likely had very real feelings for the older man, she just didn’t know it herself.

“That’s great for her.” George said.

“It is, but she’s so caught up in fancying you that I don’t think she knows.” Will made a noise of agreement at what you said, and George pouted slightly.

“You’ve gotta prove to her that you’re off limits.” Will decided whilst getting up to help Lisa. George, thinking deeply, rested his chin on your shoulder. You didn’t flinch, but you did smile and let yourself admire his side profile. You always thought he had pretty eyes.

“I think I can do that.” He mumbled, looking around the pub. “You don’t mind if we pop out for a smoke break do you mate?” George looked across at the man who was carefully watching his girlfriend at the bar.

“‘Course not. Go ahead.” With a grin, George pulled you up and guided you towards the front door of the pub, out into the brisk night air.

“You don’t smoke? Neither do I?” You were understandably confused. He walked forward, sitting himself on the brick wall that surrounded the building. You stood in front of him, his hair slightly messed up from where he kept playing with it. Naturally, you reached out and fixed it.

“I know, just wanted to talk to you.” George confessed, placing his hands on your waist and tugging you to stand between his legs. You blushed, but kept calm and looked down at him. “You never answered me, when I asked if Rebecca always spoke to you like that?” He pressed gently, thumb moving against your side tenderly. Wetting your lips, you avoided his blue eyes like the plague.

“Yeah, sometimes.” You let out, but he wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“What does she say?”

“Lots of things.” You scoffed, tucking your hair behind your ears. “It’s usually just patronising shit. Like saying I look adorable or that I just don’t understand because I’ve never had a boyfriend.” George stared up at you intently, subtly drawing you in. “Or that I’m unattractive. You know, men don’t like girls like me, stuff like that.”

“That’s a lie.” He said matter of factly, catching you off guard. When your eyes met again, he let out a small sigh. “She’s such a bitch.”

“She’s our friend George.” You reasoned but he just frowned.

“I don’t want friends like her, that constantly bring you down. That leech off of us and think they’re better than us.” He brought you closer, if possible. “She has the chance to be happy with that man she’s with. Let her figure it out.” George kept his eyes on you as he spoke. You knew he was right, but you still felt a little bad for her. Noticing your mood, George swiftly pulled you down into his embrace. You melted, hugging back immediately. Your arms wound around his neck, burying your face in alongside. Somehow, George guided you to perch on his thigh, his hand rubbing up and down your back. You both stayed like that for a moment, the drama of the table forgotten, not even the cold was bothering you now. He pulled back from the hug, just a little, looking at you with a soft smile.

“What?”

“You’re just pretty.” George smirked, your cheeks warming in a flash. Cupping your cheek, he tilted your chin down, bringing your face just centimetres from his own. Suddenly you felt as though you knew exactly what Will was trying to tell you earlier. Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly leant in. Meeting him half way, you pressed your lips to his, any apprehension you had fizzling away. The kiss was soft and timid at first, testing the waters. It was clear very quickly that you both wanted what was happening, however. George deepened the kiss, his fingers threading through your hair carefully, bringing you flush against him. When you parted, your foreheads rested together, quiet giggles shared between you.

“Think that’ll show her I’m not interested?” George asked smugly, a small scoff escaping you.

“Yeah maybe just a bit.” His thumb stroked your cheek tenderly.

“But you know I like you right?”

“I kinda just got that…” you admitted, leaning into his larger hand, enjoying the warmth.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep showing you.” George mumble before kissing you once more. It was laced with confidence, lips moving together with passion and understanding. His hold on you was tight, kissing you with purpose. The outside world was a blur now, the noise of the night completely fading out. A deep cough unfortunately broke your trance. When you looked up, you were both surprised to see James looking down at you.

“Hey guys.” He had a shit-eating grin. “Will texted and said he felt like a third wheel, which was confusing at first but uh-“ he looked between you. “-I get it now.” James laughed. You were blushing badly, resorting to hiding your face against George’s shoulder as you both stood up.

“Yeah yeah, eat it up, go on.” George was laughing too, but he was also a little red. “Come on, we’ll take you to your lover.”

“You do not get to tease me when you were making out in the middle of the street!” James exclaimed, following behind you and George, who was still chuckling to himself. You clung onto his arm, smiling. Back at the table, everyone was now sat there, even Rebecca. You stood there anxiously, watching Will and James hug and sit down next to each other. George looked at Rebecca.

“Can you let us pass?” He asked politely, as she looked up at him with her bright green eyes.

“I’m sure you can squeeze past me Georgie.” She cooed, not making any effort to move.

“Rebecca, move.” George tugged you closer, clearly getting annoyed. She huffed, getting up to let you both into the seats. George went first, which you were happy about as you didn’t want him next to her. As you passed, Rebecca let her foot stick out, just enough for you to tumble over it. George was quick to react, catching you under the arms and pulling you next to him. “How old are you? Five?” He wrapped his arm around your waist, hand resting on your hip protectively. Rebecca watched, brows furrowed and jaw clenched whilst she sat beside you. Deciding to ignore her, you leant against George and sipped on your fresh drink.

A bit of time passed with little issue, just a few short glares from the blonde. George was extra clingy, but you loved it. His arms were constantly around your middle, his head resting on your shoulder, face sometimes nuzzling your neck. You’d never felt more content in public. For the most of it, you’d been wrapped up in conversation with James for the past twenty minutes, Will and George watching you both fondly. It was nice. To put it simply.

“He looks like a lovesick puppy.” James chortled, pointing at George. Will nod in agreement, putting his pint down.

“Yeah look at ‘im, pining after her.” You blushed at his words, messing with your straw.

“Don’t go shy on us now, you were literally kissing in front of the whole street.” James smirked, causing Will to gasp.

“They did! Fucking finally man. Do you know how long I’ve been listening to him talk about her?”

“Right there’s no need to call me out like that!” George sputtered, a small smile on his lips. You couldn’t help but giggle, finding it endearing. “I could get right back at you and you know it.”

“You wouldn’t.” Will looked worried. James looked confused.

“What? There’s a new girl you’re into?” The tall man asked lowly.

“Actually it’s-“

“Don’t you fucking dare man.” Will cut him off with haste and you quickly caught on, starting to laugh. George beamed, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You pulled a face.

“Beer.”

“Oh sorry I don’t drink sparkly strawberry drinks like you.” He chuckled, poking your nose softly. You simpered, leaning into him and resting your head on his chest with a content sigh.

“That’s it. I’m leaving.” Rebecca declared, standing up and making the table rock. Everyone looked at her with bewilderment. She turned to you, rage clouding her vision. “You’re such a fake friend, you know that (y/n)?”

“What?” You said, frowning. She laughed falsely, downing the rest of her drink before slamming the glass down.

“You knew I liked him and yet you went behind my back and got with him! You’re such a whore!” Your heart sank at her worlds, mouth going a little dry. Everyone on the table looked at the girl as if she had two heads. George turned you away from her, his arms encasing you protectively.

“Just go. We won’t miss you.” He spat, not even bothering to look at her. Rebecca gaped, not expecting such a cold response from him.

“Y’ never had a chance man.” Will laughed, waving at her with a cocky grin. With an infuriated screech, Rebecca turned and stormed out of the pub. Everyone sat there silently for a moment, before a feeling of calm washed over the table. “Thank fuck for that.” Will spoke first, and everyone laughed a little. Even you.

“You okay?” George asked, running his fingers through your hair. You nod, letting out a breath and feeling yourself relax. “I think we should block her.”

“I’m with you on that, let her be happy with her dilf.” Will decided, pulling his phone out already. You giggled at your friends, their support warming you inside. George kissed your head softly, returning you both to your original position. Everyone around you was so positive, Will had your back the whole night. James was ecstatic to see you with George, even if he did tease you. And George was attached to you now. It was perfect. He even took your phone, blocking Rebecca from your socials. You did hope she’d be happy, in the end. Either way, you were pretty happy with how things were heading. <3

[allhalemischief]

When Derek finally puts it together - due to an offhand comment by the Sheriff at a crime scene (he’s known they were meant to be in each other’s lives when he found them cuddled up together asleep on a bench at the station after Derek wouldn’t let anyone else anywhere near him since they found him) - he can’t do anything about it because Stiles is a minor.

And because he is the emotionally constipated Derek we all know and love, he doesn’t even consider telling Stiles - this is his problem, not Stiles’ - and resigns himself to a life without his mate even after Stiles is of age.

Shenanigans ensue, obviously, and Stiles finds out. And because he is the feral, sarcastic Stiles we all know and love, he does not let Derek off the hook at all.

The rant that follows lasts at least an hour, despite happening post-battle while they’re both still covered in blood and dirt, and at some point in it, Stiles refers to Derek as the emotionally constipated sourwolf he had to go and fall in love with and Derek freezes. Completely stops listening, he hears nothing else of his lecture at that point, just stuck in the fact that Stiles is in love with him.

The relief is overwhelming and the tension that leaves Derek’s shoulders in visible as a tentative smile takes over his face. Stiles notices when he finally stops to take a breath and huffs, frowning. He is decidedly not happy that Derek is smiling when he should be feeling properly chagrined at the least.

Derek’s soft “you love me?” is disbelieving but a little hopeful. The corners of his smile twitching.

Stiles responds with a huff, arms crossing over his chest and his eyes lowering to somewhere near the ground but his “Well, yeah” sounds a bit more like a Well, duh.

When Stiles finally lifts his gaze back to Derek, a grin has encompassed his face and his perpetually pinched brows have relaxed. Stiles has never thought Derek was more breathtaking than in that moment.

Derek softly steps into Stiles, getting so close he’s forced to drop his arms from their defensive position, gently cups his jaw with both hands and whispers an “I love you, too” before kissing him.

It’s soft at first, hesitant, but it quickly becomes a conveyance for everything they’ve felt for each other over the last few years. The fondness, the frustration, every worry and ounce of love.

One of Stiles’ hands is gripping Derek’s henley by his shoulder, the other at the back of his waist, pulling Derek as far into his space as he can get him.

Derek’s hands have migrated as well. His right at the nape of Stiles’ neck, angling him just so, and his left is at the small of his back pressing Stiles against him.

When they finally separate for oxygen, Derek tips his forehead to Stiles’. They breathe each other in through their gasping inhales, but when Derek goes to press their lips back together. Stiles stops him.

Jaw set and finger pointing in Derek’s face, a weak imitation at being stern considering his flushed skin and kiss swollen lips, but his tone brooks no argument. “The next time you have some big revelation about us, you tell me immediately. Understood, Sourwolf?”

Derek lifts his heads to nod earnestly, smiling down at him. Now that he’s started he can’t seem to stop.

“And you’re taking me on a date. Tonight. I’ll see you at six.”

Stiles pushes Derek away and the full-blown grin that took over Derek’s expression when Stiles said “date” wars with a frown at Stiles leaving. Stiles just laughs when Derek tries to pull him back in.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too. But we both have to shower and sleep and then you have to call Boyd to help you plan our date. I will see you tomorrow, Sourwolf.” Stiles gives him one last peck before grabbing his red hoodie off the back of the couch and heading out of the loft.

Derek is putting when a text alert comes through on his phone. Stop pouting. Shower and sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.

And the smile is back on Derek’s face. He types back a quick I love you too before dialing Boyd on his way to his room.

The next day, Derek arrives early at Stiles’ house. Nervous but excited, he fidgets in his car waiting for the clock on the dash to read 6:00.

He knocks on the door instead of taking his normal route through Stiles’ bedroom window. When Stiles opens the door, the smile is back and Derek’s cheeks are starting to ache from using unfamiliar muscles.

A soft “hi” comes from them both at the same time and Stiles blushes while the tops of Derek’s ears turn red. Neither of them seem to notice their company at Stiles’ back as they stand there staring at each other with wide smiles stretching their faces.

Noah had planned to give Derek the I have a gun and access to wolfsbane bullets speech but he obviously isn’t going to get the chance and honestly, he’s not all that worried.

Finally, Noah gets fed up watching them just stand there saying nothing and pushes Stiles out the door and into Derek’s arms with an exasperated, “Oh god, just go!”

Derek drives them to a locally owned bookstore to pick out books for each other, Boyd’s idea, and then to Stiles’ favorite diner for cheeseburgers and curly fries, his own.

The pack is placed under strict orders not to call them unless it is an emergency.

Lydia and Boyd are appointed as the only ones allowed to decide what constitutes an emergency.

my favorite headcanon is i believe that stiles and derek already met each other when they were young. on the day of the fire, little stiles who is waiting for his dad at the station was the only one who sat beside derek for hours when he’s crying alone. but derek was on the verge of going feral so he barely remembers anything, just a faint memory of a kid with a cinnamon scent who made him feel safe. years later when they met again in the woods derek just couldn’t pinpoint why stiles’ scent is so familiar to him, but he’s always instinctively drawn to stiles in the way he can’t even explain. and it isn’t long before he realises he had already made stiles his anchor years ago and that this is his mate.

[motthe]

there's no death here | robert "bob" reynolds [part ii]

warnings: childhood trauma, bit of blood, secondhand embarrassment maybe???

《masterlist》

Bob didn't know what to expect when Bucky mentioned a friend of his being able to help with his “weird mind power stuff.”

Said friend being a woman, Bob wasn’t sure if that made things easier or not. Opening up to anyone felt forbidden these days. That and the team knew how to deal with his bad days. He would have to see someone react to him for the first time all over again.

One thing Bob was sure about was that he would feel a hell of a lot worse hurting a woman if this training didn't go well.

Then you walked off the elevator, and he quickly realized he couldn't save face around you. For one, you held yourself like every other hero in his life. If there was a weakness, he couldn’t pinpoint it, and you held more confidence in one finger than he’d ever had in his entire life.

And second, you were beautiful. It had been a fact even from a distance, but then you held his hand without fear, and you’d smiled bright enough it blinded him for a good second.

Training the psychic side meant you were going to see every molecule of shit that ever existed in his head. There was nothing he was going to be able to hide from you. But if you weren’t running for the hills after everything you’d heard in his head the first day, then maybe there was a chance.

Bucky also mentioned all the lowlives you’d had to needle your way through to get evidence for detectives. When you said you’d seen the worst of the worst, you had meant it, and while Bob never once thought of himself as a good or even useful person, he could at least feel a bit better about himself when compared to a serial killer.

He had done bad things, but he'd never wanted to do them intentionally.

‘“So, h-how is all of this going to work?”

It was his second day meeting with you and after the storm of introductions with the rest of the team, one too many comments from Walker, and a strange look of respect passing between you and Yelena, this was the first time he’d ever been alone with you. There was no Bucky to look to for second opinions, no one to step in if something went wrong—

“Nothing is going to go wrong.”

His attention zipped to you as you sipped from a to-go coffee cup. “Um, can you warn me when you’re going to…you know?”

“I’m not reading your mind,” you said, tongue catching a stray drop on the corner of your lips.

Thank God, he thought and you winced like someone had blasted music in your ears. You made some vague hand gesture before the line in your brow relaxed.

“You’re projecting,” you said. “I told you, you're loud. But I can block you out. It just takes some fine tuning I don’t usually have to do with others.”

“So I’m just shouting everything?” he whispered, horrified.

You shook your head. “Not always. It’s bits and pieces. When you’re worried or excited the volume builds. It's like if you were ranting about something, y’know?”

“Can we work on that first?” he begged.

“First,” you said, clearly amused, “we have to get comfortable with one another. When I skirt around your head, you’re guarded in some places and open in others. You have to get used to being completely open with me before I can teach you to close yourself off.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “You’re going to have to see a lot of messed up stuff. I know you already have but still.”

“I’ll apologize as well,” you laughed, “because it’s going to go both ways. You’re going to see as much of me as I will of you, but that’s part of the process of building mental shields.”

“But if I’m able to get in—”

“You've done a great job keeping it under control so far,” you told him. “From what I read, you only see glimpses before you or your target breaks away.”

“I don’t want to even do that, though.”

“Well, in order to learn how to not do that, I have to see how you even do it in the first place.” You lifted your hand, palm facing up as you twiddled your fingers at him. “Let’s see what you bring out.”

He shook his head, sinking further into his chair. What happened to building up to his despicable magic trick? This was only day two. “I don’t think that's a good idea. Aren't we supposed to meditate or build the whole mind barrier thing by imagining bricks?”

“We’ll get there,” you promised, sipping your drink again. “For now, let’s level the playing field. You’re embarrassed and scared of all the things I know already. This will let you learn about me a bit.”

“What I make you see—” he tried again.

“I know. Trust me, I can handle it,” you swore, eyes hardened with certitude. “Now, come on in, Bob. The door’s open.”

He wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t curious about what shames you had floating around in your past, but baring yourself open as easily as you were… How were you okay with that? Would he learn where that came from while you were teaching him?

He closed his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to put you through the worst times of your life.

“Please, Bob. You trusted me to try yesterday. I need that again.”

“I know,” he whispered, straightening his shoulders as he looked you in the eye. “I just don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

There was that smile again. Radiant, he thought and you huffed on a laugh. Shit.

“I’m not afraid,” you promised.

He swallowed and reached out a hand. “You will be.”

A wall of darkness crashed over your mind. The ground fell out from under you, sending your heart off rhythm. Your first reaction was to ground yourself, but you fought it, allowing Bob’s presence to wash over you and drag you into whatever memory his power clung to.

Opening your eyes, you sucked your teeth at the sight of that old, wooden dining room table. You were four, doing your best to get around the food on your plate as your mother sat opposite of you. The dining room had that powdery smell of youth.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes watering as the grief claimed you. She was alive and breathing again and you were about to see the beginning of her spiral. But you had prepared for that.

“You don’t have to hide, Bob,” you called, sensing him nearby. “Come here.”

He stepped up on your right, eyes glued to the scene before looking at you. “You’re so young.”

“I was,” you agreed, frowning at the expressions flickering over your mother’s face. She looked a mess, clothes ragged on her frame and eyes darting around the room before settling on you, scowling at your plate.

“Baby, eat your food, please,” she called quietly.

“Don’t want to.”

You drowned the conversation out as you turned to Bob. “Your powers seem to pick shame from the beginning.”

“Never this young,” he whispered, eyes round as he looked at your toddler self.

“I was born with my powers. I couldn't control them back then,” you explained, wincing as your mother began to yell. You held a hand up, silencing the scene.

“How did you…?” He looked between your hand and the environment in awe.

“You can’t block my powers even when I’m in the midst of yours. That's interesting,” you hummed. Your heart squeezed in your chest as your mother threw herself to the floor, clawing at her head as your child self ran to her, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“What happened?” he asked, voice shaking.

“I projected a lot. Like you do now,” you explained, grabbing your upper arm as your mother’s hand found the butter knife on the floor and slashed. “She thought she was going insane and then she did.”

Bob turned away as your toddler self began to bleed, crawling away and screaming into silence. “I don’t want to see this.”

“Then don’t,” you told him. “Pull out of it.”

“I can’t just do things like you can!” he said, panic rising.

“Focus. Take a breath.” You eyed the scene as it started over from the top. Another thing to note. “You latched on to this memory. Let it go.”

“How?” His breath was picking up.

“Can I touch you?” you asked. The question seemed to confuse him for a second before he nodded. You grabbed his arms and turned him away from the dining room, getting his full attention on you. “Feel my hands?”

“Uh, yeah,” he murmured, bobbing his head.

“You’re feeling that with your mind. This isn’t real.”

“It was real," he breathed, watery.

“And now it’s done,” you stated gently. “Can’t be changed. I'll always regret what I did to my mother, but I was a kid. There was nothing I could do.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, hands folding back over yours as he took a slow breath. “Okay.”

“Feel the floor under your feet. You’ve grounded yourself to this memory. Now you just have unground.”

He looked down, expression pinching as he fought to focus. You couldn’t help but laugh as he jumped.

“With your mind,” you repeated.

“This is my mind!” he said, voice shrill and eyes wide as he met yours. “God, what if we’re stuck?”

“We’re not stuck,” you promised, squeezing his hands. “Here, I’ll do it. Maybe you’ll be able to feel it.”

Honing in on the sensations around you, you followed them back to your core, centering your focus on yourself and Bob. With a slow breath, you let that shield snap over the two of you, forcing the darkness back.

There was a split second as you trailed out of Bob's mental snare. You couldn't be sure, but somewhere on the horizon of your consciousness melding with his there was a…mass. A dark blotch.

And when you noticed it, there was no way to hide when it noticed you back.

A gasp of air split your lips. Back to reality, you two were still at the table in the Watchtower. Bob blinked opposite of you, his fingers skimming your palm. The shield you'd propped over both of you was still intact—that mental bond pulsing.

“How did she do that?”

Lots and lots of practice, you answered him, making yourself known in his head. Feel this? That’s how you’ll know I’m in your head.

He made a distressed expression that had you snorting. His head turned from side to side, reminiscent of a cat with a medical cone on for the first time. He wasn't sure what to do with a second presence melded to his. “Oh, weird. Okay. That feels so weird. I don't know if I like this.”

Yeah, not very comfortable. You want me to leave?

“Yeah, just, well, lemme try to get used to it for a second. So weird, what the fuck?”

You covered your face with your hand to try to find a semblance of professionalism, but it was impossible with the faces he made and the stream of thoughts filtering through.

I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing.

“I'd rather you be laughing than running, screaming out of the room. It's embarrassing, but it's not the worst.”

If it makes you feel any better, I'm not a professional in any shape or form. Bob's head tilted as he stared through the table. There was a brush against your mind. I'll make mistakes trying to figure out the best way to teach you what I know—oh, hi. That's me.

“You’re warm,” he replied aloud, squinting as he zeroed in. You made a point to retreat back a bit in case you ended up back in a shame room. His eyes flickered up to yours. “I feel you moving around. Is this how you see stuff?”

You nodded, a bit flustered at the feeling of his consciousness circling yours. He learned fast. “I’m not actively looking right now, just making my presence known. Careful, you press any further and you'll get my subconscious thoughts again.”

He shuddered as you pulled away from his mind completely. Your mind barrier went up for both his privacy and yours.

"Sorry, I should’ve warned you.”

“No, its fine, just...so weird.” His nose wrinkled as he said it.

“Yeah, I've heard that before,” you scoffed, smiling into your drink. The way he grinned back, it weighed in one corner—the same side he turned into to avoid eye contact. “You have any questions for me after all that?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, that sweet smile dropping as he bit at his lip. “You…felt something when we left the shame room. How did I feel that? And what was it?”

“My shield connected us. I wanted to bring you out with me instead of pushing you out. Would've been a bit rude since I asked you to show me.” You fiddled with the cup sleeve, leaning back into your chair. “As for what I felt, I don't want to assume anything but seeing as I sensed it as much as it sensed me…”

“Did it scare you?” he asked.

“No, but I didn't expect to run into Void this soon. Does it always sit on the outer edges like that?”

Bob shrugged. “On good days, yeah. But he's always around. A voice in the back of my head.”

“Tell me about him,” you murmured. “I've read what others think of him, but I want your input.”

“He's just…bad.” Bob shook his head, hands rubbing over his jeans. “Everything messed up or wrong in me, he feeds on it. He spits it back out on the bad days and tries to overwhelm me? I guess?”

“Does he try to get out often?”

His hair swayed as his head shook again. “More like when I'm weakest.”

“Weakest mentally? What about physically?” Bob shrugged, looking put off by the questions. “I'm not trying to overstep, I just need to understand as much as possible. They say he's your alter ego, that he's separate from you.”

“I mean, that's not wrong but I don't know if that's right either.”

You made a mental note. “Would you call him a parasite?”

“No.”

You raised a brow, amazed at the certainty. “Why? You said he feeds on you.”

There was a twist in his face, a flash of molten something in his eyes as he shook his head. “Sorry. Um, I don't know. I, uh…”

You slowly reached back out to his mind, gentle as you weighed against him. It's okay. We can stop here for today.

“Sorry,” he breathed, shoulders sinking. “He's louder now. I think we pissed him off.”

“Yeah, that'll probably be happening a lot from now on,” you chuckled, standing to throw your empty cup away. There was no trash can in your immediate view. “If you ever need help, I'm good at blocking things out for a time. I don't know if that would make things worse, but it's worth a shot, right?”

He surprised you with a weak laugh, clearing his throat as you turned. “Sorry. I know you said you weren't a professional, I just didn't expect this to be casual.”

You weren't sure how else you could have been. The stuff you both would be dealing with, well, you'd be getting personal with a whole lot in a very short amount of time. That's why you and Wanda were so close as well as Nat. One wanted you to learn your powers on a spiritual level, and the other wanted you to be able to steel your mind when chaos came knocking.

Hopefully, with Bob you could be that anchor they had become for you.

“I'm definitely not the strict and unemotional type,” you agreed with him. “As dangerous as all this could be, it's a breath of fresh air compared to what I was doing, so. Thanks for wanting me to help.”

There was that shy little grin of his again. You hoped, maybe after a few weeks or less, it wouldn't be as rare to see.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Will we get to see any NSFW stuff with Mommy!Hwa?🥺

I totally understand if not but I just know he would go feral while pleasing his Baby😩

➯a/n: yes. yes. YES. OH MY GAWD YEA LFHSKQ I ABOUT COMBUSTED WHEN I SAW SOMEONE ASKED FOR THIS 😭i was so excited that i kept losing my train of thought and had to rant about how mommy hwa is in bed to calm down bahaha

Mess

Baby Series !

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, smut

✫彡wordcount: 4.5k

♫ "It feels good, girl, it feels good to be alone with you." Hozier, To Be Alone♫

♫Baby Playlist♫

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not proof read, ddlg themes (NO age regression), dubcon (because of stockholm syndrome), hwa is a PERVERT, messy and rough sex, cunnilingus, fingering, spit, squirting, overstim, extreme dacryphilia, creampie, big dick hwa, reassurance, unbelievable amount of praise and pet names, embarrassment, accidental piss kink discovery (LMAO DONT LOOK AT MEEEE)

♡ateez masterlist !♡

➯disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy relationship of any kind. ➯disclaimer2: as i've said before it is VERY important to always keep age regression and age play SEPARATE, and ive also said that seonghwa never touches baby while she's in little space MANY times. baby is not "baby mode" when they are being intimate, and i will never write that. baby is ALWAYS going to be in "adult space" (kkkk i can't think of a better word) when sexual things are happening, even if she acts cutesy and stuff

MINORS DO NOT TOUCH MY BLOG

❝you're my baby, say it to me❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

"Here you go," Seonghwa whispers as he tosses your shirt to a far off corner of the room; completely forgotten about as he slowly slides his hands up your sides, "let me see my girl."

"Don't be a tease, Mommy," you pant softly, already worked up beyond belief as your eyes flick up and down his naked torso.

You had joined him in going a few hours away from home for a photo shoot — of course you did, it's not like he would ever leave you behind. You watched with his manager, which was probably a mistake considering how hot and bothered it made you. You hadn't felt like slipping into your little space all day long, probably because you were so busy gawking at your 'boyfriend'.

Because it was so far away, there was a hotel room waiting for you when he was done. And he wasn't blind, he saw the way you were looking at him. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand — even better, actually.

So this room is going to get a lot more use than originally expected.

"But you're so cute when you're flustered," he smirks, cupping your chest gently as he leans down and pecks your lips. "Does my pretty baby want to play?"

You nod quickly, fisting the blanket with anticipation bubbling up. Remember your manners, "oh- oh, yes! Yes, please, I want to..."

    You hadn't been intimate together since you had a tantrum and yelled at him, almost a month ago now. That probably partly why you were so needy — if he isn't the one making you cum, it's not happening at all.

He doesn't need more convincing than that. He straddles your hips and cups your face like he doesn't have a second to waste, his kiss is different than it usually is. It's hungry and passionate and soul consuming.

He can't help himself. He doesn't have any restraint when it comes to pleasing you. Anything you want, save for your freedom, is yours the second he can do something about it.

And he won't admit it out loud, but he's just as needy as you are.

His inconvenient hard-ons have been more frequent and frustrating. He's lucky you haven't noticed the way his eyes have been lingering when he helps you change. He's sexually frustrated, sure — but he keeps to his promise and he almost always waits for you to come to him.

No matter how badly he wants you, he wants you to want him more. He needs you to.

     He starts peppering kisses along your skin; traveling lower and giving attention to your chest. As your fingers tangle up in his hair, he's moaning like he's the one having their body worshipped. He steadies himself by grabbing your waist, fingers digging in.

A broken moan bubbles up your throat as he wraps his lips around your nipple, "a-ah! Mommy, I need more..."

Oh, he might explode here and now. You call him that every single day — but not like this. Not with your voice filled with lust. Begging him to touch you.

     That little tremble in the way you call his name is reserved for times like this.

    He takes in a deep breath before he speaks, "tell Mommy what you need." He leans back over your face, hovering with stars in his eyes. Any hint of tiredness from the day is gone. Only passion remains.

"I...w-" Even when you're not in little space, you're so light headed around him. He just has that effect on you, especially after so long.

"C'mon, Baby," he coaxes you gently, giving a single roll of his hips that leaves your jaw dropped with the flood of dopamine that it gives you. "You know I won't judge you, tell me how to make you feel good."

"Please," you look away shyly, like you aren't about to ask something so vulgar. "I need you to make me cum..."

The quickness with which he yanks off your skirt and panties makes you yelp in surprise, but the sound is quickly cut off by a lewd moan as he slips down and gives a slow lick up your slit. All in one fluid movement: he's rid you of the fabric, slid down the bed, and got you on his tongue.

You slap your hand over your mouth as he spreads your thighs, your eyes nearly rolling back at the feeling of his pointed tongue. As he draws a slow circle around your clit, you nearly cum then and there. You've forgotten how skilled he is.

"God, I've missed you," his mumbles are lost on you because next thing you know; he's eating you out like a man starved. Flicking and swirling and lapping and sucking. If your mind could form any semblance of a thought, you might wonder how in the world he's doing all those things at once. And the answer is simple. He was born to please you. At least, that's what he claims.

Your other hand is wrapped in his hair like a lifeline, and the slight stinging with each movement of his head doesn't stop him from licking your clit like a mad man — it only stirs him on.

He's messy as always, slobbering all over your heat without a care in the world.

    He gives one last rough suck before he pulls back a bit, panting as he looks up at you. "Baby-ya," he calls as he slides a hand down your thigh and towards your heat. He locks eyes with you as he purses his lips and lets his spit dribble down onto you.

    "Mommy-ya," you moan back, grinding up into his hand as it brushes against your epicenter. His middle finger slips in, drawing out a loud "oh~!" from you before you can stop it.

He's never practiced so much self restraint in his life. Even just feeling your hot walls around his finger has him twitching. If he wasn't so dedicated to pleasing you first and foremost, he'd already be buried inside of you. But, his Baby comes first.

"That's a good girl," his praise makes you clench around his digit, your head tossing to the side. It feels like it's been so long. Even just his finger feels like it's hitting all of the wonderful spots inside of you as he slowly starts thrusting it. You can barely imagine what it will feel like when he's inside you again —

"Mommy, please," you groan, swirling your hips until he rests his forearm across your pelvis and holds you down to continue his devilishly slow teasing. "More!"

"I know, Baby, you want me to fuck you so bad, huh?" He nips your thigh as he adds another finger. "Mommy has to stretch you out first~"

"Hurryyyy," you pout as you try to arch your back, trying to suck his fingers in deeper, "I need you."

You don't have to tell him twice, that is for sure. The soft way you cry for him to hurry and fuck you has his brain turning into a feral mush.

You let out your loudest moan yet as his fingers, previously going at a leisurely pace, are now diving in and out of you with near reckless abandon. You can't move your hips, still held down by his arm and forced to take the onslaught of pleasure.

You slam both of your hands over your mouth as you slump back.

He doesn't like that one bit. He reaches up and yanks your hands away; and all while still curling his deliciously long fingers, he speaks, "let me hear you. Be as loud as you want, Baby. We can be as loud as we want, you don't have to be shy."

"Ah, I f-forgot," you whine, your eyebrows pressing together as his fingertips graze against something inside of you that makes you gush around his fingers with more messy arousal.

"It's okay, angel," he laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand as he pushes a third finger inside of you. "You can scream. Let Mommy hear how good you feel."

The stretch and the angle and his voice — "don't stop!"

He wouldn't dare. He's watching every twitch of your brow and every jolt your body makes as he searches for something inside of you. When your jaw drops and your eyes roll back, he knows he's found it. He's on a mission. He needs to make you squirt. He needs to make a mess of you.

"Ohhh," he coos deeply, "right there, Baby?"

"R-right there, Mommy!" You don't care about your volume anymore. His reassurance and the way he's practically assaulting your g-spot while holding your hand makes it impossible to care about anything.

"Riiiiight there~" He smirks as you roll your hips clumsily to push his digits deeper; even when his palm is already hitting your clit with every thrust of his fingers. "That's it, pretty girl," he leans over you and drives his fingers in at a whole new angle; pressing harder against the spot that's making you dizzy, "give me a kiss."

Shakily, and quickly, you toss your arm over his neck and yank him down. Your lips on his like you need him more than you need air: and he returns the passion ten fold, he always will.

Your moans are swallowed up by him as he sends you closer to the edge. Closer and closer and closer and straight over. Your release splashes against his lower stomach, the warmth of it makes him send moans right back to you. Your hand is still held tightly in his and he's starting to lose color in his fingers from how tightly you squeeze them.

He lays on top of you to stop your convulsing, a dark satisfaction settling in his bones as you whimper; forced to take the overstimulation as he curls his fingers. It fills the room with lewd squelches that make his neglected member twitch.

A string of saliva keeps you connected as he finally moves away from your lips. He watches it closely as it snaps, falling onto your chin. And you don't even notice it as you have your eyes closed, panting, in the throes of bliss.

He leans and licks it up softly while he slowly withdraws his fingers, making you whine and chase after them with your hips. "Shhh, none of that, Baby." He hums as he rubs down your arm gently, "you ready for me now?"

"Oh, yes," you nod quickly, you almost forgot that's where this was leading. Now, you're ecstatic at the promise of him being even deeper inside of you, "please, Mommy."

God, if you keep saying it like that he won't be able to hold himself back. He knows he'll end up being rough with you — both of you do. But he likes to take it slow at first so he doesn't hurt you.

    He bites his lip, quickly pressing his forehead to your shoulder so that you won't see the wild look in his eyes. The look that says he's about to lose control.

"So polite," he pants softly, smiling down at you after he forces himself to calm down. "I'll give my angel what she wants~"

     His pants are gone in a second flat, and he's pulling you further down the bed by your thighs until your hips hang on the edge. "Hold your legs for me, Baby," he hums as he pushes your knees together.

While you're wrapping your arms under your knees and hugging them tightly to prepare yourself, effectively exposing yourself to him — he's gathering up the wetness from his skin and lathering himself with it, jerking off slowly to the sight of you.

All worked up and gushing for him; giving him a nice, unobstructed view as you hold your legs as close to your chest as you can. Your eyes a bit fuzzy as you watch him eagerly. Your socked feet fidgeting in the air, white frills catching his eyes. Your breathing still uneven from your first peak of the night.

The first of what will be many, because Seonghwa is an overachiever when it comes to you.

He kisses your leg gently, smiling innocently as he bends down and lines himself with your weeping hole. "My good girl," he mutters softly, "that's what you are. My perfect little angel."

The praise goes straight to your cunt, fluttering around nothing before his tip is suddenly entering you with an almost audible pop. Your eyes slam shut, a gasp caught in your throat. Three fingers and a squirting orgasm suddenly didn't seem like enough prep for Seonghwa's impressive girth.

"Fuck," he groans, hands planted on the back of your thighs to ground himself; digging his fingers into your plush flesh. He leans his head against the side of your legs, gazing down at you with nothing but love and lust. "You gotta relax, Baby-"

"You're too big," you shake your head, eyes still squeezed shut.

He bites his lip in a combination of effort to conceal his chuckle and to hold himself back. He takes a breath, rubbing the back of your thighs softly as you continue to clench around his bulbous tip — it feels like you're already trying to milk him for all his worth. The warmth of your gummy walls is trying to enchant him, trying to make him sink deeper, faster. He needs to bury his whole shaft in you or he's going to lose what's left of his mind.

"Have some faith in yourself, baby-doll," his nickname makes you twitch around him. He did that on purpose, no doubt about it. "You've taken it before, right? Mhm~" He nods with you, reaching to trace your heated cheek with his knuckles as you peek your eyes open. "You can take it, can't you~?"

It's not a question, even if it's formatted as one, rolling off his tongue with a soft inquisitive tone.

It's a reassurance and a statement. You can and you will take it, just like you have so many times before. "Yes, Mommy-"

You should have chosen your words more carefully, because the second 'Mommy' leaves your lips — all whiny and sweet — he's sinking into you.

"Ah-" He almost whines, "that's it, my star~ Let Mommy fill you up."

No matter how much you relax, no matter how pliable you make yourself; he's still having to make his own path through your gooey channel. He's still carving you to the shape of his cock to fit like a custom sleeve. And it feels too fucking good — "Please!" You yelp, nails digging into your legs as you continue to hug them as tightly as possible, "please, I want you to take me already!"

You can't take another second of his slow march forward — but that's too bad, Baby.

He likes to take his sweet, sweet time to really feel your searing cavity as it encases him. "Shhh, Baby, don't you worry," he places another kiss on your leg, smirking as you quiver around him, "you know I'll give you what you want, right?"

He leans over further, crushing your thighs all the way against your chest and making your legs rest over one of his shoulders. "Right, Baby?" He moans as he finally, finally bottoms out.

"Y-yes," you pout up at him beggingly, your entire being set ablaze as he settles inside of you.

For someone built so slim, his cock is thicker than you feel it should be — but you are not complaining as he stretches you from the inside out so nicely.

"What did you say you wanted, hm?" He teases you playfully, withdrawing just an inch before sliding back in.

It's maddening, he does it again; the tiniest bit further this time. "T-aaah!" You kick your feet lightly when one of his hands snakes between you and begins rubbing your clit. "Take me! Go faster, please! Please, plea- oh my good g-aaaah!!" You wail unabashedly as he starts slamming his hips into you: rough, fast, and calculated all while toying with your bundle of nerves.

      "Of course, My Baby~"

His words are so sweet while he absolutely ruins you for anyone other than himself. Not even you could make your body fill with the pleasure that you're feeling as he rubs his thumb across your cheek affectionately while drilling into you. "Look at my gorgeous doll, taking me so well."

All you can respond with is a slurred 'mhmmfff', your brain already sufficiently scrambled and overheated from his inhuman pace with his in-and-out, in-and-out; the pad of his finger never leaving your buzzing clit.

"Aww, it feels good?"

You nod quickly, leaning into his cupped hand while you gulp down the build up of saliva in your mouth. His eyes are trained on you like a hawk, every single twitch in your face committed to memory.

"Yeah, it does~" He grins devilishly while giving you a particularly rough slam when he catches your lips parting — making a loud and lewd yip-like moan tumble out. 

    "Mommy, c-" You choke on your words, arms trembling as you clutch your legs as a lifeline.

    "Cumming~?" He hums, pressing his fingers harder to your clit and making you squeal. "Go ahead, Baby, make a mess on Mommy's cock," he licks up your neck and the warm feeling of it passing your jugular makes the burning ball of arousal in your gut spread through your entire body.

    Once again, he's holding you down with the weight of his body as you tremble, your jaw dropped in a soundless scream while you release with a wave of cream onto his member; a milky white ring forming around his base while he fucks you through it.

     You let your legs go with a whine, letting him gently maneuver them and lay you on your side while he whispers soft praises that barely reach your muddled mind. "N'break..." You slur out through your breaths, melting under his soft touch on your legs.

     "A break?" He smiles while rubbing up and down your legs. His cock, still lodged deep inside of you, is throbbing — basically yelling at him not to give you what you ask for. "Just a little one, starlight." Because he isn't done wrecking you yet.

     "Thank goodness." Your little sigh makes him chuckle as he forces himself to pull out; doing so slowwwwly to make your sensitive walls tremble and beg him to stay.  "...fuck."

    The only time you ever dare curse infront of him is when you're like this. And the sound of the filthy words on your precious lips almost makes him take back his promise of a break.

     He leans back and stands fully, his heart pounding in his chest even harder as he gets a good look at you.

    In nothing but your cute little socks, you're already in a sheen of sweat from the violent thrumming of your own heart after two intense orgasms. There's already two wet spots on the hotel bed, the source between your legs glimmering in the dim lamp light. Your poor pussy lips are already a bit swollen from his stretching and pounding, your legs twitching every so often in the aftershocks of pleasure.

     He needs to make a much bigger mess of you before he's satisfied. Some deep, dirty part of his brain demands it. He has to make a mess of you, he just has to — and you've barely cried! That will not do. He needs to ruin you completely and place you back together with his saccharine words. He needs to. 

  He maneuvers you like a doll, smirking to himself at the trust you have in him to let him move you into whatever position he sees fit.

     He kisses your shoulder softly as he lays you on your stomach, crawling over you. "Are you ready for more, Baby?"

    "Mhm," you nod, having caught as much as your breath as you could.

   "Close your legs for me."

    You look back at him with a questioning gaze, "close them? Isn't it the opposite, Mommy?"

    "Not today, Baby," he grins as he soothes your messy hair, "you want me to show you what I'm thinking?"

    You hesitate for a second before you nod, turning back to face the blanket shyly as he locks his eyes on yours while sliding back inside of you. He breathes a laugh, straddling you from behind and already stretching you to the limit when —

    He starts pushing your legs together with his own, making you clamp down on him.

     "Oh my g-good fuck!"

      "Tight, isn't it~?"

    You nod quickly, shivering as he puts almost his full weight on you — and, by extension, on his cock inside of you. By the time he's got your legs fully pressed together, it feels like he's filled you up so much that he's in your guts. And when he starts thrusting? You have no brains left in your head.

    "Ahh, yes!"

    Your yell stirs him on, making his pace pick up almost immediately and he's back to pounding you like you owe him money; no mercy at all for his precious Baby. The slap of his skin on yours echoing and making his stomach flutter. The way you can't even hold back a single noise, every hit of his pelvis to your hips making a small yelp or moan tremble out of your lips. This is his new favorite position. His only complaint is that he can't see the cute little faces you have to be making right now.

    You certainly don't have any complaints. He feels like a fucking giant as he pounds the life out of you but his arms are gentle as he wraps them around your shoulders — all of his weight on you besides what he uses to slam into you. A shattered gasp leaves you as you feel his cock prod you so rough and deep that it presses into the mattress through you.

    He feels it too, and heaven help you; because now he's never changing his angle. Groaning and praising right in your ear as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the mattress — quite literally. "Oh, My Baby," he moans deeply, "Mommy is fucking you so deep~ And you're taking it like such a good girl. F-fuck..."

   He's pressing every spot inside of you that there is. Even one that you've never felt before — no, that's not right. You have felt that pressure before. But not when you're having sex.

     He's fucking you so deep that he's putting pressure on your bladder.

    You gasp loudly, clenching around him, "Mommy! Wa-" Clenching was a mistake. Usually, it helps you hold it. Not this time. It pulls him closer. You grab at the blanket, fisting it tightly. Fuck, this is embarrassing. Well, you'd rather just say it so he can stop and you can relieve yourself.

     "Mommy, st-op! M'gonna pee myself!"

     Only... Seonghwa doesn't stop.

     His hips stutter for a moment as he takes in your words — then he's plunging into you impossibly rougher. Like he wants you to. Because he does.

     He knows that makes his an unbelievably perverted person; wanting you to piss on his cock. But he can't help it. He couldn't stop right now even if he had to.

     He can't put it into coherent thoughts right now, only thinking 'harder, fuck her stupid, make her cry, harder, make her pee, make her break...' But when he eventually can organize his thoughts; he'll realize why he couldn't even speak because he was so focused on fucking the literal piss out of you.

     Why? He is the only one on the entire planet that can fuck you so good that you lose control of your bladder. He is the only one to see you so vulnerable. He gets to be filthy with you.

    "Mommy!! P-please! I have t'go!"

    Bless your heart. You still think he might let you get up and go to the bathroom to relieve your abused bladder.

    He wraps his arms around your shoulders tighter, panting and growling like a damn animal in your ear. He's never sounded so dangerous, so feral. He's not even acknowledging your words with any of his own. Only digging his fingers into you and holding your legs shut with his as you try to spread them and get a bit of pressure taken off.

    "Please! P- uh!!" You're crying fast, fat tears now, and Seonghwa can hear them in your voice. Not just because of your embarrassing predicament, but because it feels like pure ecstasy in your very being despite it. "Mm, fuck!" You whine loudly, still feeling his tip press against the bed through you every time he bottoms out. "M-mommy, se-riously! M'gonna pee!"

     "So do it." His words make you wail, shaking your head as vigorously as possible and instinctively clenching again even though it does nothing to help your situation. He presses somehow deeper as he leans his head up and looks over your shoulder at you.

    His cock throbs inside of you, making you gasp, as he watches the tears flow down your heated face. Now he's getting somewhere.

     "It's okay, Baby-ya," he hums, his chest vibrating against your back as he crushes you to the bed, "do it. For- for me."

    "Tha-that's dirty!" You hiccup, kicking your legs until he places his over them.

    "You're already l-leaking everywhere, angel~ You're already creaming all over me. Do it."

   "Nmf-" You bite your lip roughly, a defeated squeak in your throat as a spurt comes out with his thrust. You try to hold the rest in. You really try. Despite his encouragement, you're still mortified.

    His next few thrusts earn him the same thing, a lewd splash against the bed. It's so fucking warm. He's digging his nails into you by the time you finally stop holding it back.

      The relief is almost as good as the orgasm that slams into you like a tsunami.

     You're a complete mess below him. Sobbing, kicking your feet, gripping the blanket so tightly your hands are shaking — all of you is shaking. Trembling like leaf in the wind as relief and pleasure overwhelm your humiliation and creates a feeling you've never dealt with before.

And Seonghwa isn't far behind you. He thinks his body must know not to make him cum while he's watching the absolute work of art he's made of you, not until you finally slump below him. Then, though — he's slamming one last time until your soaking cunt and staying as deep as humanly possible while he cums, holding you so tightly that you might have heard something pop if not for your absolute fried brain and his guttural moan drowning it out.

Yeah. This is his favorite position now, for sure.

❝MESS❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

[lunarian-anarchist]

Briefly logging on to get this off my chest

So my workplace is currently trying to "celebrate it's employees" by encouraging us to share our family recipes and traditions and had our chef share his Thai cuisine with us during Asian & Pacific Islander month.

Since it's also Jewish American heritage month, they want me to create a menu of Jewish food.

Now here's the rant/frustration.

While looking up various foods from different Jewish cultures; I came across a video whining about how "Jews claim Falafel and hummus is Jewish cuisine but (((THEY))) stole it from us Arabs!!!!"

And can I just say.......I'm so fucking tired.

Y'all really don't understand how diaspora works huh? Mizrahi Jews lived in Arab majority lands for thousands of years......of course they ate y'all's food dumbass! And when they were EXPELLED aka FORCED TO LEAVE; yes they took the foods they've been eating and brought them into Israel.

And the Arabs living there obviously eat this stuff too. This shit ain't complicated. It ain't thievin'. It's called being a scattered group of people who took the food they ate to the place they fled to. This is the reality of Jewish history and culture. We settle in a place, assimilated somewhat and ate the food, then we were forced to leave. Sorry that's an inconvenient fact for you.

It's also interesting that this type of rhetoric is only ever screamed at Mizrahi Jews. Or at least I've never seen anyone scream at Ashkenazi Jews "stealing" Polish or German foods. Funny how a lot of y'all claim Mizrahi are the "real Jews" but you can't STAND the thought of them eating your food after you shoved them out of your lands.

I'm really praying that when I create this menu I won't see any bullshit comments about "food theft" when corporate posts it on social media. But ofc y'all won't be able to stop yourselves.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Question about Double Cursed

If the spirit didn't change the spell and if the spell did what it was meant to

How would the story have gone?

If Ford actually got turned human again and Stan was stuck forever as a cat

Hmm. Hard to say, as I haven't put a huge amount of thought into the alternative timeline.

Probably very similar to 30 year Nikola, except Stan's pretending to be a total stranger trapped in a cats body. Fords making all kinds of accommodations to his house for his new cat friend and figuring out how to allow easier communication and such, while Stan's low key having an angst attack that maybe Ford only likes him when he doesn't know it's Stan. He won't run become that's suspicious and life really is good for him like that (plus he missed his chance in the woods due to shock), but in the back of his mind he's yelling at himself for lying to Ford by omission. When the subject of Stan going missing comes up with his car, I don't think Ford would rant like he did in htcbaf, as he's now been a missing person, but he'd be some kind of mix of worry and anger. Would talk to Felix about his twin brother Stan and how he ruined his project and might be missing or just chose to disappear and now that it's almost happened to him he's worried.

So Stan's getting hit with Ford actually noticing his disappearance a few months too late to have done anything, making his guilt worse as he goes back and forth between agreeing with Ford that his brothers a jerk and defending himself and just getting moody about the whole thing.

I think it'd end with Ford trying to locate Stan and getting 'Fellix' instead, until Ford either is struck with realization or Stan admits to being himself. This would be one Stan that wouldn't run, as he's too wired and feeling aggressive about some of the things Ford had said. Knows that Fords so angry but was also genuinely worried about him.

So they'd fight about it, both would go sulk, before Ford gets hit with the teary realization about all the things 'Felix' said and how it applies to his own brother who's trapped as a cat forever. Theyd have a talk similar to the one in the fic, and ford would work on figuring out how to fix Stan's soul. So instead of a portal it's Ford trying to undo the cat curse for 30 years.

[daddymaster21]

Here we go again! Admittedly I’m terrified because you keep apologizing. What have you done.

-poor Sam just wants to know about the case, and Dean is over here having an existential crisis

-Dean has his priorities straight. Two kisses = marriage.

-girl season 4 Sam could catch these fuckin’ hands. I have a whole rant about this, but I won’t inflict it upon you without permission. Trust your people, motherfucker!!!!

-was she trying to drown herself tho?? Cause I’m pretty sure girlie just chose a super inconvenient location to start dissociating (me fr)

-EXCUSE ME DID CAS JUST PREVENT DEAN FROM SAYING HE LOVES HER????????

-John Winchester, when I get my hands on you…

-sweet, innocent Dean. The easiest way to hurt her is to hurt the people she loves.

-catch Ben and Dean becoming neighbors, enjoying an apple pie life with their wives, constantly arguing about which is better.

-HE CALLED HER HIS GIRL AHHHHHHHHH

-look at him go, recognizing his own shirt this time!!

-babe you’re KILLING me with the shield/blade comparison.

-imma be so for real, if someone tried to lure me in like a stray (snacks, memorizing and ordering the things I like, leaving their shirts around my room in hopes I wear them) I would fold on the spot. I’d be exactly like a stray, cause you wouldn’t be able to fuckin’ get rid of me.

-John Winchester WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU. HOW DARE YOU MAKE DEAN BELIEVE HE’S NOT SMART.

-lmao if he does steal a napkin he’s gonna have a heart attack

-babe Bobby is more likely to smash your heads together like Barbies than shoot you for holding her hand

-me 🤝 Her, having a designated chair

-babeeeeee it’s not YOU you have to worry about.

-LMAO LITERALLY EVERYONE JUMPING ON HIS ASS WHILE HE DESPERATELY TRIES NOT TO REVEAL ANYTHING TO BOBBY

-“Finally” I FUCKING CACKLED

-NO, NOT LATER, NOW. RIGHT NOW. DO IT NOW.

-dkznmesm he called it THEIR room

-HIS girl and THEIR room and HER Dean WOOF

-lmao ruby is about to get it

-awww Dean is so cute, not realizing that the silver he sees in her eyes is her soul

-the fact that he has to catch himself literally every time he says sweetheart now is the sweetest torture

-her loving him before she even knew him 😭

-HEY LOOK HE CAN ENTER HER DREAMS TOO. I KNOW HOW YOU WORK NOW, THEA, YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME. I KNOW THE DREAM-ENTERING IS REAL.

-UGH him only saying it cause it’s a dream and her thinking he’s only saying it because it’s a dream and UGHHHH

-NOT YET?????? NOT YET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-oh no, he’ll definitely give a shit that she’s a virgin, just in the opposite way she’s anticipating

-poor Jo. She’s gonna be the one to lock them in a room for real.

-I will never be able to tell you how much I love you for making Jo her own person. Eric Kripke could never.

-ruby is NOT right, EXCUSE YOU.

-HAHA I KNEW IT WAS ZACHARIAH I FUCKIN CALLED IT I AM THE SMARTEST MAN ALIVE

-on another note, though, FUCK OFFFFFF ZACHARIAH, I FUCKING HATE YOU

-all my homies hate The Sky. Fuck off, Sky.

-WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME. THEY KISS AGAIN WHEN SHE LEAVES AGAIN?? HOW COULD YOU.

-well. You’ve ripped my heart out and stomped on it. I thought Dean being dead was going to be our main away chapters (and that was really only a chapter and a half, which was great, cause the away chapters in NLL made me wanna cry) but noooooooo, you just HAD to gut me.

-AND JO?!?! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS???

ugh. Thank you, but also kind of fuck you, but mostly thank you. I’ll see you next week. (Probably earlier, depending on what one shots we get this week.)

Chapter 20 - Wait For Me

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: first chapter that made me cry writing it. Enjoy.

Chapter Title from Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men

Word Count: 18.8k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Dean has a lot of feelings, and you make a plan. Usual Warnings.

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

Chapter 19 - Chapter 21

Read on A03!

“What happened?” 

Sam’s question was low. Quiet. Careful, because the last thing they wanted to do right now was disturb Her, passed out on the back bench of Baby. 

She hadn’t moved since Dean guided Her there. Her eyes had fluttered, She’d hummed his name in the prettiest sound he’d ever heard, and then slumped right over. And Dean had indulged himself. He’d wrapped Her in a blanket, and carefully shifted Her around until she was in a comfortable position. He’d even pulled off Her shoes and placed a kiss on Her brow, scanning over Her one last time, just to be positive nothing was wrong.

And it wasn’t.

Visibly.

There was no blood, and Her hair was a little matted, but he had found Her lying in the ocean. 

No blood. No wounds or scars. 

Nothing but Her eyes and lips a little puffy from crying. 

And the taste of Her back on Dean’s lips. Fruit and sugar and salt, and Dean got damn well why She liked those colorful girl drinks so much. They tasted like heaven. 

But he wanted to keep tasting them on Her. 

She’d kissed him. She’d kissed Dean. She’d been crying and freaking the hell out, but son of a bitch, She’d kissed Dean, and that had to mean something. His shirt was still wrinkled where She’d grabbed him, and he wasn’t going to smooth it out. He kept touching his lips like a teenage boy, and running his tongue over Her teeth because She’d done that during the kiss, and he wanted to feel the rush of it again.

And what happened was that Dean was addicted. There had never been a chance of him going back, but now he was gone. Her’s. Only Her’s. He’d have sat down in the ocean at Her side—until they were both just salt and brine—if it meant the mud washed off, and Dean got to be Her’s.

He wasn’t sure now was a good time to tell Her that. He didn’t have the words for it yet, and he didn’t trust that kiss to mean She’d be his. She’d been emotional. Sobbing in Dean’s arms then trying to climb him, and he’d never have Her any other way but blinding and demanding, but Jesus, he wouldn’t know what to do if She turned him down. 

Dean couldn’t get on his knees and swear that he was Her’s aloud, only to be kicked back down into the mud. It might make him a pussy, but he wouldn’t survive it. Then She’d leave, and Bobby and Sammy and Jo would kill him for making Her leave, and they’d be fucked because they couldn’t do this without Her.

But that’s not what Sam meant by what happened. Sam wanted to know about the seal. The case. He didn’t want to hear about how Dean was trying to work out what Her wanting him would look like.

Probably like kissing him, and crying for him, and climbing onto his lap in the dead of night. 

He didn’t have a damn clue what to after he worked it out. Proposing was probably off the table. They’d kissed twice, hadn’t even slept together, and weren’t technically dating. 

He’d figure it out. When all of this was over, Dean would figure it out. Right now he had to answer Sammy’s question. 

“Found her on the beach.” He muttered, glancing to Her in the rearview mirror. Her hair was shiny again. That was a good sign. “She was just lying in the water, dude. Tide was rising and she was just fucking lying there. Nobody else around, no blood. Nothing.”

“Did she say-“

“Nope.” Dean’s jaw twitched. “Mentioned that she took care of it, but that’s all I got. Sammy, I’m…” Dean trailed off, looking to Her again. He couldn’t damn help it.

“I know.” Sam muttered, and Dean wasn’t sure he did—Sam didn’t live in Her orbit, didn’t feel like the world was worse when She was sad, didn’t dream about Her and crash down into Her all the time—but he let it go. “But you know we might have to go back, right? After we drop her back at Bobby’s, we can’t just leave the seal unresolved.”

“She said she took care of it.” Dean grunted, and Sam sighed.

“Dean, it’s- We can’t risk it. I trust her, I do, but I’d go back and check your work too, just like you’d go back and check mine-“

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would-“

“I wouldn’t.” Dean snapped, shooting Sam a glare. “You told me you took care of it, I’d take you at your word. And let’s face it, Sammy, between the three of us, she’s the most likely to deal with one of these by herself.”

Sam gave Dean a sad, too soft look. “She was trying to drown herself, Dean. We still don’t know what happened, while she was gone-“

“Sammy. Drop it.”

“I’m not doubting her, man, but she’s always been- You know-“

“I do know.” Dean hissed, his grip strangling the wheel. “I know better than anyone, Sam. I’ve seen it a hell of a lot more than you have, and I’ve seen it worse, and you know what? At least she’s fucking eating and sleeping. And I know shit happened, I’ve had to stitch up her goddamn stomach because shit happened, but she says she took care of it, and I’m trusting her, because that’s what you do, when you-“

“Do not crash the car.”

Sam started, and Dean sighed, glaring back to see Cas sitting in the backseat. He didn’t care that he’d gotten cut off. It was good he’d gotten cut off. 

He cared that Cas was in the backseat. Where he could’ve disturbed her. 

“Jesus, Cas.” Sam muttered, running a hand through his hair. “That was- I mean, I appreciate the warning, but shit.”

“My apologies.” Cas muttered. “I needed to speak with you as soon as possible, and I could not wait for a better time.”

“Fine. Just keep your voice down.” Dean grunted Her name. “She needs the sleep.”

He glanced back to see Cas nodding, watching Her with an odd expression. She’d slumped into his side. Not like She slumped into Dean’s—where She’d fall half over his lap and Her face would end up buried in his body—but with Her head on Cas’ shoulder and her body relaxed.

That was good. Dean could trust Cas with Her. He’d seemed to respect Her, and he’d been willing to bend further stupid Heaven laws for Her, so Dean didn’t have to worry.

“Should she be sleeping like this?” Cas looked up to them with a small frown. “It doesn’t seem like a peaceful environment, and there is drool falling out of her mouth-“

“She does that.” Dean muttered, and Sam smirked. “Shut up, Sammy.”

“I didn’t say anything-“

“You were gonna. She drools Cas.” And it was freakin’ adorable, but that didn’t feel like the point right now. “What’d you need to talk to us about.”

Cas said Her name slowly. “The seal is… dealt with. Thanks to her.”

Dean shot Sam a smug look. “Told you.” 

“Yeah, alright. You did.” Sam sighed, twisting in his seat to frown at Cas. “Is that it? You just wanted us not to worry about the seal?”

“No. I am here to…” Cas took a long breath, his frown deepening. “Warn you. We are displeased. With how this case was handled.”

Dean scowled. “We? Is that you talking, Cas? Or just the asshole angel department managers?”

“I do not know what a department manager is-“

“He’s asking if you’re mad about the case.” Sam interjected carefully. “And I’m wondering too, Cas. If you’re mad at us-“

“I am not mad at you.” Cas said, and Dean didn’t miss his weary glance at Her. “I was not told the details of what happened, only that we are angry.”

“You keep saying we.” Dean muttered, narrowing his eyes at Cas in the mirror. “I don’t care what a bunch of holy dipshits think of what happened. Hell, I don’t even know what happened, but-“

Cas cut Dean off with Her name, and his whole body tensed. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Cas, we’re really not following-“

“It is her.” Cas repeated Her name, his words slow and careful. “She is… complicating things. Lilith made a move to break the seal that crossed several lines. We are not sure her intention was to break the seal.”

“Well, what the hell does this have to do with-“

“She stopped the seal, but she is not supposed to be involved with the seals. Or you. At all.” Cas met Dean’s eyes in the mirror. “I warned you to be careful. This is why.”

Dean’s teeth were going to break. He had been careful. He was always careful with Her, because he’d been real goddamn reckless before. When when Dad was in his ear, telling him that women were mostly good for longer nights and better days, but nothing compared to family. That careful wasn’t any way to treat a person, because they had to be able to fend for themselves.

She could fend for herself. She’d stopped a seal by herself. That was why Dean needed to be careful with Her. He couldn’t just fuck around with the living, breathing star, dropped right into his hands. He had to hold it, soothe it, care for it.

“We were careful.” He grunted, and Cas sighed.

“Not careful enough.”

Sam shook his head. “But you haven’t told us why, Cas. We’re not sending her away, and we can’t be careful if we don’t know what we’re being careful against-“

“Because I cannot tell you.” Cas snapped. “There are things at play that I do not understand. That I suspect my superiors don’t understand. My brothers and sisters are still dying, Lilith is still opening seals, and all I have been told is that the girl can’t be allowed to interfere. That precautions will be taken if she continues to step out of line.”

Something was tight around Dean’s throat. “You said she couldn’t get zapped-“

“And that is still true, but there are… other ways. To put her back in line.”

“In line?” Sam’s voice had risen slightly. “In- In what line-“

“I do not know.” Cas sighed, and She was still fast asleep. 

Dean hoped She was dreaming well. That She was entirely obvious to the conversation, thinking of only pink-sand beaches and movies and sugary drinks. That maybe, in Her sleep, he was there. He didn’t even had to be wrapped around Her or kissing her stupid. He just wanted to be there, for Her, by Her choice.

“We’re not ditching her, Cas.” Dean muttered, making his words firm. Final. “She stays with us. And if you’ve got a problem with that-“

“I have no problem with it.” Cas muttered, glancing down to Her peaceful face. “But I have no sway in what Heaven desires. And they have deemed her a threat. We cannot account for her, and that makes her dangerous.”

“She is not dangerous-“

“We both know that is not quite true.” Cas gave him a flat look. “I am risking a fair amount by being here, Dean. By warning you.”

Sam swallowed. “Warning us?”

“Be careful. I am still trying to learn more about exactly what the Magdalene is meant to be, but…” Cas sighed. “My progress is slow. And if it comes down to it, I will not be able to interfere directly. So be. Careful.”

There was a whooshing sound, Cas vanished, and She was left curled on the seats. 

Sam and Dean didn’t fight for the rest of the ride. They barely even spoke. Cas had said more than enough.

They needed to take care of Her.

And Dean wasn’t good at a lot of things. 

He could sing, but he couldn’t really carry a beat. He couldn’t bake, but he was fine with that. Wasn’t like he’d ever had a kitchen to practice in anyways. He didn’t have a damn clue how to do all that art critic shit, because as far as Dean understood it, color was color and words were words. He couldn’t take apart a painting and point to all the ways it worked. He liked things because he liked them, there was no fucking reason to justify it, and that was all anyone needed to worry about.  

He was alright with kids. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he’d be able to see a little kid with his nose and bright eyes, laughing the way Dean did and grabbing at shiny hair. Then he’d push that though way far down because now wasn’t the time for that. That wasn’t something he even got to have. No apple pie life was barreling in his direction right now. Maybe not ever.

He’d like one. He’d always liked one. Years ago, he would’ve lain on the bed and imagined a time that Dad would tell him and Sammy to hang it up, and Dean would’ve been allowed to build something like that.

Dad never did that, though. He left Dean and Sammy to deal with Hell and demons and angels and the rest of the shitshow, and he’d yanked Dean’s chance for that away. Told Her to leave. Made Her leave. And the what-if game wasn’t useful—it’s never been useful—but Dean still had a secret fantasy that helped him fall asleep sometimes. One where She was in his arms, but nightmares weren’t a worry. He would be allowed to bury his face in Her hair, and in the morning he’d wake Her up with kisses all over her face. Then She’d giggle, and let Dean pull Her into the shower, and he’d touch Her everywhere as She dropped her brow on his chest with a soft, happy sigh. 

But it was just a fantasy.

And Dean had done that to himself.

Because most of all, he wasn’t good at being good. A good man didn’t torture people. A good man didn’t damn the rest of the world for one woman, a good man got the job done, and a good man didn’t make pretty girls cry. If Dean was good, he would be guarding all the seals without a problem. If Dean was good, Dad would be proud of him, and Dean was pretty goddamn sure Dad would beat him into the dirt if he could see what Dean was doing now. 

Parking the car, and carrying his girl to bed. Grinning to himself when She nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“Dean.” She mumbled, her eyes fluttering up onto his, and his cock twitched in his pants. 

She needed to stop doing that and pouting. 

It was going to make him lose his damn mind.

“Hey, Princess.” He muttered, keeping his voice low. Sam had called and told Bobby they’d be home early, so they wouldn’t get killed for walking inside, but if Bobby woke up and saw Dean carrying Her bridal style into her room, Dean might end up on the wrong end of a shotgun.

“Where’r we.”

“Home.”

She hummed. “You smell good.”

“Thanks.”

“S’ like… cinnamon.” She blinked up at him again. “You’re so big.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Ba- Sweetheart, you should go back to sleep-

“Are you going to sleep?” She poked his chest as Dean set Her down on the bed. “You need it too, Deano.”

“I know, I just gotta get you down first.”

“‘M not a child.” She started to pout. She was trying to kill him. “I can put myself to bed.”

Dean just raised his brows. “You want to put yourself to bed?”

“No.”

He chuckled, letting himself be a little fucking greedy, and brushed some hair from Her eyes. “I know, Princess. I’ve got you.”

She made another cute grunt, and let Dean help Her to bed. He faced the door while She changed—managed to fight off a boner when he realized She was wearing his shirt—smiled to himself when she flopped onto the bed, and felt like he was goddamn flying when he scooted in next to Her, and she wiggled right into his side.

Dad wouldn’t have wanted him to be a good man like this. Being Her shadow and falling into Her every single fucking second, not doing the hard thing and leaving Her to focus on the seals. Dad would’ve called Dean weak.

But Dad hadn’t been a good man, either.

And Dean still had too much of Dad in him. Too much anger, too much hate, too much mud built up under his nails to ever fully be clean of it. People had always said he looked like Dad, too. And he used to stand a little taller because of it. Because John Winchester was the best fucking hunter in the world. A shield of a man.

Just as Dean had wanted to be.

But Dad hadn’t been a shield. He’d been a bludgeoning, dull-edged blade that hacked up everything then left it behind him. He’d hacked up Ellen, and Sammy, and Dean, and Her.

Dean was a blade too.

A weapon that carved things up and spilled blood and would follow whoever wielded him around like a sick fucking dog.

But in all of Dean’s sins, he’d always have one thing Dad never did.

Her. 

Dad had Mom. He’d lost Mom, and lost his goddamn mind trying to get her back. And Dean needed that to be the difference. 

Dean wouldn’t lose Her. He wouldn’t even think about it. 

So he wasn’t good at being good. Or being gentle. Or knowing when to stop, or keeping himself in check, or keeping peace.

But he was good of taking care of things. Baby was in perfect condition, and she’d stay that way until Dean was in his grave, then a long while after that if Sammy didn’t want to get fucking haunted. He folded all his clothing in his bag, and washed out all the stains on his jacket because it was all he’d ever really had. His guns were always clean, and whatever they needed for a hunt, Dean always found. 

And he took care of Her. When he kept himself in check, Dean took damn good care of his girl. Even if She only got to be that in his head, Dean would always take care of his girl. Since She’d gotten back, he kept some of Her favorite snacks in his bag, like he was trying to lure a damn stray into his house. Sometimes he’d be showering and check on Her fancy shampoo and conditioner that no one else was allowed to use—not that Dean would know how to use it—just to make sure She didn’t need any more. He always ordered Her a drink, because that was another way to take care of Her. He’d started to leave his shirts casually on the dresser, trying to bait Her into wearing them.

It was working. She started sleeping in them almost every night after Florida, and—just like how neither of than slept without the other anymore—they didn’t talk about it.

They didn’t have The Conversation.

But for now, Dean just wanted to have Her. And if this was how he got Her, that was all he needed. 

Still Her shadow, because—for reasons Dean couldn’t begin to understand—he didn’t need to be a good man to be Her shadow. So until She banished him from Her side, he’d stay. All the way down. 

If Dad had a problem with that, he shouldn’t have tried to take Her away.

Dean had found Her anyway. He’d always find Her. 

If Dean knew anything, he knew that Heaven and Hell could do whatever the fuck they wanted to him, but he’d always come back and find Her. And until that hand was forced, he’d do fucking anything to keep Her at his side. Maybe kiss Her, just one more time. Just to say he had. 

She’d been sleeping in his shirts. She’d kissed him. And Dean had been risking soft touched on Her arms when he wanted Her attention, been getting sweet smiles in return, and son of a bitch, he didn’t have a fucking idea how Dad could’ve ever hated Her. 

She was awesome.

She called Dean smart when he told Her about how he’d worked out the magician case. She’d sat with him while he fixed the Firebird’s headlights, smiling at him and holding his beer as they talked about anything but the everything. She was still crawling over Dean in bed and looking at him with bright, hopeful eyes, asking if he was hungry then holding his hand as they drove back to the convenience store. Leaning Her head on his shoulder as they ate in the car. 

And Dean still had all his fantasies. He was still a sick, rotten asshole, because when She called him smart, he wanted to swallow Her pretty words with his lips. Wanted to roll his body over Her’s, to kiss Her stupid into the couch cushions and not stop when he got hard enough to poke into Her thigh. Maybe She’d moan his name, grinding up into him, and Dean would get to love Her until she was shivering and whining under him. 

She’d whine. Dean knew Her, even if he’d never been Her shadow like that, and She’d be pretty and snarky and bratty under him, and son of a bitch, he wanted to see it. He wanted to indulge it and tame it and hold Her when she was a writhing mess, doing that eye-flutter thing as she came. While he’d been fixing the Firebird, all his thoughts that weren’t devoted to fix the car you got Her—you idiot, because she deserves Heaven at her feet and the best you can offer her is a car—were made of setting down his wrench, walking between Her legs, and seeing if she’d push him away.

If She didn’t, and he’d been brave and wrong enough to push his luck again, Dean would’ve palmed Her over her jeans until she was panting and begging for him. Maybe he’d shove two fingers into Her pussy, and see if he could get Her eyes to glow silver again. 

See if he could worship and hold Her well enough for Dean to be the only person She needed.

And it was getting out of control.

Everything was rushing around them—Lilith had broken more seals, and Ruby still had her claws sunken in Sammy, and the angels kept being fucking douchebags—but all Dean couldn’t stop thinking about Her. About a life where She’d still crawl over him in bed, but he’d roll Her over and fuck her into the mattress. They’d still go to the Convinces store, and still hold hands, but there wouldn’t be any looking over their shoulders for demons or monsters. She’d lean on him all the time. She’d love him all the time, and Dean would find a way to give Her all the comfort and luxury She deserved. 

He wouldn’t get that world. Not anytime soon, while they were still dealing with everything. But at least, for now, he didn’t have to worry about losing Her.

She’d benched Herself. When they’d gotten back from Florida, and carefully told Her what Cas had said, she’d benched herself.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay with that?” Sam had asked, watching Her carefully, and She’d nodded.

“I can still help.” She’d mumbled. She’d been writing on a napkin again, that same repeated word from the resort. Dean needed to steal one of those and give it to Cas, just to know what the hell She was thinking about all the damn time. 

Bobby had said Her name, his voice low and firm. “It’s not that I don’t love havin’ you home, but you’re gonna drive us both up the damn wall if you’re just sittin’ around-“

“I won’t just sit around. That angel girl is still missing-“

“Anna?” Sam had frowned, and She’d nodded.

“Yeah, and I can try to find her. If she hates heaven, she might be willing to help us. And, Bobby, the book I made you guys get before...” 

She’d trailed off, and there had been a glossy look in Her eyes as she was picked at Her nails-

Dean had grabbed Her hand. Just to stop more blood from being drawn, he’d grabbed Her hand in front of Sam and Bobby. 

He hadn’t gotten shot.

Bobby had barely even scowled. But he’d also been mostly focused on Her.

“The one in Romanian?” He’d grunted, and She’d nodded.

“It’ll take a while, but I want to try and work through it. See if there’s anything we can use.”

Bobby had nodded, and She’d gotten the book. That was, apparently, how She spent most of Her days while Sam and Dean were gone. Bobby said that She’d curl up in the library and translate until she passed out on the couch, and Bobby carried her to bed. 

It wasn’t as bad as in those few months before Dean’s death.

But it still wasn’t good.

She hadn’t told them exactly what had happened. How She’d stopped the seal. But when they’d asked, She just shrugged it off, refusing to look Dean in the eyes. All he knew was that they hadn’t kissed since, and that She was trying to goddamn kill him. 

Because the benching had lasted for exactly a month before She was gathering them in the kitchen, the table scatted with a lot of loose papers, all of them fucking covered in Enochian. 

Sam picked up one of the papers—squinting at it like it might suddenly turn into something he could read—as Dean dropped at Her side. 

There was nowhere else to be.

“Any luck on Anna?” Sam asked, and She shook Her head.

“I still haven’t figured out how to summon an angel. I mean there’s like, prayer. But they don’t have to answer that.”

Bobby frowned. “Could ya’ figure out how to summon an angel? I mean, I know you got all your rituals, kiddo, but we ain’t even sure how angels work-“

“They’re beings.” She shrugged, sorting through the papers. “And they don’t have souls, but they can still be summoned. I remember seeing something about it in the original book-“

“The one you lost?”

She nodded at Sam. “Yeah. So it’ll be in here,” She tapped the Romanian book, her gaze never leaving her papers. “But I just have to find it.”

“You never told us how you lost it.” Dean muttered, and She sighed, giving him a soft smile.

He got a soft smile. Between Dean, Sam, and Bobby, Dean was the one who got a soft smile.

His grin back took up his whole face, even as She dodged around his question. She’d smiled at him.

“The hunter people in Mexico stole it.” She hummed, twisting the skin on Her finger, and that was a lie. Dean wasn’t sure which part, but it was a goddamn lie.

“If you don’t have Anna,” Sam said, before Dean had a chance to push Her. “Then what’s, you know.” He gestured to the table. “This.”

She grinned at Sam, a smug sort of light dancing in Her eyes. “I’m so glad you asked, Samuel. This is our way out.”

“Out?” Dean frowned. “Out of what?”

“The seals.” Her smile was almost manic. It was still pretty. “Anna said that there were 600 of them, right? If Lilith fails one, she can probably either try again, or move onto another. But,” She grabbed the paper out of Sam’s hand, presenting it to Dean. “I can lock them.”

They were all silent for a long moment. Staring at Her as she looked around the room, sitting tall in Her chair with her chin raised. It was a chipped, old, wooden piece of shit that Dean knew had been broken before, but under Her, it looked like throne. 

Dean cleared his throat, glancing back to the paper. “I can’t read this, Princess.”

“Oh, right.” She flushed slightly, pulling it back and scanning over the Enochian words. “It’s basically just a recipe. We can either do a trial run, scale it down and have me lock one, or we can go for the big game and I’ll lock all of them at once.”

Bobby frowned at Her. “What does lock ‘em mean?”

“It means Lilith will try to break it, and it won’t do fucking shit.” She glanced down at the paper, then grabbed a chewed-up pencil to scratch another note. “I think if we had more time, I could maybe re-make the already broken seals, but she’s already gotten thirty-four of them. I don’t want to wait.”

“How do you even know this will work?” Sammy frowned around the papers. “I mean, was it in the book?”

“No.” She shrugged, spinning the pencil between Her fingers. “I thought of it. Myself.”

“Course you did.” Bobby grumbled, and She stuck her tongue out of him. 

“You raised me like this-“

“I ain’t complainin’ kiddo, I just.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know how ya even begin to think of this shit. And Sam’s got a good point, we don’t got anythin’ to prove it’ll work-“

“It will work.” Her words were firm as She rubbed her wrists, and She gave Dean an almost desperate look. Like he was the only one in the whole world, the only one who needed to hear Her and stand by her side. “Please, I just- I know it’ll work. And I can do it, I promise. Cas said I’m made of magic. He said I’m half Magdalene. Maybe this is my thing. My change. I’m not making super-demons, I’m stopping the rise of Lucifer. Lilith doesn’t get to win.”

Dean just stared at Her. He couldn’t even find any words. This was way above his paygrade, even if that same paygrade had been getting higher and higher every year. It was too big a jump, going for just stopping one seal to trying to lock all of them, but She was always making insane plans and moves like that. And She always said there was another way, and Lilith doesn’t get to win, but there must be a catch. A cost. There was always a fucking cost, and Dean wouldn’t pay it if it was Her, but Her eyes were blinding and consuming and pleaded on his, and She’d never led him wrong before-

Sam coughed, and Her attention turned away. 

“What’s a super demon?”

She shook Her head. “Don’t worry about it. I just- I can do this. And I think that we should go for the big one, because once I do this the angels are going to be on my ass-“

There it was. 

The price.

“No.” Dean snapped, and Her gaze shot back to him as Bobby sighed.

“Dean-“

“No. We’re not doing this.” Dean grunted Her name, gesturing around the table. “You’ve been staying off the radar to avoid the angels, not give them a big, neon sign to come and take you.”

“They won’t take me, Dean, I’ll be fine-“

“You said it would take big game to lock all of them-“

“And I have that big game.” She folded Her arms over her chest raising Her chin. “And I’m ready to do it. Jo’s got all the ingredients for us, we just have to meet her at the roadhouse.”

Sam blinked at Her. “Jo’s been helping you with this?”

“Yeah.” She sighed, rubbing Her wrists. “I- I was talking to her about Florida and Bolivia, and she- That’s not the point. We can do this. I can do this.” Her attention turned back to Dean. “Please.”

Son of a bitch. She was saying please and giving him the flutter eyes, and Dean had a horrible, boiling and dreadful feeling about this, but She said please.

And he should’ve known better than to think She’d just bench Herself. Of course She’d been working on something like this. A way around. A risky, insane way around.

“I don’t like it.” He muttered, and She gave him a flat look.

“Do you have a better idea?” 

Son of a fucking bitch. “No.” 

She gave him a sweet smile, and he sighed. 

He’d back Her up, because it was Her. Dean had to back Her up. That was how this worked. He was Her shadow, and he couldn’t protect Her if he didn’t back her up. She’d just fuck off and do it anyway. At least this way, Dean could take all the blunt ends of the fallback. Bobby could have someone to blame if it went wrong. If She lost it, Dean would take care of Her. 

She needed to do this, so Dean would do it with Her. Whatever She needed to be happy. If She thought this was Her Magdalene thing, then Dean would stay with Her all the way down. 

But he’d need to have some fucking words with Jo, after. He was trying not to think about how She’d told Jo about Florida and Bolivia—about everything Dean didn’t get to know—but that wasn’t what the words would be about. They’d be about encouraging Her to push herself, to make stupid fucking plays that might end in Her getting hurt. 

Some small voice in his head kept muttering that if this worked, it wouldn’t be done—there would always be more monsters, more horrors, more problems to solve—but all those fantasies he had would be closer to reality. Maybe Dean would finally find the guts to take Her face between his hands and have The Conversation. 

Princess, I want you. Always want you. Even when we were kids and I was a fucking idiot, I wanted you. Wanted you since you walked into my life, and it felt like you shoulda been there the whole time. I’d want you if the world was ending. And if you’ll have me, I’ll worship the goddamn ground you walk on and build you a million cars. Buy you a house. Give you the apple pie life you deserve. 

That was it. What he’d have to say.

If they got through this, he’d just have to say it. 

And he’d faced literal fucking Hell, and walked out on the other side with Her still staying. And nothing Dean could do that made Her happy, made Her satisfied, could ever be a sin. 

She was more than angelic. She was bigger than anything in the sky. 

So Dean would do this. For Her.

“What’d you boys know about what Thing One and Thing Two have been plannin’?” Ellen asked, and Dean sighed.

They’d left Bobby’s soon after the kitchen meeting. The longer they waited, the better chance Lilith had of getting more seals. Of getting some type of wind of their plan, and stopping it. She’d explained how this was a Magdalene spell, so even if it wasn’t directly from the Book, if Lilith heard about someone ordering dirt from Jerusalem to the States, she might put two and two together, and it would end poorly. 

Dean was already pretty sure it was going to end poorly. And he’d been trying not to drink when they’d gotten to the roadhouse. When She’d been sitting right next to him—close enough for him to smell fruit and sugar, close enough for their thighs to be pressed right together—but then She and Jo had scrambled off early, and he’d made Ellen give him the strongest shit they had. 

He wouldn’t get drunk. She never said She hate it when he drank, but he’d seen Her nose twitch at the smell of it. So he’d moderate, just enough for Her to still want to share his bed and press into his side.

But he’d still drink.

“Ain’t nothin’ more than you.” Bobby sighed, frowning at his own bottle. “Ya know, I got half a mind to beat Cas’ angel ass, tellin’ her ‘bout it like that. Know he meant well, but, fuckin’ Christ.”

Sam frowned. “I thought we wanted to know what she was?”

“We wanted her to have some peace.” Bobby grumbled. “I’d been hopin’ we’d find out she’s just some typa fallen angel or hybrid or somethin’. Not this.”

“Jo mentioned your angel friend said she was like Cleopatra?” Ellen gave Dean an amused look. “That make you Antony, or Caesar?”

Dean scowled, ignoring Sam’s snort. “I don’t know what the hell that means.”

“Cleopatra was married to Caesar, and had an affair with Marc Antony.” Sam shrugged, a shit-eating grin on his face, and Dean just stared at him.

“What.”

Sam said Her name, giving Dean a pointed look. “She’s Cleopatra-“

“She ain’t Cleopatra.” Bobby snapped. “She ain’t anythin’ but her, not matter what heaven seems to think.”

“It doesn’t sound like she has a choice, Bobby-“

“Always a choice.” Dean muttered, cutting Sammy off with a glare. “If the angels got some sort of contract with her that she didn’t sign, we get her out of it.”

Something scratched at the back of Dean skull. It was made of how She’d told him about her family tracking their bloodline, while the Magdalene’s were genetic. And how she was destined for some sort of crazy marriage, and Cas had said there was more about Her. He couldn’t talk about it now. Dean had promised not to tell anyone about Her family, and he’d rather cut off his own arm than betray Her trust. 

But he’d have to talk to Her about it later. She’d probably take all the pieces in Dean’s brain and connect them quickly, because She always understood him like that. 

He missed Her. She was just upstairs with Jo, but he fucking missed Her-

“Do you think it’s like, a predetermined thing?” Sammy said, and they were talking about the Magdalene thing. “You guys made it sound like heaven doesn’t even know what the Magdalene’s bring-“

“That’s cause Cas made it sound like that,” Dean muttered, turning his bottle in his hands. “Said they tracked them, but didn’t know where they came from.”

Ellen frowned. “Ain’t those big boys supposed to know everythin’ about everyone?”

Dean shrugged. “Apparently not.”

“Good they don’t.” Bobby grunted. “Means we got a leg up on ‘em. Cas said he ain’t been able to track her-“

“No,” Dean shook his head. “Cas wouldn’t tell me how he tracked her. But he could. It’s just one of his dramatic secrets.”

“But she’s still off the angel’s radars.” Sammy frowned into the air. “Did Cas mention anything about the soul stuff she can do?”

Dean shook his head, and Ellen cleared her throat. 

“I wouldn’t worry about the angels findin’ her. That one could hold Her own against an army of gorillas and robots.” Ellen paused, tilting her head slightly. “In fact, I ain’t that worried at all. She’s strong, and stubborn, and less somethin’ drastic happens, She’s not goin’ anywhere that Dean isn’t.”

Dean choked on his beer, shooting a quick look at Bobby. Silent on his stool. Staring at his own bottle. 

Likely still carrying a gun.

“I, uh- I don’t-“ Dean stuttered Her name, trying to find his way out of a hole he hadn’t even dug. “I’m not- We’re don’t- I mean, she’s-“

“Jesus, Dean.” Ellen gave him an amused look. “You’re give yourself a damn heart attack, if you don’t slow it down.”

“But-“

“Look,” Ellen gave him a flat look. “I’ve been tryin’ to be subtle ‘bout it for a few hours, kid, but that clearly ain’t workin’. What the hell is goin’ on with you two.”

“I, uh- Nothing. We’re friends.“

“Friends.” Ellen didn’t believe him. 

Dean didn’t need Ellen to believe him. He just needed the horribly silent Bobby to believe him. 

“Yeah.” He said quickly. “I mean, we’ve always been friends. Good friends.”

“Really good friends.” Sam drawled, grinning like a fucking bitch. “Such good friends that you’re sleeping in the same bed, right?”

Bobby already knew that. That was fine. “We get nightmares, asshole-“

“I get nightmares too. Do you think I can cuddle with-“

“No.”

“Why not?” Ellen looked far too fucking amused at Dean’s torment. He was starting to worry this had been some sort of trap. “She and Sam are friends too. What’s wrong with her sharin’ his bed?”

Dean was going to fucking vomit. Bobby still hadn’t looked at him.

“She doesn’t want to share my bed.” Sam sounded amused, and victorious, and Dean was going to knock his teeth out. “I don’t call her princess, or make her cars, or drive her to the corner store in the middle of the night-“

“How the fuck did you-“

“I was taking a shit when you guys got back last night.” Sam shrugged. “Saw all the food wrappers.”

Ellen sighed, giving Dean a look that was almost disappointed. “Dean, if you really think you two are just friends-“

“He doesn’t.” 

Dean needed to run. 

“I mean, they are friends, but he knows there’s more.”

Before Sammy ran his big mouth, Dean needed to run.

“Because you don’t make out with friends, do you, Dean.”

Later, Dean was going to run Sammy’s head through a wall, then throw some very stainable foods on all of Jo’s clothing for snitching. 

But for now, he was dead. Dean was fucking dead. 

Bobby was looking at him. Probably sizing up where the best place to shoot him would be. If Dean got a vote, he’s like it to be the brain. Gone quick, no pain. Just put down like the wet, mangy dog who’d been trailing after Her, who’d never deserved Her light and beauty, let alone Her love or touch. And Bobby knew that better than anyone. Bobby might be the only other person who understood just how vital She was to the world continuing to turn. And Bobby knew Dean. Knew what Dean had done. That Dean could never, ever be more than Her shadow, and even that was pushing it-

“You kiss her?” Bobby grunted, and Sam’s eyes widened slightly. The little shit seemed to have been so caught up in snitched to Ellen, he must have forgotten Bobby was there. 

Dean hoped that this time, he’d get to come back as a ghost and haunt to fucker to his own grave.

“Yes, sir.”

Bobby scoffed. “Don’t sir me, Dean. She kiss you back?”

Dean nodded, and Bobby let out a long, slow breath. This was it. He was dead-

“Thank fuckin’ Christ.” Bobby muttered, shaking his head. “Finally.”

Dean froze. “I- Uh-“

 “I ain’t fucking stupid, ya ijdit.” Bobby gave him a flat look, and Dean swallowed. “I got eyes. Ears. A damn brain. If you think I ain’t noticed how you look at her all the fuckin’ time, then I’m worried about your brain.”

Dean blinked, and shook his head. “It’s- I didn’t- We only kissed. That’s it. No funny business, and she kissed me the second time-“

“The second time?!” Sam looked far too happy about this information. “When was the second time?”

“Florida.” Dean grumbled. “That’s not the point, Sammy. She kissed me-“

“You two bein’ safe?” Ellen raised her brows, and maybe Hell could do him a favor, open up, and swallow Dean whole. 

“It was just kissing, and we’re not fucking idiots-“

“So you will have sex-“

“Sam-“

“Dean.” Bobby voice was low, but they all fell silent. “Listen. I meant it. I’m… glad. She needs someone who gets her, and you two- I ain’t able to be mad at ya for makin’ her happy. But if you break her heart. You leave her waitin’ for you, make her cry even one fuckin’ time.” Bobby narrowed his eyes. “I’ll make your time in Hell look like a fuckin’ nunnery.”

Dean gave a small, firm nod. He could live with that. If he ever hurt Her, he’d more than deserve whatever Bobby fulfilling that promise looked like.

And Dean didn’t bother to tell them that The Conversation still hadn’t happened. That Dean’s brain kept running away from him and calling Her his girl, but in reality, that wasn’t anything different than before.

Nothing Dean felt or thought about Her was different from before. Parts of it were amplified—he’d had a very firm and now impossible rule about never fantasizing about Her outside of touching himself, but now he couldn’t listen to her talk without imagining what She’d sound like when Dean shoved his face into Her cunt or stuffed her mouth full of his cock—but it was still the same. 

Even before the kiss, he would’ve spent the rest of the conversation thinking about Her. If it wasn’t those fantasies, it would be Her siren-like voice haunting him on the wind, all while he tried to figure out what the hell She and Jo were doing, and if he’d get stabbed for trying to crash it.

He would’ve found a good reason to leave a little early before, as well. Would’ve ended up slowly opening the door to Jo’s room, and grinned at just the sight of Her. All the lights were off, save for the glow of the TV—still playing some sort of chick-flick Dean didn’t recognize—and She still looked like a goddamn dream.

She and Jo had fallen asleep against each other, under the same blanket. 

And It was good She had Jo. A friend that didn’t have anything complicated. Sure She had Sammy, but at the end of the day, the kid was still Dean’s brother. So if for some reason Bobby ever had to fulfill that oath, She’d still have Jo. 

And Sam was also right.

Dean wasn’t just Her friend. He’d never been just Her friend. Even when he’d been keeping Her away from Dad, hunting with Her in secret, they’d never been just friends.

They had to have The Conversation. Dean would find a way to survive if She ripped his heart out of his freakin’ chest, but Bobby hadn’t been mad. If Dean was really bad for Her, Bobby wouldn’t have thanked God Dean kissed Her. If She didn’t want Dean, on some level more than just a quick fuck or two emotional kisses, Bobby wouldn’t have said She needed Dean. 

Maybe She craved him too. 

Maybe.

Princess, I want you.

He could do it. 

Later.

He’d do it later.

For now, Dean would pick up Jo’s beer and Her soda, brush all the hair from Her face and smile at Her in the dark—there didn’t need to be any witnesses, because Dean wasn’t touching for anyone but Her and his own selfish hunger—before detangling Her from Jo to get her to bed. 

She made an adorably disgruntled sound as Dean hauled Her up his chest. And it amazed him sometimes. How the same glowing, soft eyes blinking up at him could give dagger stares that made demons afraid. How those slightly parted, soft lips could curl into deadly sneers, and the same haunting voice that was mumbling his name could spit the most venom he’d ever seen. 

“Dean?”

“Yep.” He walked slowly, trying his goddamn best not to disturb Her more than he had to. “It’s late, you know.”

“I’m not clock.” She grumbled, giving him the cutest fucking pout in history. “How do I know you’re Dean?”

He frowned at Her. “Cause, uh- I’m me, sweetheart. Unless you got another Dean on the side-“

“Just you.” She shoved Her face right into his neck, and he had to be fucking dreaming. “’S always just you, De.” She giggled to Herself. “Was a stupid question. I know you’re you.”

“Yeah?” He hummed, shouldering their door open. “How do you know, Princess.”

“You’re gold.” She hummed. “And strong right here.” She poked a little to the right of his heart, and Dean stopped in the center of their room as She blinked up at him. “Only my Dean is gold like that.”

She might as well have fucking shot him. Her Dean. He was Her Dean. 

He’d be Her whatever. Son of a bitch, Dean would be Her court jester if that was the only place She offered him.

It wouldn’t be. 

Court jesters weren’t allowed to share the Princess’s bed. They didn’t get to help Her into one of their shirts, keeping their eyes firmly fixed away from the bounce of Her breasts. Jesters didn’t get to kiss Her brow and have Her wrap her arms around their neck.  

That was a job for shadows. 

She’d told him that She could sense when souls wanted each other, and hadn’t really explained it, but Dean needed his soul to start doing some fucking work for him. To make it real fucking clear that, the moment She said the word, Dean was going to wrap around Her and never let go. Do half The Conversation before it even started, so that Dean could finally be allowed to kiss Her brow and trail down Her nose, ending on Her lips and pulling every perfect sound She had to offer from her throat. 

Make Her happy.

Bobby had said Dean could make Her happy.

It was a little fucking terrifying. Just how much She was to him. More than the world. More than all the stars in the sky. 

And laying in the dark, Her curled into his arms, Dean was glad Dad was Dead. That he’d gone a fucked-up kind of heroes death.

The alternative was that Dean would’ve kept crashing up into Her—covered in mud and feeling so fucking good every time She took him all the same—and then Dad would’ve kept prying Her away. Making Her leave. Making Dean lose Her.

And Dean would’ve killed him, or punched him, after simply losing his fucking mind trying to convince himself he didn’t want Her on Dad’s orders.

Princess, I want you. Always want you.

He’d always wanted Her. It didn’t matter what anyone did to him or told him, Dean would never stop wanting Her. The only thing that would keep him away was Her saying no. 

But son of a bitch, if She said yes. 

Dean fell asleep to fantasies of Her saying yes. Of Her telling him she wanted him. 

He woke to Her still in his arms. 

And he didn’t stray for the rest of the day.

For as long as Dean could manage, he stayed at Her side. Hanging over Her shoulder as She and Jo went over the plan on last time, running down the ingredient list. Guiding Her to the Firebird with a hand on Her back, and tailing after Her in the Impala as they headed away from the roadhouse. 

She’d wanted space. Just in case, She’d demanded that they do this somewhere with space. Just a few towns over, where it was mostly field and birds. Bobby and Ellen would be on standby just in case. Sam, Dean, and Jo would bring their guns, just in case. They’d get a motel and wait a day, just in case. 

“I thought we wanted to move fast?” Sam frowned at the Firebird ahead of them, and Dean sighed.

“Apparently there’s a sweet spot, Sammy. Not slow enough for Lilith to hear about it. Not fast enough for demons to show up and have us miss them.”

And no demons showed up. They got a two bed to share, did routine sweeps of the town every few hours, and found no demons.

But one demon found them. 

There was a knock on the door, and they all froze. Jo one the bed with a book, Dean on the couch with the TV and Her and Sammy at the table, doing something on the laptop. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was slow as they all stared at the door. “Did you order food?”

“Nope.” He muttered, and Jo stood up slowly, her gun in hands. Dean reached for his own, he knew Sam was doing the same, and She-

Her grip was white-knuckled on her knife, and She was staring at the door with a little more intensity the rest of them. Her face was colorless, and Her eyes were wide, and Her mouth opened as Jo touched the door handle.

“Jo, wait-“

Jo pulled back, but she’d already unlocked the door. 

And when it swung open, Ruby was grinning on the other side.

“Could you guys at least pretend you’re happy to-“ Ruby’s eyes landed on Her, and the bitch paled. “Fuck.”

A lot of things happened at once. Jo slammed the door shut before Ruby could run, Dean aimed his gun at Ruby’s temple, and Sam threw himself in front of Ruby as something in the room started to shift.

She wasn’t advancing with the knife. It was just spinning in Her hands as she stared at Ruby, and Dean had never seen her look at anyone with that much pure fucking hated. Usually there was some sort of starlight dancing or flickering in Her gaze, even if She was angry. 

Maybe Dean just hadn’t seen it up close last time. Because it was the same as Boston. She was amplified, and everything seemed to be revolving around Her, and her pupils were silver.

And it wasn’t just starlight anymore.

It was a supernova.

It was wrathful. 

“What the fuck,” She hissed, and Dean could swear Her voice was echoing around the room. “Is she doing here.”

“I don’t know.” Sam said quickly, giving Dean an almost desperate look. “Dude, I swear I don’t know. I didn’t bring Ruby, I didn’t even tell here where we were-“

“He didn’t!” Ruby jumped in quickly. “Fucking- I’m here to help, I’m always here to help, and that’s not going to change, no matter how much you id-“ The world grew technicolor, and Ruby stammered over herself. “I’m trying to warn you! Alistair knows you’re here!”

Dean felt his blood go cold. Alistair. Alistair had promised to take Her, to hurt Her, and he knew they were here. 

Sam said Her name slowly, not moving from in front of Ruby. “She doesn’t have any reason to lie. And if Alistair does know-“

“Then we’ll move fast tomorrow.”

Ruby frowned. “Move fast on what-“

“Shut the fuck up.” She snapped, and Ruby paled. “How do you know Alistair knows.”

“Because I’ve been tracking Hell’s Assassins. And they’re headed here.”

Jo blinked. “I thought they’d been takin’ orders from Azazel-“

“They take orders from the top dog.” Ruby said, still watching Her wearily. “Right now that’s Lilith. And she’s passed them onto Alistair, to help him however he wants. And he’s sending them after you guys.”

Her cold glare on Ruby didn’t waver. “And why are you telling us?”

“To help-“

“Don’t lie.” She hissed. “You fucking left me-“

“Because Lilith pushed me out of my meat-suit! I- I told Sam-“

She raised Her hand, and Ruby fell silent. Dean felt like he should be doing more than just standing here. Maybe he should be going out and getting every bit of candy and sugar, and a collector edition copy of Indiana Jones, and a whole lot of body scrub and makeup, and forming some sort of fucking alter to the goddess in their motel room. 

And it was still just Her. It was just Her, everywhere. In everything. The whole fucking world was Her, and Dean could feel it. 

He wanted to live in it. Live in Her.

Another thing that would have to wait for later. Because right now, it seemed like Ruby was pretty damn close to getting killed, and Dean wanted to see that.

“Here’s how this is gonna go.” She said, Her eyes still locked on Ruby. “I’m not going to kill you, because Sam’s my friend, and I care about him, and I want to trust him. But if anything goes wrong tomorrow, if anything other than a few, easy-to-kill Hell’s Assassin’s show up,” her eyes narrowed. “I won’t kill you. I will obliterate you. Literally. Got it?”

Ruby nodded, and She smiled. A toothless, mocking, crude smile that made Her look a little like a Queen. 

Dean shouldn’t be this turned on by how mean She was being. Knowing that didn’t stop him from wanting to launch himself at Her and pin Her to the wall. Kiss Her until all that raw fucking power was directed at him, and he could throw it right back at Her with only his hands and dick and mouth and care.

Not in front of Jo and Sammy. 

But later. If Dean got Her, he wanted to figure out what that fun little trick could do in bed. If he could use it to fuck Her, if She’d be able to see his soul while they fucked, if maybe he could bury himself deep enough inside of Her that he’d be enough of Her to see Her soul.

It would be beautiful. All of Her was beautiful, so Her soul would have to be too. 

Dean would have to wait for later. A lot of things were going to happen later. 

But now, he watched Ruby shuffled back out the door, and ran to Her side as the world collapsed back into Her. She was swaying slightly on Her feet, as the world became just the world again. And Dean caught Her.

That was his job. 

“We should go to bed.” She mumbled, Her head rested slightly on Dean’s shoulder. “We’ll need to be up early tomorrow.”

“Can we do it tonight?” Sam suggested, and She shook Her head. 

“Need the Sun for it.”

“Oh. Sure.” Sam gave Dean a confused look, and Dean just shrugged.

His job wasn’t to question about Her methods. 

It was to orbit around Her as they all got ready for bed, crawl into the mattress at Her side, then pull Her right into his chest and lean down to whisper in Her ear. Low enough that Sam and Jo couldn’t hear, because this wasn’t for them. 

“I still don’t like this.” He murmured Her name, and She met his gaze in the dark. “There’s gotta be another way-“

“This is the other way,” She whispered, offering him a soft smile. “And I can handle some Hell’s Assassins-“

“I know you can, b- Sweetheart-“

“Then let me-“

“I will.” Dean leaned forward, their noses bumping slightly. “This is what we’re doing, I’m backing you up. All the way down. But I want you to know I still think it’s a pretty shit idea.”

She giggled. “Your objection is noted. Go to sleep.”

He rolled his eyes, unable to fight his grin. “So bossy-“

“Can’t hear you,” She burrowed Her face his neck. “Night, De.”

“Night, Princess.” He muttered, running a hand through Her hair, and the boiling dread was back. 

But he’d still do this. 

For Her, Dean would do anything.

He clung to Her, through the whole night. Kept his face buried in Her hair and his body half on top of Her’s, because he was allowed to. Maybe She’d feel it. See it with Her magic soul pheromones.

And if She didn’t, Dean would tell Her in the morning. 

—————

“Look.” The big man made of green—who hadn’t hurt you and all the birds and flowers seemed to adore—was kneeling down to meet your gaze. “I don’t know if you ain’t able to talk, or if you just won’t, but I can’t keep callin’ you kiddo. You know what a name is?”

You know what a name is. You have one. This man has one too, although you’d forgotten after he told you. You’ve just been calling him the Big, Green Man.  

And he’s still looking at you. You’re supposed to answer his question, but you don’t remember how. You know your own name, but you’re also the pressure of the house foundation, and the weight of all the beer the Big Green Man is keeping in the fridge, and the tension of the guns on his wall.

You hate guns. The last gun you saw had been in your father’s hands, and it had been aimed at the head of your cousin. 

He’d gotten in trouble because he’d tried to touch you. Hurt you. Half his face was already covered in boils, because you’d screamed and all the Silver light in your body had surged up to protected you. And you’d just wanted him to go away. You’d just wanted all of them to go away, and leave you alone again. They hadn’t stopped hating you, after the ritual. They only hated you more, because it wasn’t supposed to be you.  

You hadn’t wanted him to die.

But your father had apologized to him, and pulled the trigger. 

He’d never apologized to you. Nobody did. 

Most of this is your fault anyways. And nobody wanted to hear you talk. To plead for it to stop, because it was too much and you could see your cousin putrid, greasy sort of brown sinking down into the floor, and his blood on your clothing already missed him, and you wanted to go home.

You didn’t get a home. You were on hold until the Sky decided to take you.

And you haven’t seen the Sky, since you ran. 

You haven’t spoken for a while before that.

So you’re just blinking at the Big Green Man. And he’s blinking back, scanning over your face for an answer you don’t know how to give him.

“You know how to write?” He grunts, and you blink at him. “Shit, wait here kiddo-“

The Big Green Man walks away, and you wait. He’s safe. His guns aren’t angry like your fathers are, and there’s beer in his fridge but it’s sad. Not violent like the wine your grandmother and aunts poured down your throat to keep you satiated. 

You’d vomited that up, before you ran. It made you tired, and you couldn’t afford to be tired. 

But the Big Green Man was making you sleepy. You could rest in his big house with all the books, and nothing would try to hurt you. 

He comes back with a pen, before you can curl up to sleep. 

“If you’ve got a name,” he grunts, placing a paper on the coffee table and passing the pen into your hands. “Write it here.”

You look between him and the pencil, and give it a little testing scribble. Its ink is red, and that’s wrong. You’re not red.

The Big Green Man frowns as you push the pen back across the table. “You able to write?”

You nod, and he sits up a little straighter. 

“Somethin’…” He glances down to the table. “Wrong with the pen?”

You nod again, and slowly push to your feet. The Big Green Man has a desk, and the desk must have a pencil, and-

There it is. There’s a yellow highlighter too. And it’s not Golden, but it’ll do. 

The Big Green Man watches you as you return to the couch, and scribble your name on the paper. The graphite is a little silver. And that’s you.

“Huh.” The Big Green Man repeats your name back to you, and you nod. “You remember my name?”

You shake your head, and the Big Green Man reaches for the highlighter. You snatch it away with a frantic shake of your head. That’s not for him. That’s for the boy the Sky says he hates and doesn’t want you to find.

And you—not the you staring at the Big Green Man, who’s going to grab a pen from the desk until he finds the right color and writes down that his name is Bobby, but the you now—don’t remember that part. But these types of dreams tend to have small things that you’d forgotten, or maybe made up in the first place. You’re never sure if it’s real or just another dream at all until-

“Hi, Princess.” 

There he is. “Hi, De.”

Dean’s pressed right into your side on the couch, and suddenly Bobby isn’t so big anymore. You’re not that small, either. And it’s a little like you’re flickering back and forth between the little girl who’d sat on the couch and the… Whatever you are now. Who’s leaning into Dean’s side.

“Why does Bobby look so young?” Dean mutters in your ear, and you laugh. 

“This was eighteen years ago, Deano. Would be a little sad if he didn’t look young.”

“Huh.” Dean frowns at the air. “Eighteen years ago I was…”

“Ten.”

“Uh, yeah.” He raises his brows at you. “How’d you know that?”

“I did math, Winchester.” You grin at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “It’s this thing with numbers, where you add them together and take them away, and then you get other numbers-“

“Alright, alright.” He rolls his eyes, but his arm his looped around you, and you’re lying against him on the couch as Bobby keeps talking.

“You didn’t add a last name,” Bobby mutters, and he looks back to you. “You got anyone, kiddo? Family?”

You shake your head, and Dean tenses beside you.

“You’ve got me.” He mutters, sounding a little like a dejected puppy, and you give him an amused look.

“I didn’t eighteen years ago. This me,” you gesture around the room. “Didn’t have anyone.”

“But you had me.”

“I didn’t know you.”

Dean scowls, like the very fucking idea of that is intolerable. “You coulda. I coulda found you.”

You hum, your smile never wavering. He’s adorable, and you love him, and you can’t say it aloud, but you grab the yellow highlighter from the table—Bobby seems to be caught in some kind of static as your attention remains on Dean—and hold Dean’s gaze. “Do you want to have me, Dean?”

And it’s a dream. You have to remind yourself it’s a dream.

But the open, hopeful, sheer look of desire on Dean’s face isn’t as foreign as it should be. 

His voice is low, almost hoarse. And the whole dream seems to be filling with a golden haze that makes you feel a little high as he leans down, holding your gaze.

“I always fucking want you, Princess.” He mutters, and you swallow. “Wanted you since you walked into my life and it felt like you shoulda been there the whole time. I’d want you if the world was ending. And if you’ll have me, I’ll worship the goddamn ground you walk on, baby.”

Baby.

You know I love you, baby.

But this sounds more real, and yet it’s just as fake, and you don’t know why your mind hates you so much. 

Yet you’ll take all of Dean you can get. Even if it’s just a dream. 

“Okay,” you whisper, uncapping the highlighter and slowly moving it to his brow. 

You’re not sure what you’re doing. Dean clearly isn’t either. 

But you let the Silver take over, and start to write on his forehead, just like you’ve been practicing. His name, but running away from you as you add more, and suddenly it’s your name too, and then-

The word—words?—are glowing, and sinking into Dean’s skin, and he’s holding your gaze, and you love him, and the Sky can never be allowed to take him away or you’ll do a hell of a lot more than just scream and beg-

Your eyes flutter open, and you’re staring at the ceiling, covered in a big, warm weight and drowning in the smell of spice. 

Dean’s snoring above you. And you don’t know when you flipped over, but he’s pinned you between the mattress and his body, and his face is in your neck. 

You could stay here forever. 

But you have a job to do. And you have to move. Fast.

“Dean,” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, and this isn’t overindulging. He’s on top of you. You’re just trying to wake him up gently. “Wake up. We’ve gotta go.”

The snores hitch, and your smile grows.

“C’mon. Up.”

“No.” He grumbles, and you giggle softly.

“I know you’re awake now, Deano.”

He pauses, tensing slightly. “No, ya’ don’t.”

“Sleeping people don’t talk.”

“Could be sleep talkin’,” he mutters, still not moving. “You don’t know.”

“Yes, I do.” You push at his shoulders lightly. “Up, you big baby.”

His head turns, eyes blinking open, and if he doesn’t decide to get up now, you’re not going to have the strength to push him. 

He’s so pretty. And in the morning light, there’s no part of him you can see that isn’t Golden. It’s in his eyes and soft on his skin and woven through his hair, and you love him, and you’re not allowed to say it. 

You can’t let it affect work either. And it can’t show on your face. 

So you’re trying to smile at him the same way that you’d smile at Sam or Jo. But he’s perfect, and all around you, and it’s not affecting work if Sam and Jo aren’t even here to do the work-

The door slams open, and Jo waltz through it with the timing of some sort of sick joke. 

“Oh, good, y’all are-“ She freezes in the center of the room, eyes widening. “Shit, I didn’t mean to- I can come back, if you’re- y’know-“

You flush and Dean twists to shoot Jo a glare.

“If we were, it would’ve been ruined already, Jo.”

Jo’s eyes are going to burst out of her head. “So you were-“

“Not yet.” Dean pushes up off of you, pauses, and leans down to press a kiss to your brow. 

Not yet.

Baby. I love you, baby. 

You’re just staring up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, and you’re going to melt into the mattress. The Spiderweb loves this. It’s bursting and sparking everywhere, the ache between your legs building as you just stare up at Dean, and his lips tighten slightly.

“You good?”

You smile at him, nodding a little stupidly. “I’m awesome.”

His mouth twitches slightly, and he nods. Brushes a little hair from your face before he moves away. 

And you just keep lying there. Dean and Jo are talking about how Sam’s at a shitty diner down the street, and Dean should go join him so they can case the old church you’re using before the ritual starts. Jo will stay with you, going over the plan one last time, and Dean will survive one damn hour without you.

“But she needs to eat-“

“And I brought food.” Jo calls your name. “You want some pancakes?”

“Yes, please.” You might be whispering. You still feel sort of molten. 

“See.” Jo’s talking to Dean again. Her voice isn’t ever really firm like that when she’s talking to you. “Go get your own food, Dean. And I already yelled at Sam ‘bout Ruby, but double teamin’ never hurt.”

Dean grumbles something about killing Ruby himself, if she shows up, and you hope he does. Sam and Dean fight about that kind of stuff all the time, and you really don’t want to be the one who has to kill Sam’s demon friend.

Dean can do it for you.

Dean’s always doing stuff for you.

“See you at the church.” He mutters, suddenly hovering above you like the angel he is, and you smile at him. 

“Okay.”

“Eat what Jo brought you.”

You nod, still a little dizzy and lost in just the sight of him. “Okay.”

His lips twitch slightly. “You sure you’re alright down there?”

“Yeah.” You’re definitely whispering, and Dean’s face splits into a grin.

“Don’t do anything insane.”

“I would never.”

He rolls his eyes. “Jo-“

“Nothin’ insane. I heard ya, Dean. Now go.”

“She’s so mean to me.” Dean mutters, his fingers brushing so easily through your hair, and the Silver has never been this happy in your body. “You’d never be that mean to me, Princess.”

Jo snorts. “Yes, she would-“

“Nah.” Dean grins at you, and you can only grin back. “Pinky promise you’re gonna eat.”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to speak, and lock your pinky with Dean’s. His smile is the best thing you’ve ever seen. This plan has to work, so Dean can smile like that all the time. 

“Good girl.” He mutters, and his attention turn away just before your love and need for him escapes, splattering all over your face. 

Dean and Jo exchange a few low words, and you just keep staring at the ceiling. Baby. I love you, Baby. You know I love you-

“Y’all are so gross.” Jo groans, dropping down on your mattress. “I mean, that was worse than if I did walk in on you fuckin’-“

“Jo.” You mumble, giving her a flat look. “We aren’t fucking.”

Jo sighs. “You’re not holdin’ out on him cause of... that thing, are ya?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it-“

“He won’t care.” Jo’s voice is firm, and you turn to see her almost glaring at you. “Don’t ruin this for yourself just cause you think he’s gonna get weird about it.”

“I’m not-“

“You are. Dean’s not gonna give a shit if you’re a virgin. I think he might get all caveman about it, actually. He seems like the type.”

You need to stop telling Jo everything about you. At this point, all she doesn’t know about is how you-

“I mean, you love him. Don’t think you’d love him if you really thought he’d get all fuckin’ shitty ‘bout something like that.”

Fuck. “Jo, I- I don’t-“

“You don’t need to say it.” She shrugs, holding your gaze. “’S why I’m sayin’ it for you. Dean wouldn’t do that to ya’. I really think if you tell him, he’s gonna get like, all fuckin’ commanding. And you’d be into that.”

“Jo-“

“C’mon. You can lie to each other, but you can’t lie to me.” Jo is lucky she’s basically your sister. Anyone else would’ve been stabbed by now. “You love him. Sam told me he’s been moanin’ your name in his sleep, when you ain’t there.”

“He has?” You need to sound less hopeful. It’s not selling the I don’t love Dean angle that well. “I- I mean, I don’t care-“

“Yeah, you do.” Jo smirks at you. “You want him to kiss you, and hug you, and fuck you- Shit!”

You slam a pillow over Jo’s face, and when she tries to retaliate, you let just enough of the Silver out to make the pillow burst into only feathers.

Jo scowls. “I hate when you do that.”

“Yeah, well, I hate when you tease me about Dean-“

“But you deserve it! You are so obvious, it’s like- Oh my god, you remember when we were at the roadhouse a few months back, and that hunter from Louisiana started talkin’ to you?”

You blink at her. “No?”

Jo rolls her eyes. “Course you don’t. You were lookin’ at Dean.”

“Hey-“

“Well the asshole was tryin’ to get in your pants, and you were just makin’ those fuckin’ I love you eyes at Dean-“

“I don’t-“

“Yeah, you do. It’s like,” Jo flutters her lashes, pouts slightly with an open mouth, and you hit her with another pillow.

“I do not fucking do that.”

Jo seems completely unfazed, which is really annoying. “Yeah, ya do. And you were makin’ those eyes at Dean, and the hunter didn’t see ‘em, but you didn’t see him. You were bein’ polite, but you’re real fuckin’ shit at flirting-“

You gape at her. “You’re really mean this morning-“

“I’m sick of you and Dean dancin’ around each other!” Jo throws her hands up in the air, flopping back down on the mattress. “And you keep interrupting my story! The point is that Dean got all barky and mad at the hunter, and you didn’t even notice cause you were too busy eye-fuckin’ him!”

“Barky?”

Jo grins. “I think he fuckin’ growled. I’m tryin’ to tell you that you’re not good at pickin’ up signals, and you love Dean, and he wants be allowed to love you, and if you’d just fuck ‘im, shit would be so much easier.”

You let out a long, slow breath, and before you can even open your mouth and ask Jo to drop it, she’s holding up a finger.

“Look, how about this. What’s your dream life?”

Dean’s asked you that before. And you’re not sure where Jo is going with this, but she’s going to get the same answer he did. “I’ve never thought about what else I’d do-“

“I’m not askin’ what else you’d do.” Jo shrugs, holding your gaze. “I’m askin’ about your dream. If everything works out and you get a perfect world, what’s it look like?”

You stare at Her, and the Silver is rioting inside your body.

A perfect world. Not a realistic one, where you’re either still locked up, or the Sky has taken you, or you’re just hunting until it kills you, or everyone around you dies and you turn to stone, waiting for them to return. 

A dream. 

You can see it, forming far too fast. It’s just water-painted colors and ideas, but it’s still clear. No monsters or demons or angels, and the Sky is gone. Bobby’s just running his yard, and Sam’s back in college, doing whatever he wants to do. You and Jo get coffee every weekend, and these kinds of conversations never have an underlying sense of danger around the corner.

And Dean’s everywhere.

All his clothing doesn’t stay in a room he never sleeps in, but is tucked into the same drawer as yours. He works in the scrapyard with Bobby, and you don’t know exactly what you’re doing—you’ve really never thought about it—but it’s something useful, where you get to read a lot and talk a lot, and nobody ever gets hurt. 

And you come home to Dean every night, and he kisses you everywhere. He falls asleep with his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair, and all your rules are broken because you tell him you love him all the time. And there’s a future. It’s not just the thing to get to tomorrow.

Tomorrow is promised. 

The longer you think about it, the more the Silver spreads. And you’re a little afraid to say it aloud. Aloud makes it real. 

So you just shake your head, twisting the skin on your finger. “I don’t know.”

Jo knows you’re lying. She raises her brows, and her lips tighten into a line, but she doesn’t push it. She knows you well enough not to. 

“Think about it,” she shrugs, and you nod. Now that it’s in your head, you don’t think you’re ever going to stop thinking about it. 

“Do you have one?” You ask, lying back down at her side, and Jo frowns at the ceiling. 

“I think it used to be this.” She mutters. “Huntin’. But I dunno, I’d just wanna fuckin’ chill. Get a cat.”

You give her an amused look. “A cat?”

“Yeah. I’d relax and get a cat, work in somethin’ with sound. I was really good at that,” she says your name, giving you a grin. “The sound shit? From the lich case. I liked it. Lotta buttons.”

You snort. “You want to work in sound cause there’s a lot of buttons?”

“Yep. And don’t act like buttons ain’t fun to push.” She sticks her tongue out at you. “I’d love to have a job that’s just pushin’ buttons. This job is… you know.”

You do know. And if this works, Jo could have an out. Your dream world is just a dream. You have too much hanging around you for it to be any more than a dream. But the Sky doesn’t watch Jo. Demons don’t hunt her. She’s not a Magdalene, or salvation, or damnation. 

That’s why you’re doing this ritual in the first place. For Jo. 

You didn’t tell Bobby, because he’d tell Ellen. You didn’t tell Sam, because that would involve explaining that Jo got the idea from hearing Ruby talk about it, and then he’d say that’s not what Ruby meant, and try to make your talk to Ruby. 

You couldn’t tell Dean. If you told Dean that Jo had overheard Ruby talking about the possibility of locking all the seals, then came to you to see if it was a possibility, he’d get mad at Jo for pushing you. And she hadn’t pushed you. Not on purpose. But she’d wanted to know if that was in the cards, and it had been, and then she’d wanted to do it. 

“If you think you can,” she’d said over the phone, her words slow. “I don’t think we’re getting’ a better solution.”

“I know.” You’d sighed, frowning at your notes. “But I- I don’t trust it.”

“If you think it’ll take too much-“

“No. I’d be fine. I just- I don’t know. We’ll do it.”

“I’m serious, if you ain’t on board-“

“I’m on board. I’ll pitch it to them tomorrow. Can you start-“

“Been workin’ on the ingredients since you gave me the list.” Jo had said your name carefully. “Thank you. I know this is dicey, but it’s gonna work. You’ve got it. We can do it.”

You’d nodded, and hung up. 

You’ve got it.

You don’t feel like you’ve got it, but you had to have it. This ritual was volatile, and the Silver still feels like a muscle that spams and tenses and seizes up under the wrong amount of pressure, but you’ve got this.

Ruby showed up last night, and that was making the Silver roll and howl in a kind of alarm over your skull, but you could deal with Ruby. You’d meant it. If she’d set this as some sort of trap, and you showed up tomorrow to find hundreds of demons, or a pack of hellhounds, or Alistair himself, you’d crush Ruby with the Silver until she was fucking nothing. 

And you want to tell Dean about it. Tell him that you have this itching, rash-like feeling over your wrist and along your bones, and something just feels wrong. You don’t know if you can do this, but you’re repeating it over and over until it feels a little more true. 

But if you’re going to use the monster for something, you might as well use Her for this.

It has to stay between you and Jo.

And you’ve got it.

“We should start movin’.” Jo mutters, pushing up off the mattress. “Ready?”

You’re not ready. 

You nod anyway. 

Jo runs over the ingredients one last time while she waits for you to change, and everything is in order. You’ve got your jacket, your knife hidden safely inside, and the flask in your pocket. Filled with whore tears.

You don’t really want to know how Jo got those. 

“I think you should tell him where we’re done.” Jo hums in the Firebird, and you shoot her a glare.

“Don’t you have your own love life to worry about?”

“Ha! So you admit it’s a love life-“

“I’m gonna crash the car-“

“No ya won’t. Dean gave it to you.” She bumps your shoulder, and you can’t stop your small smile. “And I was serious, before. You don’t even have to jump right in with the love shit. You can just say I like you, and if you wanna fuck, I’m down.”

You sigh. “Can’t I make you do it for me? Like we’re in middle school?”

“Nope. Cause then you’re gonna tell him that he’d be the first, and like, I know we don’t wanna fetishize that, women are more than their bodies, he’d want you if you’d fucked a million dudes-“

“Jo-“

“He would. Right now, it probably ain’t even occurred to him that you haven’t. And I want you to see his dumb little monkey brain explode when you tell him.”

You shoot her a glare. “Dean’s not dumb.”

“I know.” Jo shrugs. “But he’s gonna short-circuit. Promise.”

You just shrug, and try not to think about it. It’s easier if you don’t think about it.

There are just too many other things to think about, besides is Dean going to like you back. The Romanian translations, and the ingredients, and if the Silver is going to settle the heel down and cooperate. If Hell’s Assassin’s do show up, how you’ll handle them.

But he might. Everyone can’t be wrong. There might be a world where you can wrap your arms around Dean, rest your chin on his chest, and say Deano, I like you, and if you wanna fuck, I’m down.

You’ll rephrase it.

And you’re not supposed to overindulge. Asking Dean to fuck would definitely be overindulging. 

But he smiles at you, the moment you and Jo walk into the church. Dean grins at you like you’re not about to take a huge, deadly fucking gamble. Like he’s about to ask you to go get some food and watch a movie.

Like a date.

Softer than just fucking. And instead of sweeping the pews for lingering sulfur and demon marks, you could lean over the table and hold his hand. 

Maybe.

If he asks you, you’ll never be strong enough to say no. It’s why you’re not telling him you don’t want to do this.

He’d say don’t do it, Princess. And then you’d go home.

He’ll talk you out of it. You don’t really want to be talked out of it, not when it could be the way. Not when you promised Jo.

So you’re going through with it. It won’t be rushed or experimental. Jo tracked down all the right ingredients—and you’ve really decided to not ask questions about it—and the Church is supposed to help the spell draw power as holy ground, but you’re mostly using it for your own peace of mind. 

Because this all on you.

“Do you guys-“

“We’ve got everything.” You mutter, turning over the skull of a sickly bird in your hands. “Sun’s almost through the windows, and we- There needs to be one thing in every cardinal direction. This,” you hold up the skull. “Comes with me to the dais. Jo’s taking the South and the tooth, Sam’s West and the blessed fruit, and Dean’s-“

“Black pearl covered in lamb’s blood, East.” Dean frowns down at his item. “How the hell did you get this stuff, Jo-“

“Don’t worry about it.” You and Jo say in unison, and Sam snorts. 

“Is that really it?” He asks, frowning at his apple. “Just stand in the corners of the room and all the seals will lock?”

“You have to stand in the corner of the room.” You mutter, pulling your flask from your jacket. “Bottoms up.”

You down the whore tears in one gulp, trade the flask for the knife like it’s a security blanket, and turn on your heels before you can lose the nerve.

Everyone finds their places fast. And all they’ll have to do is stand there, with their items at their feet.

You have to work.

Sam’s looking around the room. Jo’s looking between you and the teeth, a taut but hopeful expression on Her face. 

Dean’s looking at you. Only at you.

If you look at him, you’ll run to him. But you have to focus.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and let the Silver move out. You’re the freedom of the wind and the wisdom of the Earth, the warmth of the sun on a river miles away, and every single leaf on the trees. It’s all bending toward you, as you continue to expand. 

And you keep your eyes squeezed shut. You’re the dirt and the flowers and the stars, you’re flying up and you’re all the invisible stars in the Sky, and it’s watching you, closer than usual. So fucking closely.

Then you bite your lower lip until you drawn blood, grab everything by the fucking neck, and focus. 

You’re not sure what you’re throttling. Only that you’ve found it, deep, deep, deep under the Earth, and you’re choking it.

Lock. You hiss at it, and it balks. Close and lock.

There’s a boom through a little more than the world and the Sky is flaring in warning. 

It’s angry. 

That means you’re fucking doing it. 

Lock.

This time there’s a rattling sound like bones and insects.

Fucking lock.

Something hisses and crashes, and Dean roars your name. Sam’s shouting too, and so is Jo, but you can’t really hear any of it. 

You’re in the blur.

You’re fucking everything, and you and feel the wind ripping and biting at your skin, but it doesn’t hurt because you’re not you. You’re all Silver, and you’re everything, and the hissing is growing. Like something is fusing together. And you’re so big, you’re fucking everything, and you’re close. You’re so fucking close. You can fucking do it- 

Then you feel it.

 The Silver building too high, and the hissing starts to ring in your ears. It’s blaring and going fucking wild, ripping through the world to try and get back to you, because something is wrong.

You’re everything, but you’re not the Gold. And He’s roaring for you and running with Silver, but there’s no need to grab it and command it like to rest of the universe. Because you could grab the blue and the infected purple, and command them. Will them. But you could never touch the Gold like that, because it’s not something to be played with or harmed. The bit of Silver in it is pure. 

And He’s calling for you, so you have to answer.

Something is wrong.

Your eyes shoot open, still in the blur, and you’re crashing back down into the Gold.

But every falls apart so fucking fast, and you’re not fast enough to piece it all together until it’s done. 

The roof of the church is gone. Half rubble around you, and opened up for the Sky to see. Sam’s knocked out on the floor, and there’s an angel. Not Castiel, because even in another vessel, he’d still be running with electric blue. This angel is filled with yellow.

Not yellow like Dean’s gold. 

Yellow like poison. 

She’s got a long blade aimed at Jo’s throat. And you’d rip her apart with your bare hands.

But Dean. 

Dean’s surround by Hell’s Assassin’s. Three of them. Two holding him on his knees, the third aiming a shotgun at his skull.

The Spiderweb is going haywire. The Silver is scratching at your ribs and skin to be let out, but you’re keeping it pinned down your knife on your forearm. It’s too uncontrollable. If you let it get too far from you, it might not just be the angel and the demons who die.

So you’re frozen. 

And Dean’s in danger.

“What-“ You clear your throat, because you sound a little like a scared fucking child. You are a scared fucking child. But you can’t let it show. “What do you want.”

“I don’t know about the girl scout.” The demon with the gun hisses, jerking it’s head at the angel. “But we’ve been sent by Lilith to warn you to stop. She says that you’re meddling in things you don’t understand, and that if you don’t back up, we’ll kill your little human toy for real this time. Lilith don’t need him no more. And this time.” It’s lips curl into a horrible smirk. “There won’t be no coming back, so-“

“I’ll stop.” You say it quick, and it’s the easiest trade in the world. You’re not losing Dean twice. “Please, I’ll stop, just-“

Dean groans your name, and there’s a little blood trickling from his temple. You hadn’t stopped it. You’d been to fucking big, and you’d let him get hurt. “Finish it- Don’t- I’m not worth it-“

“Shut up.” You snap, and Dean just shakes his head, coughing a little bit of blood. 

He’s staring at you. Blinking once, over and over and over. Not safe. 

You know it’s not safe. That’s why you’re going to stop.

“Is that it?” You ask, looking to the angel. “If I crawl back to my hole and stop interfering, will you leave?”

“I don’t care about the interfering.” The angel says, and she almost sounds sad. “You can’t be trusted, and if you don’t come with me, I’ll kill her.” The angel gives Jo an apologetic expression. “Sorry.”

Jo just glowers at her, and you swallow.

“If I come with you-“

“No!” Dean’s roar echoes around the ruins, and the even the demons flinch slightly. “You’re not going fucking anywhere. Anna, you’re being insane-“

“I am being rational. Seeing clearly.” The angel—Anna, the one they’d told you about—sighs. “Ruby’s right. She’s been warning you, but you wouldn’t listen. And she may be a demon, but she,” Anna nods to you. “Is far worse. I know she’s a Magdalene. Castiel is not as good at snooping as he thinks. And she’s warped your mind.”

You shake your head frantically, the Silver still pounding. “I- I’ve never- No-“

“Men of God are drawn to Magdalene’s.” Anna mutters. “You are the Magdalene. You’re unstable, and too dangerous. You’ve blinded them-“

“I’m not fucking blind!” Dean shouts. “I don’t give a goddamn fuck about all of heaven’s drama and politics. Ruby’s the unstable bitch, Anna, you’re being insane-“

“Dean, please be quiet.” Anna presses the blade further into Jo’s throat, you’re fucking dizzy, and there’s a soreness deeper than your muscles. “I’m trying to help. We can do this peacefully. She’ll go, and the demons will release you. Or we can finish the seal ritual, then go. But she can’t be allowed to live. Her name is written in languages humans can’t even read. I’ve seen it in the parts of Heaven Castiel has never been allowed. She’s their tool-“

“I’m not.” You mumble, and it’s somehow enough to make Anna listen. “I’m not their tool. And I- Dean, I’ve never warped you-“

“I know, Princess-“

“But I’ll go with you.” You keep your eyes on Anna. On the blade, poking into Jo’s throat. “Let Jo go, and I won’t even fight.”

Jo’s eyes widen, and Dean’s shouting your name, but you can’t look at him. You have to keep looking at Anna, or you’ll see the gun pressed against his skull and the world will split in half. And the Sky is watching, and it’s always hated you looking at Dean. You can’t afford making it angrier. Not right now.

Anna’s trying to protect Dean. You can understand that, more than anything. You’re going to do more than just kill Ruby, but you won’t blame Anna for trying to protect Dean. And maybe you have warped him. She’s not wrong that you shouldn’t be allowed to live. That you’re unstable and dangerous. 

Maybe she’ll be strong enough to do what John Winchester couldn’t. 

“I’ll let you take me.” You whisper. “Just let Jo go.”

Jo’s trying to shake her head, but it doesn’t work with a blade pressing against her skin. And Dean will be fine. He’ll have Sam and Jo, and they’ll explain to Bobby, and everyone will be fine. If anything, you’ll be saving everyone a whole lot of trouble, by going with Anna. Sam won’t have to worry about you killing Ruby. Jo can use this as her reason to get out. Dean and Bobby will have a harder time, but Bobby will never have to deal with your insanity again, and Dean can find that sweet, easy girl he deserves, without you in the way.

And the Sky is watching. If it wanted you to live, it would do something, but it’s only watching.

So you’ll-

“Anna.” A horrible cold voice is coming from right behind you. “You’ve done so well. Much better than we expected. Almost enough to be forgiven for your… Transgressions.”

Dean’s lips curl into a sneer. “What the fuck are you doing here, you bald douchebag-“

“I believe you were told to be quiet, Dean Winchester.”

And Dean’s voice just… dies. Goes silent. 

You move before you think. Whirling around, your knife raised, and aimed for the neck of a balding man that vanishes with a ruffling sound, then reappears a little off to the side.

“Oh! You’ve got a bite!” The man laughs to himself, soothing his suit, and there’s a clattering sound as Dean starts to struggle against the demons.

“Do I just, uh, shoot him-“

“Don’t be insane, Fiona.” The bald man gives the demon a flat look. “If you kill Dean Winchester, we kill you and bring him back.”

Another demon scoffs. “You ain’t ever been strong enough to kill us, Zachariah-“

“But she could.” The bald man—Zachariah—nods to you, and the room goes quiet. “Anna is quite correct. Which is a little more impressive than usual, as she is so often wrong. The best thing to do would be put the beast down, but I’m afraid that might cause quite some problems with my bosses, so for now, just a muzzle will do. Kill the girl.”

Dean’s mouth his still opening and closing, but no sound is coming out. You feel like a haze. Like this is just a horrible waking nightmare, and soon the Sky will crash over you in a fury, and you’ll wake up.

You need to wake up.

But you don’t.

And the Sky just watches.

“The girl?” Anna whispers, glancing down to Jo in her arms. “No I- That would be wrong Zachariah, even for you. I don’t think it’s even her time-“

“Yeah, but it would’ve been.” Zachariah shrugs. “What’s a year, really? And this’ll be faster, and- Look! I’m thinking outside the box! Blondie still goes, and she’s barely consequential. The whore heads back to her place, the bosses are happy, and you get off scot-free! You don’t even have to come home, but we can reset you. Give you that vile little human life you always wanted, two point oh.”

Anna’s still not moving. You need to do something, but if you do it wrong, you’ll just kill Jo yourself, and take Dean with her. And you can’t hurt them, you were supposed to stop hurting them, but it feels like something is keeping the Silver coiled, and when it explodes, too much might go with it.

Zachariah sigh. “C’mon. Be honest with me, Anna. I know you hated being one of us, but she,” he points to you. “Is not an angel, or a human. And aren’t you mad at her for taking what might have been yours? For ruining everything, and making Dean Winchester barely give you more than a second glance? She will be damnation. She’s reckless and emotional. I mean, even more than you.”

You need to move. To do something, other than standing here and being sick, but it’s all moving in the stupid fucking blur.

Anna looks at you. Then Jo. Then Dean, and all the spineless fucking demons, who aren’t even trying to do anything. They might see this as a win. You’re dealt with. You’re put down. That’s all they needed to do. 

Then Anna looks to Zachariah, like a nervous fucking child, and he nods. 

“You’d be free.” He says, and Anna’s throat bobs. “And you could come home. We’d listen to you, this time. About the humans.” He holds his hand up. “Promise. You just need to give us something, and it’ll be like you never left.”

The world falls apart all at once. 

Anna’s blade tilts down, drives into Jo’s stomach, and you lose control.

Zachariah’s gone. The Silver tears through the world for him, but he was fast, and may have known what was coming. Must have known. He killed two birds with one stone.

You. 

And Anna. 

Because when the Silver can’t wrap around Zachariah, it wipes out the Assassins in one wipe, atomic blow, and moves into Anna. Into every single arm and eye and wing, and grabs them. Shreds them. Rips them apart, all of Anna’s grace moving out and out and out into the world and evaporating into nothing, bigger parts falling onto the floor and being ground into the same, and then she’s gone. 

Her vessel’s body is dead on the floor, and there are no wings splayed behind it.  

Dean’s skull and soul are still intact. 

But Jo-

You sprint over the rubble, not caring as pipes and brick scrape at your skin. Your knee’s burn as you skid onto the ground at Jo’s side. 

“Shit-“ She’s coughing blood as you pull her off the ground, into your lap. “’S bad, ain’t it-“

“I can fix it.” You mutter, and it’s mostly to yourself. You can fix it. It’s just a wound, and the Silver can fix it.

“Can you tell my mom I’m sorry, and-“

“I need to focus, Jo.” You swallow, laying your hand on her stomach. Already hot and sticky. 

Your fingers already stained in red.

But you can fix this.

The Silver leaks out. Carefully at first, just enough to start the flow and mend. You just have to stop the bleeding. If you can stop the bleeding, you can get her to a hospital, and she’ll be fine.

She’ll be fine.

Every time the Silver patches over something, it rips back open, but Jo will be fine.

She has to be fine.

Jo mutters your name, and you shake your head, biting down on your inner cheek. “It’s okay-“

“No.” You mutter, and the Silver runs itself deeper into Jo’ body. Fuck stopping the bleeding, it’ll just weave into her and offer her a little while longer, and- “I need- The car, we need to start the car-“

Dean says your name, his hand carefully on your shoulder, and you don’t really care when he got there. “I don’t think-“

“Start the fucking car.”

It’s almost a screech, but Dean doesn’t flinch. He just offers a hand in your periphery to Jo, who meets it with shaking fingers. 

“Don’t be dumb.” Jo whispers, and you can’t tell if you’re choking on your own blood or the air. She’ll be fine. There’s no need for this, because you’re going to make her hold on, and she’ll be fine-

The Sky flashes above you, and the Silver is almost rocketed out Jo’s body. Her whole body shakes with the cough.

Dean squeezes Jo’s hand, kisses to the top of your head before walking away.

You’d screamed at him. You hadn’t meant to scream at him. And you want him to come back. You can’t do this without him. 

And you’ll get through this. You always do. 

But every time you find a new way to keep Jo, the Sky rips it away. 

She’s too pale. The pastel blue in her body is faded. Washed out. Like a river draining, leaving only a mud bank. 

She says your name, and you shake your head again. 

“Can ya look at me instead of tryin’ to fix it-“

“I am fixing it. It just keeps- Fuck-“ Your fingers curl against her, and this re-tear is bigger than it had been before. “No-“

“Please stop.” Jo mumbles, her voice wavering. “You heard ‘em, I’m gonna die anyway-“

“Don’t say that word-“

“But I’m gonna. It’s alright. Least you already avenged me. No hauntin’ for me. Maybe I can have a grave.”

“Jo.” You whisper, and the Silver retreats one last time. 

The Sky won’t let you fix her. 

And you don’t know what to do.

“Is it gonna hurt?” Jo’s voice is too soft, and you shake your head, fighting the lump in your throat to speak. You won’t let her go alone.

“For you?” You ask softly, and Jo nods. “No. I don’t think so. I- I think it might feel a little weird at first, but then it- It won’t matter.” 

“What about for you?” Jo blinks up at you. There’s almost no blue left. “Is it gonna hurt for you?”

“For me…” You don’t want to tell her. She doesn’t need to hear the truth.

But you’ve never been good at keeping things from Jo.

“For me it’s going to hurt a lot.” You can taste the salt as you speak, but you push on. For Jo. “For a really, really long time. But I’ll be ok.” 

“Promise?” She mumbles, and you swallow.

“Promise what?” 

“Promise you’ll be ok?”

“I-“

“Please.”

You’re not sure.

But Jo deserves something.

So you nod.

But the blue is already gone when you find your voice. “Promise.”

You sit with her. Until Dean comes back to take you from the desolated church, you sit with Jo. And think you whisper to him that she wanted to be buried, and not burned. And he might have told you that Sam’s up, and he’ll make sure it’s taken care of. 

You’re not sure though. 

It’s hard to think past the little remnants of blue, still on the tips of your fingers. Clinging to you, because the rest of them is gone. And you press your fingers into Dean’s neck as he carries you to the Impala. Hard enough for a little to stick to him as well. 

You might be crying. You’re not sure of that, either. The world is horribly blurry, and you can’t speak because it’s too much.

You feel like the little girl again. The one who hadn’t wanted anyone else to get hurt, and never knew what to do, so she never spoke. The only difference is now, Dean’s wrapped around you. The car stopped at some point, and Dean’s covered you in him. It numbs everything. Makes you breathe a little easier. And his thumb is running down your nose as he murmurs in your ear, and the world is still awful, but at least you can breathe. At least Dean is here.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I’m sorry, Princess. That- I’m sorry.”

Your body shakes with something, and it’s probably a sob. 

He’s sorry. You did this, but Dean’s sorry. You should’ve gone with Anna, and Jo should still be okay, but Dean’s sorry.

You curl into him. He’s the only thing you don’t think you can hurt, so you sink your fingers into Dean’s back and hold on. And he stays. You’re certainly sobbing and shaking, and you’d screamed at him, and it should be your body on the ground, but Dean stays. 

It’s twice now. That it should’ve been your body. That you should’ve done better, but you lost. Failed. That all that stupid fucking power you don’t even want failed.

And this is different than Dean’s death.

Dean came back. Cas saved him.

Jo was killed by an angel. 

She’s gone.

And you did this. You should’ve told her no, I’m not doing to seal thing. We’re already pushing our luck. You should’ve been in more control, and killed Anna the moment she showed up. You shouldn’t have drowned in the power, and been faster when everything went to shit.

You don’t think you can hurt Dean. The Silver’s always moves around him.

But you killed Jo. You were weak and emotional and sick, and you killed Jo. Everything that’s gone wrong has been you. The lich. The boto. The angels have been angrier because of you, and Hell’s Assassins had a gun to Dean’s head because of you.

And you can’t hurt Dean. And he’d never hurt you. 

But a gun had still been pressed to his head, in your name.

And you know what you have to do.

“Dean?”

He grunts, and the sun might have set then broken back into the sky. It doesn’t really matter either way.

“I need to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, and you know he doesn’t understand. “Sammy’s getting her home, Princess, so we’ll meet him there-“

“No.” You whisper, leaning back to meet his gaze. “I need to go.”

You can see the moment it hits him. And his features harden, and his jaw clenches as his grip on your body tightens. Like he can keep you there with force. “No.”

You give him a sad smile. “You can’t stop me, De-“

“Wrong.” He snaps. “I can stop you. I- I’ll fucking call Bobby, and I’ll siphon all your gas, and I- I’ll sit on you-“

“You’ll sit on me?”

“You’re goddamn right I’ll sit on you!” He’s shouting now, and you don’t flinch. He’s not mad at you, and you can’t really stand to be angry right now. “You’re not allowed to just leave, you-“

“You owe me a favor.” 

Dean’s eyes flash. “That was fucking years ago-“

“Less than two.” You shrug. “I need to go, Dean. I- I can’t stay here. I can’t. I’ll hurt someone-“

“No, you-“ He shakes his head, and you hope his hold leaves a bruise. “You fucking promised you’d stop running. You promised.”

You did.

But you also promised Jo you’d be okay.

And if you stay somewhere that you’re the problem—the sickness, the monster, the damnation—and Sam or Bobby or Dean get hurt because of it, nothing will ever be okay again.

“I’m not running.” You curl your fingers at the top of his shirt, keeping your words gentle. “I can’t be here, but I told you. You can’t lose me. You’ll know where I am, and we’ll call, and I’ll come back.” You scan over his openly pained features, and try not to feel it too deep in your own body. “You and me, Dean. All the way down. I’ll come back.”

You’ve never seen Dean cry before. It’s nothing different than his usual sadness. Just a little bit more. Tears rolling down his cheeks that catch the light then fall between your bodies. And he knows you’re not moving on this. Dean knows you, and if it comes down to it, he won’t really try to stop you.

“You gotta come back.” He mutters, his voice barely a rasp. “If we’re using old shit, you owe me a dance, Princess.”

“Okay.” You whisper, and it’s hard to smile. You’re so fucking tired, and you’re not going to sleep in Dean’s bed for a while, so it will only get worse.

But you have to smile.

Otherwise you’ll be selfish, and breakdown again in Dean’s arms. And he might not be fighting you, but once again, if you let him hold you and care for you, you don’t think he’ll ever let go.

Dean holds his pinky up with raised brows. He doesn’t need to say what it’s for. 

You’ll come back.

So you hook your pinky through his, and when he uses it to pull you down into another kiss, you let yourself have it. 

Long and slow. He’s not trying to rush it, or take more. You think Dean knows that the moment this is done, you’ll be gone. So every bit of this kiss is about time. His hands roam your body slowly, and his lips mold and nip and press into yours, and you let him have whatever he wants. Soft sighs and moans, knuckles brushing back under your shirt, a hand tangled in your hair to pull your hair back. He kisses over your neck and collarbone, and you only let out a soft hum of his name.

It’s more of him that you’ll get to have. More Gold on your skin, some of it covering over the blue. Preserving it.

And you don’t tell Dean you love him, when he pulls away. Or when you both refuse to say goodbye, and Dean just ghosts a softer kiss over your lips before you climb off of him, and stand in parking lot alone. 

But you still broke a rule. You’re too tired to keep your love off your face. And if Cas sees it, when he takes your prayer and lands at your side, he doesn’t say anything. 

“You wish to go.” He mutters before you even open your mouth, and you sigh.

“I need you to fly me away. Far.”

“Will you be returning?”

You nod, and you can’t look over your shoulder. Dean’s still in the car, and if you look at him, you’ll run back to him. 

“And this is really what you-” 

“Yes.”

Cas sighs, and nods. “Alright. It will be… uncomfortable.”

“I can handle it.” You mutter, and you can’t look back. “Cas?”

He tilts his head at you, his hand already resting on your shoulder, and you sigh.

“Please be careful. And make sure Dean…”

You trail off, but Cas understands. “Dean will be in one piece, when you return. I swear it on my grace.”

“Thank you.” you mumble. “I’m ready.”

It’s right before you’re gone, that you look back.

You never could help it.

And Dean’s watching you, and you want to run back to him, but it’s too late. The world turns into a rush of color and cold, and you’re gone.

You’ll come back. 

You promised.

End Note: Fridging Jo for a *woman*, now that’s what I call progress (i’m joking because if I don’t I’ll start crying again)

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

Buy me a coffee!☕️

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[xo-myloves]

can you please write a Izzy fic where reader has a hobby for writing and one day while she's out with her friends or whatever, he finds a stack of poems and letters written just for him<3 thank you , luv u

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

Izzy wasn’t snooping. He’d tell himself that more than once.

You were out with friends, and he’d stopped by your place to crash—just like always. The window was open, breeze barely lifting the sheer curtain. His boots were off, jacket tossed across the chair. Everything smelled like you—ink, old paperbacks, a little bit of vanilla and something warmer underneath.

He was looking for a pen when he found them. Not hidden, not obvious. Just… stacked, in a little bundle tied together with a piece of red thread, tucked inside a half-closed notebook.

Letters.

Poems.

Some folded into quarters, worn at the creases like they’d been opened a thousand times. Others clean and smooth, untouched. A few had his name scribbled right on top. Izzy.

At first he just stared at them, fingers hovering like they might burn him if he touched them.

He untied the thread slowly. Like reverence.

The first one was dated months ago.

“I saw you tuning your guitar today, and you were biting your lip like you were angry at the strings. I wanted to tell you they didn’t do anything wrong. But I didn’t. You’d laugh, probably. Or maybe you’d ask me what the hell I meant, and I’d have to explain the whole dumb metaphor.

I think you look like cigarette smoke in sunlight—something temporary that feels permanent.”

Izzy sat back on the edge of the bed, heart doing something strange in his chest. Like skipping, like catching on something too big to swallow.

He read the next one.

And the next.

“You don’t know it, but when you leave your boots by the door and throw your jacket on the chair, it makes me feel like I live with you. Even if it’s just for the night. Even if you’re gone by morning.”

He swallowed hard. A tightness curled in his throat like smoke.

He hadn’t known. He’d had no idea.

All those nights you listened to him rant about studio bullshit. The mornings you made coffee and let him steal your last cigarette. The way you always wrote when you thought he wasn’t paying attention.

You’d been bleeding all over the page for him, and he never saw it.

Not until now.

When you came home, he was still sitting there, the thread wrapped back around the pages—but loose, like he didn’t want to trap them anymore.

You stopped in the doorway, froze when you saw his face. Quiet. Serious.

You opened your mouth, panic starting to creep in. “Izzy—”

He stood.

Crossed the room in three steps.

Pressed his forehead to yours like he needed to feel your thoughts firsthand.

“You should’ve told me,” he murmured.

“I didn’t know how.”

He smiled then—small, crooked. That rare, real one.

“Then write it down. I’ll read every fuckin’ word.”

And he meant it.

[fandomsmadness]

With less than a day to go for ep6...

TBHX episode 5 rant

I swear I spend more time ranting than watching the episode. Do these keep getting longer?

First of all can someone link me to the soundtrack when the trust value thing happened, please, for the love of god I need it.

Second of all we've moved from Nice/Lin Ling's shock value cliffhangers to E-Soul/Yang Cheng's anticipation cliffhangers and I love it (we pray that ep 6 does not happily prove me wrong).

Like someone give me answers, gosh.

The opening itself was interesting for me, because there was a reversal of the previous episode's ending.

In particular, if episode 4 showed us Yang Cheng as E-Soul trying to warn Lin Ling but failing, this was probably a very traumatic moment for him. Yep, let's all traumatize our boy heroes, I'm sure that'll turn out just fine. What next, we see Xia Qing get shot in the head too? (that was a joke, don't make it happen).

The time rewind is also interesting; although I found myself having to constantly chant "5 years before Lin Ling, 5 years before Lin Ling" the entire time, my simp-for-worldbuilding self is very happy with all the additional context this gives.

And this episode delivers, giving us a lot of worldbuilding to think about.

The elephant in the room with this ep is trust value and how it works. On the last ep rant I theorized that trust value is two-sided, and I'm going to stick to that one, because we actually see trust value being bestowed on a person this episode and interesingly enough, it's on E-Soul, not Yang Cheng.

But Yang Cheng is an actor, with clear skill given that the only reason he didn't proceed in the contest was his trust value (or lack thereof). Pomelo also mentions how he hates the outdated stories, props, and costumes, but consistently tells Yang Cheng that he has E-Soul's "vibes." Yang Cheng has low self esteem about his own self, but aspires to be E-Soul, just like Lin Ling thought he wanted to be Nice. We had an entire episode's worth of story that showed us Yang Cheng in fact wanted to be worthy of E-Soul even before his parents were killed. And at this point, he is in costume, trying to beat up the bad guys. I think he in the heat of the moment accepted the trust value instead of going "oh hey wait I'm not E-Soul, that should go to him."

There's more to my musings now, however.

There seems to be a difference between belief and trust. Belief seems to be something that can collectively reshape abstract reality, such as believing a particular spot spells romatic fortune. Belief seems to apply in a more broader and vague manner, while trust value is more focused and more powerful.

I'm sure Yang Cheng have people believing in him (in the vague way) such as his uncle and Xia Qing, but only Pomelo trusts that he is a hero capable of saving him. And the more focused the trust value is, the more it seems to make a person. Yang Cheng with a single, but very focused - you are E-Soul - trust value managed to best two people who were armed and ostensibly decent in combat.

But now we're left with more questions (nobody is surprised by this). Does this trust value apply to Yang Cheng? E-Soul? Yang Cheng as E-Soul? Perhaps the next episode would provide answers, but it's more likely we'll be provided with more questions instead.

Aside from the worldbuilding that carries the series, this arc in particular is carreid by its characters. Yang Cheng and Pomelo were an adorable duo and I really hope I get to see more of them. Kid is too smart for his own good but I hope he sticks around to ground Yang Cheng during whatever happens from this point on.

Was he kidnapped because of Yang Cheng, or was there something more to it? His sister certainly didn't seem to have too many questions when they got back, which I found weird.

Shang is an enigma and it's all too easy to hate him for his consistently atrocious timing but other than his nauseatingly obvious hustle culture mindset he does seem to be... okay? For now? Giving Xia Qing extra tickets so she could ask Yang Cheng was supportive. Too supportive.

And lastly, E-Soul.

In 34 years he has never taken off his mask, and it's telling. Looks like Nice isn't the only hero who is a concept. It's possible, but very unlikely, that E-Soul is a single person. He sounds noticeably older and more tired during his speech than he did 16 years ago (obviously) and the contest seems geared to finding a replacement for him, which is why the guy with no trust value is bypassed but why Shang was so quick to get to Yang Cheng when he displayed herosim. The current E-Soul basically admits that the mask is what the people trust and what garners hope. Who is behind the mask is unimportant.

But trust value (and its lack) is also shown to be a way to discriminate in this world, and this may also be why Yang Cheng never proceeded.

For a hero who only has two more episodes centered on him, we still have too many unanswered questions about E-Soul. Who is the nemesis from his PV? Was the E-Soul we saw in episode 3 Yang Cheng? Was it E-Soul we saw in episode 4? How does this all tie in?

And lastly, the new hero we get is Lucky Cyan. Does anyone know when Lucky Cyan became a hero, because I'm wondering...

...is she just becoming popular now, 5 years before the Lin Ling arc? Will Yang Cheng/E-Soul have a role to play in her becoming a hero?

Too many questions, not enough answers.

[gabi-take-the-wheel]

my personal spiral down the rabbit hole that is the prosenna tag on tumblr led me to read 'the power and the glory' by david sedgwick and. well. i had a lot of thoughts. well, mostly feelings, but they're still thoughts, and because i am an impulsive being with no self-restraint i am going to share them with the rest of you guys. expect a lot of rambling and incoherent sentences and jumbled rants that make no sense. may the forza be with you.

***

thots while reading tpatg alain: im kinda boring compared to ayrton hehe also alain: *forges weekend pass for funsies to pursue racing* babes pls bfsfr

sneaky little shit (affectionate)

i love how david consistently refers to alain as a "little french guy" like yes he is tiny yes he is smol yes you are mentioning it at opportunity given tf

not them never failing to mention his nose too like ok doja cat i see you

he is a nailbiter thats so cute

"Who could not possibly warm to a man who chooses to call his yacht Wet Dreams?" me tf

"Who is the Prost asshole anyway?" girl bye 😭😭

"Shit, I have to take care of this guy!" and just like that, prosenna was born

"Water, water everywhere" must be the water

senna after a rainy monaco race: i win! f1: um, i think tf not

i know people (read: ladies) thought senna was the shit back in the day but like that was kinda weird to read ngl

tyrell + the media: the french won the french race led by french people because of some french rando waving the flag so the french is to blame! ickx: im actually belgian tyrell: i dont give a FUCK keisha!

them: we call racism! prost: pls i just want to go home and sleep

"Alain Prost. That name again." yes ho the same guy you put up posters of on the walls of your childhood bedroom we know

"Had the driver not been able to extricate himself from the burning wreck, he might well have ended up a Brazilian marshmallow." this is funny to me im sorry

"That most residents are unable to distinguish a Nelson Piquet from a Nelson Mandela hardly matters." LMFAOOOO GET REKT

man f nelson me and my homies hate nelson (senna momentarily possessed me during this idk what to tell y'all)

"Rosberg, Alboreto, Lauda, Piquet, Mansell, they will all cross swords with the Lotus protégé in 1985, but there’s just one driver who Senna is gunning for, one driver that matters: Alain Prost."

cue that one The Office meme: OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CALM (whats the procedure man whats the procedure?) STAY FUCKING CALM

senna documentary 2004: anything senna says, the opposite happens the power and the glory: anything alain says, it happens right so, alain, im gonna need you to say "senna is alive" so that the fcker will come back from the dead and i can interview him to filth with a stick thank yeww

elio: *wins grand prix because alain's car was underweight* wtf just happened

not ferrari ferarri-ing in 1985.

must be the water

'Alain giggles. Selina blushes. Others cringe.' others was senna and me btw

"It is not enough though. Only one thing will quench his thirst: to be acclaimed the undisputed king of his chosen sport, a title currently held by a certain Frenchman." my reaction to this was not in fact normal

"Ayrton Senna had just become public enemy number one." first time?

"When he predicted Senna would take ‘at least ten poles this year’, as usual Prost had been right on the money. Poles will come all too easily, wins less so." i love it when shit he says becomes real

"...back in the McLaren pit in company with that rarely seen creature, Madame Prost." MAMA PROST?!?!!? oh no wait its his wife. MADEMOISELLE PROST?!?!?

prost: i am the best, i am number one senna: and i took that personally

crazy ass nutting because the car felt good 😭😭 1988 equivalent of "shit so good made my dih hard" dawg what 😭 inchident #1

"‘It’s not fair! It’s not fair! It’s my turn!’ By now Ayrton is on the point of eruption." relax ho

mind games aint even start yet and he was already acting up

alain rein it in a bit hes boutta go feral

i need to remind myself that they hated each other's ass back in the day

"Enzo Ferrari is senile. Nigel Mansell thick, his wife ugly and Senna gay." DAMN i just started reading part two calm down 😭 senna is, btw, for prost i mean. the psychosexual obsession tag in ao3 is not there for show yknow

"Maybe they have also found their own worst nightmares: each other." strap on mfs this is where it truly begins

tpatg: there's rain in this race me: *immediately knows who the winner is* i take it back alain won HHAHAHHAHAHA

"Four years later, it still hurts." meanwhile prost absolutely dgaf abt that race bro LET IT GO

"I’m going to blitz him …" this ho's motto for life. what you gonna do when he aint on the grid no more, huh, kill yourself? ...too soon?

dawg everytime piquet is not having a good time senna possesses me and dunks on his ahh like pls stop hating vicariously through me bro 😭😭 like whens it gonna be alains turn to possess me 😔

"Three races into their partnership and already the two drivers are watching one another’s every move like a couple of eagles, worried lest the other man should gain even the slightest of advantages." ong they just don play abt each other 😭😭

that paragraph of piquet's yacht just casually inserted in the middle of a prosenna monologue felt like an "and bumblebee!" ahh moment

the girls are fighting

i know it aint so (tf is this miss yeehaw bad boy all the way across the fcking sky ahh grammar) but like i cant help but imagine senna speaking telepathically to his bestie berger in the back like 'mate i need you to defend tf against him pls its important shit like this give me an immense ego boost as well as an immense boner pls' and berger's just *thumbs up*

"I’m going to lap Alain Prost! At Monaco!" i just know his dih was hard the entire race. inchident #2

"Until an encounter with the Portier corner, that is." the ho just had to one up his teammate now didnt he

ayrton: *in a fucking mental crisis* alain: :P ✌️

i cant believe i just addressed senna by his first name tf

me as i continue to read senna's parts in tpatg: *with dawning horror of the realization* oh no... oh no... he's just like me fr...

who i wish i was like: alain prost who i really am: ayrton senna i will be back within three business days... let me recover from this first

"As for the shining light at sea and the compelling urge to follow its aura into oblivion – that he keeps to himself." not the foreshadowing

on a much funnier lighter note that could've been alain chanting "pls crash pls crash pls crash pls crash pls crash' in his head and then it suddenly manifesting lmaoooo

"‘Psychologically, this was an important win for me,’ grins Prost afterwards." its all about the mind games for these hoes now isnt it

aw nostalgia <3<3<3<3

little man word count: lost count

idk the outcome of this race (yet) so im going to pretend that this is happening just now for me instead of 30 plus years ago, so im keeping my fingers crossed and hoping that alain wins or outqualifies senna at least lol.

im scared to read the next lines lmao.

"I have to be as close to perfection as possible because Alain is always like that too – close to perfection." bro just admitted in front of the whole wide world that alain is the shit. just say youre gay for each other, kiss and move on. god these two keep making me feel things

"‘So Senna says he has to be perfect because of me,’ smiles Prost in response. ‘I’m facing the same situation – I have to be perfect because of him. He wants the championship and he wants to beat me. No problem between him and me. He is quicker and I have no excuses, but honestly I don’t think he is that much quicker.’" i cant explain it but alain is giving it girl here like yas queen slayyy. i love my sneaky little psychological tormentor

"His objective is clear: break Prost’s heart in front of his home crowd." and his back— WHAT WHO SAID THAT

rahhh the girls are FIGHTING fighting ts giving me goosebumps i feel like im watching the race itself

lmao he forgot hes a mclaren driver. its giving carlos missing the williams pit in 2025

YALL TS MAKING ME NUT BRO IM PULLING AN INCHIDENT #1 ONG IT GOT ME SO HYPE

ron: economy mode! prosenna: f the economy i gotta put this ho in the wall first

its funny how nelsons much more interested in them fighting than in winning a race. its giving that one meme where two guys are beating each other up in the back and then one guy is just posing chill in front of them. nelson 'this is what i like to see!' ahh piquet

OH MY GOD HE TOOK THE LEAD OHMYGODOHMYGODOH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HOW MANY MORE INCHIDENTS AM I GOING TO EXPERIENCE

HE WON HOLY SHIT THIS IS THE NUT OF MY LIFE HE ACTUALLY DID IT VIVE LA FRANCE YALL KNOW WHAT IM SAYING LIKE no cus fr im actually getting insane goosebumps rn. tears in my alain prost eyes.

the last line of the french grand prix chapter: Round seven to the Professor. me: slay the first line of the next chapter, the italian grand prix: Prost is finished! Prost is a coward! me: wtf what the hell is this whiplash

if this book so much as mentions a 'wet race' i immediately think of senna, like you cannot lie he is the undisputed master of the rain fr

genuine question why is senna called a young pretender. what he pretending to be, straight? mb mb

"Can anyone stop Senna?" yes me lmfaoooo

"‘It’s over. Ayrton is the new world champion. He deserves it,’ declares Prost after his team-mate takes a facile victory in Belgium – his seventh win of the year." i know for a fact senna started giggling, twirling his hair and kicking his feet when he heard that

damn the number of times alain finished second to senna? i know bro mustve been on a power trip then. fck me i cannot get the idea of him having such an huge ego blast that he starts nutting out of my head. this is all haruchimaki's fault

"...back then, the world champion was decided on the number of wins not points." *immediately starts counting how many wins prosenna has*

"For the first time in a while, the Italian squad believe." was 1988 also the last time they believed? lewis is starting to throw a fit dawg someone save the 2025 ferrari

"...unable to accept being bettered by the younger, hungrier man?" ayo haha lets not insinuate now hold on

"They are hoping, praying for a miracle. Forza Ferrari!" literally the tifosi rn hahhahah

ohohh shit the girly's plotting. i love it when he does that dawg

"Prost can afford to smile: his team-mate has taken the bait." ooooh you devious little man!

not me praying for berger to win

God bless the french LMAOOOO

nah cus alain definitely manifested that, he was like, 'if im not the one who will take senna down today, at least please let it be another french' and it was another french HAHAHAHAH bless you jean-louis

"‘No problem,’ replies Ayrton. ‘I had enough fuel to last.’" i know alain is smiling behind his hand under the guise of biting his nails lmaooo a win is a win

"Not long after that infamous day at Monza where he played such an unwitting role, Jean-Louis will marry the ex-wife of tennis legend Bjorn Borg. Among the guests will be one Alain Prost." bro really said 'gotta pay my respects to my homeboy for ruining my rivals day' HAHAHHAHA

"...fumed a victorious Prost post-race before disappearing into the McLaren motorhome for a ‘chat’ with a very sheepish team-mate.'" oh so the ho actually knows how to be self-aware. this is so me i cannot— STOP SHOWING SIGNS OF BEING MY KIN DAMMIT for some reason though all i can think of is small alain going off at senna pissed off and all and then ayrton is just 'blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff' good material for the femprost fic im brewing in my head hehheheeh

"...but are Honda manipulating the outcome of the world championship?" nah its just alain manifesting. pop off queen

nobody hates the french more than the french

"Besides, Balestre has long been thought of as a little unhinged – a garlic-breathing megalomaniac who just happens to wear a blazer." so what that does make mbs?

"...sleep-deprived Prost..." probs the only time i'll ever relate to the guy 😭

"Where’s the fire? Answer: In Alain’s pants!" wtf i just flipped back to the tpatg tab on my laptop and this is the first sentence i see 😭😭😭

little man word count: still lost count. david just loves referring to alain as short now doesnt he. like we get it hes a short king but come on

"Race morning and the bright skies gradually start to disappear behind a cloak of grey. Perhaps this is the moment that Alain Prost knows the 1988 world championship will be heading for Brazil. On a dry track the Frenchman reckons he is more than capable of holding his own, but on a wet surface …" aw hecks nahh its a wet race even alain knows who boutta win this gp we're severely cooked.

something about the fact that senna is good at rainy races makes me feel giddy though idk i just think its pretty neat

"Not a chance in hell." oh shit its about to go down

"The rain is coming, so too a Brazilian rain master." shiiieeeet this made me hype idk why idk i guess i just love rain races and people who master them im sorry alain its just really cool that hes a pro at ts cant help it

yup its a wet race ayrtons obviously winning. guess im on a first name basis with him now. eh, hes sort of earned it

"I made a special effort to be close to Alain" i love taking sentences out of context hehehehhehe

im starting to think ayrton's kink is breaking alain mentally like that guy gets off that shit fr fr can confirm i am ayrton senna

"They all knew that Alain and I were fighting for the championship and I expected them to be nicer about letting us by, but no." my guy really said 'can you guys not im trying to beat the love of my life here'

bro just cry about anything, whether he loses or wins damn

"By turns swearing, weeping, choking, and babbling, their man has become insensible. As he rounds the final corner, Senna gasps in astonishment. There, filling the heavens, is the face of … Christ! The driver becomes hysterical. F***! F***! F***! Both arms flung out of his cockpit, Senna finally takes the flag." he is so dramatic and so me i will never come to terms with this

"‘I would like to thank McLaren and Honda…’ begins an emotional winner, before adding archly, ‘for the big improvement in my car over the last two races.’" HES STILL HOLDING A GRUDGE this asshat i swear stop that youre being too relatable stop it alain pls come back im scared

"There is just one unoccupied seat – directly behind Prost. Senna sits down and proceeds to nibble on the smoked salmon. ‘Hey, you were so far behind me, I felt sorry for you …’ From the adjacent table, Alain Prost has swung around and now rests his hand on his team-mate’s shoulder, ‘… so I let you catch up!’ Much laughter. Senna smiles: ‘That’s very kind of you, because I was just about ready to give up!’ The two gladiators laugh. It is a rare moment of accord, one that will never again be repeated." i... no word for this moment tf? its giving george and max having to sit next to each other at the driver's dinner but george moves his chair far away, but neither of the two here did that obviously, they just sat next to each other. no seriously, the fact that ayrton's seat is directly behind alains? nah fate design ts fr. and they laughing at each other? they're actually sharing a smile and laughing? see me in the air rn boy. see me in the air rn. unbelieveble. and fym it'll never be repeated?? hecks nah man this shit give me the tingles it HAS to repeat. but then again its one of the most intense rivalries to date lets be fr

the number of times i had to give myself a reality check is insane

"No retreat, no surrender." the book of life reference (not i just had to say it)

its not enough for them to win physically noooo they just HAVE to win mentally too

"‘I wanted to win this one to prove a point,’ grins Alain as he and Senna embrace on the podium." THEY EMBRACED I REPEAT THEY EMBRACED I CAN NOW RETIRE IN THE ARMS OF MY BED IN PEACE

"... A watershed moment." what does this mean. is it going to be a wet race? david what does this mean?! help!

"Five years into the future, on a grim May afternoon in 1994, the circuit will bear witness to the sport’s darkest weekend." there was no need to drop this bombshell man come on i was just enjoying their rivalry

"He had been impulsive, they say. He needs to know when to back off, they say." he also needs to know when to stop being obsessed with his team mate like oml most of their spats is because he just has to beat him or he will dnf a nut come on man

"Indeed, on Friday afternoon the Amalfi coastline looks anything but a tourist haven as a band of black cloud appears, stubbornly refusing to return from whence it has come." ANOTHER WET RACE OH MY GOD i just love wet races man its the most entertaining kind of race ever

"It is Gerhard Berger though who snatches provisional pole in the dying moments of the session. Perhaps Ferrari are back in the game after all. Gerhard shrugs: ‘Too early to say. Let’s see.’" our humble king. live laugh love gerhard

"Ferrari have flattered to deceive. Last year McLaren scored a crushing one-two victory and there is every reason to believe that history will once more repeat itself." i was so engrossed in the prosenna battle that i forgot that there is also a wcc and was immensely whiplashed by this lmao

"We should not risk an accident tomorrow. Prost and I should make an agreement: not to cause an accident at the first corner. After the first corner though … The pact of San Marino is thus conceived. 'What do you think? Is it a good idea?’ Prost pulls on his overalls. He has to admit, his team-mate’s proposal makes sense, quite a lot of sense. ‘D’accord. We do not overtake until after the first corner.’ The two men shake hands. Whoever makes the better start come 2pm will have immunity – until the second corner that is." they... actually agreed??? on something?? crazy absolutely crazy i cant believe this is real

"Sunday starts with a bang – a literal one as Berger’s Ferrari catapults into the concrete wall at Tamburello at an estimated 170mph, bursts into flames and then proceeds to ricochet along the wall for a further 100 metres. Race stopped." im telling you guys that corner is evil. tamburello is cursed yall

senna went back on his word oh my god i am on the floor while my heart rate is in the air these two are trying to kill me istg

"The little man feels betrayed." i dont know what moves me to say aww about this, but aww. little alain throwing a tantrum. *deep breath* AYRTON I TOLD YOU TO STOP POSSESSING ME DAMMIT IM GOING TO CRASH OUT STOP IT

and embarassed senna makes a return. i swear hes doing it on purpose so that alain wold yell at him again. i know what you are. we kin after all. no i have not come to terms with it yet

"Ron Dennis can only look on impotently. The McLaren chief senses the stench of civil war in the air. Going on 18 months he has gone out of his way to keep both men happy – a trick that has required the diplomacy of Henry Kissinger, the patience of Mother Teresa and the psychological knowhow of Sigmund Freud." pov ron: pls God im not your strongest soldier pls knock some sense into these idiots pls

"I’m thinking of quitting for good,’ announces Prost." so pissy he’s about to quit. you absolute diva this is not the time to say periodt.  

"Though ostensibly a test, today’s meeting is a rather elaborate marriage guidance session between his two superstar drivers, with Ron cast as marriage guidance counsellor." TS HAD ME SCREECHING AHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAA DAVID!!! DAVID KNOWS WHATS UP HE KNOWS THESE SNEAKY AHH BTCHES ARE BASICALLY AN OLD BICKERING MARRIED COUPLE WE LOVE TO SEE IT

Im scared for ron LMAOOOOOO i hope his marriage counselling works

IT WORKED HAHAHAHHA YOU SNEAKY HO HAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA GOOD OLD DENNIS TFFFFF his plan was to make them angry at him instead of each other and it. FUCKIN. WORKED. HAHHAHAHAHHAH OH MY GOODDDDD

Im commentating on their fighting like im watching a reality tv show what the hell lmaoooo. the divorce has begun.

DAWGGG THE DIVORCE. THE DIVORCE IS HAPPENING AAAA IM WATCHING IT ABOUT TO BEGIN AND IT HURTS NOT EVEN ONE SENTENCE INTO THE STORY AND ITS HURTING ME AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"‘I am very careful to control what I say,’ Ayrton tells the veteran journalist, ‘because I see the danger of damaging other people.’" bfsfr rn boy bfssssssssssssfr rn you aint been controlling sHIT in yo past seasons lets be honest

this is the part where he starts referring to him as frances baixinho lmaoooo

nelson’s still here? Lmaoooo i forgot he still existed lolol

hi jamesss

bro was losing so hard he thinks his only way out is by literally having an out of body experience im creasinggg

"Racing – winning – is everything to Ayrton Senna, almost." almost was not enough apparently he lives and breathes and nuts on that shit

oh my gad. he left. hes in ze ferrari. waeouw. supearb. i am now saying my prayers. hows senna doing.

dawg i feel bad for alain like im the one being beaten by senna pls ferrari work well for my guy before you start ferrari-ing again pls pls

oh theyre still teammates lmaooooo i thought alain had already left

"Prost rolls his eyes…" ok divaaaaa

"Poor Alain, so sad to see a great champion looking for excuses. A shame." poor alain is right babes stand upp quit moping and get to workk

oh my god whenever theyd go wheel to wheel im on the edge of my seat its like im watching a replay even though im not im just reading 😭😭😭

BOOMSHAKALAKAAA YES GAWDDD. YESSSS. im sorry ayrton but a win is a win. a win is a win.

…oop. he broke the trophy. relax!! you can get a new one made ron calm down. eughh i can feel alain’s sheepishness through my laptop screen grr. i can almost see senna smirking about small satisfactions and small victories in small battles, and, honestly, understandable, he's had a shite day

not the fisa adding fuel to the fire 😭😭😭

oh my god the next chapter is suzuka 89 😭😭😭 stop the planet im getting off

"‘So, when he retires yet again from the next race at Estoril, some fear for Senna’s sanity. ‘Who put the f***ing right-rear wheel on? Who?’" about damn time he starts getting pissy honestly

"Prost does not even figure in his calculations, not anymore." holy shit this is rare as fuck somebody write it down and take a picture

"‘Both men, believe you me, are driving on the very edge of their personal abilities,’ remarks James Hunt in the BBC commentary booth.’" AHHHH james you dont even know the HALF of it. asdfagaj ts got me scaling my wallss tffff

im scared i cant read im scared its the same with the french grand prix so im pretending it happens for this first time this year instead of 30 plus years ago somebody help

"‘Senna could lull Prost into a false sense of security,’ muses James Hunt, as prescient as ever. ‘He could then catch him unawares,’ adds the Brit.’" PERIODT!!! PE. RI. ODTTT!! OH MY GOD.

im scared for the next line oh my god senna is going to try something i just know it i swear if this is the part where they crash i will ascend good motherfuckin bye

"Had not Alain promised not to open the door this weekend?" dont count on it girl he motherfuckin hates you now dont count on it. theyre going to crash arent they? Shit.

and they crashed. i knew it. i. motherfuckin knew it. i *clap* knew *clap* it. I KNEW IT. SABIA. LO SABIA. i cant with these motherfuckers i swear

oh hes playing dirty rrr i love to see it. DONT EVER CALL YOURSELF BORING AGAIN ALAIN YOURE A SNEAKY LITTLE SHIT AND YOU KNOW IT

IT WAS GOING SO WELL TFFFFFF

AAAAAAAAAAA I CANT READ THE REST IM TOO HYPE RN IM GOING TO TAKE A SHOWER TO COOL OFF AND THEN COME BACK ISTG

(im back btches) HE DIDNT WIN HE WAS DISQUALIFIED RR. hooo okay we can calm down. neither won so im kinda disappointed but at least my heart can relax we can calm down ayrton is pissy ngl i would be too just kin things but i dont care we can calm down. God the hos werent lying this WAS their most heated moment. hooo gave me goose bumps fr so much i had to take a shower before continuing

"Senna v Balestre: the immovable object v the irresistible force." not ayrton always beefing with the french ho relax

"‘What the f***! This is ridiculous!’ Senna is on his feet, Dennis too. ‘Mr Senna, sit down! Sit down!’ He will not and does not. The driver is incensed. ‘You screwed me at Monaco and now you’re screwing me again!’ Accusations fly on both sides. With emotions running high, the hearing threatens to descend into chaos. Dennis and his legal team are taken aback: ‘Like preparing a case of shoplifting, and then being hit with charges of rape and manslaughter!’ says a shocked CEO of McLaren International. Judgement deferred.’" SHIT they fighting in the fia courts too 😭😭😭 the only thing im worried about though is the backlash alain is going to get for this im so scared for my queen somebody please protect him

"Given the vibes that had not been entirely unexpected." me when im reading tpatg

"‘They are treating me like a criminal,’ Senna tells the press, eyes moistening, the voice trembling." stop the whiplash that im getting this is where the media starts portraying alain as the villain isnt it? aw hecks nah man i cant do ts anymore. on the flip side, STOP DOING THINGS I WOULD DO DAMMIT SENNA PLEASE WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO RELATE TO EACH OTHER FUCK

"Nigel Mansell wades in too when he describes a ‘certain individual’ who has ‘got away with so much in the past and now it has come to a head’." nigel comin through my man thats my homeboy right there

"‘The sonofabitch blocked me!’ hisses the Brazilian. ‘He did it on purpose!’" i get insane whiplash whenever hed swear man

"Berger (and of course) Prost are adamant the race should not start and say just that." oh so now his bestie up against him too everybody just a senna opp atp

"While all around him heads are lost, Senna remains in his car with all the serenity of one who has found peace within. Now to put the plan into action." nahhh now im trippin immensely. he thinks of alain as such a sore loser when he is one himself. this is the craziest divorce i have ever witnessed to DATE

"Jenks also notes that F1 drivers are supposed to be amongst the elite, the best of the best. They are also paid more than enough money to prove as much. If that means racing in ‘diabolical’ conditions, then so be it." tell it to the past dead drivers’ graves bro, tell it to senna in 94. bfsfr rn man.

"1989 – F1’s annus horribilis – ends with Alain Prost as its world champion. Senna has to settle for the runner-up spot." i hate the shit we had to go through to get here, but a win is a win. a win is a win.

"Instead, he is consumed with Suzuka. It is all he talks about, night and day." and the ho is back to pondering. pop off ig senna.

"On the one hand the prospect of family life and marriage, on the other unfinished business in the world of Formula 1. He spends many days and nights in deep contemplation." contemplation of what, racing is practically in the man’s blood, sweat and jizz, i know the outcome of this contemplation

"And to think Nelson Piquet reckoned he was gay!" well he aint that far off ngl. that's probably the only real thing he ever said in his entire career.

"1990 is on. Prost v Senna III." aw shit. here we go again

"With a revitalised Frenchman declaring he feels like a ‘new man’, 1990 promises to be a vintage year." im sCARED. DONT JINX IT.

awww gerhard bless you such a sweetie compared to your monster of a teammate and his stubborn headed rival. YEAH THATS RIGHT IF THIS WAS A KINDERGARTEN I’D PUT BOTH OF YOU IN TIME OUT CUS THE BOTH OF YALL JUST DONT KNOW WHEN TO QUIT GODDAMN. im now mad at the both of them

"The FIA president laps it all up: ‘I would have come here on a stretcher just to annoy that lot,’ chuckles El Presidente, blowing kisses to a huge crowd of jeering Paulistans." no wait because who is this cheeky diva. he's problematic clearly but this was funny ngl. mohammed ben suckmydick could never

"The perception that Prost wins by default has haunted the Frenchman throughout his glorious career." nah cus same here pls this shit scares me ong

"Although well used to the attention, it is always a shock for this highly religious man to comprehend the effect he has on so many people. Often accompanying the letters are the types of photos that would make his mother blush. The messages, too, are to the point: My husband is away tomorrow afternoon; please I must spend just one afternoon with you … The half-smile. He selects another letter. This time the accompanying picture comes straight out of the pages of Playboy: I have loved you and only you forever. I want you …" nah cus the insane whiplash i got from reading this threw me off. there was NO need to put this in the book david. NO need.

pls let gerhard have a win pls i am taking a break from prosenna as i read this book because they are not doing wonders for my cardiovascular health pls bergie's a sweetheart let him cook

"All that hard work starts to pay off. Prost takes consecutive wins at Mexico City, France and Britain. Ferrari are on the move. Suddenly Senna’s world championship is under threat. As of Britain, Alain has 41 pts to Ayrton’s 39." shiet. i know i said id take a break but. shiet. dont tempt me. dont tempt me now ho dont tempt me.

"‘Will you guys ever bury the hatchet?’ The question comes from nowhere. A hush descends upon the Monza pressroom. A frozen stare from Senna, a frown from Prost. The question hangs in the air. Like a couple of sweethearts on their first date, the two men glance coyly at one another. Prost offers a nervous hand. Will Senna take it? Yes! Much to the delight of the media, the two men finally shake hands. The feud is over, for now. ‘We are both professionals who share the same passion,’ says Prost. ‘It is a start. And yes, I was moved by it,’ says Senna. So, friends again – at least for now …" NO BECAUSE I WAS FOUND ON THE FLOOR WHEN I READ THIS. I DIDNT EVEN READ IT PROPERLY, SKIPPED A FEW LINES AND ZEROED IN ON ‘SWEETHEARTS’. DAVID WHAT IS THIS WORDING. MONZA PRESS PEOPLE WHAT IS THIS QUESTION? DID YOU GUYS JUST MANAGED TO PULL OFF A LEGENDARY MYTHICAL TRUCE? I SAID DONT TEMPT ME HO I SAID DONT TEMPT ME NOW. GIRL I CANNOT. I AM READING THAT ‘LIKE A COUPLE OF SWEETHEARTS’ LINE OVER AND OVER AGAIN. SEND ME INTO CARDIAC ARREST WHY DONT YOU IT WOULD BE MUCH EASIER TO DEAL WITH THAN WHATEVER THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH YOU TWO HELLO????

hello james. hows it feel like to comment on this hellhole of a season.

"‘He [Senna] is a great driver,’ gushes Nigel. Ayrton repays the compliment. Prost’s reaction is best described in the words of Autocourse who note that the reigning champion, ‘looked as though he wanted to throw up over the pair of them’." its giving ayrton being immensely allergic to proquet in the 80s lmaooo. I know for a fact alain be complainin to elio’s grave rn.

"‘He [Prost] is very good at getting people on his side,’ adds a driver under no illusion as to his position in the Ferrari hierarchy. More tensions. Prost, for his part, suggests Nigel play less golf and spend more time in the garage." he’s just hella good at this psychological bullshit now, isnt he?

not suzuka again im boutta spin off the floor my god

"He thinks long and hard about many things: Balestre, the FIA, Formula 1, Prost, tomorrow’s race." uh yeah um uh question, how hard exactly? no i refuse to elaborate on hard thank you

"After several hours obsessing in the dark of his hotel room, he comes to a momentous decision: you work hard and try to do your best and they screw you. If Prost takes the lead at the green light tomorrow, I will take him out. Besides, he still owes the French driver for ’89." ah so EXTREMELY hard is the answer, got it. still refuse to elaborate

"Before he can continue, Senna is out of his seat. He cannot believe what he is hearing! Isn’t that precisely what he had done at last year’s race? Precisely why he had been disqualified! Precisely why he and Ron Dennis had been back and forth to Paris over the winter months arguing their case! Silence. All eyes on Senna." i know for a fact the rest of the drivers on the grid are eating the drama up

"If Prost takes the lead, I’m going to take him out." this race is going to shit isnt it. man these two cant just— gerhard? gerhard where are you? gerhard come pick me up im scared

"Prost opened the door ajar and Senna went for it. Déjà vu. Alain should have known better, and so should Ayrton. They’ve only got themselves to blame." FACTS tf these two just gotta gravitate towards each other every time they’re on track i cannot, not anymore im done gerhard come back here

"He is greeted by ESPN reporter John Bisignano, the man who routinely refers to a certain driver on the grid as ‘Elaine Proust’." this is funny though ngl this is how im going to refer to the guy from now on. on a more serious note has senna used this against alain and if he has how many times has senna used this against alain

"Nelson Piquet eventually wins a race described by Autosport as ‘one of the most tedious GPs on record’." once again i forget hes still here lmao im too engrossed in the prosenna rivalry lol

"When told of his former team-mate’s threat to retire, the Brazilian, usually a model of restraint, launches into an astonishing attack on his rival." this ho refuses to let him go dawg LET HIM GO. LET HIM GO— its his fucking life if alain wants to retire he will retire you can exist without him on the grid– okay, thats a lie, this is ayrton motherfucking senna we’re talking about here his entire life revolves around alain who are we kidding here why am i even fucking surprised tf

"Although nobody could have known it at the time, 1990 would prove to be the very peak of Ayrton and Alain’s bitter rivalry." please tell me this is a sign that it will start to mellow out

"Decisions, decisions. Such is the nature of Formula 1’s shifting sands, it only takes one bad call to jeopardise an entire career. Just ask Fernando Alonso." there was no need to dunk on the guy 😭😭😭

"‘Perhaps it won’t work, but we both want to try,’ announces a sober Brazilian, sounding like one half of a married couple." lmao i think we all know who the other half is. prosenna never beating the married allegations fr fr

not the ferrari ferrari-ing for prost. this must be what team lh must be feelin this year and what leclerc fans have been feeling practically all their lives

"Ayrton Senna has his third world championship in four years. Elation. Relief. Who could have guessed it would be his last?" not the foreshadowing again

"If you get f***** every single time you are trying to do your job cleanly and properly by other people taking advantage of it, what should you do? Stand behind and say ‘Thank you, yes thank you?’ No, you should fight for what you think is right and I really felt Iwas fighting for something that was correct because I was f***** in the winter and I was f***** when I got pole. I tell you if pole had been on the good side last year, nothing would have happened." aw hecks nah he’s popping off again i know for a fact ron regrets not media training him.

thank god he got sacked ferrari was going to shit anyway

"Prost catches the drift. A wholly French Formula 1 team. Hmm … where has he heard that one before?" lmao not the renault french civil war flashback 

bro got fired because he was sassy af i love to see it like okay charli xcx play 365 

there was a female f1 driver? dang, imagine the possibilities and opportunities this coudlve unfold… too bad she failed to qualify man :( i now have a new reason to be smad

"He is not the only one left cold at the news: ‘Just who does Prost think he is that he can walk into the best team of the day?’ asks an angry writer in Autosport’s letters page." ok ho, is you a driver? uh huh i thought the FUCK not btch okay square up

"Boom! A Budapest bomb erupts. Mansell quits!" a budapest bomb is right, cus what? wtf hes actually retiring. what do i do with this information?

"Mansell and third-placed Berger stare impotently ahead." they really said ‘we do not exist in here we will pretend we are somewhere else and ignore this raging idiot next to us we do not claim him and his energy’ lmaooo

"For once, the mighty one is wrong." well thank God

they just not never think about each other now, do they?

the girls are fighting once more and now the limits of my cardiovascular health are being tested. somebody pray for me. how they even managed to become friends towards the end of the year will forever be a mystery to me

hes like ‘idgaf man, sennas all the way in the back, this lead is just a bonus for me lol’

"Hasn’t he always believed in driving just as fast as it takes to win and no faster?" thats because his teammate was ayrton dawg, with senna there was a need to be fast, with damon, bless the guy, alain can relax. huge diff

"‘Boring’ says old sparring partner Niki Lauda, adding that ‘viewers can’t even keep awake long enough to switch off the television’." translation: prost domination be boring fans. welcome back king. also hey niki how you doin

"Post-race Alain’s anger is evident for all to see: ‘Just take a look at the video,’ growls the winner. A seventh win of the year at Hockenheim all but seals Alain’s fourth world championship." but he wins regardless ok let the boy rage

"While such tactics hardly endear him to the fans, it’s mission accomplished for one of France’s greatest sporting icons." WRONG it endears him to ME LETS GO ALAIN LETS GO

"They are going out in the same way they started, at the front, way ahead of their rivals." this gets me emotional oh my god for all of my slandering and hollering and hyping and cheering i will forever miss and cherish this rivalry dawg. prosenna you are very dear to me <3

"Lauda, Rosberg, Mansell, Piquet, Berger and more recently Michael Schumacher – great drivers and formidable foes each and every one, but Ayrton Senna has only ever had eyes for one driver, only truly feared just one man: Alain Prost." no because im actually going to tear up, this is so heartwarming to me tf 😭

"On the Adelaide victory podium all is forgotten. Senna hauls his rival on to the top step. His eyes are glassy. It all ends here. In an odd way he feels an emptiness, as if he is losing a part of himself today. All the rancour, the bitterness is swept aside; just Ayrton and Alain. Nobody else has ever mattered, not really. Embracing, it is as if both men sense that their eternal struggle has paradoxically brought them closer together, closer to an understanding of themselves. Neither man will ever step on to the Formula 1 podium again. It will be a last embrace. End of an era." and you’ve done it. im crying now. oh prosenna my prosenna you will be very dear to me. if i ever have a girl child im naming her prosenna i do not care i love them very much for all of their ugly fights and clashes and rivalry and murder attempts at each other you cannot deny that it was what truly made them special as well as entertaining nobody will ever do it like them ever again bro NObody fr

"All the rancour, the bitterness is swept aside; just Ayrton and Alain. Nobody else has ever mattered, not really." NO BECAUSE LET ME ZERO IN ON THIS THOUGH THIS LINE WILL FOREVER HAVE A PLACE IN MY HEART IM PUTTING THIS ON A TSHIRT

AHHHH THE PICTURE MONTAGE HAS ME ROLLING MY SHAYLAS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

awwwww niki and alain :((((

"A typically nonchalant Prost during Brands Hatch testing 1986. © Peter Denton" og nonchalant queen

"Smiles were a rare commodity at McLaren during the Senna–Prost years. Here at the 1988 San Marino Grand Prix, the veneer was holding – just. © Getty Images" NO BECAUSE WHAT WAS THE CONTEXT BEHIND THIS PICTURE THO???? when i see alain in real life, because i will and he will live to 200 trust me, i will ask him about the picture.

"End of an Era: The 1993 Australian Grand Prix would prove to be the last time either driver ever set foot on an F1 podium." AAAAAAA MY SHAYLASSS AAA MY SHAYLAS I WILL FOREVER LOVE THEM 

aaaaaaand i finished the book. all i have to say is, what a read, and, these two have been both the greatest comfort to me as well as the biggest pain in my ass. God bless the Prosenna rivalry, God bless David Sedgwick, God bless Alain Marie Pascal Prost, and may Ayrton Beco Senna rest in peace.

a more accurate description of my thoughts after reading the book would be ahsdyuaasocqagwuydgsygcygasuygayusdvyu qywe c8g w8fe wdycugsuydc uasg yua  aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

***

and scene. thank you for your time.

[tommyleesbrokendrumstick]

“ One day I am gonna grow wings. ”

An Izzy stradlin fic.

Warnings ; angst, mentions of $h, depression, anger issues, fighting, sewer slide (slightly in Izzy's rant) .

If your uncomfortable please click away<3

A/N; I wanted to write this because I'm going through a tough time and just need some Izzy angst to comfort me.

Plot; Izzy had been away at rehearsal, after a fight between you both, and came back to you after a break down and on the verge of a relapse.

You and Izzy had just had the worse fight of your relationship, and he said something along the lines of “Your a fuckin depressed crazy bitch.”, but you cant remember. Everything is so blurry and hazy, it's all fuzzy. The last thing you can remember? Grabbing the knife and sitting on the kitchen floor.

You say against the cold floor, your sleeve pulled up and the knife next to you. You had a past with cutting, and the scars had shown that for sure, but you promised Izzy to not hurt yourself again. Tears were streaming down your face, your head hurting profusely, and everything blurry. Izzy had said some hurtful things, and maybe he meant them all, and you knew he could be rude alot, but never has he brought up your past.

"You fucking crazy bitch! No wonder you parents never fucking cared for you, your so fucking psycho they couldn't even feel safe around you!" Izzy screamed in your face loudly, causing your ears to ring and head to start pounding.

"God what the fuck is your problem?!" You spat back

"My problem is that your fucking mental!"

The sound of the front door opening ripped you from your thoughts, and you stiffned.

"Y/N?" Izzy's voice rang out

No answer, you were still mad at him, but also, you couldn't even think straight.

His footsteps started approaching you, and before you knew it, he was shaking you to make sure your alive

"Y/N? Baby, are you okay? Hey, hey wake up, this isn't funny. Wake up baby." He muttered, sounding panicked but the sound of your breathing calmed him.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything earlier. It was really shitty of me, and you know that as well. I know I did wrong, and I know your mad at me, and you have every right to be, but please, just listen to me?" He sighed, sitting down next to you and wrapping an arm around your neck

"For a while, I've been feeling... different. I went to a therapist, told them what was going on with me, and they took some tests. I was confused, I didn't know why they were testing me. I told them I was lashing out on people for no reason, that I wanted to die, and i had no hope. After a day or two, they called me back said I had anger issues. Normally I wouldn't tell anyone what I told them, but I figured it out, I just wouldn't open up. I should have talked to you, told you what was wrong, how I was feeling. But for some reason, I didn't, I just bottled everything up. And then today, the bottle broke, and I lashed out on you. For no reason. It was really shitty of me, Y/N, I know it was. I don't want you to even forgive me for it, I don't deserve it, i don't deserve an apology. I did you wrong, I hurt you and said things I shouldn't have even thought about. I'm so sorry, I really am , I just want you to know i love you, i love you so much, and even if you don't love me back, I will still love you.” He ranted, and once he got to the middle, you realized that he was crying. He genuinely felt bad.

“I love you too, Izzy.”

I needed this. I love Izzy so much I genuinely cannot express how much I love him. He's such a kind and sweet soul

Also first time posting all month oh yes

Just remember, this is a fan fiction and my imagination!!

Tags; @nikki-sixxpixxx @ihrtstrang3rthing3 @slashduffizzysgf

[ninazadzia]

Title: 🩸 If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Yelena Belova Also Featuring: Robert Reynolds | The Sentry Rating: E (18+) Spoilers:Thunderbolts (2025) Word Count (Ch. 1): ~2k AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65393155/chapters/168280408

Summary:

Yelena is supposed to keep Bob stable. Bucky is supposed to keep his distance. Neither of them are doing a very good job.

rampant thunderbolts* spoilers. Inspired by Lana Del Rey’s Cinnamon Girl, which I listened to on a loop while writing this. 10/10 recommend hitting play while reading. ✨💔

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part i: bob

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there's things I wanna say to you, but I'll just let you live

—Lana Del Rey, *Cinnamon Girl*

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We can’t.

I had the words loaded and chambered. Practiced, even.

Bob gave me that look again—the one he’s been giving me more and more lately. The look that says maybe this time, even if it never is.

Usually, I shut it down before we get here. But tonight… I don’t know.

This was the last stop on our New Avengers press tour—a PR-fueled damage control campaign, cooked up by Valentina herself. And for the grand finale, she wanted optics. Flashbulbs. Champagne. A full-on gala, hosted at Avengers Tower.

“It helps us fight the Bargain Bin narrative,” she’d said.

Bargain Bin Avengers. B-Vengers. The press hadn’t exactly been kind—not since Sam filed that lawsuit.

And because perception was everything, Val hadn’t needed to say it out loud. I was to stay close to Bob. Keep him grounded. Presentable. On message.

They didn’t use the word babysit. But that’s what it was.

I was the one he trusted most. The only one he really listened to.

Natasha was to Bruce what I was to Bob. Emotional anchor. Ground wire. Whatever metaphor made it sound less grim.

And most of the time, I was good at it.

But tonight, he looked at me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the floor.

And he looked good.

He’d shaved. Put on a real suit. Even combed his hair. I don’t know if it was cologne or just clean skin, but something about him smelled different—sharp, warm, intentional.

And maybe I’d had one too many glasses of bubbly. Maybe I’d gotten a little too used to the way his eyes lingered on me.

Maybe—for once—I didn’t want to carry all the weight alone.

We were the last ones up. Ava had bailed first. Walker wasn’t far behind. Alexei fell asleep mid-rant, slumped sideways on the couch. Bucky made some dry crack about the Soviet serum losing its punch, then hauled him off like it was a chore he didn’t mind doing.

Which left me and Bob. Alone.

And close.

He reached for the champagne.

“Ahh,” I said, lifting a hand.

“What?”

“I’m cut off. Already past my limit.”

Bob hesitated. Then tipped the bottle—not to himself, but toward me.

I shook my head. “Nice try.”

His smile faltered. “Right. Sorry.”

He poured himself a glass anyway. His hands shook slightly—barely enough to notice if you didn’t know him.

I knew him.

“You sure that’s smart?” I asked.

“It’s not meth.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” he said again. “Just… I wanted something to take the edge off.”

I didn’t answer. Just watched him drink.

It wasn’t the first time I’d felt the pull between us, but it was the first time I let myself acknowledge it. The way he looked at me like I mattered. The way his knee brushed mine and didn’t move.

I didn’t want Bob. Not really. Not in the way he wanted me.

But I did want to be wanted. And he did that—wanted me—without apology. Without hesitation.

It made something ache inside me.

His eyes flicked to my lips. My breath caught.

The silence that followed was thick. Not uncomfortable, exactly—just heavy with the weight of whatever we weren’t saying.

Bob glanced at me again, slower this time. Like he was working up to something. Like he was asking a question with his eyes.

I didn’t look away.

And for one reckless second, I thought—what if I just kissed him? Just leaned in and let it happen. Let myself feel wanted. Let him think it meant more than it did.

He looked so soft, tonight. Not just cleaned up—but vulnerable. Hopeful.

But I couldn’t.

Not with everything I knew. Not when I was the thing standing between him and the Void.

He leaned a little closer, and for half a second, I didn’t pull away.

And then—

Footsteps.

Too steady. Too timed.

“Shit, sorry—didn’t realize you were still up.”

Bucky’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. He crossed into the kitchen without looking at us, poured a glass of water, and took his time drinking it.

Casual. Measured. Deliberate.

I’d pulled this move before. Walk in late, look unbothered, kill the mood.

Maybe he was just returning the favor.

He was already halfway across the room, headed to the kitchen like it was a casual water run.

Bob practically teleported to the far end of the couch.

I could still feel his breath on my skin.

Bucky filled a glass, took a sip, and only glanced at us on the way back.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he added dryly.

It was too smooth. Too perfectly timed.

I knew that move. I’d used it myself.

You sly bastard.

Bob was muttering something under his breath, looking at the floor.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to mine—checking. Not asking. Just seeing.

I stood up fast. “I’m heading to bed.”

And just like that, the spell broke.

I didn’t look back. But I knew exactly who was watching me leave.

What the fuck, Yelena.

I’d almost kissed Bob. Bob. Robert Reynolds—the Sentry, the Void. The most powerful human, being, or God recorded in human history. The one person on the team I’d been not-so-explicitly tasked to protect at all costs—and to help avoid emotional distress.

I tried my best not to run down the hall to my room. My hands shook as I ripped my dress off.

“Get a fucking grip, Yelena,” I muttered, like a mantra. How could I be so fucking stupid?

Bob and I had always been close—closer than the other Thunderbolts. I had a soft spot for him. And I knew he knew that. But the more I thought about it—the way he looked at me, the way he always looked at me—I knew he’d felt it too.

That pull, that longing, between us—it was real. But was it mine? Or was I just mirroring it back at him? Letting myself feel wanted, instead of… whatever the hell I actually was.

I threw on the nearest sweatshirt and pants I could find. Shut off the lights. Crawled into bed.

If I could just pretend to sleep, maybe I could pretend I hadn’t almost made the worst mistake of my life.

“We can’t,” I whispered to myself.

Even though the thought alone made me wet. Even though I could still feel his breath against my lips, his suit against my skin.

But I didn’t want Bob. Not in the way I wanted to be wanted. Not in the way I…

God. Why was Bucky always the one who showed up at the exact wrong moment?

Or maybe—the exact right one.

I slipped my fingers between my thighs. The pressure hit fast—hot, desperate. “We can’t,” I whispered again, as I teased the edge of my clit.

I’d fleetingly had this fantasy before—but it wasn’t like I’d ever acted on it. Not really. Not until now.

I imagined his head between my legs. His mouth. His hands. The weight of his body, holding me in place.

My thighs trembled. Breath caught. I was so close—

—and then the door creaked open.

I didn’t even have time to yank the blanket up.

“Shit—”

He turned fast—too fast. Hand up over his eyes like it could erase what he’d just seen.

“I—I knocked,” Bucky stammered, mortified. “I should’ve knocked louder. I didn’t think—fuck, I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked with it—panic, embarrassment, regret.

“You always check on people like this?” I managed, breathless, yanking the blanket up over my hips.

“You said you were going to bed. I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Clearly.”

He froze in the doorway, still turned away. His hand stayed over his face like I might combust on contact.

“Bucky.”

My voice came out quieter than I meant.

He turned, cautiously, like he wasn’t sure if it was a trap.

“For what it’s worth,” I said, voice low but steady, “this wasn’t… a regular thing.”

His mouth twitched. He didn’t quite meet my eyes.

“I wasn’t planning on it. You just… caught me on a weird night.” I shrugged, folding my arms. “Can’t blame a girl for having urges.”

That got a reaction—barely. The ghost of a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Especially when we’re all playing pretend half the time,” I added. “Like we’re not human.”

He was quiet for a beat. And then—

“You’re not the only one with urges.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. His posture went rigid the second they landed.

“What?” I said, blinking.

“And you’re not the only person on this team who wants someone they can’t have,” he added, softer, almost like it hurt.

Silence.

His eyes widened just slightly, like he’d only just realized he’d said it out loud.

“Shit,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“That sounded… personal,” I said, cautious now.

“I should go,” he said quickly, already turning.

“Bucky—”

“Forget I said anything.”

“That’s gonna be hard.”

His hand gripped the doorknob like it was an anchor.

“Sleep well,” he said.

And then he was gone.

[fictionstudent]

A psycho narrator won't work.

I was reading an amateur writer’s short-story where their main-character, who also happens to be the narrator, was a psycho. Like, super-psycho. She seemed to be a serial criminal who was in a secluded psych-ward for a long time, before she ran away and murdered a guy she was obsessively infatuated with. Crazy lore, right?

Anyway, I read that and I tried to understand that character. And… the short-story sparked a lot of questions in me. Because I was editing it, I was pointing out all the mistakes in the character and the execution of such a story, but when I was done, I asked myself if I’ll be able to do it or not.

And, to be honest, I kinda thought about it. How do you even pull off a psycho character like that?

First, lemme yap about the problems you’d face, if you’re up for the task.

***

#01. I rant about the problems you’d face

Alright, what makes writing a psycho MC a tough task, exactly? And the answer is: the character itself.

Think about it: who’s supposed to be the most well-written and thought-out character in your story? Certainly not the love interest who’s only there for thirst-trapping. It’s supposed to be your narrator.

And it makes sense. If you’ve ever made character-sheets where you list out all the goals, motives, and conflicts of all your characters, you’d often notice that the narrator’s sheets have to be way more detailed.

After all, more often than not, your narrator is gonna be your main-character. And since you’re telling the story from their eyes, the character has got to be everywhere!

Like, seriously, your MC does most of the tasks. And not just that—since they have a lot more screen-time than the others, you write a lot of them. You put them through a lot of new situations, and slowly, you get to work a lot more on them. Because while writing, you find out there was an angle about their character you never really thought about—so now that you’ve thought about that angle because you needed it for a scene, you gotta add the new details on the character-sheet.

If the story is long enough to allow it, your MC is gonna see through a lot of shit. They’re gonna feel happy, sad, frustrated, devastated—all that stuff. And putting them in such varied situations is gonna allow you to understand how they react differently to different situations and emotions.

And that’s why the traits/flaws lists of the MC are way more detailed than the others. You just… spend more time in their head, so you understand them better than any other character in your story.

Also, you have to understand them on a really deep level. Because you’re gonna write from their perspective, after all. The reader is gonna have a really deep level of access to the MC’s mind. Because, like I’ve said a lot of times, prose is different from films as a medium. A novel is founded upon the structures of character. And so, your character has to be strong enough to take up the weight of the story, or else, everything is gonna fall flat.

And the thing is: the psycho characters cannot be that strong. Why? Because… they mostly don't have a reason for their actions.

Because would you even call them a psycho if they had any form of reasoning for what they’re doing? Aren't they supposed to just… do shit? Like, that character was so obsessed with the guy, her love interest, that she killed him. How are you gonna explain that to your reader?

Why did she do that? What was she even thinking?

Your readers are not gonna get what she was thinking, because, to put simply, she was thinking nothing, right? She just did it. That’s why she’s the mysterious, mad-crazy character.

Your narrating character, the MC, can't be such a mysterious, mad-crazy person, because it just doesn't make any sense. Their action have no reasons and no thoughts behind them, and even if they do, they’re really irrational.

And you cannot put that up on the paper, y’know. Because your narrator is completely open to your reader. And their thoughts aren't gonna make sense to them. But, you can't let that happen—your character has to make sense to them, because that’s what makes the form of prose so relatable to the reader, doesn't it?

For the foundations of your story to be strong, you need your narrator to make sense to the readers. But, this mad-crazy character can’t do that.

***

#02. My suggestions

You still wanna tell the story. And, without sounding like an amateur. So what do you do now?

To be honest, I don't know. Figure that out yourself. That’s where most of creativity lies, after all—figuring shit out yourself.

You can still write it from the character’s perspective, to be honest. You just have to do it, like, really, really well, y’know. You need to play on that craziness, work something out. You need to give them really strong reasons for doing all the crazy stuff that you want them to do, or… just do something.

But what I’d suggest is to simply not write from that character’s perspective. Write from somebody else’s perspective, who can notice for your reader that this one character is acting like crazy and needs to go to that psycho-ward. It’s better if the character follows that crazy character at all times, and has no idea in the beginning about the craziness of that character.

Or just let another character narrate it for them. Like, use a character that got to know about all the details later, after the story has unfolded completely. I’m not really sure how, but that might work out somehow.

At the end of the day, I can only give you ideas. Work with what seems best for you and the story you’re forming.

***

#03. Conclusion

Yeah, that’s it for today. Thanks for coming to my TED talk, lol. To be honest, I’m having some troubles with my project for now. I think I need another edit, but I gotta wait so that I can give it a fresh eye, and… I can’t wait. It’s excruciating.

Argh. Anyways, that means I might be more visible here. Hope y’all like that, lol!

[maskandweb]

you have outdone yourself!! I love his big jacket and the way you draw his eyebrows 😭 number one on the headcanons is very very true. he’s jealous of peter since day one in kindergarten haha

number three definitely. I wish we were told about his home life more. in S2E3 he literally says ‘this is all my family has’ about his run-down house to spider-man which?? explanation please!

I wish we knew his relationship with his parents (keeping the dickhead father in there from the comics haha) and I wonder how they thought of him just… suddenly going, just leaving? they might not have noticed as flash says they’re not around much, but when he becomes agent venom he sleeps in the triskelion so… does he ever visit?

minor disagreement on his relationship with peter and harry on my end! but I do not mind yours at all haha, these are my personal thoughts:

hates (not even hates, just heavily dislikes) peter because of built up jealousy surrounding his smarts and home life

after S1E21 where flash gets stage fright and peter ‘acts’ as spider-man for him, flash’s dislike ebbs away (some of the reason is because peter also likes spider-man, because who can hate a guy who likes spidey? lmao)

S2E3 shows flash’s home life which now makes peter’s pov a ‘oh shit he may have had a reason for his dickishness’ but peter still dislikes the guy lol

when he becomes agent venom he LOVES spider-man and would do anything for him. I agree with the stages of grief haha, he totally flipped when he found out peter = spider-man, but this goes to my ideas about harry…

he dislikes harry. he didn’t really dislike harry before peter and spider-man and all that jazz, he just found him irritating (because of jealousy again of course) but in S4E8 he is FUMING and is so jealous of harry and peter’s relationship 😭

he loves peter (I see romantically but even platonically he does a LOT) so much so that in S4E6 while he’s literally being tortured all he’s yelling for is ‘spider-man’ and with the power of friendship he controls venom haha

that turned into a rant about my peterflash headcanons, but I also 100% agree with 8 and 9. sam would totally do that the little shit

yeah I think I did well this time

Flash Thompson finally

I was avoiding drawing him for so long bc I’m scared of drawing more buff characters lol but I think I nailed it

Headcanons:

1. uses humor to mask his insecurities, his over the top confidence and insults are defense mechanism, he is afraid of being seen as weak, but secretly feels inferior to his peers, he is jealous how successful people are - for example Peter and Ava are probably smartest people at school, Harry insanely rich and popular, MJ works at DBC, so it sometimes feels that everyone is better than him

2. always wanted to be hero deep down, despites being bully he really wishes that he could be like Spiderman, brave, selfless and admired… before becoming agent venom he lowkey thought he could be Spiderman’s sidekick lol

3. has complicated relationship with his parents, mainly with his father, which fuels some of his aggression and need for attention… he spends only little time at his home actually

4. has no idea Peter is spidey but after he’d finds out he’d go through every emotion - betrayed, amazed, furious, then proud… eventually, he’d brag that he always knew (he didn’t)… after that he would become more friendly towards peter and be protective of him… sometimes he would invite him to parties but pretend it was accident like “you are here? whatever, don’t embarrass yourself”

5. he genuinely likes MJ, he actually listens to her when she talks about justice or doing right thing, it lot of times stick with him… also he would try to impress her by bragging about his Spiderman expertise,… she’d be unimpressed

6. him and Harry would be okay around each other, not friends but they wouldn’t mind each others presence, they wouldn’t really talk at school but they often meet randomly at parties so they kinda know things about each other… he is bit jealous of Harry’s wealth and his fancy style in general but not that much he would hate him for it,… they are kinda rivals I would say but it more passive way… also during period of time where Harry would loose venom and before flash getting to it (the time when Harry would distance himself from everyone) he would notice and be bit worried about him

7. even tho he don’t like much Peter and ultimates at time they are new at school, after while he kinda befriends Luke (since they both like sports and gym they would kinda get along),… also when Peter’s words about not bullying others doesn’t work on him Peter sends Luke to scold Flash bc he knows he might actually listen to Luke… Luke would be just like: “man we already talked about this- not cool”

8. on the other hand after sam finds out Peter doesn’t like flash he immediately tries to befriend him, just to piss him off… but- flash sees sam as same loser as peter is, and he would definitely pick up on him too… but later on they would bound over making fun of Peter

9. this might be bit controversial BUT- I think he is totally intimidated by Ava but also thinks she is cool… he’s tried to flirt, tried to hide it with teasing and bragging and failed miserably… after that he just gives her very awkward thumbs up when she walks by

10. this will be no surprise but - he thinks Danny is weird, in his eyes he is loser number 3 to Peter and Sam lol, he would try to pick up on him too, but after he’d be paired up with Danny during P.E. for wrestling, and loosing to him during 5 seconds he would never ever try to make fun of him again

yep that’s all for now, enjoy