#this is my favorite thing right now and I will be writing more on the topic

[shroomyv]

ᢉ𐭩-LET ME FINISH!

Pairing: mark Grayson x f!reader

Synopsis: your cooking and mark won’t leave you alone. He’s all cheesy trying to get you out of the kitchen and into bed, but you gotta get em away. You know just the trick.

Warnings: some cheesy dialogue, tit sucking (m!receiving), overstimulation!, cum consumption 😼

A/N: 2 fics in one day, wowza. Honestly was tryna pump these out incase my weekend is more packed than I expected it to be. Also also, thanks for all the love on the last 3 fics wthhhh im literally so fckin grateful dudes and dudettes 😞. I hope you enjoy this one as well but ngl it’s a bit all over the place. Trying to get better at writing I promise I promise. (Tryna get a bit better at describing some of the shi to, cus u guys can’t see my lil mind visuals)

Dishes piled in the sink, pots warming ingredients on the stove, and the aroma of something sweet floating through the air.

You are Mark were cooking together—usually you’d have takeout but tonight you wanted to get your hands messy and show off your cooking skills to your boyfriend. “Hand me that.” You say asking Mark to hand you any ingredients you need at the moment. He was zoned out, his mind on everything but the food. “Mark?” You say in a louder but curious tone.

“Huh, yeah?” He said finally snapping out of whatever trance he was in as he handed you the ingredient.

“You ok?” Usually, when he zoned out he always worried about something. For once it wasn’t that. He had something a bit more risky on his mind.

“Mhm, sorry I was just thinking about you or something.” He said with a soft smile before walking behind you. He towered over you—wrapping his arms around your waist as he started placing kisses on your neck and cheek. “Mark, I'm cooking, be normal. We can do whatever you're planning on your little brain later—just lemme finish cooking.” You said knowing how he got whenever he began kissing you up. Once he got started—there was no stopping him.

“What am I doing…?” He said cheekily as he kept going—beginning to suck on your neck now. You felt yourself starting to grow a bit weak to his lips, they were warm and it felt like your neck was just inviting them there. He was distracting and it honestly seemed like he was trying to get you out of the kitchen.

“You said you were hungry, if you do this I can’t cook mark.” You said trying to shew him away. You were failing miserably since you were just leaning into his lips more and more. It felt so nice—it felt right. However, you knew if he won this one he’d just keep it up. You had to figure out something fast to keep him satisfied and continue cooking.

“Yeah, I'm hungry…but I can eat other stuff too…” Mark was making hints about eating you out once again. He was so corny but you liked every second of it. You two eventually backed away from the counter as you leaned into his kisses more. You finally had a plan in mind—all you had to do now was put it in motion.

“If that’s the case, I wanna eat some other stuff too.” You said in a passionate tone as your positions were now changed. He went from behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist to behind the one pressed against the counter as you were in front of him.

You knew he was sensitive—it was honestly one of your favorite things about him. If he wanted to start something, you’d gladly finish it for once. “Well…what do you wanna eat.” He asked in a bashful tone as if he was ready to back out now since he was practically cornered.

“Just wait and see…” you say blissfully as you get his shirt off of him. His chest was practically staring at you as if they needed to be sucked. His eyes shot everywhere around the room trying his best not to freak out and cum on the spot.

“Mark…you gotta look at me or I'm not doing it.” He was in a tough spot now but he did exactly as he was told as his eyes tried his best to focus on you. Your mouth went to his chest as they softly began licking at the nipple. He gripped onto the counter beginning to whimper already. That’s what you liked to hear, it’s what you wanted to hear.

“Oh, oh fuck-“ he groans out as his head rolls back a bit. He was such a sensitive boy. You use your free hand to start rubbing and twisting at the other nipple feeling it perk up in a meer seconds. He was squirming a little bit already. He wanted this, he wanted to distract you from cooking. You’d give him what he wanted since he did exactly that. You kept sucking at his nipple moving your tongue around it

Pop—smack

The sound of your mouth on his chest as he was struggling for dear life. You could see his legs getting a bit shaky already and you loved the sight of it. “Baby…please-“ he said in a whiney tone—he was struggling to keep it together as you made sure you worked him up.

“You wanna cum?” You say in a snarky tone as you continue sucking at his nipple. You liked how pink it was like a little strawberry. He was so sensitive in this area—like a delicate little flower. You’d use that to your advantage. You move one hand off his chest—slipping it down to his sweatpants as you try to get it off. He begins to wiggle and squirm helping the process go faster as they slide down to his ankles.

The same process was repeated with his boxers until you were finally able to see his cock. You could see the precum already dripping down from his pretty pink tip. God, you were obsessed. First, you teased, softly moving a finger up and down his cock.

“Cmon…please don’t…” he cooed out as he felt like he was gonna explode already. You liked seeing him like this. You liked seeing him beg to keep going—it brought happiness to your horny little soul. Your viltrumite boyfriend was now at your whim just from your simple tongue on his chest. Finally, you cut the teasing out.

You began softly stroking his cock using any of his precum as lube while you kept sucking at his tit. You loved looking up and seeing his struggling face trying to keep any bit of composure. He kept squirming and twisting—he didn’t even try to keep in noises anymore. He moaned and whimpered so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole world heard. You loved it so much though, it was perfect.

“Nngh- oh…oh fuck-!” He huffed n whimpered out as he began to cum. Your mouth makes a popping sound as it lets go of his nipple. You bring your cum soaked hand up to your face licking it off each finger. Mark just stared in complete awe and astonishment. He was entranced.

You knew he had at least one more in him. You had to get it out of him so he could stay out of the kitchen and let you finish cooking.

Your lips popping back on his nipple—this time you give attention to the one you ignored the first time. Everything felt more intense to him this time. He felt like he was melting into the counter.

“Baby…f…fuck-“ he moaned out struggling to form full sentences. Your hand got back to work on his cock except this time, you wouldn’t let him cum as quickly—you had to make sure he was a little exhausted when you were done with him. Your hand going fast, then slow, then speeding up again as it teased the hell out of his cock. You could see tears swelling up in his eyes from being edged by you. He was biting his lip, trying to keep in any noise as your mouth popped off his nipple for a second to speak.

“Ah ah, lemme hear all of it” you commanded softly before going right back to sucking his chest. “Can I…can..” Mark was trying to huff out some wish. You began moving a bit faster by stroking his cock as you could just feel he was struggling. He felt overstimulated already but knew it wasn’t over.

“Can you what mark?” You said in a muffled tone as your mouth was stuffed with his nipple. You were honestly starting to grow wet from this yourself. Seeing him like this was like a reward. He was starting to become a pathetic little mess.

“Can…can-“ he couldn’t even form a full sentence. You saw drool seeping from the side of his mouth as he struggled to try not to cum. He knew you wanted him to ask for it first but it was so fucking hard. His hip staring bucking into your hand—fapping for dear life as if he was ready to explode.

“Can…can…I cum- ngh- please? I need…to finish-” He said with a tear of pleasure rolling down the side of his face as you began sucking harder and stroking as fast as you could. If he was about to finish, you were gonna make it worthwhile.

“Sure you can…”

You said with a smirk as you sucked harder on his nipple one more time before he came. He was practically laid out against the

counter. “Since I let you finish, can I finish to mark?” You asked in a teasing way as you did want to finish cooking with him trying to fuck or distract you now. He just gave a shaky thumbs up before trembling his way to the bathroom to clean himself up.

You licked the cum off your hand before washing it anyway since you had to finish cooking.

You finally got to finish not only that you got a little treat—overstimulating your boyfriend.

“Mark! C'mon come eat.” You call out to him from the kitchen as he comes. Before you could even set plates out he grabs you up—pinning you against the counter now.

“You finished cooking like you wanted…my turn!” Mark let you have a moment/second to win. Now he was coming back to redeem himself. You just leaned back into the counter knowing it was your turn now and he’d finish whenever he wanted to…

[angelltheninth]

Can you write the Arcane women taking care of their girlfriend when she's on her period?

My own period is getting closer so I am feeling this ask right now.

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Maddie Nolen, Grayson, Sevika, Mel Medarda, Ambessa Medarda, Cassandra Kiramman

Tags: fluff, periods, bleeding, feeling sick, period cramps, comfort food, massages, cuddles, working out, suggestive content

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: If there was a button to opt me out of periods for the rest of my life I would press it so fast. It's not fair.

Jinx would run around frantically, literally burying you in supplies that she doesn't even know if you need. The type to try to distract you by talking your ear off and making you laugh. She feels guilty when she sees you cramping up in pain and briefly considers offering you Shimmer to make you feel better. If she needs to she will break into Piltover medicine shops to get you some better medicine.

Vi hasn't had the best experience with periods herself so she doesn't know how to take care of you properly. She offers you messages that worked with her when her cramps were really bad and makes sure you have enough water to drink since you're bleeding a lot. Kisses your stomach when she feels it flexing from cramps. When she feels you relax under her touch she smiles, knowing she's doing it right.

Caitlyn knows when your period is close so she takes days off work to tend to you. Piltover won't fall to pieces if she's not working for a bit, taking care of her girlfriend is more important. She can get you anything you need, be it medicine, pads, food you're craving, just ask her and she'll take care of it. Doesn't want you walking alone when you're feeling sick so she always follows you to the bathroom.

Maddie always makes sure she has your favorite comfort food ready for when you're on your period. It's a small comfort maybe but it's something she always wanted to have while she was on her periods, someone taking care of her. To make sure you don't get sick again she feeds you the food little by little. When a bit of food stains your lips she leans in to kiss you, distracting you for just a moment longer.

Grayson gets worried when she wakes up and you're not in bed next to her but in the bathroom holding your stomach. She knows what's wrong right away and carries you back to bed, telling you to stay put while she goes out to buy what you need. Helps you change into clean pajamas and kisses your legs, hips and stomach while doing so. Makes sure you get lots of rest, and lots of tea to help with the pain.

Sevika thinks that a good workout is a great way to help with your period pains. Obviously she won't push you past your breaking point or push you if you're feeling sick but a little work out will do you some good. She rewards you with food and drinks she knows you like, and those that keep your energy up so you're not as sluggish. Kisses are on the table too, and more if you're feeling up for it later.

Mel prepares you a big, warm bath and yes she will take the bath with you once you washed up. Pampers and spoils you rotten while you're on your period, she's even more attentive than usual. She makes sure you know that she doesn't think the blood is gross or unsightly, she might look prim and proper but she'd seen her fair share of blood. And she would never be grossed out by you, especially not now.

Ambessa lets you see her secret softer side when you're on your period. Her duties can wait a bit, she wants to spend a good chunk of her day with you instead. Physical activity is a good way to help with period pains and you already know she's not grossed out by blood in any way, so if you want to spend the day in bed with her it's more than welcome. Or you can just cuddle, that's on the table too.

Cassandra didn't have regular periods when she was younger but she knows how painful they can be. The last thing she wants is to see you in pain so she always has tea ready, it's right next to your bed, might not be tasty but it helps. She cuddles up next to you on the bed or on the couch, constantly kissing your cheeks, your forehead, kissing you on the lips, comforting you. Will even take a day off from the Council.

[written-and-readen]

imagine your making out with anaxa and your brother (Mydei or Phainon your choice not mine) walked in at the worst time?

Interrupted at the Worst Time

Anaxa x reader

Summary: Phainon is becoming a nuisance to Anaxa. First, interrupting his date with you and now...

a/n: Getting caught has to be one of my favorite things to write

"Kiss?" You tap your lips with a finger. Anaxa raises a brow at your signal.

"No, we're in public." He continues walking. Indeed, the two of you are strolling through Marmoreal Market, but it's not that busy. Despite knowing Anaxa isn’t the biggest fan of PDA, you thought he might give you a quick peck if you asked nicely.

"Awww, fine." Anaxa takes your hand in his as some sort of compensation. His eyes watch the way your lips pout, already letting his imagination run wild with how they’d feel against his. Of course he wants to kiss you. The problem is he might want it too much. He’s not about to draw everyone’s attention just because he can’t hold back and ends up making out with you in the middle of Okhema.

A shout of your name diverts your attention, and you're searching around for the familiar voice.

“Phainon!” You spot your brother in the crowd, waving at the snowy haired Chrysos Heir.

“Ah, there you are! And with Professor Anaxa…” Phainon’s tone goes flat upon seeing your hands locked together. He’s always been protective over you. After the destruction of Aedes Elysiae, the only thing you have left of your hometown is each other. At the same time, Anaxa’s hold on you tightens.

“Where are you headed?” You ask, hoping to ease the animosity somewhat.

“I was going to see if Theodoros has any new antiques.” His voice is cheerful again once he turns to you.

“Sounds fun!” You reply in a nearly identical chipper tone.

“Yeah, have fun with that,” Anaxa deadpans, peeved at having his time with you interrupted. Just as the conversation has started he's already pulling you away. For a scholar, he’s stronger than he looks, and you’re forced to stumble after him.

“I’ll see you later I guess!” You say over your shoulder to Phainon who’s back to glaring daggers at your boyfriend.

“What was that for?” Anaxa says nothing, continuing to string you along until you reach a more secluded alley in Okhema. You find your back hitting a wall and the scholar's hand placed next to your head.

"What...?" The words die in your throat when you realize just how close he is as he leans towards you.

"You said you wanted a kiss, right?" You can feel his breath against your lips.

"Yeah..." You affirm before he closes the distance. The insistent press of his lips has your knees weak, but when you go to lean back against the wall, Anaxa's hand catches your waist, pulling you into his chest instead. It's not the kiss you had imagined when you requested it, but you're certainly not complaining. When you part for air, Anaxa takes a good look at your flushed face, faintly smirking at his handiwork.

"Did you want to take this somewhere more private?" You ask, once again becoming cognizant of where you are. It's clear you both want more from the way you tug on the edge of his jacket and how his hands still hold your hips against his.

It's a desperate run through the streets of Okhema back to your house. You slam the door to your room seconds before Anaxa claims your lips again. You manage to slip his jacket off, tossing it aside to a chair before he backs you into the bed.

As you fall into the mattress, the kiss is broken, and Anaxa climbs on top of you. You think he's about to say something with the way his eye takes you in, seemingly studying every feature of your face with quiet contemplation. Instead, his lips collide with yours again.

You smile as his hair hangs down to brush against your cheeks, hands going to card through the turquoise strands. For someone who didn't seem interested in kissing you at all earlier, he's pretty eager once you're alone, effectively stealing your breath over and over.

The two of you don't even notice how you fall into a rhythm until it's broken by the door being flung open. Phainon was probably checking to see if you'd returned from your date with his professor, not expecting to find you beneath said professor. Your eyes are just as wide as your brother's at his intrusion. On the other hand, Anaxa is sending a glare equivalent to pointing his gun at Phainon's forehead.

"Out," You and Anaxa say at the same time, you more understanding yet insistent and him more commanding but both equally breathless. Without a word, your brother does as told and closes the door. Your body relaxes once it's shut.

"Annoying," Anaxa scoffs. You rub soft circles into his shoulder as if that's going to soften his anger (it does).

"We'll lock the door next time," You assure him with a smile that has him wanting to kiss you until he goes stupid. So, he leans down to reconnect your lips, and you melt underneath him again. With how lost both of you become in one another, neither of you remembers to lock the door.

[lovemepartly]

when he cheats on you ✩ squid game characters

warnings: 18+, some smut. swearing, toxic relationships. mentions of cheating, drugs, and drinking. 

featuring: my favorite asshole characters - namgyu, thanos, and myunggi 

a/n: this is an old draft but i haven't had time to write, sorry! this is different than what i normally write, so lmk what you guys think. i hope to post a request tmr! also, these are examples toxic relationships. please don’t ever stay with someone who does any of these things to you or cheats on you. 

here are some headcanons i wrote of thanos and namgyu where they are actually nice boyfriends!

namgyu ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

(based off a headcanon i wrote here)

it happened at the club. 

you and namgyu had been together for a year or so now, and going clubbing was part of your relationship. it wasn’t the best relationship you’d ever had. but you were young and he had a similar lifestyle to yours. on top of that, the sex was great. 

one saturday night, you saw him at the club. he was sat at the bar, drink in hand, with a girl on his lap who he was aggressively making out with. his free hand was positioned perfectly on her ass. he was drunk and you knew that. this was almost inevitable, considering the nature of your relationship, but it didn't change the way you felt. 

with the feeling of rage coursing through your veins and alcohol swimming through your system, you approached the nearest guy to you. 

“hey,” you said, flashing him a smile. “you’re really cute. wanna make out?” 

the guy’s eyes widened but he nodded eagerly and you pressed him against the wall, connecting your lips to his. he was a good kisser and his hands shamelessly roamed your body. 

suddenly, a strong arm firmly wrapped around your waist and pulled you off the guy. it was namgyu. he gave the guy a dirty look, shooting daggers at him, but didn't say anything, only tugging you away from him. he dragged you into the club bathroom. when he let go, you noticed your wrist was red with his fingerprints. 

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he gritted through his teeth. 

“me? you had a girl all over you like 10 minutes ago.” you retort. 

namgyu just shook his head, running a hand through his hair, but there was pure anger in his eyes. “you’re unbelievable.”

“aw, aren’t you sweet?” you tease. 

“listen,” he mutters, his hand making its way to the back of your neck and firmly pulling you towards him. “i don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, but you belong to me.”

you scoff. “yeah, right.”

his hand on the back of your neck moves to your mouth, his fingers lightly brushing your lips, before he sticks his thumb in your mouth. you suck on his finger intuitively, looking up at him through your eyelashes. he loved it when you did that.

“on your knees.” he muttered suddenly, and pushed you onto the bathroom floor. he began to undo his belt before dropping his pants and boxers. 

you grab his semi-hard length and pump it a couple times before taking him in your mouth. he’s more aggressive with you today than usual, you notice. he holds your head down and thrusts into your mouth, a small smirk appearing on the corner of his lips every time you gag and when tears begin to form in your eyes. 

but if this was his form of punishment, you certainly didn’t mind it. 

thanos ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

he doesn’t even tell you. it’s not until you open your phone one morning to countless of missed calls from your best friend and thousands of notifications on social media that you realize. 

there’s hundreds of headlines, thousands of people’s eyes suddenly on your relationship. you click on the first headline. “famous rapper thanos seen with new girl while touring. could this be the end of his longtime relationship?” 

despite the tears burning your eyes, you continue reading. attached in the article are several blurry images of your boyfriend kissing some girl at a restaurant bar. if it wasn’t for his unmistakable purple hair you wouldn’t be so sure that it’s him. surely there’s got to be an explanation you think. your hands shake as you dial his number. he picks up almost immediately. 

“baby?”

“i saw the headlines.” your voice comes out in a shaky whisper. 

you hear him sigh on the other line. “it’s not what you think.”

“so what, then? you just kiss all your girl friends?”

“shut up!” he bellows on the other end. “you don’t get it. i’m flying you out here so we can talk properly.” 

he hangs up without another word. within a couple minutes you receive screenshots from him with your flight information. he really wasn’t kidding. 

the paparazzi is rough, especially when you arrive at the hotel thanos is staying at. a bodyguard has to shield you from paparazzi lunging at you and the flashes are enough to give you a headache as they berate you with questions. 

“are you and thanos over?”

“did he really cheat on you?”

“are you here to end things?”

you stay silent and upon entering the lobby are escorted to his room. you knock on his door, and thanos opens the door almost immediately. still standing at the entrance of his door, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and burying his face in the crook of your neck. you squirm a little, trying to push him away, but he only tightens his hold on you. 

when he finally pulls away, he cups your face in his hands. a small tear rolls down your cheek, unable to stop it, and he brushes it away, before letting you into his hotel room. 

it’s messy but you don’t see any traces of the girl’s stuff in there, so hopefully they didn’t sleep together, you think. thanos sits on the bed and gestures you to come sit beside him but you shake your head, opting to stay pacing around the room. 

“i bought you something,” he finally breaks the silence and points to a bag on the desk. “open it.”

you reluctantly open the bag and find the most beautiful necklace you’ve seen. it’s gold with tiny pearls adorning it. it’s an expensive necklace and one you’ve mentioned to him before - you’re surprised he even remembered.

your breath hitches but you turn to face him and whisper shakily, “a necklace isn’t going to fix this.”

“i know,” he mutters in response and stands up, walking across the room to where you’re standing. “it’s not what it looked like.”

“what was it then?” you plead. 

he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “it doesn’t matter, baby. that’s all in the past. it’s only you and me,” he grabs your face, pushing a stray hair out of your face.

you look down at the floor, unsure of what to say. “look at me,” he says, and your eyes reluctantly meet his. “it’s always going to be you and me.”

he grabs the necklace out of your hand and turns you around slowly, clasping it onto you. you don’t protest. he places a soft kiss to the back of your neck before turning you around again. 

“let me take you out to a nice restaurant.” he says. you nod. 

you two leave the hotel hand-in-hand. the paparazzi is extremely aggressive, loudly yelling intrusive questions and smothering you with blinding flashes. 

the necklace was nice, and you’re sure the restaurant was going to be nice too, but in terms of your relationship with thanos - you don't know what the future holds for the two of you. 

myunggi ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

the worst thing with myunggi is that he decides to tell you himself. if it wasn’t for him admitting his mistake to you, you would’ve never known. and that scares you. 

you had been dating myunggi for a while and because he was a famous youtuber, he often attended influencer parties or events. you preferred staying at home and didn’t join him for those parties often. 

on one particular night, you got tired waiting for him to come home and decided to fall asleep. the next morning you awoke to find him curled up in bed next to you, tangled in the sheets. you ruffled his hair slightly and placed a soft kiss to his forehead before slipping out of bed and into the kitchen. you decided to get started on breakfast, getting out all the ingredients you needed. soon, you heard the sound of feet shuffling and a half-asleep myunggi appeared. he was obviously tired but made his way to you, placing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“you look tired,” you smiled. “how was the event last night? sorry i didn’t stay up. i was tired.”

“mmh,” he ran a hand through his hair. “it was okay.”

you took his lack of response as a sign of being tired and got back to work. “i need to tell you something,” he said suddenly, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“what is it, baby?” you asked, turning towards him.

“i got drunk last night,” he mumbled. “i didn’t even… i didn’t even know how much i was drinking.”

you frowned, unsure where he was going with this. 

“there was this girl - i don’t even know who she is,” he added quickly. “and i kissed her.” his gaze shifted from the floor to you, trying to gauge your reaction. 

you stayed frozen. he did what? 

upon your lack of response, myunggi decided to keep talking: “it was so stupid, i didn’t mean to do it. you know that. i would never cheat on you.” he took a step towards you, grabbing your hand, but you pushed him away. 

“what do you mean you’d never cheat on me? you just told me you kissed someone else.” you replied shakily. 

“no but i- i was drunk.” he reached for you again, this time grabbing your hands tighter so you couldn’t push him away. he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them softly. 

“myunggi…” you feel your eyes well up with tears. “i don’t know what to tell you.”

“don’t say anything,” he murmured, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “let’s just move on. i love you. this isn’t me, you know that. i love you.”

he dropped to his knees quickly and buried his face in your lap, arms wrapping around your legs. “i love you.” he said once more, his words muffled. 

you didn’t try to push him away, just let him latch onto you. when he finally looked up at you, his eyes were glassy, like he was about to cry. 

the way he looked at you almost disgusted you, how could he be telling you he loves you and crying when he’s the one who cheated on you? 

“i’m sorry,” he’ll whisper again. “you know i love you.”

[goshikisbaee]

Shinichiro As Your Boyfriend Headcanons

Content: Fluff

———

Protective but lowkey

Shinichiro isn’t loud about it, but he’s always watching out for you. Whether it’s walking you home late at night or subtly positioning himself between you and a sketchy stranger, he’s got your back.

Hopeless romantic vibes

He writes you the cheesiest love notes and slips them into your bag or jacket pocket, grinning like an idiot when you find them.

Flirty but terrible at it

He’ll try to be smooth, but his pick-up lines are so bad they’re actually endearing. (“Are you a magician? Because every time I look at you, everyone else disappears… wait, that was corny, forget I said that.”)

Hand holding enthusiast

This man lives for casually intertwining your fingers with his—whether you’re walking, sitting, or even just waiting in line, he’ll reach for your hand without a second thought.

Unapologetically clingy

If you’re sitting on the couch, he’s immediately pulling you into his lap. Bonus points if he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

Embarrassingly proud boyfriend

He brags about you to literally everyone. Even the most mundane things you do have him grinning like an idiot. (“Yeah, my s/o parallel parked perfectly today. No big deal, just a legend.”)

Soft for forehead kisses

He loves to press his lips to your forehead out of nowhere—it’s his way of silently saying, “I love you.”

Absolutely spoils you

He’s constantly showing up with random little gifts—your favorite snack, a keychain that reminded him of you, or even a thrifted jacket he thought you’d look cute in.

Sleepy cuddles

When he’s exhausted, he melts into you—completely limp, nuzzling into your neck with a sleepy mumble of, “Don’t let me go, ‘kay?”

Big on compliments

He randomly blurts out the most heartfelt compliments in the middle of casual conversations, catching you off guard. (“You look so beautiful right now… just thought you should know.”)

Affectionately annoying

He loves to poke your cheeks or blow raspberries on your neck just to hear you giggle—or whine.

Terrible at arguing with you

The second you tear up even slightly, he’s immediately backtracking, pulling you into his arms with a shaky, “I’m sorry, baby. Please don’t cry.”

Bike rides together

He lives for the sight of you on the back of his bike, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The way you cling to him makes his heart race.

Jealous but subtle

He won’t make a scene, but if someone flirts with you, his hand immediately finds your waist. His touch is firm, possessive, but quiet—just enough to make it clear you’re his.

Gives you his jacket without asking

The second he sees you shiver, he’s already draping his jacket over your shoulders, insisting he’s “not even cold.”

Plays with your fingers absentmindedly

When you’re holding hands, he mindlessly traces circles and patterns on your skin with his thumb. It calms him down.

Cooks for you

(even if he’s bad at it): He’ll try to make you breakfast in bed, but somehow the eggs are slightly overcooked and the toast is a little burnt—but he looks so proud of himself you eat it with a smile.

Whispers cheesy things in your ear

He leans in close during random moments, whispering, “You know you’re my favorite person, right?”—his breath warm against your skin.

Clingy when sleepy

If you try to leave the bed in the morning, he groans and tightens his arms around you, whining, “Nooo, five more minutes… or forever.”

Slow, teasing kisses

He’s the type to kiss you slowly—lingering just a little too long, smirking against your lips, and pulling back only to murmur, “I could kiss you all day.” 

———

💋 💋 💋

[echolynn13]

SFTH Chaotic Highlights (OMG Is This A Joke)

Alright, I'm finally starting to make these for the longforms! These are gonna be quite a bit longer than the other two I've made, since these videos are (typically) longer and I have a lot of thoughts about them lol (edit while writing, less than halfway through the video - yeah, I have way more to say than I thought I would)

Before I even get into the video itself, I just love the bold move of having their first Youtube longform be one about nazis, let's people know the kind of humor they'll be getting from these guys lmao

Also shout out to the not insignificant number of people who fully didn't recognize AJ with hair

Luke's executive decision to grab a prop gun and just stand there like 🧍🏼

"If he was only a foot and a half taller, he would be a perfect nazi!" Still one of my favorite Luke short jokes, because if I was him I genuinely wouldn't know how to take that observation-

Not sure why Sam chose the puffy purple jacket for his villain character, but at least we get to call him Ze Blackberry now

I'd like to imagine as Sam was introducing himself, he looked over to Luke like 'oh shit right, he's still just fucking standing there, I should probably include him somehow' and to Sam that ofc meant flirting with him

Which btw is the strangest flirting attempt I've ever seen- "Beautiful little pocket-sized Aryan" and "Sexy little ferret" ?? Guys I've never flirted with anyone but I don't think he's doing it right

"Guten Abend" Luke/Hans isn't good at this flirting thing either, but at least they're both having fun

Two French brothers casually parachuting over Berlin during World War II, nothing weird about that

"Ja- yes- er, oui! I'm trilingual, I'm sorry" Idk if it's the language confusion or the fact he apologized to the nazi, but this was a great line

"The plan is working perfectly, we're making them uncomfortable. Keep it up!" Luke, who has done very little in that regard except respond to Sam: "Okay!!" *just keeps standing there*

"Hard day being a nazi?" Considering you're currently giving him a backrub and are probably about to fuck him, I'd say he's having a pretty good day

Before Luke's BAFTA winning portrayals of grief in The Evil Make-A-Wish Kid and The Grape Depression, we had AJ's sobbing in OMGITAJ

So glad this play was set mainly in France so AJ could show off his French knowledge in the best ways (skipping across the stage and singing)

Sam characteristically entering briefly as an unspecified beast that for simplicity I'm going to call a ram

Genuinely one of my favorite and most underappreciated moments in the video is Katherine assigning Luke's character a feminine name, which he clearly didn't expect, and he just takes a moment to reevaluate life, while staring at the comedically placed banana in his hand. 10/10 fantastic bit

"My husband has been captured" "You know this for sure?" "Well he didn't come home and he's a French spy so" Fair logic that was 100% correct

"I already have a husband" "Well Xavier will have to wait until he's officially dead then" rip Jean-Luc man, at least Sarah seems to genuinely love him and be loyal though, good for them

Tag yourself, I'm AJ fangirling heavy over Xavier as he walks onstage

"I could have mimed it but I did not" has and forever will live in my brain rent free, bro had no reason to do that but took the fucking opportunity

Also Sarah's friend (did she ever get a name?) is simping for Xavier more than Sarah herself, they could've just fucked instead

"I don't know the French word for mice" "C'est une souris, une souris, une souris" French lessons with AJ

I've already made a whole post about my love for pre-reveal Xavier, but jesus, can you blame me? This character is the actual reason I started being attracted to Tom in the first place, why is he so SMOOTH-

Also the fact Luke didn't even flinch when Tom tilted his chair back and just nonchalantly crossed his legs- This whole scene is perfect istg

"I'm just going to take a few pictures-" That's so real of you girl

"I am a man" Gonna start saying this in front of the mirror as affirmations in the morning, same tone and everything

Tom launching himself across the stage before he even has the chance to rebutton his shirt lol

"Look out! It's the nazi-looking guy!" Saying this about the actual nazi is so funny

Not me being genuinely kinda sad about François getting killed

Katherine getting into Sam's carriage with a pumpkin (For some reason??) and Sam pausing not once, but twice, and eventually deciding to proceed as normal and not question it

Jean-Luc: *crying because trauma* Katherine: "Aw.. If you're thirsty you could drink it!" Katherine might've earned her place as my favorite 5th SFTH member they've had

Big Hans showing up with an entirely different vibe from the last time we saw him- Maybe because he's not busy being gay with Ze Blackberry

But really, why is this nazi boy so excited about the french language while he's taking over their country

"Les coqs :D" Sir what is this energy you're putting out, it's confusing me

I like that instead of just saying something like "It's a French horse, why do I care if I kicked it" he's just like "German horses wouldn't give a shit, your horses are just weak"

"Very hairy chickens you have here" A joke they couldn't have made now-

I'd just like to point out that Big Hans didn't get shot from what I could tell, so he could technically still be alive. Idk what to do with that information, I just wanted it out there

Tom pulling his classic sexy-character move: Foot dramatically placed on chair

The cleaner just being like "what a fucking mess, god I hate my job" as if Xavier and Sarah aren't currently having a whole plot-altering revelation in the same room

Oh yeah, and this is also the moment I was very relieved Sarah was a better person than me (/hj) and didn't sleep with Xavier

Also, mostly unrelated, but Katherine's voice specifically as the cleaner reminds me of DHMIS every single time and idk why

"Are you quite finished??" "... Honestly, no"

"But who would do that? Who would do- It was me" He tried to be mysterious but Xavier really wanted credit for what he did

Sam the Ram returns! Very cool that their first video had classics of all kinds: Sam being a chaotic animal, AJ getting to be French, Tom being a sexy German, and Luke being an equally-attractive-but-not-quite-as-played-up woman

"I was tortured by two men gettig with each other next to me" "They're always doing that, the nazis" If SFTH can make nazis gay af, they truly can do anything

Why does Ram-Sam look so offended on behalf of the French after Luke's "It's in my nature" line lmaoo

"Where did you get my dildo!?" Amazing line from Luke, but really what was that thing??

And ofc Xavier dies as he lived.. Shirtless. Sexy evil bastard-

[whatwouldeddiedo]

Can I ask what it was that changed your mind? Or was it more than one thing? I'm so curious because I suspect a lot more people are about to as well...

well, idk a lot of things. like, mostly i've always been a Buddie First person. Like it was really the ship that got me into fandom, and I've always suspected there was a chance we'd get canon buddie in the end (i think at the lowest end of the scale, i was giving it a 50/50 shot and never less than that). i didn't mind tommy at all, and i even liked the pairing and enjoyed buddietommy AND i actually enjoy eddietommy as well (i actually think it's my favorite of the Tommy Ships and I have some friends that write really really great eddietommy fics that i definitely will still read).

i honestly have had some mixed opinions about all of the fandom drama type stuff - like i have people blocked on both sides who said things that didn't sit right with me so it's not so much that. i mostly tried and still try very hard to keep out of That Part of it because I just don't see any reason. There are always gonna be shitty people in all parts of any fandom I don't particularly see any reason to single out an entire shipbase for the actions of a handful of people who don't have lines or understand that harassing real people over fake ships is wrong.

after confessions, i think bt just didn't really hit the same for me maybe? like i was sad for a minute and i thought i might miss tommy as a character, but in the end i barely even noticed all that much, and the break up was kind of like eh, for me. like i liked it for what it was and then it was done. not to mention, in general, there was a lot of negativity and just downerism over there anyway - suddenly everyone hated the show and Had Never Liked It To Begin With and it had Always Been Bad. Half of the BT fans were like Oliver is a Horrible Diva Who Just Wants Attention. Tommy/Lou got me in teh divorce. Etc etc. It was kind of a nightmare and just sucked the fun out of everything for me, personally. I don't begrudge anyone it didn't do that for. Everyone should have fun in fandom the way they choose, but that's not fun for me.

And then 8x09 happened and it just felt like buddie happening was imminent and i got really excited because that's legit what i've always wanted (and was never quiet about! i never denied it! i always said it was what i wanted!), and i followed some more buddie shippers and just got more and more excited after that ep.

and then i started to lose followers/mutuals lmao. like it started with one person and some vague posts about people being delusional, and then i just decided i didn't care. and then i got an anon asks telling me i was "hanging out with toxic buddies" and they were "ashamed we were ever mutuals" and i was like ah i see this is what it's gonna be like. i am just posting about the ship i like the most and being excited and whimsical and clowning about it with some friends and this is what happens. so i just decided i didn't care anymore and really embraced it.

because to be honest, i'd rather be a ridiculous delusional buddie shipper than the kind of person who unfollows and blocks their friends because they like another ship better, and i think after last week's episode i'm just fully all in and i didn't really love the way tommy acted about all the eddie stuff anyway (like i really really thought making a celebratory claim about the man you're trying to get back together with's best friend who you KNOW he has a really deep relationship with is a dick move), so i just. idk. and i've found that buddie fandom has been more of a fun and positive experience.

and i'm sure there will be people here who won't like me because i was on that side of the fandom for a long time and because there's a part of me that definitely still finds tommy interesting as a character, even though i don't want him dating buck at all anymore, and that's fine too, but i am fully all in on buddie now. it's what i want to see. some of it has to do with fandom, but most of it has to do with actual canon and the fact that it's always what i wanted, and it was just fun enjoying buck kissing a boy for a while, but now i feel like it's time for him to be kissing THE boy, ya know? like tommy helped him get here, but eddie is his person. like really for real his person, and i won't apologize or feel bad for feeling that way and thinking that's what the text is telling me.

IDK if any of that makes sense. I just hope I don't lose any buddie followers for any of what I'm saying. lmfao

did that even answer your question?

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Going one by one🩵 These are my favorite comments to get HERE WE GO

Bobby's sick of everyones shit. She and Dean won't stop making heart eyes and he can't do anything about it, Sam's being a butthole and he's too stressed to join in, everyones dying. Someone get him a Xanax

BOBBY IS GREEN (... not to give you homework but it's actually mentioned earlier, literally half the story back)

.... no comment

Bobby doesn't need to ask that question he'll know when it happens🩵 (she'll be happier and Dean will look like he won the lottery. Honestly Bobby is team "let them bang" cause the ship has sailed he just actually wants it to land somewhere)

.... no comment

She's a girlboss. A murdery, slicing girlboss

Therapy would do both of them wonders. Two people have never been more stressed over their self-worth and blinded by their own affection to see what's right in front of them. Rivaling Ben and Sunshine from No Love Lost levels of denial (please ignore my self-promotion im sorry)

SKY DADDY NOOOOOOOOO (no comment otherwise)

They be lending the others grace they do NOT lend themselves "dont kill yourself princess" as if he was not ready to roll over and die literally six months ago

Ellen IS mom now.

Thank you I was proud of that one🩵🩵 He would. He's a creature

I loved writing the soul convo cause she's trying to downplay it (she's SO worried she's gonna say the wrong thing and he'll leave) and Dean's just like "I'm GOLD :)". He's a puppy.

Yeah :(

I should really start looking into that then.

Thank you so much again!!!! And you CAN call me pookie

Chapter 14 - Water Is Forever

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: I love writing chapters where Bobby comes in with a steel chair to once again prove he's father of the year.

Chapter title from Hurt Feelings by Halsey

Word Count: 17.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Dean, Sam, and Bobby go on a hunt, and you and Jo take a road trip. Usual warnings.

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

Chapter 13 - Chapter 15

Read on A03!

The day had been long. Long and slow and heavy, all howls in the wood and misshapen faces on trees, machetes in their hands and Dean staring at his phone, hoping She’d call.

She wouldn’t. She when they’d left Her at Bobby’s, She hadn’t even looked up for Her book. Bobby said he’d call Jo to make sure She didn’t burn down the house on accident.

They all knew She wouldn’t.

The house was where the books were. 

But She might burn down herself. Jo needed to be there, because Dean couldn’t be—not now, not as sand slowly slipped them by on the wind, and his time became thin—but She shouldn’t be alone right now. She’d spiral. Dean knew Her.

He knew that, before, he would’ve been worried he’d return to Her hand around her own neck and long, raised scratches on Her skin. And now, when he truly knew everything, he knew he’d return to that. To panic in Her eyes and strangled sounds from Her throat, Her back pressed to the wall and the Blade in her hands. 

Relief would sag in Her shoulders, when she saw he was in one piece. It always had, over these past two months, and he’d done all he could not to leave Her side. It was the damn least he could do, really, when She was still losing Her mind to save him. And She hadn’t wanted him to go on this hunt. She’d thought it was a bad idea, that they shouldn’t be letting Dean put himself in situations where he’d be in danger right now.

She was right. But Dean had insisted on this last, semi-normal hunt—he wasn’t allowed to call it a last hunt, because he had once, and She’d looked like she was about to punch him—and promised he wouldn’t come back with a single scratch.

She’d glared at him, and made him pinky promise, but he’d gotten away with it. They’d left two days ago, and—unless someone fucked up—they’d be back tomorrow.

And She was going to kill him.

Because his hands were covered in his own blood.

“Told ya’ not to run, boy.” Bobby said from above, leaning over Dean’s body to see the tear in his jeans. “We ain’t tryin’ to break you here.”

Sam hummed Her name from ahead, shooting Dean a smirk over his shoulder. “She’s gonna be mad at you-“

“Shut your face, Sammy.” Dean pushed himself on his palms, ignoring the splintering wood and mud from the dirt. “She won’t get pissed I fell. She’ll kick your ass, though-“

“For what, letting you fall-“

“For forgetting my fucking bubble wrap. Supposed to be watching me, bitch, making sure I don’t get hurt-“

“I can’t stop you from being stupid, jerk, Bobby told you not to run-“

“I wasn’t running-“

“We’re not blind, Dean, you were obviously fucking running, and she’s gonna kill you-“

“Not if I kill you first-“

“That doesn’t make any sense-“

“Hey!” Bobby blocked Dean’s path with an arm over his chest, running his free hand over his face with a sigh. “Both of ya’, shut the fuck up. Dean, stop runnin’, and I’ll look at that when we’re done to make sure it don’t get infected. Sam, stop teasin’ him, he’s sensitive.”

Dean scowled. “Hey-“

“And,” Bobby snapped Her name, completely ignoring Dean’s glare. “She’ll kill all three of us if we don’t deliver Prince Charming back by sunrise. So damn focus, or I’m callin’ this all off. And apologize to each other like men, instead of little fuckin’ babies.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam kicked a rock with a frown, but they mumbled apologies, and kept moving through the woods.

It was just a vamp nest. Simple. In and out, take the edge off with the hunting and hopefully come out with their homework.

She’d found mention of an old lore book that this vamp nest should have a copy of, and could be another lead.

Likely an empty one.

They all knew better than to tell Her that.

Besides, this was pretty much just a normal hunt. They’d stopped doing normal hunts when Dean’s timer hit one month, it and had been taking a toll. Sam sat too tall and rigid in his chair, Bobby always had a beer on the table, and She-

Dean was really fucking worried about Her. She’d only remember to eat when food was put in front of Her, only go to the bathroom when Dean asked when she’d done it last. Every night She’d pass out over a book—Dean waiting across the table, pretending to do his own research, but mostly just staring at Her—and he’d carry Her to bed. It was eating at his gut every second, how She was doing this to herself for him, and She wouldn’t even entertain the idea of slowing down or resting.

That was the real reason he wanted Jo there. She couldn’t be alone, but She wouldn’t do this, so Dean needed to know She’d have someone to watch her while he was out. 

Mostly, he just wanted to know She’d have someone at all.For after. For when the timer ran out, and Dean was either there, or… Not. 

It was looking a little damn bleak.

“If we don’t get these pieces of shit tonight,” Bobby grunted, his machete resting over his shoulder. “We’re headin’ back. It’s- We don’t got the time to waste on a goose chase.”

Dean didn’t protest. It was the right call, because they didn’t. And he’d needed this, but not more than he needed Her, and he couldn’t have Her if he was goddamn-

He wasn’t allowed to think that word. 

So he thought of Her instead. Probably exactly where he left Her in the library, covered in a blanket because Jo wasn’t strong enough to carry Her to bed, maybe with bite marks on Her hand and too-hot coffee seared on Her tongue.

“Bobby, you get any calls-“

“She’s fine, Dean.” Bobby sighed, shooting him a flat look. “She’ll can handle herself.”

Dean frowned, because She could. She could spin a knife between Her hands and drive it into a monster or demons heart without breaking a sweat, looking beautiful when the blood splattered on Her face and glowing after She washed it away.

But Her handling herself wasn’t what Dean was worried about.

It was the fact that any blood She split might escalate to being Her own. It was that She could handle herself, but son of a bitch She couldn’t take care of Herself. Not in a way that counted, that didn’t make Dean’s skin itch and crawl with something bitter, because he should be there. She wasn’t sleeping to try and save him, and—even though a second didn’t pass where Dean wasn’t trying to talk Her into just a moment of rest—the least he could do in return was take care of Her.

He was, somehow, the only one who ever really seemed to know how to care for Her. 

“I tried to do your thing once, by the way,” Sammy had said last night, watching Dean from over the top of his computer. “Doesn’t look like it works when it’s no, you know, you.”

Dean had frowned, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, knowing he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight because it was too big, and there was an empty, dull spot to his right where She was supposed to be. “What are you talking about, my thing.”

“That thing you do. With- You know.” Sam had said Her name with a shrug, and Dean had glanced back to that empty spot with a frown. “Where you go like this, and she stops freaking out.” Sam ran his own thumb down his nose, giving Dean a pointed look. “It doesn’t work when it’s not you.”

“I-“ Dean had swallowed, shaking his head. “That’s not my thing-“

“Yeah, it is.” Sam had shrugged, as if what he was saying was nothing at all. “Only thing I’ve ever seen work, by the way. You should be careful with that.”

Dean had heard the underlying words. You should be careful with Her.

He was being careful with Her. He’d been more and more careful, since everything had fallen into place, and he finally fucking understood. It had been like he was staring at the most important photograph in the world, but a lense flare had been blocking half of it. But it had been a photo in the broad sunlight, of silver water in a lake, with flowers and life all around it and the flare placed so perfectly that it could just be a reflection. A part of the picture that was unknowable with purpose, that no one was supposed to see. And he’d wanted to. Dean had always wanted to mean more to Her than anyone, and see past that lense flare because he was an exception to Her, the only one allowed to see that too bright, secret, hidden spot.

And he hadn’t been. If anything, Dean had been the exception because every other damn person got to see but him.

He should hate Her for that. 

He was done trying to.

Because now he could see it. See Her. All of Her. And for the first time since he’d met Her, Dean almost fully understood Her. 

And son of a bitch, every single part of Her was bright and beautiful, and he didn’t goddamn deserve it at all.

It wasn’t a lense flare. It had never been a lense flare. It was a covered part of the lake, where everything was overgrown and tangled and colorful, almost more blinding within itself.

Dean wanted to live in it. He wanted to know everything about it, because it was part of Her and nothing that was Her could ever be wrong. If it was an ingrained, sensitive and angry organ, he'd tend to it. If it was a stained window that filtered all Her light, he'd worship it. If it was a sickness, he’d cure it.

He just had to know it first.

"So you've been- Just your whole life?" He'd frowned at Her in Bobby's kitchen, his words slow and careful. "Or was it like, a puberty thing?"

All of them gathered in the flat, hot and tight air to walk Dean through the situation. Sam leaning against the counter, Bobby in the doorway—braced slightly, as if she was going to make a break for it and he wanted to be ready—and Dean across from Her at the table.

He'd thought about sitting next to Her—feeling the heat from Her body, pressing his thigh to Her's to keep her steady and check that this wasn't a dream—but then he wouldn't be able to look at Her. Know what questions would cross a line from seeing it written all over Her face, figure out which words were lies as if it were a sixth sense. 

He wouldn't be able to catch Her hands and pry them apart when She picked her skin bloody and raw.

“I-“ She’d glanced at Bobby—as if She was unsure of her own answer—rubbing the scar on Her palm as she spoke. “It- I mean, it could’ve been a puberty thing-“

“Maybe. Dunno.” Bobby had shrugged, his voice barely a grunt. “Didn’t take you off the road splittin’ trees and causin’ creeks to vanish-“

“Creeks to-“ Dean had gaped at Her. “Oregon.”

She’d flinched slightly. Dean had forced himself to grip the edge of the table instead of reaching for Her. “Yeah.”

“I thought I was going crazy.” He’d muttered under his breath. “Whole thing just- Poof, dry-“

“What happened in Oregon?” Sam had asked, and She’d let out a long sigh.

“I- Dean freaked me out, and I lost control.”

Dean had frowned. “I was just pissing, sweetheart-“

“You were missing.” She’d snapped, something hot in Her eyes that had made Dean blink. “I couldn’t find you, Dean, I got scared-“

“And lost control.” Sam had finished, running a hand through his hair. “Did we- You never thought about being, I dunno- Like me?”

Dean had tensed, sitting up a little taller in his chair—he loved Sammy, he did, but two demon-blood kids who he couldn’t leave if he tried would drive him out of his mind—but She’d just shaken her head.

“No.” She’d whispered. “It’s- There’s no way it’s that. You told me about the blood, Sam, and that just sounded like-“ She’d let out a long slow breath, staring at her hands as she continued. “It never hurt you.”

“It killed me.” Sam had countered, raising his brows. “And I got, uh-“

“Migranes.” Dean had muttered, something his head spinning around the word hurt. This had hurt Her, and he’d never done anything to protect Her. To help Her. He’d never even noticed, he’d just thought it was another thing about Her that couldn’t be understood, he’d been a blinded fucking idiot and now She’d been hurt.

Sam had nodded. “Yeah, uh, that. So maybe like- You said you’re in pain a lot-“

She’d let out a dry laugh. “That’s because I’m not using it. It’s- I can use it. That’s not a problem. I just won’t, and it doesn’t like that.”

There had been a long silence, and Dean had felt something bubbling up his throat that he wasn’t able to stop.

“Why?”

She’d blinked at him, that furrow on Her brow a little tighter than usual. “Wha-“

“If it’s hurting you,” Dean had grunted. “Just- Fucking use it, Princess. You almost killed Lilith back there-“

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Do I sound like I’m against it?” Dean had said Her name, leaning forward to hold Her gaze, because this was so simple. Nothing should be allowed to hurt Her, and if the reason Dean had spent years keeping Her skin from being clawed apart and Her body from curling in on itself was because of this, it shouldn’t be a question that She should just goddamn stop. “If you can do half of what it sounds like, I’ll never get on your ass about hunting without a gun again, you just gotta use it-“

“No.” She’d snapped. “You don’t- I can’t. I won’t.”

Sam had said Her name slowly, and Bobby had sighed in the doorway. Like he’d known exactly where this was going. “Maybe Dean’s right. I mean, you’ve killed demons before-“

“I didn’t- No.” Her voice hadn’t been firm. There had been something desperate and fragile in it, almost like a plea. “I won’t. I won’t be that. I won’t. You don’t let Sam use the blood, and you hate witches, De, I won’t-“ She’d swallowed, cutting herself off with too soft words. “I won’t.”

Dean hadn’t had the words to tell Her that it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same. He didn’t want this to be the situation, but it’s what they goddamn had, and Dean had always been good at working with what he had. If She came with this whole complicated witch shit, then Dean would work with Her, because he had Her. 

He didn’t want Sam to use the blood because he’d promised Dad, and it had gotten him goddamn killed. He hated witches because they sucked, and She didn’t suck. She was awesome. Amazing. The warmest water in the shower and the best pie at that roadside diner in Texas and all the brighter stars he’d ever gotten to watch on the roof of the Impala. 

He couldn’t let Her just fucking hurt herself. 

And he never knew when to stop. 

“You don’t even know what that is, Princess.” He’d muttered, narrowing his eyes. “You said witch, but I’ve dealt with witches. Witches don’t make creeks freakin’ vanish.”

She’d shot him an exhausted glare. “It doesn’t matter what I am, Dean, it’s dangerous-“

“Maybe it’s not.” He’d snapped. “If not using it is what’s making you hurt, maybe you should use it. That’s feelin’ pretty logical to me, sweetheart, and if you’d told me sooner, I coulda helped.”

A shadow had eclipsed in Her eyes, and Dean’s gut had twisted slightly. “You said you weren’t mad at me.” She’d whispered, and there it was.

She sounded small.

He was the lowest piece of shit in the world.

“I’m not.” Dean didn’t know how he’d managed not to reach for Her. It took willpower he’d never had before. “I- Shit, I’m not, but-“ There was something so hot in his body. Louder than fury and purer than the sun, all for Her because She’d been hurting and nothing had saved Her. “You don’t have any idea, Princess, and it’s been happening for goddamn years-“

“Dean.” Bobby had grunted, his tone a low warning Dead really didn’t care about. “We’ve been tryin’, boy, but in case you didn’t notice, there’s been a lot of shit to deal with-“

“I coulda helped.” Dean had hissed, glaring between Sam and Bobby, almost shielding Her from their view, like that was worth anything at all. “You two couldn’t do shit, but I woulda fucking helped, and now there’s- Son of a bitch, we don’t have enough time-“

He’d apologized to Her. Later, after Bobby had made him take a walk and he’d ended up working on Her car for hours—his hands covered in grease and knees scraped with dirt—Dean had returned to Her side in the dark, muttered a low apology, and been forgiven. 

“Promise you’re not mad at me?” She’d whispered, and Dean had almost stomped downstairs to find a mirror Bobby didn’t care about that much, just so he could punch himself.

He’d hooked his pinky through Her’s, his voice barely a rasp. “Not mad. Promise. Just-“ He’d let out a long breath, shaking his head. “If I ask a question, and you wanna stab me, could I get a warning first?”

A small smile had tugged at Her lips. “Is it a stupid question?”

“Kinda. Not sure yet.”

“Then no.”

He’d raised his brows. “No, you won’t stab me-“

“No, you don’t get a warning.”

Dean had chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess I deserve that one. Was a bit of a douchebag.”

She’d only hummed, something flashing over Her face Dean hadn’t understood. “What’s the question, De?”

“What- Shit.” He’d let out a long breath, rolling onto his back as he ran a hand over his face. “What’s it feel like?”

There had been a long pause, and when Dean had turned his head, She’d been staring at him with a wide, open expression that had ached in his whole body. 

“What?”

Her voice had been so soft. So goddamn nervous and soft, and Dean had needed to swallow down a roar of something primal in his chest, just to the right of his heart, that had just wanted to grab Her and never let go. 

“What’s it feel like.” He’d repeated, unable to look away from the shining lighthouse of Her eyes, splitting right through him in the dark. “The- your witch thing.”

“I-“ She’d drawn Her lips into a tight line, watching Dean so intently he’d been worried Her gaze would carve him open. “I don’t-“

“If you don’t wanna tell me-“

“No.” She’d whispered, impossibly fast, and Dean had blinked. “I mean, I want to. I do. I just- I don’t know how.”

“Well, just tell me what you told Sam-“

“I didn’t tell Sam. He’s never asked.”

Dean had blinked at Her in obvious confusion—Sammy loved these weird things, Her having some sort of concrete and ocean-razing power would’ve been his freakin’ wet dream—and She’d let out a long breath.

“I- I’ve told him what I told Bobby and Jo.” She’d mumbled. “There’s something dark, and it’s power and makes me sick and I can’t control it, and there’s something glowing right here-“ She’d poked Dean’s chest, just to the right of his heart, and he was still a little sure She’d somehow branded him even deeper than before. “And it’s white, and it- It’s just there. It’s loud. Strong.”

“Alright.” Dean had held Her gaze. “And what’s it feel like?”

She’d stared at him for another long second—almost as if She was daring him to take it back—better mumbling, “Which part?”

He’d shrugged. “Whichever you want, sweetheart. How about the, uh, that dark thing? What’s it feel like when you do use it-“

“Big.” She’d whispered, before the question was even fully out of Dean’s mouth. “It’s- It all feels really big. It really doesn’t hurt to use, I promise, it’s just- It’s big.”

Dean had nodded, unable to swallow down his next grumble. “Hurts not to use, though.”

“Yeah.” She’d sighed. “But I told you-“

“I know. You won’t use it.” He’d scanned over Her cautious, beautiful features—he always could’ve fucking sworn that She was somehow shining with light from inside, and he’d been right the whole goddamn time—and chose his next words carefully. “What about that- The whole glowy thing, what’s up with that-“

“I don’t know.” She mumbled. “I don’t know any of it, De, it just happens-“

“Then what’s it feel like?”

It took a beat for Her to answer that one. “Big.”

He’d given Her a flat look. “Princess, that’s what you said about the-“

“They both feel big, Winchester.” She’d snapped, narrowing Her eyes. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to tell you, they’re big and powerful and it’s- Sometimes I don’t know what to do with it, and I’ve never thought about this before-“

“Hey- It’s okay.” Dean had pulled Her into his chest as the furrow had deepened, and Her breaths had started to become short. “You’re good, I’m- You’re good.” He’d run his hands through Her hair, because he’d had two months left at the time, and he’d been really sick of not having Her in every way She’d let him. 

And She’d let him have that. She’d let Dean hold Her and touch Her, soothe Her tears and mutter that She didn’t have to answer now. She could think about it, and there would always be later.

They both knew that was a lie, and Dean had pretended not to hear the choked sound She’d made when he’d said it—although he hadn’t been able to stop his hands from holding Her a little tighter—because just then, he’d needed to pretend it was the truth. That he wasn’t being selfish, keeping Her here. That it was fine for Her to break down now—and it was, it always would be, and long as Dean was permitted to be there to pick Her up—as they’d just talk about it later.

And He’d felt it then. Something humming through the air that he’d somehow always missed, made of so much of Her he could drown in it. It had been forged from something stronger than starlight, every single bit of it, and he hadn’t been able to stop his last, low question.

“If they’re both big,” he’d muttered in Her ear, keeping her folded into his chest. “How have you been able to tell them apart?”

She’d sighed again, and buried Her face in Dean’s shoulder. He hadn’t let himself think about it too hard. “They- The white thing doesn’t like the dark thing, most of the time.”

“Most of the time?”

“Yeah.” She’d swallowed. “Sometimes they’re- they blend together. And it’s- That doesn’t feel bad.”

“When’s that happen?”

“When I’m somewhere good.”

When they’d drifted off to sleep, Dean had made a silent vow to himself. 

After they reached the end of this, he’d find somewhere good for Her. Anywhere she wanted to be, even if it was the middle of the woods without TV or air conditioning, or somewhere too hot or cold or dry or dirty, Dean would bring Her there. He’d learn to sail, so he didn’t have to fly, and if there were no other fucking options he’d down a bottle of Xanax and get Her on a plane. 

And he’d stay there, with Her, if she asked. If he dropped Her on pink-sand beaches—he’d seen some in a movie once, and he wasn’t sure if they were real, but they seemed like the type of thing that would make Her happy—and She took his hand and whispered stay here, De, he would. In a heartbeat that was held in Her hands, he’d say yes.

Until then, he just had to do this. Just had to get out.

It was simple, when he thought of it like that.

He just had to get out.

“She ain’t called.”

Dean blinked at Bobby with frown. “I didn’t ask-“

“Don’t try and fool me, boy, you got that fuckin’ look-“ Bobby sighed, running a hand over his face. “I know when you’re gonna ask about her. She ain’t called, Jo ain’t either, and I’m sure they’re fine. Probably just readin’.”

They probably were just reading. She was probably forming blisters on Her fingers from holding the pencil too long, Jo had hopefully gotten Her to at least go to the bathroom, and when Dean got back She’d have only moved an inch from where he left Her.

But there was a faded and burnt film reel—looping in Dean’s head and made of the past few months, plus countless nightmares where She burned on the ceiling—where they weren’t just reading. Where pushing herself to the edge was making Her flicker once more, and She was trying to strange that power in Her body down, and Dean wasn’t there to help. Where they came back and the pages had been ripped from books because She’d lost control—Bobby had mentioned that happening a few times, and he hadn’t managed to hide how She’d stuck her hand in ice water for two hours afterwards—and Dean wasn’t fast enough so calm Her down, from imploding on Herself and moving further and further into a shell.

“Bobby, are you sure the nest is in this direction?” Sam called from a few yards ahead, and Bobby rolled his eyes.

“Course I’m sure, Sam, you’re the one who found the damn leads-“

“Sorry, I just wanted to check, we should’ve been there by now-“

“Well, we’ve been walkin’ real slow thanks to someone’s fuckin’ moping-“

Dean scowled. “I’m dying in two weeks, Bobby.” He muttered, picking up his pace to walk at Sam’s side. “I’m allowed to mope or brood or do whatever the hell else I want.”

“You ain’t dyin’, Dean.” Bobby grunted, pushing his shotgun further up his shoulder. “Let’s find this nest and get the fuckin’ thing done.”

“Plus,” Sam drawled Her name, smirking slightly. “You know you’re not supposed to say that word, Deano-“

Dean’s jaw clenched, and Bobby sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Sam, he tries to punch you, and I ain’t gonna stop him.” Bobby paused, giving Dean another firm look. “But he’s right. You ain’t supposed to use that word.”

Dean knew that. He knew it better than anyone. But everything was so fucking dull and heavy, and he missed Her, and they were running out of time. It was starting to feel like iron around his chest, sinking into that pit in his body, how little time they had left.

“Hey, dude.” Sam gave him a cautious, soft look, his voice too low. Too worried. “I’m just messing with you, you know that? She’s- We’re gonna find a way-“

“Say the right thing, Sammy.” Dean muttered, glaring at the mud below his boots. “She’ll find the way.”

Sam sighed, and Bobby cut off any of his words with a grunt.

“I’ve known that girl my whole damn life, Dean. I didn’t train her at huntin’ cause I wanted to, I trained ‘er cause she started sneakin’ around and doin’ it herself after I said no, and she was already better then every damn asshole I’d met. Took her three days to finish a hunt that woulda taken the best I knew, your Daddy included, a damn week and a hundred bullets.” Bobby sighed, giving Dean an odd look he didn’t fully understand. “If anyone’s gettin’ this, it’s her. Then we can all lock ‘er in her room until she gets a month of proper damn rest.”

“And I do have ideas.” Sam cut in with a mumble. “I was thinking we could summon Lilith, do the Devil’s Trap-“

Bobby shook his head. “Won’t work. Lilith ain’t able to be summoned, not by anythin’ human.”

Dean frowned, because he’d heard Bobby say that before. In the kitchen, when She’d suggested the exact same thing, and he’d used to those same words on Her. But She hadn’t just slumped like Sammy was now. She’d frowned, looked at Her hands, and stood a little taller as something flashed over Her face.

Dean hadn’t understood that expression. He’d only known that it was dangerous. That it meant She was thinking something he couldn’t follow, that She was full of resolve and the best he’d ever be able to offer Her was continuing to be Her shadow.

At Her side in the dark. Across from Her on the couch. Always there, always for Her. 

He shouldn’t have goddamn left.

Dean knows he should’ve have left. There’s a rotten feeling knotting in his stomach, a knot pulling at him like a compass, and it’s telling him to turn back. That he has to turn back, go back to Her, go home, because he never should’ve left to begin with. 

It’s been there since they left, and only grown tighter. He’d gone through to motions of the case with it turning in his stomach, and he’d pushed on because if he told Sammy, he’d tease Dean about missing Her before reminding him that She could defend herself. She was a literal force of nature, and she was at Bobby’s with Jo—who allowed herself to use a gun—and She couldn’t be safer if they tried. 

But the knot twisted, when they’d started their climb through the woods. And Dean couldn’t tell Bobby either, because he was already on thin fucking ice when it came to conversations about Her. Bobby seemed to be starkly aware of how, when Dean stared at Her like she was the only thing in the world and still somehow more beautiful than anything else, because she was, there were… less than acceptable thoughts in his head.

He still hadn’t crossed that line. He wouldn’t. Not at least until this was over, and he could touch Her somewhere that was good. 

Bobby didn’t seem to admire Dean’s restraint as much as he should. So going up to him and saying something’s wrong, I shouldn’t have left Her, call the whole thing off cause I never shoulda fuckin’ left her, wouldn’t end how Dean wanted it to. 

To the knot kept tightening and turning—and Dean felt sick and he shouldn’t have left—as they found the nest, and he lost himself in the fight. 

Moving like this—on instinct and nothing more, letting his body do the thing it was best at and never flinching because Dean never damn flinched—usually cleared his head. Usually helped. 

It wasn’t now.

The knot only tightened until it was frayed, when they found the dusty, worn and yellow-paged book. They burned all the bodies, and it was straining and whining.

Then they were cleaning up back at the motel, and Dean’s phone rang like a blaring, horrible alarm. 

Sam raised his brows as Dean scanned over the caller ID. “Is it-“

“Hey, Jo.” Dean grunted into the speaker, and Sam scowled. “Is everything-“

“Dean- Thank fuckin’ Mary and Christ.” Jo’s voice was a little uneven. Dean felt really fucking sick. “Been tryin’ to reach you all day-“

“We were in the woods.” He muttered. “What’s-“

“They found us.” Jo mumbled, and Dean’s grip on the phone was starting to hurt. “The- uh- Hell’s Assassins-“

“Jo.” Dean said Her name, but every word was clipped. Pushed through his teeth. “I need you to put her on the phone-“

“I can’t-“

“What’d you mean, you can’t-“

“I mean she ain’t talkin’.” Jo whispered, a new, raw shake forming in Her voice. “She’s alright, but she ain’t moved in like, three hours, and I’ve been tryin’ everything, but she won’t even shower-“

“I’ll be home in two- hour and a half.” The drive was two hours. If Dean was smart—and about this, he would be—they be back by an hour. 

The extra thirty was mostly for safety. 

Dean hung up without another word, throwing shit in his bag with almost mechanical movements, because they had to fucking go, he never should’ve left—not without Her—so they had to go-

“Dean.” Sam snapped, still on the other side of the room and not moving damn near fast enough. “What was-“

“I got some beer.” Bobby pushed open the door, and Dean started to pull on his jacket. “I was thinkin’ we order, cause I ain’t gonna cook when there’s some good lookin’ Chinese right down the- the hell are you doin’, Dean?”

“Leaving.” Dean grunted, and Bobby snorted.

“This was your damn idea-“

“Jo called.” Sam cut in, and Dean wasn’t sure when he’d gotten up to block the door.

He didn’t really care. 

As long as the kid moved, Dean didn’t care at all. 

“Jo-“ Bobby’s head whipped to Dean, his gaze narrowed and tight. “What’d she say.”

There wasn’t fucking time for this. They never had enough time. 

“Move, Sammy, I gotta-“

“Dean.” Bobby grabbed him by the shoulders, his eyes narrowed. “Tell me Jo said that’s got you all fuckin’-“

Dean spat Her name, shrugging Bobby’s hand away. “She needs me, I gotta get back-“

Bobby didn’t bother to push further. He grabbed the keys, tossed them to Dean, and turned with only a shout over his shoulder.

“Get started on the book, Sam. We’ll come back for ya’ in a few days. Dean, haul fuckin’ ass, boy.”

“Come back-“ Sam gaped as Dean grabbed his bag. “You’re just leaving me-“

“You’re a big boy, Sammy, you’ll be fine.” 

Sam probably flipped Dean off as he jogged out the door. He didn’t care. 

All that mattered was getting back to Her.

He and Bobby didn’t talk for the first thirty minutes. There wasn’t really much to say. Only low music and the hum of Baby’s engine, working herself hard to get Dean to where he needed to be.

He should never have damn left. He knew better than to leave Her, because that had always been where he’d lost Her. And She was fine, but she’d had to fight alone, and he hadn’t been there. He was supposed to be there, that was the whole damn point, they were safer together. Sam and Bobby could’ve handled this themselves, and Jo still could’ve come over. Dean wouldn’t have gotten in the middle of whatever girl shit they got up to, he could’ve just sat in the corner with his gun and watched Her like a creep, defending Her when the demons arrived and being Her comfort whenever it all became too big.

She’d said it was always too big. During another too long—yet still not long enough—night, She’d said it was always too big. That She’d become everything, when it all got away from Her, and it hurt and She never knew who she was or where She started or stopped, but She was always everything and Dean knew who She was, so he could’ve been there. Been Her shadow. Run his thumb over the bridge of Her nose and muttered that She was okay, it would be okay, She was awesome and good at Her job, and it would all be okay if She just took deep breaths and listened to him and he’d stayed-

“Dean.”

Dean blinked over, and he’d almost missed Bobby’s words, lost into the drums of the song. “What’s up?”

Bobby was watching him with a firm, almost mournful grounded resolve Dean had never seen before. 

He’d seen Bobby be serious, and angry, and determined, and focused. He’d never seen this. He didn’t even have a name for it. 

It was a little worrying.

“Uh, Bobby-“

“I need you to be honest with me when I ask you somethin’.” Bobby grunted. “I wouldn’t be askin’ if it wasn’t important, and a lie ain’t gonna help us ‘ere.”

Dean blinked, glancing between Bobby and the road as the iron settled back over his shoulders. “I don’t-“

“Swear it.” Bobby wasn’t wavering. “Swear it on your mother you’re gonna tell me the truth.”

“On my-“ Dean swallowed, but nodded. “Alright. On my mom.”

Bobby sighed. “You ain’t allowed to repeat this to anyone, Dean. You understand? Not even Sam.”

“Bobby-“

“Yeah, I got it, but Bobby, you’re kinda freakin’ me out-“

“You been…” Bobby paused, saying every word as if they pained him. “Sleepin’ in her room. She still get nightmares?”

Dean blinked, shooting Bobby a frown. “Is- That’s your question?”

“No. Does she?”

“I- Sometimes-“

“She been gettin’ them since I found ‘er.” Bobby muttered, and it seemed to be mostly to himself. “Recognized some monsters too, before I even brought her on a hunt. And she’d wake up screamin’ and grab me with ler little hands, and I’d ask her what happened and she wouldn’t talk ‘till I asked ‘er what she was feelin’, and she tell me the walls were sad I ain’t painted them in a while, and there was a tree a few miles into the woods that was sick, ’n needed puttin’ down.”

Dean’s grip was white-knuckled, and he’d was all but holding his breath, frozen in his seat. If he moved an inch, Bobby might remember who he was talking to.

“I took ‘er with me, to chop that tree down. She pointed it out and told me it was happy I was puttin’ it down, cause I was green and most things ain’t green anymore. Most weeks were like that, when she was little, up ‘till she started losin’ control, and I wasn’t able to-“ Bobby cut himself off with a long sigh, shaking his head. “I know about how she’s been dealin’ with what it does to her. All that magic shit in her body that we don’t got a clue how to handle. She thinks I don’t, but I ain’t blind. I just know it could be worse-“

“Worse?” Dean cut Bobby off before he could stop himself. “I- Bobby, she burns her hands and chokes herself-“

“And she used to bash ‘er head on the wall until her forehead was always lumpy.” Bobby snapped. “I’ve seen ‘er better, and I’ve seen ‘er worse, and I know we ain’t headin’ towards the former. I know nobody ain’t told you yet, but you’re not stupid either, Dean. You worked out how she clued into your little demon deal?”

“Uh…” Dean swallowed, frowning at the road passing them in too quick a blur. “I don’t-“

“Remember what Sam told you? ‘Bout how she thinks she’s been seein’ souls?”

It clicked. In half a second, Dean nearly strangled on the air of the car as the Blade in Her hand, her expression frantic and desperate and filled with fear, and he own screams of what did you do echoed through his head.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered, and Bobby grunted.

“It’s been gettin’ worse. You know it’s been gettin’ worse, and I don’t-“ Bobby leaned back on the bench running a hand over his face. “You got two weeks, Dean. And when the clock runs up, no matter what we got, how much faith we have, I don’t want her seein’ it.”

Dean couldn’t hide the shock on his face as he looked at Bobby, barely remembering to turn back to the road. Bobby’s face was solemn, serious and resolved and firm, and if She was in the car, she would’ve jumped over the front bench and strangled them both.

“Bobby, there’s not a damn way she’s gonna like that-“

“She doesn’t have to like it.” Bobby grunted. “I- I’m not a big fuckin’ fan of it either, and she can curse me and hate me for the rest of her damn life, but-“

“Don’t say it’s for her own good, she’d stab you-“

“Goddamnit, Dean I know that! And if stabbin’ me is what’s gotta happen to keep her from losin’ her fucking mind, watchin’ your soul, your fuckin’ soul, get beaten up and dragged off to hell, then I’ll hand her the knife myself.” Bobby let out a long, heavy breath. “It’s not for her own good. For her own good woulda been doin’ everythin’ in my power to keep her safe. Haulin’ and packin’ up and movin’ to fucking Mexico eight damn years ago. We’re past the good, and I’m making do with what I’ve fuckin’ got.”

Dean still shook his head. She’d never been a fan of just waiting. If they handcuffed Her, She’d break out. If they locked Her in a room she’d probably just ask the door to open, and it would. “Bobby, she’ll- What if I make it out? She’ll never fucking forgive us for that, what if we keep her in the dark and chain her to a chair or something, and I make it out, and she hates us for the rest of her fucking life-“

“Then you’ll have the rest of your life to make it up to her.” Bobby grunted. “You ready to hear my question?”

Dean shot him another look of shock, his vision almost feeling clouded with confusion. “None of that was the freakin’ question-“

“You ready or not, ya idjit?”

“I’m ready.” He muttered, looking back to the road to avoid Bobby’s glare. “What.”

“Do you really think it’ll be somethin’ she’ll survive. Ignorin’ all the self-pity I ain’t good enough shit, look me in the eyes and tell me my girl is gonna be alright if she watches you get ripped up by a bunch of fuckin’ hell hounds. Cause I know my answer. I known it since you told me, and I had to watch her curl up in my basement a few weeks later and act like nothin’ was wrong. She wasn’t holdin’ it together those two years, boy. I ain’t ready to- I’m not lookin’ to lose her, too.” 

“Bobby, I-“

“You don’t gotta answer now.” Bobby muttered, and Dean could feel his gaze, searing right into Dean’s bones. “You don’t ever even need to tell me it. But don’t lie about it, to yourself. If you’re hell-set on brinin’ her, I ain’t gonna be able to stop both of you. But, if you’re tellin’ the truth and you work out what that truth means, for her, then…”

Bobby didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to.

Dean understood just fine. 

And he didn’t know his answer. He didn’t know anything but Her, and She’d never forgive him for that. 

But he’d sworn to himself that he’d do what he needed to, every time, for Her. If didn’t matter what She did, if She ripped Dean’s spine out of his body and used it for goddamn decoration, Dean would still be there. One step behind Her. Making sure She didn’t get herself killed, making sure she could always turn and see him there. Still there. Always there, as long as she allowed him to be.

He didn’t want to think about what that would mean, if none of this worked. 

If She ended up alone, Dean would need Her to know he’d wanted to stay. He’d always wanted to stay. Even that first time, when he’d been trying—and failing—to hate Her and Dad had told him to go, he’d left but he’d never wanted to. And it had never stuck. And every single goddamn time, he’d always thought he’d find Her again. Somehow, he’d stumble onto the right case, walk into the right diner, or just be wandering nowhere at all and She’d fall out of the sky into his arms.

This would stick. 

If everything went south, he’d be alone in the darkest pit available, and She’d be alone, and he hadn’t wanted to entertain the thought but he also knew his answer, and he’d never wanted to be something that hurt Her.

He always had. Dean had never touched Her and not found some new, fucked up way to break Her. 

But She’d come back anyway. And touched Dean every time, and shone brighter than before until he felt fucking seen. He was a shadow, he wasn’t supposed to be seen, but She looked anyway because she seemed to like making things as complicated as possible.

He’d always thought coming back was just how things were. No matter what, in the back of his head, he’d never stopped looking for Her on every street and through every window and in every room, because She might have been there, and they’d had more time.

Dean knew She’d never done the same for him. 

But it didn’t really matter. She was the whole world, and She’d still chosen to look at Dean, and he- 

He was fucking lost in his own pit. He was alone, and lost, and he wanted to crawl out to Her but he’d never had enough will, or strength, or worth.

He didn’t know if She’d cry for him.

All he’d ever been good at knowing was how to put glue on the things he’d broken, and that he was a weapon from the mud that shouldn’t touch nice things.

She let him touch Her.

He was losing his fucking mind. Stuck in a loop. He wasn’t goddamn smart enough to work out Bobby’s freakin’ riddle, didn’t have enough resolve to do something that could ever make Her hate him, was too pathetic to not care about Her and Her safety and happiness, but never good enough to be that fucking thing that made Her happy, and he didn’t know shit but She always did, and She’d said she liked that he was always there, that she could always trust him to let her fall apart and handle what she couldn’t, when she trusted no one else, but he didn’t want to be the thing that hurt Her but he’d always been so good at it-

He didn’t know when he pulled into the junkyard. But he was here now.

Jo was sitting on the steps, watching them will a pallid face and wide eyes.

And it didn’t matter what Dean knew. 

His girl needed him.

“I-“ Jo was talking before they were fully out of the car, her words borderline pleas. “She still hasn’t moved, and I don’t- It’s like she can’t even hear me-“

Dean just pushed past her. He’d apologize later, but there was nothing else to do. He needed to get to Her, explanations could goddamn wait-

She wasn’t where he’d left Her. He turned to Jo with wide eyes, and she pointed up the stairs. 

“In you- Uh- Her room-“

He grunted something that he hoped sounded like thanks, and flew up the stairs, half kicking the door open.

It had been unlocked, and let out a loud bang from the impact.

She didn’t even flinch.

And this had been why Dean felt sick the whole damn hunt. Why he’d known he shouldn’t have left.

She looked horrible. Beautiful—even with tangled and matted hair, slightly grayed skin, and bloodshot eyes that seemed a little unfocused and glazed—but horrible. Blood all over Her clothing, stuck to Her skin and under Her nails as she turned the page of a book. Her knife and the blade at Her feet as She held a stained notebook in slightly shaking hands.

There wasn’t a single light on in the room. Dean was pretty sure none of the blood was Hers, but he didn’t miss how She’d pressed herself to the wall, or the way Her palms were the only part of Her that was clean. Raw and blistered, but clean.

The plate on the floor was half covered in another sheet of notes. The was a glass of water pushed off to the side to make room for more books. 

The furrow in Her brow was deeper than he’d ever seen it.

When Dean crouched at Her feet, she didn’t even look up.

“Hey,” he muttered Her name, fisting his hand to stop himself from reaching for Her. “Demons, huh?”

She touched him first.

She’d always touched him first. 

And there was a strange look in Her eyes, when She scanned over him. That look he’d seen countless times before, where She was looking into him. Filling him with Silver light that made his breathing easier, even as the stench of blood threatened to suffocate him.

“I put the bodies out back.” She whispered. “Burned them.”

He gave Her a small smile. “Smart thinking, Princess. Don’t need any demon ghosts.”

Her lips twitched, but She back down to the book, curling back into Her own body, away from Dean-

“Uh,” he swallowed, scraping for some way to keep Her. Looking at him. Listening. At all. “How many?”

“Six.” She hummed, not looking up from Her book as she took another note. Her hand was still on Dean’s face. Her dominant hand. “Jo was helpful.”

“You’re training her well.”

“She’s just a good hunter. And I think she’d-” She paused, only for a second, still frowning at Her book. “I haven’t tried that yet. I’ll ask her tomorrow. Is Sam back?”

Dean shook his head, unable to look away from that little furrow on Her brow, and She sighed.

“That’s fine, it can just be Jo and I-“

Dean grunted Her name, squeezing Her hand against him. “You can’t do anything until you eat. Clean up.”

“No, I’m okay-“

“You’re covered in blood.”

“So?”

“It’s kinda fuckin’ gross-“

“I don’t care.” She muttered, taking another note. “I don’t have enough time-“

“You gotta make time to- Fuck, to eat and sleep.” He pushed back, and when She didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you slept.”

She didn’t answer again. Dean grunted Her name, but She still didn’t answer.

“C’mon.” He grunted, pulling Her forwards, and She shoved him back, still without looking up. “Goddamnit- You can’t just fucking waste away-“

“I’m not-“ Her words were slightly choked, and when She finally met Dean’s gaze, Her voice was pleading. “There’s not enough time, Dean, I don’t have enough time-“

“Maybe, but I’m not worth dying over-“ He cut himself off with a groan, dropping to fully rest on his knees before Her. “Please, I’m- Fuck, just one shower. Sammy’s got that book for you, but one shower, and eat some food, and I’ll clean everything up and go get it for you. I’ll even do all your reading while you take care of yourself, but- Son of a bitch, just eat.” He grabbed Her face between both his hand, forcing Her gaze to stay on his as his voice became hoarse. “I know we don’t have time, Princess. Please don’t just- One shower. All I’m asking.”

She swallowed, looking at him like that again as Her breathing became heavy, and She was going to say no. She was going to waste away for Dean, of all fucking people and he needed to- 

“Okay.” She whispered, and a little bit of the iron raised off Dean’s chest. “I- I don’t-“

“Ask Jo for help.” He muttered. “I’ll keep doing this.”

She nodded, but didn’t move.

And Dean’s thumb moved on its own. Petting down the bridge of Her nose even though Her breathing was even, and there was no hand around Her throat. As if there wasn’t a choice. That was just what he always had to do.

But he chose to lean forward. To press the gentle kiss to Her brow, and linger there until there was a knock at door, and She had to go let Jo pull Her into the bathroom. 

Dean grunted to Jo, before the door closed, to make sure She actually ate and cleaned, to maybe try and force in a nap as well. From the determined nod Jo had given him, there had been nothing to worry about in the first place.

And when he was left alone in Her room, it was still choked in the smell of blood, but under that, there was just Her. 

No matter how far down Dean went, it was always just Her.

The sugar smell was gone. 

The fruit smell never left. Dean could be a million miles away and he’d still smell that goddamn fruit. And it was strong that the blood, but it seemed to be the only thing surviving the war She’d been waging on herself, in Dean’s fucking name. All the books had been ripped off the shelves, every pencil was covered in bite marks and snapped in half, and the bed obviously hadn’t been touched since he left.

And Dean knew his answer, to the impossible thing Bobby was asking of him. 

He wouldn’t be something that hurt Her. If Dean didn’t make it out this, She had to. 

She needed to be somewhere good. Somewhere made for something like Her. Bright and brilliant and good.

Not near hell hounds.

And, if it came down to it, not near Dean.

——————

“What time is it?”

“Uh,” Jo leas forwards in the passenger’s seat, frowning at the blinking clock on the dashboard. “This is sayin’ five, but- It’s still dark out-“

“I don’t think this one is adjusted for daylight savings.” You mutter, frowning at the road ahead. “I should’ve taken Bobby’s pickup, it’s faster-“

Jo snorts. “That pickup ain’t fast-“

“It’s faster.” You shoot her a small, tight-lipped smile. “None of these cars are fast, they’re a million years old.”

There’s a pause, and Jo’s next words are soft in a way that makes the Darkness burst and hum in your body, unable to take being soothed when it knows where you’re headed. 

Of course it knows. You know. And it may take the Blade—tucked neatly into your jacket, just in case—pressing into your skin, but you can’t let the Darkness slip away from you. Not here. Not now. There’s too much on the line, and this is your last fucking shot.

You’ve spent the past two months doing everything. Coming up at every dead end and turning around without blinking, because sorrow and disappointment were luxuries you could not afford. You just had to turn around, keep going, and find another way. 

You’ve read every book on demons you could get your hands on, and looked for every weapon that might give you an edge over Lilith, searched for all her lore and if there was a single, small weakness you could exploit.

There wasn’t. And you still didn’t understand what she’d said to you in the diner. It had all been cryptic nonsense that made the Darkness roll and cry, made you sound important and could give you more clues into what you were, but right now that really didn’t fucking matter. Dean matters. Saving Dean matters, and you’ve got two weeks but that’s not nearly enough time, and everyone can tell you to take care of yourself all they want but they can’t fucking feel this like you can.

They can’t see the brand on Dean’s soul, pulsing and spreading and taunting you. They can’t see the Gold, stained all over Bobby’s books and cups and furniture, tangled in your sheets and sunken into your mattress and on your hands like blood, and they don’t have to wonder if it will fade. 

And they don’t have the spiderweb. It’s not iridescent and full of light that’s being cast around their bodies all the time, but only content and happy when Dean’s there, and they world for them isn’t just simply better when Dean is there, and they aren’t in fucking pain that’s only aided by Dean being there, if he’s not there you don’t know how to make the world Silver by yourself, and you’re supposed to be a good fucking hunter, but what’s the goddamn use if you can’t fucking save Dean-

“The Impala is fast.” Jo mumbles, and you can feel her watching you. Almost testing to see if you’ll shut down again, just at the mention of something in Dean’s proximity.

You won’t. You’re not that fucking pathetic. 

And you haven’t been shutting down. You’ve been focused. Working and working because you can still feel the numb, too big, hollow pain of grief, and you have to make sure that it’s temporary because you can’t lose Dean, and you have to get through this, you’ve always gotten through this, but you don’t know how to live with such a massive fucking pit in the cavity of your chest, with the spiderweb whining and absorbing all it can now before he’s gone, but he won’t be gone because you’ll find a way, because you can’t lose Dean-

You’re getting caught in the loop again. 

You don’t have time to entertain it.

“Of course the Impala is fast.” You mutter, flipping your blinker as you move off the highway, refusing to look over and meet Jo’s eyes, because you know they’ll be full of fucking pity, and it might make something up your spine snap. “Dean takes care of it more than anything.”

Jo just hums, and you lean your head back in your seat, unable to stop the next words from slipping out of your mouth.

“Do you think he’s-“ You swallow, catching yourself before you become too pathetic. “They’re gonna notice we’re gone?”

“I think Dean’ll notice you’re gone.” Jo offers, and you don’t appreciate her not entertaining your game. “Surprised he ain’t called us already, askin’ where you ran off to.”

“I left a note.” You mutter. “And I told Sam.”

“You tell Bobby too?”

You shoot Jo a glare, and she just holds it with raised brows.

“You didn’t, did ya.”

“No,” you scowl back to the road. “He’d work out where we’re going, and he’d try to stop us. Or come with us. Or send Sam with us.”

Jo frowns at that. “Not Dean?”

“He wouldn’t want Dean coming with us for this.” You mutter, slowing down to scan over the street name a little better.

You’re pretty sure you’ll remember where to turn. It’s been years, but you’ve got a good memory, and all these stupid roads look the same but-

There it is.

“You know,” Jo says your name carefully as you turn, leaning forward until she’s in your periphery. “You still ain’t told me where we’re goin’, and if it’s somethin’ Dean shouldn’t be doin’-“

“Technically I don’t think any of us should be doing this.” You give Jo an apologetic, grimacing smile. “Bobby just wouldn’t want Dean coming because he thinks we get reckless about each other.”

You’re paraphrasing. Bobby’s exact word had been you two idjits act like there ain’t nothin’ else in the world, and it’s not safe fuckin’ hunting to see who can get shot for the other first. You think he was being a little dramatic, and the way he’d snapped it implied things you know you felt through your whole body—like lifeblood in the spiderweb, and seeping deep into the Gold that Dean left everywhere, made of a word you couldn’t say aloud, not now, not when it was impossible and there wasn’t enough time—but you also know that, for this, he was right.

Dean can’t do this with you. He’ll get weird about it, and he’ll distract you but just dragging you down into his gravity and being handsome and stupid and amazing, and this needs to go well. 

And maybe this would hurt less, if Dean was here, but it hurts all the fucking time again and the Darkness has never been this loud and desperate in your life—never taken this much effort and pain to keep down, never been just a single crack in your body from exploding into the air, making everything far too big in a way you don’t know you’ll be able to drag back down alone—so if you lose control, Dean can’t be here to see it.

He’d accepted it. He’d looked at you, and stayed, and only been angry you hadn’t told him before you know he doesn’t understand. Doesn’t know the depth of it, doesn’t know how it’s not a tool or a weapon or gift, it’s a fucking cancer and it’s trying to spread into him, and you won’t let it.

You’d already failed at that once. The light was still flowing through him whenever the Blade was in your hand, and all you could see was the Gold. He doesn’t seem to have grown sick. You won’t risk it.

Won’t hurt him, not for anything in the world. It would be cruel and wrong and selfish, to save him like that, when there has to be another way.

And this was that other way. You fucking hated it. There’s no turning back—you’ve come this far, and turning back would make this whole thing a waste of fucking time—but you still feel sick, and the pain is still settling so deep in your body you’re shocked you’re still conscious. 

But you have to do this. 

For Dean.

“Y’all do get reckless about each other.” Jo mutters under her breath, and you roll your eyes, electing to not respond. “And you still ain’t told me what we’re doin’. Just like, two sentences will do, but I ain’t Dean-“

That makes you look at her, your brow furrowed tightly together. “What’s that supposed to mean-“

“Means I can’t look at you and know what you’re thinkin’,” Jo drawls your name, continuing before you can push back. “Gimme the plan, or I’m callin’ Bobby now and tellin’ him we’re in- Uh-“

She looks around the seemingly abandoned woods, and you sigh.

“Chicago. Well, near Chicago.”

“Alrigh-“ She pauses, shooting you a frown. “What?”

“You have to promise you won’t freak out.” 

Jo says your name in a cautious tone, shaking her head. “I don’t know-“

“Just- Promise.” You let out a long breath, dropping your head to the steering wheel and frowning at your knees. “Please.”

“I- Okay.” You can hear the nerves in Jo’s voice. When this is done, you’ll buy her a million bath bombs and apologize on your knees. But for now, nothing else is as important as doing this. “Promise. You gonna tell what’s goin’ on?"

You swallow, choosing your every world slowly. Carefully. “You know that book I made the guys get? From that vamp nest?”

Jo goes rigid at your side, a little more guilt eats at your gut. She’s thinking of the wrong part of that day, where the world had turned into the blur as you slashed and cut your way through the demons—they’d tried to taunt you, but you didn’t have enough time—and gone back to reading the moment it was over.

You’d make that choice again a million times. Even if Jo’s worried face kept haunting you is the easier nightmares, Dean had kissed your brow and held you close enough you could hear his heartbeat, and you’d made no progress into freeing him, but you could’ve. There had been a chance.

Most of this has been hinging on there being just a chance. That’s what you were doing here. 

So you’d fucking take it.

“Jo-“

“I remember.” She mutters. “Big fuckin’ tome, ended up bein’ in Turkish or somethin’-“

“Romanian.” You correct, sitting fully back up and folding your arms over your chest. “It’s Romanian. None of us fucking speak or read Romanian.”

“Sam said we could translate it-“

“Sam thinks our only option is Romanian.”

Jo pauses again. You’re worried that, by the end of the day, you’ll have sent her into a shock coma. “I- Ain’t it?”

“Nope.” You shrug, unbuckling from your seat. “I fucked up. Thought that the vamps would have an English copy, and I was wrong.”

“You-“ Jo scrambles out of the car behind you, watching you with wide eyes. “You know, you ain’t even told us how that books gonna help Dean-“

“It has a summoning ritual.”

“We already know summoning rituals-“

You shake your head, pulling your knife out of your jacket and spinning it in your hands. “Not this one.”

Jo snaps your name, glaring at you as she walks through the woods at your side. “What the hell’re you talkin’ about-“

“I’ve read that book before.” You mumble, swallowing down a little bile in your throat. “I remember it, there was- Lilith. The ritual that could summon Lilith, but I haven’t been able to fully remember it, and nothing else I could find has had it, so we need to go get the English copy.”

“And the English copy is…” Jo scans around you with a frown. “In the woods.”

“No. It’s-“ You sigh, running your free hand through your hair and coming to stop. “This is the part where you promised not to freak out.”

“I-“

“Look, I’ll take the lead. And I wouldn’t have brought you if I didn’t think you could do this, plus when Dean and Bobby find out, they’re gonna be really fucking pissed, and it will be better if I tell them I took backup-“

Jo snaps your name, her eyes wide with an almost frantic worry. “You gotta stop talkin’ in riddles, you know I never get what the hell you’re sayin’-“

“We’re breaking into my family’s house.”

Your words are blunt. Fast. They have to be. This has to be like ripping off a band-aid or jumping into ice water. You just have to do it, and then it’s done, and you can head home and never think about it again, outside of a memory of searing pain on your palm and a numbness rushing through your whole body.

“We’re- What?!”

You nod up through the woods, spinning your knife in your hand, just be doing something. “Up through there is the house. It’ll have security, but we’ll get around it just fine, and nobody should be home-“

Jo shakes her head. “You can’t be sure ‘bout that-“

“Yeah, I can. It’s summer, everyone will be on vacation. It’ll be in and out. We just have get the book from the library.” You sigh, giving Jo another apologetic look. “Look, I’m sorry, but this is the only thing we’ve got left. And you can wait in the car, if you want-“

Jo scoffs. “Stop bein’ dramatic, I ain’t lettin’ you go in there alone. But, uh-“ She swallows, nodding to your knife. “You think I’m gonna need to be armed?”

You shrug. “Probably not. I just- This makes me feel better.”

Jo understands. You don’t say it, but Jo knows you well enough to get that it’s not being armed that makes you feel better.

It’s this knife. The knife Dean gave you. The knife that makes the spiderweb shine a little brighter, because it means that some part of his is still grounding you and keeping all the Darkness a little softer in your body. 

And that’s so fucking pathetic. You know that. You’re a grown ass woman, you shouldn’t need a security blanket knife to hold yourself together. 

Knowing still really doesn’t matter. 

You’ll learn your lesson when this is over. When you have time to.

“You got a plan?” Jo asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope. We’ll be fine, though-“

“And you’re sure they still have the book? I know you ain’t been here in years, maybe they threw it out-“

You snort at that. “They’ll still have it. Trust me. You ready?”

Jo nods, following you as you start to move forwards, keeping her voice low, like the trees could hear.

It’s not a bad idea.

They might.

“What’s makin’ you so sure? I mean, I trust ya, but we don’t got a plan and you never talk about ‘em, so I dunno what to-“

“It’s- You’ll see.” You wish you could offer her more, but still don’t have the words to describe them to yourself. “It’s not too late to stay in the car-“

“Yeah, it is.”

You stop at the edge of the woods, the land splitting into an impossibly large, nearly kept clearing, and there it is.

High on the top of a hill, like some sort of fucking castle. Everyone else always liked it. They seemed to the think the clean brick and polished glass—always letting in too much sunlight, always forcing the heavy, velvet curtains to remind drawn—made them like modern royalty. More than modern royalty. Empirical. Privy to knowledge others weren’t permitted to have, knowledge that made them chosen.

You’d never really understood what they meant. The house had been lonely. It had hurt to try and run up the hill, and every room was too dark and cold, and it had always been so fucking easy to get lost. 

For you, it had been a prison. A slaughterhouse. 

You’d never been favored. You’d only been…

Alone. Shouted at and untouchable and carved open and alone. 

“Follow my lead.” You glance at Jo, and she nods, looking between you and the house with wide eyes. “Don’t split up, no matter what, and don’t touch anything.”

Jo swallows. “And you’re- You really fuckin’ positive no one’s home-“

“Yeah. I am.”

You’re not. The Darkness is building and coiling in your body because you’re really not sure. Someone could be. Just a staff worker would fuck this whole thing up, because it’s been almost eighteen years, but you don’t look that different, and if one person sees you that could cause a lot of problems you really can’t deal with right now.

But you need to do this, for Dean. You’re out of options, and you wouldn’t have even thought of this, entertained it in the slightest, if you didn’t think it was necessary. And Jo doesn’t need to be more worried. You’re already asking too much of her, adding to that by telling her that—should there be someone home—this could escalate into blood and mayhem so fast the blur with become more of a blink, won’t help anyone at all.

It helps that no one is home. In a rare, glorious stroke of unfamiliar luck, you get inside the house without dogs barking or biting at your heels, without alarms going off or the Darkness vaulting out of your body as it settles into your bones.

As it really clicks that you’re back here. You’d sworn to yourself that you’d never go back here. That there was never going to be a world where you stepped foot in this horrible fucking cage again, but you’re here.

Every part of you feels fragile. Too small. You can’t tell if the Darkness is trying to strangle the White, or hide inside of it. And the White is pounding at your rib cage, trying to pull you out, get out, this place is horrible and you can feel the stick of blood on your palm and see too many eyes watching you in awe and revolt and relief, and you think you did something wrong but nobody is screaming at you, they’re all staring but nobody is screaming, or touching you, you’re braced but nobody is touching you and why is the floor glowing like that and why won’t everyone stop looking at you, everything is too big and you can feel the whole universe but you’re still trapped in the center of the room-

Jo whispers your name, and you realize that you’d stopped walking. “Are you-“

“I’m okay.” Your words are shorter than you’d meant them as you twist a ring on your finger, and Jo doesn’t flinch at all. “I- Sorry, I can’t remember where we’re supposed to turn.”

Jo nods, glancing down the too long hallway. “Where are we headin’?”

“Library. I think it’s one- No, two floors up-“

Jo catches your arm as you start to walk forward, her mouth agape when you turn with a frown. “This place got a fuckin’ library?”

“Kind of, yeah. It’s not like Bobby’s though-“

“I guessed that-“

“No, it’s-“ You sigh, shaking your head. “It’s barely a library at all.”

Jo blinks as you start down the hall again, pulling her with you. “What’s that mean?”

“You’ll see.”

She should see. If you can find the fucking library, Jo will see.

But this place is just as much of a maze as it had been when you were eight. Maybe more, because when you were eight you knew what halls you weren’t allowed to wander down—you had anyway, and it had never ended well, but you’d known—and been able to do more than you let your feet move on instinct.

There’s too much instinct, still ingrained in your body after so many years. You’re going everywhere but the library, because you’d never been permitted to go there without supervision. 

You’d always touched too many things, and read too many of the books everyone said you shouldn’t be able to, and some part of your body doesn’t seem interested in going to the library, because it’s too close to that room.

You really don’t want to end up in that room. If just being in the house sets off that memory, you don’t think the Darkness will be able to handle being in the room. Looking at the floor and seeing that your blood is—maybe—still stained on the stone.

You’re already seeing too many things you’ve tried so hard to forget. Hearing voices screaming your name down the empty halls when the only other person here is Jo—braced and nervous at your side—and fighting the urge to vomit whenever you open to the wrong door.

The bathroom is the first one. It hasn’t changed since you were there last. 

None of this place has. 

It’s still too clean. Pure white everywhere—marble counter, porcelain bathtub and toilet, stainless tiles and untouched towels—with only a flash of red where no one else can see. Stuck in your head, a weak illusion where you’re small again and it all hurts, hurts more than you’d ever know before, and everything feels so strange but you can’t see anything but blood on your fingers, and you can’t stop crying because why does this hurt, and your mother is shouting that it’s normal, it’s good, you’re a woman, but you don’t want to be a woman, you just want it to stop fucking hurting-

Something shatters in your ears, and it’s just a ghost of the memory—they’ve fixed the crack in the walls, and you think your mother’s hand has likely healed over eighteen years—but you still flinch.

Jo asks if you’re okay. You nod, and keep moving.

Next, it’s your bedroom. 

You don’t linger there long, because you don’t want to throw up but nothing has changed. The furniture, the wallpaper, all the dolls and clothing are the exact fucking same as when you left. Even your sheets are the same.

The bed has been made. There’s no layer of dust over the room.

“Is this-“

“Yeah.” You mutter, closing the door and moving on, tugging Jo behind you. “Let’s keep going.”

You’re close. You keep walking—making sure is Jo stays right at your side, just in case—and you know you’re close because you can feel it, tugging somewhere deep in your gut, but you’re still not entirely sure where you’re going, and what if you’d gone the wrong way and just never fucking realized it-

This hall is a dead end. You don’t remember taking the turn, but your feet had carried you here, and it’s just a fucking dead end.

With two doors. Two identical doors.

“Which, uh-“ Jo glances at you, raising her brows with a weary expression. “Do you know which one we should-“

“No.” You mutter, spinning your knife in your hand as you glare between the doors.

“You think it’s one of them, though?”

“Yeah, but-  No!”

Your scream surprised you more than it seems to surprise Jo. She lurches back from the handle she’d been reaching for as you lunge to stop her, and suddenly the air is too thin.

You’re not allowed in that room. That’s the one room you’d never even dared to poke around into—even when you’d found yourself everywhere you shouldn’t be, all the fucking time—because it just wasn’t allowed. You can’t go in there because you can’t. That’s it, you can’t, there doesn’t need to be another reason because you’re never allowed to go in there-

“Shit-“ Jo snaps your name, and shaking her arm in your grip. “Are you- What was that-“

“Sorry, I-“ You glance down at where you’re still squeezing her, almost certainly too tight, and let go with a ragged breath. “I didn’t- Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expectin’ it-“ She cuts herself off, tilting her head as you hug your body, your gaze still flicking to the door. “You good?”

“I-“

“And don’t lie.” Jo adds, giving you a pointed look when you glance at her with wide eyes. “I may not be Dean or Bobby, but I know when you ain’t doin’ well. You just lost it over a fuckin’ door-“

You cut off Jo drawl of your name with a shake of your head. “It’s not just- That’s not the door.” You nod to the opposite wall, taking a long breath to steady your voice. “It’s the other one.” 

“But you said you-“

“I know. I was-“ You swallow, letting one hand slide up to hold your throat. Lightly. Just enough to keep the Darkness locked down. “We’re not allowed in there. So it’s the other one.”

Jo blinks at you. “Not allowed?”

You nod, squeezing a little tighter. “That’s- It’s my grandfather’s room. His study. I’m not-“ You feel so fucking small. The walls almost seem to be getting taller, but that’s not possible, and the Darkness is begging to just be released—to be allowed to make your big again, to hurt this whole place the way it hurt you, to make it repent because you can—but you can’t. You won’t. “I’m not allowed in there.”

“You’re-“ Jo says your name with a long sigh, and it’s not sympathy in her voice. Her words are slow and careful, but it’s really not sympathy. “Look, if it’s somewhere you shouldn’t be, doesn’t that mean it’s exactly where we need to be?”

“Jo-“

“You don’t gotta, I won’t make you, but- Think about it.” Jo nods between the doors, crossing her arms as she continues. “As a hunter, what would you be doin’ on any other case? What would you tell me to do?”

You swallow. “Go in the- Fucking Christ, Jo, that’s really annoying.”

She just shrug, offering you a small grin in return. “I’ve been learnin’ from the best.”

“Shut up.” You take a long breath as you step forward, spinning your knife in your hands and glaring at the door. It won’t burn you. Logically, it won’t be able to do anything to you at all, because it’s a fucking door. 

That doesn't stop your skin from itching at the thought.

“Jo-“

“I got it.” You glance over your shoulder to find her right behind you, reaching for the door with one hand, the other holding a-

“I said you didn’t need a weapon.“

“I know, but-“ She holds your gaze, kicking the door open before you have chance to realize that she’d distracted you, and preventing another scream from leaving your chest. “Dean says to always bring a gun.”

You roll your eyes. “Dean’s a fucking idiot.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that.” Jo hums, walking right past you into the room you’re still not strong enough to look at. “C’mon, I don’t know what I’m lookin’ for.”

You swallow, tucking your knife back into your jacket. You can’t think about what you’re about to do, because it will shut something in your down, and you won’t make it out without ripping into your skin to stay together.

You’ll think about Dean instead. You’re doing this for him. You’ll get through this not because you always do, but because you have to. For Dean.

“He knows I think that.” You mutter, bracing yourself as you turn to face the room. “And he knows better than to bring a gun when I specifically told him not to-“

Jo laughs at that, already scanning over the tall, polished wood bookshelves. “No, he doesn’t. You just always forgive ‘im cause he’s Dean.”

You scowl, walking into the study with uneven steps. You can’t think about it. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“It means what it means.”

“That’s not an answer, Jo.”

“Don’t need to be, you know what the answer is anyway-“

“No, I don’t-“

“C’mon,” Jo drawls your name, shooting you a grin as you start to comb over the desk, your every touch of the wood too light. You aren’t allowed to do this. You have to. For Dean. “You can lie to yourself, and you can lie to Dean-“

“I can’t, actually.” You mutter, pulling open a drawer with too cautious fingers, and Jo frowns.

“What’d you mean, you can’t?”

“I mean what I mean.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “Oh, fuck off- Holy shit.”

You’re at her side in half a breath, grabbing the Blade and bracing yourself for a fight, to throttle the Darkness but still make it out alive, because Jo trusts you so you can’t let her get hurt-

“What-“

“Is that you?”

You follow Jo’s gaze up, over the impossible fancy and likely unusable fireplace to the perfectly clean mantle, to the-

“Fuck.”

That is you. A small, seven-year-old you wearing a neat little dress you remember leaving a rash on your skin, your hair done in an elaborate style you don’t think you could duplicate if you tried, a book open on your lap that you remember being taken away after an hour, because you’d kept trying to read it when you were supposed to be staying still. 

There’s joy in your eyes, in the painting. More ease over your features than you’ve maybe ever known, and a small smile that’s too soft to be yours. And maybe it’s just a trick of the light—somehow breaking through the curtains, casting over the painting but only really shining on you—but there’s more color in you than your family.

They all seem to be static. 

You could swear you could see silver, shifting around the oil paint, humming in your body.

But that’s not what caught your attention. What washed you with heavy relief and a white-hot dread all at once, and made your throat tighten as your grip on the Blade became impossibly tight.

There it was. Old and worn, not a single speck of dust, waiting for you.

Not the same way the blade had been waiting—forged for you, designed for you, better in your hand than anywhere else—but still waiting for what you were. 

Like Lilith. 

The thought makes you a little sick. You entertain that later.

Jo tugs at your arms, her voice filled with nerves once more. “You’re- uh- you were a cute kid-“

“Yeah. I know.” You glance over at Jo’s soft, easy, light blue, and let out a long breath. “Get ready to run.”

Jo’s blue widens and tenses, all at once. “What-“

“When I grab the book. Ready?”

“I-“

You don’t wait for the full answer. She’s ready. You can see it all over her soul, bright and tensed and ready to burst.

So you grab the book, and the blur begins.

Out. You have to get out. You have to go and only look back to make sure Jo is with you, you have to get to the car and take off without looking in the rearview mirror. 

And the blur should’ve ended there, but it doesn’t. It hasn’t been.

You haven’t told Dean. You haven’t told Jo, or Sam, or Bobby, or anyone that this has felt like fighting for something more than your life. That you get up in the morning and it’s like gliding and wading through a swamp, following the trails of light—hidden under the water, promising to deliver you home—until you’re more lost than you began, and Dean pulls you out.

It gets through the haze, when he’ll take your hand and move you to bed, or hold your hand and mutter that you have to eat. You’ll hear him and, more often than not, let him guide you to bed. Somewhere safe, until you get up the next day, remember that there’s a little less time today than there was yesterday—Dean asleep across the bed, Golden and peaceful and branded, in fucking danger—and the blur begins again.

So the blur doesn’t stop when you get out of Chicago safely. It doesn’t stop when Jo opens the book and her voice—too far away for you to properly respond to—tells you that this isn’t in English. If anything it picks up as you only glance over, see the words shifting around the page in a way you can read, and look back to the road. It becomes impossibly fast when the engine sputters out in Wisconsin, and doesn’t slow when you pull over for the night—the truck barely holding on until you park—and settle in a shitty, flea-bed motel. 

You think Jo is calling for backup, or a ride, or something. You still can’t really hear her, because the blur is too clouding over the world for you to do anything but focus.

It’s not clear down long you’ve been reading for when the door opens. All you know is that your eyes are heavy and every breath stings, but you can’t stop because you can’t lose Dean. Just another page might be the answer. Just another note might make something click and fall into place, might fix this, you can’t stop because there’s nothing else to do but this, and someone is saying your name but that won’t save Dean, so it doesn’t matter.

You whine like an animal when someone tries to pull the book away, but you can’t think to make another sound.

“How long has she been like this?”

“Since we got out of that place, I ain’t heard her say a word, but- Mom, it was so fuckin’ creepy-“

“I’ll bet it was, look at the state of her. You gotten her to eat anythin’?”

“No, I- It never works ‘less Dean asks her-“

“Dean ain’t here right now, is he? C’mon, get her in the car and we’ll get some food in her.”

They don’t pull you out—the two people guiding you to your feet and speaking so far away—but they aren’t hostile. They won’t hurt you or anything you love, so it’s okay to let them move you somewhere else, as long as they let you keep the book. 

And they do. It stays in your hands when you sit once more, the words still shifting off the pages and none of them leading you anywhere safe.

The world starts to sting with your breathing. Everything is so dark, and you can’t tell if it’s simply what’s around you—dimming out a light you can’t afford to not have—or what’s inside of you, leaking out and infecting the world.

“Should we be tryin’ to take that book away from her-“

“No, I’ve seen her tire herself out, and- She tried to bite me once.”

“Bite you-“

“Not really, but I thought she might. Mom, I- I’m real worried about her-“

“I know you are, baby, but there’s nothin’ we can do but- I don’t even know, prayin’ ain’t right, but Dean don’t got a lot time left-“

Dean. Dean doesn’t have enough time. 

You can’t let the weight and haze and sting wash over you and put you down because Dean doesn’t have enough time-

The sky is big.

It’s one of the first things you’d ever learned. That the sky was big, and he was watching, and if you were lucky, maybe, one day, he’d swallow you whole. 

Your mother calls him an important name. Says he’s got plan for your family, that you’ve been chosen by him more than the tribes in that old book you hate memorizing, that one day, hopefully, the sky will eat of one of your children.

You’d told her that the sky wanted to eat you. That sometimes he makes himself white where you can see it, and promises to take you up to somewhere he calls good, but doesn’t sound it. It sounds lonely. Cold and lonely and too clean, like the blank walls of the bathroom.

“He won’t want you, darling.” Your mother had sighed, tucking a little hair behind your ear. “You’re- It won’t be you.”

She always said that kinder than everyone else. She always tried a little, where everyone else has all given up. 

Because it doesn’t matter how many times you insist that you’ve met the sky, they all chalk it up to you, being you, and putting yourself where you don’t belong.

You’ll be lucky if they can pawn you off at all. If some fool of a man ever looks over to your corner of the field, and decides that they want the girl who won’t stop talking about the colors and the sky, or crying about how the spiders are all so afraid of the shoes, but the shoes feel disgusting, and the grass doesn’t want to be stepped on anymore. 

It’s why your corner of the field is so small. So the grass doesn’t have to keep hurting. 

You’re under the trees, because then it’s harder for the sky to see you.

And you’re alone because it’s easier to put you here, where you can’t ruin the party by telling your aunt that she’s incredibly dull and washed out, as is her husband, but he has the same stains of neon that make up the babysitter.

Someone says your name, and suddenly you're not small anymore. The sky is still too big, but he’s further away. Just watching. 

But the sky becomes nothing, when you turn to see who called you. 

“Dean?”

“Hey, Princess.” He grins at you, glancing around the field with raised brows. “I, uh, have we been here before?”

“You haven’t.” You shrug, glancing back out towards the ribbons and balloons of the party. “I have.”

“Oh.” He frowns. “What?”

“This is- It’s my cousin party, I think.”

“What, she have a birthday?”

“No, she-“ You pause, hugging your body as you stare at the people—all suddenly your size but weaker, moving between tables and laughing and worth nothing at all—and try to remember what you’d all been doing here.

You think something happened to her, and she was celebrating before they had another party, that you hadn’t been invited to.

She’d tell you, a few nights later, that she was certain it was going to be her. That she’d made a cup fly across the room, and the sky would want her more than anyone. 

You’d told her you saw her throw that cup, and the sky wouldn’t want her because she was the color of vomit and it was gross. 

That was why you hadn’t been invited to the other party. 

You really don’t remember what either of them were for.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean taps you on the nose, and you blink at him with a slight wide expression. “You still with me?”

He’s not the color of vomit. He’s golden and beautiful, and you don’t know why your cousin had ever bothered with the sky when Dean was real, and here. 

Maybe because he was yours, and your cousin ever popped up and tried to take him, you’d carve out her eyeballs with the knife he gave you.

You hadn’t been able to do that, during this party. You’d really like to do it now.

“Yeah, uh- I don’t think so. The party was for something else.”

“Huh.” Dean shrugs, looking back to the people running around the grass. “They got beer?”

“Yeah, it’s in the cooler. Tastes like shit.”

“It-“ He stares at you, eyes wide. “You drank it?”

“Today, yeah.” You rub your thumb over your palm, holding Dean’s gaze as you speak. “In ten minutes my uncle is going to give me a beer, and I’m going to drink it, then break it into my brother’s face because he was laughing at one of the housekeepers, and she always brought me new crayons.”

Dean chuckles, bumping his shoulder with yours. “So what I’m hearing is that you’ve always been this violent.”

You roll your eyes, wrinkling your nose at his smug, pretty face. “I am not violent.��

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t say ‘uh huh’ like that-“

“I didn’t say it like anything-“

“No, you said it like you do when you’re making fun of me-“

“Princess, I’ve never made fun of you, I happen to like life-“ He side-steps your shove with ease, his grin only growing. “And I like you even more. I’d never tease you. Not once.”

You scowl, raising your chin at him. “You’re full of shit, Winchester.”

Dean scoffs. “Just cause Sammy’s been saying I want to die doesn’t mean I want you to kill me, sweetheart.“

“No, that’s not-“ You swallow, his words sinking a little too deep under your skin, your voice becoming softer than it was before. “You want to die?”

“Not lately, nah.” 

“Lately?”

“About six months.” He mumbles, kicking a rock with his foot. “Since you got back, really.”

The air feels hot. You can’t really feel anything, not here, but the air is hot. “Me?” You whisper, your voice barely a breath, and Dean just shrugs, his voice a little lower than before.

“Course you, Princess. Never been anything else, has it?”

You swallow, and nod, because he’s right. It really hasn’t. And he holds your gaze until you’re looking into him, and he’s golden and shining and bigger than the sky. 

You’d trade the sky for him in a heartbeat. You’d trade the world for him even faster.

The sky rumbles at that. It doesn’t like that idea, you trading everything for Dean. And you don’t remember it raining during this party, but it’s beginning anyway. Heavy, cold rain that falls on your skin like bullets, swelling in the grass and turning into a flood in only seconds, splitting the sky with white before you can grab Dean, and he’s swept away and you can’t fucking breathe, and Dean, he was here and you lost him in half a fucking second, where’s Dean-

Your throat already hurts when your eyes open, as if you’ve been screaming for a while. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe-“

You’re not safe. Dean’s not safe. You don’t know where he is, but he’s not whoever is holding and speaking to you, and where’s Dean-

“He’s back at Bobby’s, kid, he’s alright.” The owner of the voice is stroking your hair, and their touch doesn’t wash through your body like Dean’s, but it’s not wrong. You don’t have the energy to fight it anyway. “We only got a few hours ‘till I drop you back, ’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

You don’t know why, but you don’t believe them. The Darkness is balking and rioting all at once, and the spiderweb is screaming for Dean, and you- 

It’s not going to be okay. You don’t know what to do, and you don’t feel well, and you can’t- 

“Dean.” You whisper, your voice hoarse as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to drag a little control back into your body. “I- Where’s-“

“Bobby’s.” The voice repeats, smooth and controlled. “Sleepin’, probably, it’s well past midnight. And he’ll be glad you’re home,” the voice drawls your name, and that Ellen. Only she says your name like that. “He ain’t happy you ran off like that. Gonna be askin’ about where you were, so I suggest you and Jo start gettin’ your story straight.”

You blink your eyes open, still slightly blurred for the tears you know are still stained across your face, and you’re sitting at Ellen’s side, half-curled into her side like a child as you sit in the back of the car.

“Where’s-“

“She’s gettin’ you some food. Says you like the fruit gummies and those purple sodas.” Ellen raises her brows at you. “Anyone ever tell you that shit ain’t good for you?”

“Bobby has.” You mumble, picking at your fingernails. “I told him drinking wasn’t good for him.”

Ellen chuckles at that. “I’m takin’ you won that one.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips, and Ellen mutters your name.

“He’s worried ‘bout you too, you know. Called me a few weeks back to say you won’t sleep ‘less Dean’s with you.”

You look up at her, swallowing it frantic, wired feeling over your skin. “I- Dean and I- Bobby-“

“He ain’t stupid. If he didn’t figure it out with his eyes, he’d put it together with his brain. He right?”

“Is he-“

“You not sleeping without Dean?”

You swallow again—you think you’re going to choke on nothing at all—and nod.

Ellen lets out a long, slow sigh. “You tell Bobby you went to Chicago?”

“No.” You whisper. You’re starting to bleed, a little under your nail. “He’d- he’d know what that meant. He’d try to stop me.”

Ellen hums. “Should he have?”

You shake your head. “Dean-“

“Honey, I don’t care about Dean right now.” Ellen squeezes her arm around your body, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Should you have headed back there?”

You shouldn’t have. It’s still like a noose around your throat, and now you have to worry about your family knowing you’re alive, and stealing their books, and had been in their house.

But you’d do it again. For Dean, you’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.

“I-“ You swallow, pulling your knees into your chest. “I- I don’t know what to do.”

Ellen mutters your name but you shake your head, your every word becoming rushed and frantic as it slams back into you.

There’s not enough time. You can’t eat or sleep and there’s not enough time, and Dean is- You can’t- He’s Dean and you-

“I can’t- I don’t know what to do- Please, I- I don’t know what to do and I can’t- what if- I need him, I can’t- If this doesn’t work then I can’t-“ Your voice becomes strangled. Weak. Almost fucking pleading. “Please, I- I don’t know what to do-“

“Oh, Jesus.” Ellen holds you a little tighter, muttering your name, “’S gonna be alright, sweetheart. You’re smart ’n strong, you’ll be alright.”

It’s a labor to hear her. Your nails are leaving little marks on your skin and you’re not really breathing, but the Darkness is howling in your body and you can’t use it, you can’t hurt anyone but it may be the only way and you don’t know what to do-

“I- The book-“

“In your bag.” Ellen mutters, squeezing you one last time before pulling back. “We’ll all take some time to look at it, once we get you home, alright?”

You don’t think they will. Jo had said she couldn’t read it. You nod anyway, and Ellen gives you a soft smile.

“You wanna talk to Bobby.”

You nod again, and you feel like a child. You don’t know if it was Chicago, or how you’re almost out of time, but you feel small again. The Darkness is going dormant not because you feel better, but because you’re simply too fucking small.

Sitting on the curb of the parking lot, rubbing your calves and biting the inside of your cheek until it bleeds as you dial Bobby’s number. Like a kid who had too much to drink at a party, or got kicked out of a sleepover, the air sticky and hot on your skin and every breath too wired in your lungs-

It’s past midnight, but Bobby still picks up after three rings. 

You don’t wait for his greeting before the words start to spill out of your mouth like vomit.

“Bobby, I- I’m sorry, I need- I didn’t want to, but I, I don’t feel that good-“

Bobby grunts your name. “You alright?”

“I- Yeah.”

“You comin’ home?”

You nod, rubbing your hand over your throat. “I- I’ll be home before dawn, I think.”

“Good.” There’s a long, static pause, and when Bobby speaks again his words sound careful through the phone. “If I ask ya’ somethin’, I don’t want the details, or the why, or to hear anythin’ about it again. Okay?”

“Ok- Bobby, what?”

“You wanna talk to Dean?”

The spiderweb bursts like a firework at the idea. 

You’re too tired to pretend it doesn’t. 

“Yes,” you whisper, your nails digging into the skin of your neck. “Please.”

It doesn’t take as long as you thought it would. Bobby grunts and shuffles around on the other end of the line, snapping and muttering low words you can’t really hear no matter how hard you strain, and then Dean’s voice is strong and clear through the speaker.

He says your name, as if he’s not sure you’re really there, and you have to take a long, slow breath before you answer.

“Dean.” You whisper, and he lets out a sigh you can hear through the phone.

He doesn’t ask you where you are, or why you left, or what the hell you’ve been doing for the past day, picking up and driving off without warning. 

He just asks if you got it—you’re not even sure he knows what it is—and moves on when you mumble a yes.

“That’s good.” There’s a pause, and when Dean keep talking, it’s far too casual for all of this. “You know, Sammy says you can see our souls or something.”

“Yeah, I-“ You swallow, frowning into the mostly abandoned parking lot. “I can.”

“That’s pretty fucking awesome, Princess.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s weird, but our whole damn lives are weird.” You can almost hear the frown on his face, picture his adorable look of confusion. “Are they like, bright?”

“Some of them, yeah.”

“Huh. Are they squiggly?”

You blink at the air. “Squiggly?”

“Yeah, like shapes and shit-“

“They’re souls, De, not playdo-“

“Would be cool if they were playdo. You know Sammy used to eat that stuff, I had to make dad stop buying it. And if they’re not squiggly, are they just, like, in us?”

You shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “They all have a core, but it’s in a different spot for everyone. Then they just kind of… spread. Like paint.”

“Alright.” Dean pauses, and you realize you’ve stopped choking yourself right before he speaks. “Where’s my core?”

“In your chest.” You answer without thought, because you might know Dean’s soul a little better than your own. “Near your heart.”

“Huh. And is it just like, over me? All they all just glowing- Nah, you said they weren’t all bright-“

“They’re all different colors.” You say, smiling into the air as you cut off his rambling. “And some of the colors are bright, or metallic, or neon. Depends.”

There’s another pause, and Dean’s voice is suddenly softer when he speaks again. “What color am I?”

“Yellow.” You mumble, and Dean hums.

“Okay, I can work with yellow. Am I-“

“You’re metallic.”

“So I’m like, gold?” You can hear the slight joy in his voice. 

And you know what he’s doing. You’re not forcing the Darkness down, and you don’t feel good but you’re not small anymore either. He’s distracted him.

You’re almost out of time.

You can’t lose him.

“Yeah. You’re gold.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “Dean?”

“Yeah-“

“Can you please tell me it’s going to be okay.”

He pauses, tone lowering slightly as he mutters your name. “I don’t-“

“Even if it’s a lie.” You draw your knees tighter to your chest, and he’s just a voice in a phone right now, but you can feel him all the way down and through the spiderweb, and it’s better than anything in the world. You need him. “Please, just say it will be okay. Please-“

“It’ll be alright. I pr- I know you’re gonna be okay, Princess.” Dean’s voice is a little hoarse. 

You really want to go home.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He repeats, and you should be.

You should get through this. You always get through this.

But you need Dean. 

And as you watch the lights of the gas station flicker, you don’t believe him.

End Note: do you guys think I qualify for witness protection for a fanfic.

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

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[kaliforniahigh]

can i request best friend noah please?

either smutty or fluffy whatever you feel like writing!

Of course you can! Bestfriend!Noah is my favorite ever!

This is the third request, we have one more left! Request something if you want!

You were buzzing with excitement. It felt like ages since you've been able to watch the guys perform live. Between them taking a break, and you having to work, the schedules just didn't align.

You always felt such a sense of pride when you saw Noah up on that stage. The way he comanded the crowd, the way he sang and how he put everything into the performance.

Right now, he was standing beside you on side stage. He had just put on his mask and was waiting for his clue to go back on stage and sing Dethrone.

He looked down at you, and the only thing you could see in the darkness shrouding the stage were his eyes. You didn't know if it was the adrenaline of the moment, or the energy coursing through both of your bodies, but suddenly, you felt the atmosphere become charged.

You kept your eyes locked on his, and he kept his locked on yours. After a few seconds, he licked his lips, and the movement made your mind go blank for a second.

"What you wanna do after the concert?", he asked you.

You didn't know if this was a trick question, or if he already had an answer in mind. But, you held back from telling him that the only thing you thought about right now was him taking you back to his hotel room.

"Maybe grab a bite to eat?", you suggested, deciding to play it safe.

"Sure. Then you can come back to my room so we can hang out. What about that?", he suggested, and you saw a smirk playing on his lips at the proposition.

"Okay", you settled on answering. You could already feel the butterflies, and nerves, swirling in your belly.

"See you later, Angel", he bend down to give your cheek a kiss, grabbed his microphone and went back on stage, as if the last couple of minutes never happened.

[quillneriine]

To Love and to Lose, To Lose and to Save

Megatron knows he killed Orion Pax, and alongside him, D-16. The thing that comes back is not the conjunx he loved. Meanwhile, Optimus would just really like to help Dee heal.

I love Shattered Glass so much, they are my favorite and I enjoy making them suffer lmao.

So, for some context, this takes place after the events of the movie. I don't have a fleshed out SG TF:One AU, but I will be sharing some headcanons I have for it at the end notes (in Ao3 but tell me if you want me to post it here on Tumblr too) because it might help add more context to this fic, plus any other future Shattered Glass fanfics that I write since I will generally be following these headcanons.

Additionally, I really love the whole idea that Megatron doesn't see Optimus Prime as Orion Pax. Like, he genuinely thinks Orion died and Optimus is some random mech/the matrix controlling Orion's frame. I just think it's juicy. So, that's the premise of this whole fic. He's just in denial.

Anyway, hope you like this!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64174636

It felt strange to hear the trickle of energon in his audials.

As though in a daze, Megatron carefully sat down by the edge of the river, pressing his leg struts closer to himself as his optics trailed after the slow crawl of the energon. A few stellar cycles ago, he had been on the surface and the ground had been lifeless - the life source in which all Cybertronians depended on had been locked away by a god who had taken offense to the loss of his Primes.

He would never forget their ill-fated journey on the surface, even if it felt like another lifetime ago. He remembered the train, the crash, the Primes’ cave… He remembered how strange it had felt to be so free - far from the darkness of the underground mines. At some points during it all, he thought he could reach up and touch the stars themselves. How long had he dreamt of one day going on an off-world expedition, to fly far away from the confines of the mines?

How strange everything felt after it all…

A few stellar cycles ago, he had been D-16.

He… it didn’t feel right that in such a short amount of time, he had lost so much.

Wrong as it was, he almost missed being a miner. It may have been dangerous but… it was all he knew. It was all he had known.

Now… who even was he?

His servo reached out, shaking as energon slipped between his digits as easily as Pax’s hand had when he had let go.

He pulled back immediately, pressing his servo to his chassis as if burned.

He didn’t deserve this. No matter how much the High Guard lectured him that it wasn’t a matter of whether he was deserving or not, but rather survival. How could he ever look at energon - the one that flowed so freely now - and forget what he’d lost so this could be achieved?

He reset his optics, the darkness of the lunar cycle was not enough for him. He pressed his helm to his knee joints, hoping that somehow by doing so, he could almost pretend he knew what Pax had felt - falling into that abyss. He wished he knew. He wished that Pax had died long before the light above him disappeared. 

Megatron could only wish he had died with the light being the last thing he saw.

It was all he could do to stop being so haunted.

He didn’t need a ghost living in his processor and in his spark.

“Dee~”

Not when that thing existed in the physical world.

—

Optimus let out a soft vent, feeling the Matrix jump alongside his spark as he caught the glimpse of a familiar white frame.

Primus truly did adore him.

At first, he’d been irritated that the Matrix had refused to give him any klik of recharge. Instead, it seemed to pull him to come up to the surface of Cybertron, encouraging him even. 

If he had known that Primus was trying to help him claim his conjunx back, he would have put up less of a fight.

He made his way confidently towards the other mech, his pedes loud enough that Dee would have been able to hear him if he hadn’t heard him speak up. Cute as his conjunx was when startled, Optimus didn’t want to scare him on this lunar cycle. The surface was dangerous and Dee was sitting by the edge of a river. He didn’t know how good fliers were at swimming, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

He had only made it a few pedesteps before the whirr of a cannon stopped him. Optimus’ optics narrowed, his smile never wavering as he stared down the barrel of an oh so familiar weapon.

“Dee~ That’s no way to greet your conjunx.” His servo twitched by his side, but he kept himself from lunging. He didn’t want to startle Dee. “Our last goodbye was so explosive, do we really need to make this our new way of greeting each other?”

For a moment, a flicker of confusion crossed Dee’s blue optics as he stared up at him. Then his face grew steely, his dermas setting into a snarl as he continued to charge the cannon. “It doesn’t have to be. Get out of my sight, Prime.”

Optimus frowned behind the battle mask, sending a manual code to unlatch it to show Dee just how much that hurt.

At the sight of his entire face, Dee’s frame seemed to lock up, his wings tensing behind him as if he wanted nothing more than to flee. Gently, Optimus reached for the side of the cannon, gripping it in his servos.

“That hurt, Dee.” He didn’t care if Dee interpreted his words to mean the cannon, and well getting shot did hurt but… it had been Primus’ will. 

At first, when Dee had shot him to keep him from killing Sentinel, Optimus had been angry. He knew Dee had done it by accident. A warning shot gone wrong. Now he saw that it had only been Primus’ will that it had to happen that way. If Dee hadn’t shot him, he wouldn’t have fallen into the Well and met Primus. How else would he have become Prime? It was only fitting, after all, that the mech who would help Orion Pax ascend would be the mech he loved the most. Dee had helped him become who he was meant to be.

Now, he just needed to help Dee.

“Don’t. Don’t call me that.” Dee’s blue optics narrowed, the cannon trying to shift away from Optimus’ hold but he held on. This was the closest he had been to Dee in stellar cycles. Which was unfair. They had never spent a singular stellar cycle apart before. “D-16 is gone. There is only Megatron.”

“Is that what the High Guard has been telling you?” He began to pull at the cannon, keeping his optics trained on Dee’s face. The other mech struggled, feeling himself be pulled forward as Optimus tried to close the gap between them. He had to thank Dee for choosing this location. He had nowhere else to go. If he backed up, he’d fall right into the river. “I read from the archives that Shockwave used to be a scientist before the empurata… and Soundwave, oh, he’s an outlier, isn’t he? Did they scramble your processor, sweetspark?”

This close, he could see the new changes that the transformation cog had done to Dee’s face. His cheekplates were more angular, and the helm had pressed closer to the faceplate. Yet underneath all that, it was still his Dee. Even with the helm having turned black, or the addition of a beautiful pair of blue wings on the back of his frame, this was still the mech that Optimus loved. He would have gotten closer, but the cannon got in the way.

He let out a frustrated growl, tightening his grip to leave enough of a dent. 

“Unsummon it.”

—

Megatron cursed internally as the cannon disappeared back into his arm. A part of him - the part of D-16 that still lived on - incapable of refusing an order from Pax, even if this thing wasn’t Pax, it still looked close enough like him that his processor was conflicted.

He hated that D-16 still lived on, when Pax didn’t.

Instead, all that had come back was a monster who wore his frame.

The thing grinned.

If it had been Pax, he would have smiled back.

Instead, he stood frozen as it leaned closer. He could feel the heat of the other’s venting against his dermas as a servo reached to cup his cheekplate. 

“That’s better.” That thing purred, amusement in its voice as he stared him right in the optics. As if it knew how much it upset him to see Pax’s frame defiled this way. “Isn’t this better, Dee?”

He gritted his denta, trying to push down the part of him that wanted to cry. 

This wasn’t Pax.

Pax was dead.

D-16 had killed him.

“What do you want, Prime?” He kept his gaze trained on the imposter’s optics. The red so unlike his Pax’s yellow. It made it easier for him to remember that this wasn’t Pax. No matter how much “love” showed in this thing’s stare, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t the same. It can’t be the same.

“Fine, if you insist on calling me ‘Prime,’ at least add ‘my’ before it.” It chuckled, as if this was all a game. “Your Prime… I like the sound of that. Me being yours, you being mine.”

He resisted the urge to summon his cannon. He’d let it get too close. It would be no use now to summon his weapon.

Much to his horror, after that declaration, the thing had moved closer, as if it planned to—

He felt the press of dermas against his own before rage consumed his processor and spark.

With a guttural scream, he slammed his helm against the other’s, pain shooting through his HUD, but it didn’t hurt as much as the betrayal his entire system felt.

Not only had he killed Pax.

He’d let that… that thing that stole his frame just kiss him!

He didn’t realize he was still screaming until servos were latching onto his arms.

—

Optimus let out a yelp, clutching at his helm as he felt the trickle of energon against his face.

He forgot how strong Dee could be if he really put his processor to it.

Dismissing the small warning pop-up in his HUD, he turned back to his conjunx, a little annoyed that Dee was acting so hard to get.

The sight that greeted him made his spark nearly offline again.

Dee had buried his face in his servos, his digits splayed out against his white faceplates as wide blue optics stared into nothing. He had hunched slightly over, as if his frame was about to enter into emergency stasis. 

What scared Optimus most of all was the screaming.

The sight of this reminded him too much of when he’d come back. No longer Orion Pax, but so much more.

There was glory and pride in becoming Prime, but admittedly, his first sight as Prime hadn’t been a pretty one.

He’d come back, ready to bring Iacon to a new golden age of Primes, to the sight of his conjunx having a breakdown at the edge of where he had fallen as Pax. He didn’t even have time to ask the other mech what was wrong before the High Guard were on him, trying desperately to fight him like the traitorous mechs they had shown themselves to be. By the time he’d rip one of them into pieces, Dee had been flown away by Starscream himself.

Optimus had been trying to get him back ever since.

His conjunx was clearly damaged, and being with the High Guard wasn’t doing him any favors.

He gently reached out, grasping the other’s arms as he tried to pull Dee into an embrace. 

Optimus never liked it when Dee was upset.

Even as Orion Pax.

Sure, he loved it when Dee would pout, and even shed a few tears at times but…

He never wanted him to hurt.

Holding him close, Optimus ran a servo against the other mech’s back, letting the digits reach out to touch his wings. With his other servo, he pressed mech’s helm closer to his chassis. Whenever one of them was upset, they always tried to comfort each other by pressing the other’s helm to their chassis, close enough to hear the spark whirr - an assurance that they would always be there for each other. 

“I’m here, Dee. I’m right here.”

—

He didn’t know how long it was until he regained enough strength to lift his helm from that cold chestplate.

His frame was shuddering, mostly from the meltdown that his system just went through and was currently coming out of, but also from how cold it felt to be so close to the Matrix.

Because there wasn’t a spark in there.

And if there was, it wasn’t the spark he loved anymore.

Megatron let out a shaky vent, unable to move as he was caged within the thing’s arms, and he could feel digits against his wingplates - sending sharp bursts of pain through his system.

Knockout said the pain would go away soon. His wings were only extremely sensitive because he’d been cogless for the majority of his life and they needed to adjust to being free for the first time.

Of course, that thing was taking advantage of this fact.

“You already took his frame…”

Why did you have to take this away from me too?

D-16 had only ever loved Orion Pax. 

If Megatron didn’t know any better, he could say it was simply in his programming to love him and no other bot.

The thing must know that. Is that why it took great pleasure in kissing him? Because it knew it was something he would never be able to do with Pax again?

“What?” It slowly let go of him, but there was still a grip on his wingplate that only seemed to tighten - sending warning pop-ups through his HUD as his system registered the spike of pain.

“Enough of your games, Prime. Don’t you have a city to rule? What would your beloved god do if he knew you were wasting time tormenting a waste of scrap like me?” He snarled, wishing he could push it away from him. He couldn’t though. Not with it holding his wing. “Do you enjoy this? Enjoy watching me suffer? Why not offline me now and be done with this? You see the High Guard and I as a threat to your rule, why prolong this when you could end it now?”

Megatron didn’t want to die. No mech really did, and he was no coward. He knew the Prime couldn’t be allowed to continue ruling over Iacon. 

From the few reconnaissance missions that Soundwave had sent the Casseticons on, it was clear this thing was enforcing the old system - back when the Primes used to rule.

Life under Sentinel was horrible, but it was nothing compared to the horrors Cybertronians had experienced during the Primes’ reign.

He’d heard enough stories from Starscream to last him several cycles.

“Waste of scrap? Dee, you know you’re so much more than that.” It frowned, its free servo cupping his cheekplate again. “Even free you still hold onto what you’ve learned during Sentinel’s rule… It’s the High Guard, isn’t it? It’s okay, Dee. I won’t let them continue harming you this way. Listen to yourself… They really did a number on you, huh? Don’t worry, once I have you back in Iacon, I’m getting you the best mnemosurgeon.”

It even dared to pretend to care. Megatron let out a sharp vent, resetting his optics. 

This was a ploy.

It only wanted him to believe it so it could prolong the torture.

“I am not a fool.” He let out through gritted dentae. He wished he hadn’t snuck out of the High Guard’s base this lunar cycle. He would have gladly wasted joors unable to recharge in berth than deal with this thing trying to trick him. “You may wear his face. You may use his frame. But don’t think I would fall for your tricks. I know my Pax, and you are not him.”

Because he knew Orion Pax.

The Orion Pax who he loved so much… who he still loves.

The Orion Pax he killed.

If Pax had come back, he wouldn’t be acting this way.

No. His Pax would have been angry.

D-16 had shot him and no matter how much Pax may have loved him, he wouldn’t have taken that betrayal lightly.

This thing thought that by acting sweet he’d get him to cave but it was wrong.

Because he knew Pax.

And the Pax he knew would never have forgiven him.

—

“What?” 

He could hear the borderline hysterics in his own laughter as Dee’s words registered in his processor.

Primus, how bad was the damage in his conjunx’s processor?!

He replayed their entire interaction, dissecting every word the other had spoken.

Calling him Prime… He was already refusing to believe that he was Pax from the start.

The anger and accusations… He clearly thought Optimus was here to hurt him.

Calling himself Megatron… A clear attempt to distance his own self from D-16.

And then he did laugh, a loud amused noise that probably wasn’t helping his case, but the realization of it all was so funny that he couldn’t help himself.

Sure, he didn’t like to see the extent of the damage on Dee’s processor, but still.

Dee thought he was someone else.

And he was even attempting to believe himself to be someone else too!

Optimus laughed, trying desperately to vent.

Then it died down, leaving him disturbed as the reality came crashing down on him.

Dee… really needed help.

He dropped his servo from the other mech’s face, reaching behind to hold onto the other’s wing. He pulled Dee closer until they were faces nearly touching again, hoping that the other could see how much he cared and loved for him through his optics. 

“Dee, it’s me. I’m right here—”

“Stop. Lying.” Blue optics glared at him, his conjunx’s frame uncomfortably stiff even as he pressed closer to Optimus’ frame, as if he was trying to escape the hold on his wings. Optimus held on tighter - enough so that he could almost feel the wingplates dent underneath his digits. He couldn’t let Dee fly away, especially now that he knew the extent of the damage. Those optics narrowed, his conjunx letting out a hitched vent as if he was in pain.

“I’m right here.”

To prove it, he let go of one wing and grabbed the other mech’s servo, pressing it against his chassis so that Dee could feel the familiar whirr of his spark. 

He waited.

But Dee’s expression didn’t change.

If anything, his frame only shook harder and disgust filled his optics as he turned his gaze down - as if he couldn’t recognize Optimus’ spark anymore.

The Matrix thrummed in agony alongside his spark.

“You… you really think I’m someone else, don’t you?” 

He could hear static at the edge of his voice, the pain of it hitting him fully as he lowered his helm.

He thought getting shot was the worst agony of his life.

But this…

His own conjunx couldn’t even recognize him.

How could it have gone so wrong in the span of a few stellar cycles?

He’d gained so much, had gained freedom, and yet he had lost the one mech he had wanted to share that freedom with so badly.

Optimus let out a shaky vent, letting the other mech go as he lowered his arms to his side. He expected the other to run, to transform and fly from his grasp but he stood there.

He looked up, almost missing the dents he had left on the other’s wings.

“I’m… so sorry, Dee.”

He didn’t know if he was apologizing for the wings, or for being late.

Optimus would never blame Primus for taking his time. He had granted Orion Pax the power to be free, and he would never go against his god.

No, the fault was entirely his.

He should have been quicker to dispatch those High Guard traitors when they attacked him.

He should have been faster to get to his conjunx, to get him to a medic or mnemosurgeon.

Now Dee was confused to the point he couldn’t even recognize his own conjunx’s spark.

Carefully, he reached for the other’s servos, clasping it as he fell to one knee. It did not fill him with shame.

Dee was the only mech he would ever let himself kneel down to.

He’d gladly kneel down to the only mech he had ever loved.

“I should have been there for you. I should have been there to wipe away the pain, but I wasn’t because—” No, blaming the High Guard was only deflecting the blame. Optimus shook his helm, staring deep into his conjunx’s optics as if by doing so he could somehow get into the other’s processor and reach out to the D-16 that he loved. “I should have been there. You must be suffering so much.”

“Stop. Please.” Dee tore his gaze away, helm turning up towards the starry sky. Even in the darkness though, Optimus could see that the other mech was holding back his tears.

“No! I won’t until you remember me, remember us.” He held onto the other’s servo tighter, trying to spark the warmth they had shared the first time they’d ever held each other. The first time they started the Conjunx Ritus. “I won’t stop until you remember yourself.”

The other was shaking, his processor clearly trying to fight Optimus’ words of assurance. He was no mnemosurgeon, but from what he had read in the archives, Optimus knew that the processor would fight hard to protect the entire system if it underwent a lot of trauma. This was only a natural response. Dee’s processor couldn’t accept what Optimus was promising that it was trying desperately to not listen.

He stood up, and that action had the other mech lurching back, nearly falling into the river before Optimus quickly caught him. With one servo still holding onto Dee’s, and the other splayed protectively over the back of his frame, Optimus held onto him. 

Optimus would never let Dee fall.

“I’m sorry I let this happen.” He pressed his face against the other, close to Dee’s spark. He could feel the familiar thrum underneath the other’s chassis, and Optimus never felt so at home. He wished Dee could remember this feeling.

Dee was lost but Optimus will help him come home.

“I have you now. It’s okay.” He held onto his conjunx tighter, a promise that nothing would ever tear them apart again.

Not Sentinel.

Not the High Guard.

Not even death.

Optimus won’t allow it.

“I’ll save you.”

[agent-calivide]

I'm tired. Call this a rant or a vent post, but I'm so tired.

I'm not going to call anyone in specific out, but please for the love of god if you hate a character, STOP putting hate in their character tag. More specifically, if you hate people for how they choose to like a character, please, block and move on.

Yes there is a disproportionate amount of fan content for John Juniper, no it's not just basic white boy syndrome, he was the only one with a character model that showed up for more than five seconds and had an actual appearance for literally years. Positive association is a thing. Yes, you can hate him, that's normal and to be expected, dare I say most John Juniper fans do. No, most of the fandom doesn't actually think he's coming back, it's a running joke/issue based on how Schell handled their own lore that was founded before IEYTD 3 when Schell was acting coy about his status only to rip the rug out from under us with an obituary out of nowhere. No, you don't have to like the fanfics or fanart of Phoenix or Handler with Juniper romantically, but if you don't like it please block, scroll, or- I don't know- take a screenshot and talk shit with your buddies in private or something. Complaining about how a small section of the fandom posts frequently rather than putting in the energy to post more of what you like wastes your time and hurts people who are, god forbid, having fun.

And, frankly, it's not even about Juniper at this point. It's so disheartening to CONSTANTLY see "hot take, I actually HATE the way you engage with this fandom. You should make more things that are closer to MY interests." You know how much it sucks to see people say you're liking your media the wrong way when you aren't doing anything harmful?

First, it was that I wasn't making Phoenix "right" because I made them more effeminate and had them use she/her pronouns in my personal fanfics and fanart. Then, it was that Juniper was so gay he'd NEVER like a woman, and that women were just innately revolting, so shipping him and my Phoenix was gross and wrong. Then, it was why are fem!phoenix's so popular, they're nonbinary, stop assigning them a gender when there were like five fem!phoenixes total. Then, FINALLY, people chilled out and were tolerant of the fem!phoenix and mellowed out a little, but now it's I don't like the way you write/present John Juniper. If I had a shot every time I saw "hot take, I HATE Juniper, I don't get why the fandom likes him." I'd be dead. It's not really a hot take, it's the one I see all the time, but rather than investing that energy into making something new this fandom would rather just take pot shots at the consistent creatives rather than make something themselves.

I feel like a lightning rod of hate, but I don't remember asking for it. And I know a good handful of other IEYTD creators feel similar. If you hate Juniper so much, block his tag. Block the creators. Something.

But it's not fair to the people who are passionate about this game to be used as the resident dunk-tank because you don't like their favorite character, or you don't like their writing, or whatever argument of the week you have. We're here to have fun at the end of the day, and I don't see how an ooc self indulgent fic is harmful enough to warrant the way some of the people in this fandom are treated.

[irukasito]

⭐️: must read 🍓: personal favorite 🥹: so tender and sweet 😭 : made me SOB ‼️: needs more love and attention 🫣: they want each other so bad it’s almost embarrassing 🫡: hurts but it’s worth it 😫: kakashi is down bad and so am i (yes this deserves its own little category) 😌: a good quick read 🤭: made me laugh

🍓⭐️ in which certain things are crossed out by rokudaime

[E, Completed, 20k words] 🗣️: it's titled after one of my favorite richard siken poems and it does it justice. can't ask for more than that. plus the writing is great, so is the characterization, and the pacing is exquisite.

🤭 Animal Crackers by Pentapus, Torch

[M, Completed, 29k words] 🗣️: It's cute, fun, and delightful. Why deny yourself happiness? Read this right now.

⭐️ The Bingo Book by flailinginlove 

[E, Completed, 64k words] 🗣️: A CLASSIC. I think this was the very first kkir fic I ever read and my god it did not disappoint. It's the kind of fic you take your time reading.

🍓😌🤭‼️ The Straight Man Token Human and Awkward Frankenstein's Slow Burn Romance (orphaned)

[T, Completed, 3k words] 🗣️: Very fun, very original, cute in a creepy way. Kakashi is undead and calls Iruka "the pretty thing." What more could you ask for?

😌🤭 White Wedding by rageprufrock

[T, Completed, 4k words] 🗣️: This was written when I was 10 years old which is wild to think about but its cute and sweet and I like it. Kakairu sundae with Gaanaru sprinkles.

😫🤭⭐️ Flirting Fails by Dilly_Oh

[G, Completed, 1k words] 🗣️: various vignettes of kakashi being too gay to function. it’s like an antidepressant to me.

🫣🥹⭐️ there you are, there you are by CountingNothings

[M, Completed, 94k words] 🗣️: the pining is insane in this one. might also be the most slow burn of all of these fics. but it’s good and sweet and worth it.

🥹‼️🫡😭🍓⭐️ Round and Round (Just give it time) by Inkly

[E, Completed, 19k words] 🗣️: listen… this fic has everything. i don’t even know what else to say. it's gonna break ur heart and then patch it back up. it’s perfect.

⭐️🍓🫡 Not Caught Up by AllPrompts

[M, Completed, 42K words] 🗣️: the PINING. the JEALOUSY. the FLUFF. the MISUNDERSTANDINGS. the COMEDY..... such an all rounder fic.

🍓🫣😌‼️ The Odd Couple by emmykay

[M, Completed, 12K words] 🗣️: kakashi and iruka share a body, antics ensue. had me giggling at 3am first time i read it.

[Part 1]

[martiandmichelle]

So this time it's Emily writing and it's also me in the photo. What do you think seeing me dressed like this? I'm a bit of a jeans and t-shirt gal so catching me in an outfit like this is unusual. But a client wanted to see me in such a getup so here I am trying to put on a sexy look.

And now confession time: in my heart of hearts I am purely lesbian, but my job - that I love to death - requires me to do some "escort" jobs with - yes - men. When I first started doing this with Marti and Studio M (now Mountain Media) a few years ago, I was VERY uncomfortable when I needed to do straight sex. I've grown into it since and have come to enjoy it. And, guess what - I actually do more "escort jobs" than any of the other ladies. There are reasons for that, of course. Marti is priced out of range for all but the richest clients. Maria has been our #2 escort girl, but she is also much more expensive than me and has a two night minimum. Willow is very picky. The other ladies are up and coming. And one little secret: I'm the only one our owners allow to do hourly escort! I don't do it very often but it's fun when I do. (I suspect Michelle will blow everybody else out of the water in terms of profit from escort in 2025 so I'm talking about 2024.)

So as my job as an escort - which I do feel is the second part of my job behind doing photo sessions and movies - it took me quite a while to grow into it, but as I did I began to discover who I was and what I preferred in straight sex. In doing so, I developed preferences much different from the other ladies. First and foremost: I developed a preference for older men: 50's, 60's, 70's. (I'm 36 as of this writing.) That's probably fortunate since it's mostly guys of that age that can afford Mountain Media and me. (It's important to understand that our owners set prices, not us.)

And here's another thing that's unusual about me and my sexual services (all the ladies say I'm weird so I guess this fits): I'm no size queen, like, say, Michelle. I honesty don't care how big a guy's cock is. Small is fine, maybe better. And my favorite thing is turning a soft cock into a hard one. I like to make a man cum quickly then spend time with his limp cock and empty balls in my mouth (maybe all together!) and work it over good until it's hard again. Kinda different, huh?

Oh, and YES, I love having guys enjoy my body. Like Marti, my favorite thing is watching and feeling someone (or someones) suck my nipples and play with my boobs. (Maybe that comes from me being a natural lesbian?)

One last thing and I'll quit rambling. And that's what was going through my mind the first time I had two guys at the same time or even being in the center of a gang bang. The first thing I thought was "What the FUCK am I doing?" But, I have to admit, being in the middle of two (or more) very horny guys is, well, interesting to say the least. I decided if I was going to be getting fucked by guys whether in a video or in my escort business then I think the more the better, right?!

Love you guys and sorry for making you read all this bullshit.

Emily

[k3nnjamin]

really obsessed with Retired Bruce / Grandpa Bats and especially with him getting real into community service. Like at a certain point funding public programs just doesn't cut it, especially if the people you're asking to handle the money and programs are susceptible to Gotham city's very favorite activity: corruption. So Bruce feels the need to go in and do it himself basically. Somehow by retiring from Batman, Bruce's schedule gets 10x more packed and he is EVERYWHERE doing absolutely everything he can to keep just one more person safe and alive and cared for.

Some things he does are directly for his kids. He helps out at the animal shelter / vet clinic where Damian works, walking dogs and playing with kittens. He helps them all find homes.

He works at the soup kitchens and the animal rescues and the shelters.

Bruce builds and funds so many rehabilitation centers and orphanages. And he doesn't just fund them, he visits regularly and takes time to greet everyone who passes through with a smile and a compliment. He buys them presents and tells them stories about batman and his boys and what he remembers about his parents. He makes such an effort to get to know these people inside and out so they never have to feel alone or like no one believes them when corruption and abuse inevitably arise. He's not the Bat anymore but that part of his brain telling him that he can save "just one more person" never gets the memo for as long as he lives.

He takes his grandkids along too when they come to visit. The pride and joy of his life. He shows them off, yeah, what proud grandpa wouldn't? But most importantly he puts them to work. Sure, he knows his children are more than capable of raising sweet, compassionate, hardworking kids, but Bats is still apart of him and it wouldn't be right if Bruce didn't see to it himself that these ideals were engrained in his grandkids. And he'll do it right this time.

He explains to them the importance of showing compassion to everyone because you don't know where they've been or where they're going.

He talks about his strange history with their Uncle Jason and how every action has a consequence, good or bad.

He stresses most of all the responsibility they have-- because he still has an exorbitant amount of money despite the decades of trying to give it all away, and all that money is going to them when he's gone-- to give away their abundance.

There are a couple less noble life lessons thrown in there about trusting your intuition and NOT trusting everyone you meet and saying i'm sorry (Dick or Jason or any of the other bats tbh overhears Bruce (gently) lecturing their kid about saying sorry to their sibling and goes "yeah, your grandpa would know a thing or two about that," and immediately launches into a story about a time that the two of them weren't on speaking terms for a month because Bruce refused to apologize for something insignificant. The man turns bright red as the Batkids all laugh around him. His grandchildren stare on in horror, "grandpa, you really didn't speak to mom/dad for a month.. that's like forever!")

[myokk]

For writers:

What’s your favorite piece of writing you’ve done, and why??

Idk I just woke up thinking about this & now I’m curious!!! & may or may not be compiling a tbr based on your responses since I really haven’t had the time to read any hl fics yet🫶🫶🫶

[knavestrolls]

ROUND 2 LET'S GO. Warning that the first one is LONG, PERSONAL, and INVOLVES RELIGION. so skip if you're not up to that! Also, please don't take offense if yours isn't as long- it doesn't mean I don't love your characters it just means my brain rambled less getting to the point!

Mondes- @/byrdstrolls Starting here because this is one is going to be really personal. So, I used to have a different favorite troll in the Robinverse and it was absolutely Hikaru. Even did that speedpaint and everything but. When I was working at my last job, I was the only non-christian sect in the dunkin I was at. The ONLY one. Now, I am not religiously Jewish. But I grew up half that way. My dad's side family who lives here is kosher jew (i do not talk to them). My only good stepmother I ever had (who proceeded to traumatize me) is jewish- ethnically and religiously, and she was in my life through 2 other step mothers before her. I grew up in a weird mix of half mexican christianity and half jewish because of where I grew up and because of her. Another friend who has a direct blood jewish mother to inherit it from- she called us "culturally jewish" to describe it. I had like two more paragraphs typed before I realized it's just rambling but to shorten it as much as I can- Mondes was a fellow jew in a time where I needed one. He felt like one of my stepbrothers. That's the best I can describe it. [CORRECTED. not Armenian, she wasn't Armenian! fucking hell tired dave is meshing everything together safe me. She was IRANIAN. IRANIAN. can't be typing this without sleep rip]

Makona-@/the-rainbow-overflow It is no secret how much I love Makona. I could listen to you tell me all the little details of her for HOURS. The teeth??? The in depth snake based TEETH?! The locks?! Her romance with Ptillo?! UGH She makes me SO gay I just. I fucking LOVE Makona

Circin-@/stuckstucktrolls It is, or it should be at this point, a well known fact that I have diagnosed BPD. Circin is like looking into a fucking mirror sometimes. The abandonment anxiety especially you write it so well that I once actually broke my pencil reading I believe one of your replies about it because it triggered my own. It was wonderful- not the abandonment anxiety- but feelings being triggered and getting to flip like that just. Circin and his relationships and how he interacts with the world just. He brings me joy. With or without the label on him.

Shafan-@/hareofhrair Shafan brings me gender euphoria, gender envy, and somehow causes me to be sex repulsed all at once. I ADORE the design. The character is fucking FANTASTIC. The maulmart outfit lives in my head RENT FREE (which I mean, if they're wearing that they ain't paying rent). Shafan brings me such genuine delight- especially their STOMACH!!!

Bellau-@/celestialtrolls Gold's characters are so fucking fun. The alternate palette thing? fucking gorgeous. Bellau is one of the ones on the list where their design stuck with me. I don't have thoughts behind it.

Chimor- @/ask-deepdarksea A dad! A dad who uses a crutch because he bad at walking on land! A giant! A dork! While I tend not to end up interacting just because I get a lil overwhelmed with the nsfw content/suggestive content, I genuinely enjoy your trolls and was so happy you came back.

The Wanderer- @/muteddrifter Just. Oh my god that design fucks so severely. A LOT of your designs do! If it weren't for my lack of money and pile of comms I need to buy, that alcremie would be mine. <3

Maylon-@/damistrolls Maylon and Juniee! I literally just had the thing up to double check how to spell their names and I've already forgotten if it was right. Anyways. The fucking Re-educators? Their Siblingness? Their Jesse-James-esque pose?? Maylon's fucking HAT SHADOW?! Both of their smiles?! OUGH I am GAY. GAY GAY GAY

Atreus- @/cybernatedbeholder Tits- I mean tits- I mean-tits- I MEAN. The design (yes even the tits) is SO fun. It's looming, even sitting down. The eyes stay with me. AND THE HAIR OH MY GOD THE HAIR. Now, I used to have a favorite but they don't really exist anymore but Atreus took that spot SO quick when I saw,,,

Zedaya-@/a-gaggle-of-colors Okay. Bare with me, this one is mostly old memory. I remember that he's an heir, and that he's got a cute lil bow tie. And that he's SHORT and APPLE SHAPED!!! Which is SO IMPORTANT TO ME. His design is so cute and the cape!! I think I drew him once, though I don't think I liked how I did the hair in the end.. felt too straight?

Apollo- @/one-twisted-sister My favorite to see dressed up. So good in SO many outfits. Her design is so fun that I love to see every single iteration she could be in I just, OUGH. You are another one too where all your designs fuck so hard it's so hard to pick!

Metier-@/ketchfantrolls THE INTRIGUE. THE MYSTERIOUS (TALL) LIL GUY. The fucking FINS. I die for those fins every time. And the sprite's pose is so fun and ough. I know y'all's main group moved on, and you guys seem happier there and it makes me genuinely happy to know y'all are doing better there, but I'm keeping all your trolls, son-in-law. Mi mijo's too. all mine now.

Okay that is all I have steam for. Again, this is by no means an exhaustive list. The FTC is full of amazing creators with trolls I stare at or read about endlessly because I am an insane lurker and love to know about OCs.

Do you remember your favorite fan troll you’ve ever seen that wasn’t one of yours?

Okay so this is such a loaded question but not in a BAD way. I hope y'all are ready for some dropped names. I'm not going to ping anyone, I don't want to step on toes! LONG ASS POST. I AM NOT KIDDING.

Sid Cada @/lordtonic - I may be yellow colorblind but god damn I love sid. Enough that it makes me angry I know I can't see that damn suit right sometimes. I picked Sid as my favorite one day and my brain stuck to it so hard that while I do legitimately love every other troll there, Sid makes me light up like I've just see a lizard [which with Sid, sometimes those things both happen]

Thread @/sasster My favorite chase troll changes a LOT. Chase has INSANELY GOOD TROLLS AND FUN CHARACTERIZATION. Stryx was actually my first favorite troll of Chase's and how I found the sasster blog BUT. Thread is SO good. She's so fun and oh my god. Snakes,,, [WOMAN. also her one romance with the uhhh commander I think? The white suit with both arms on one side in her sprites.. sleepless brain is killing me rn- but oh my god it's SO fun to see them flirt.]

Mallum @/roetrolls Okay so. I know everyone would think I'd put Remora and they're NOT WRONG I STILL ADORE REMORA. But through the storylines I just fell HARD for Mallum. The redemption? The struggle? I literally can't hear "Main Character" by Wil Wood without imagining a whole animatic of Mallum to it! The only thing that stops me (besides time) from making it is I know I do NOT know enough to make it any form of accurate. [after coming back to proofread: also the fact that Roe is an amazing animator and my brain struggles with the 'well x could just do it'. Not the point brain!]

ALLMAH @/ase-trollplays Listen. Here on the knavestrolls we are villain enjoyers. And we are WOMEN enjoyers. And WE SUPPORT WOMEN'S WRONGS. WE WANT THEM TO DO MORE IN FACT. Allmah my beloved. Free her. She did all of it I just think she should be free to do more. [doubling down. Let Allmah commit new warcrimes. Let her invent them]

Veketi @/windy-trickster Mi mijo has so many good trolls that it's always hard to pick. But Veketi gets a soft spot for me because we made Veketi and Liegia together. Because I made Veketi's sprites and I want to remake them because I think they look god awful now but they still get USED when he's around. They still read like they're fun! Becase Star has an amazing way of making the sprites WORK with what the character is saying too. <33

Melanc @/ask-melanc-vivura I.. don't actually have a long explanation for this one. This is another BPD brain pick that's really silly. I drew her with her boobs mostly out and have just loved her ever since. I am weak to women I can pin up. [PIN UP ART. PIN UP ART.]

Galeia- @/videcoeur This is another one I don't have a good long explanation for just.. pretty fish. I'm love pretty robit fish. Plus, science and REALLY FUCKED UP science,, my beloved [Fun fact i am weak to every single Videcoeur character, OC or otherwise. And the moment she arts? I'm dead. One day I'll be able to afford sprites]

Arceel- @/memurfevur I'm pretty sure I spelt his name wrong and I do not care, he can fist fight me. Not the author, the troll. Papa Arceel! One of my favorite troll to interact with because I can go to that troll with some of the stupidest questions and get a legitimate answer. Sometimes, one I didn't even know I needed [Also I am SO sad upon realizing I don't have the stupid meme image of his head over Beast now.]

Rynthu- @/lashysdomain Again, pretty sure I spelt it wrong but she'll forgive me I think (the troll). Just all around a fun character. Has so many fun plots in so many fun ways/worlds! Her romance with Watch'r is adorable as hell, but I'm not obsessed with the Watch'r side, it's her side I follow. As if it's one of the many romance webtoon I cling to and she's the FL.

PELEXI- @/mageofspacemultiverse DRAGON. WOMAN. WE SUPPORT DRAGON WOMEN'S WRONGS. Especially when they're funny. Plus like listen. Listen. Have they actually dated? No. Have they even gotten past a SINGLE conversation? NO. But that's Esstoc's wife and I don't take excuses

Charon - @/asks-n-trolls If I could romance 1 old troll............also honestly I love a LOT of Dan's trolls. Each one has such a fun personality, cute quirks- and FLAWS!!! I LOVE FLAWS!!

Alacar- @/alacarhelsng I can type freely here, because I *know* that he will never read this so. Alacar is genuinely one of my favorite characters my husband has ever made. He's so genuinely fun to play off of as a character, to build around! His design is SO freaky and silly and fun! I forget his damn scar EVERY TIME! He's getting surprise gift sprites done and I had to go back and rewrite the notes to please include the scar and add more references because I had forgotten AGAIN. He's SO ODY coded but he's also so Achilles coded. He didn't want to fight in this damn war. He wanted to spend his days with his Patroclus (AND HIS PENELOPE). He wanted to laugh and joy! And now look what this journey has turned him into! What losing those people has turned him into! Ugh I could go on forever- and I will, if ever given the chance, because I know that my husband isn't around on here as often and isn't very known but god DAMN I need y'all to appreciate the fun builds he makes. (also Qimzal is my second favorite and depending on what song wins you might get some insight on why)

Chrona- @/8bit-mau5 Okay. So. This one is REALLY hard to narrow to one because I also adore Malice and Opal. Crow's getting it for the STUPIDEST of reasons though. I'm weak to pinstripe. All three characters are a genuine joy to have on my dash any time they appear I am over the moon! I want all three of them worse and better all at once!! Also I would not trust Crow to actually help me in a court of law. Should I? Maybe.

Nereus- @/nethertrolls The design? KILLER. The stories? Absolutely enthralled me. Also, Nereus just reminds me of the Outsider from Dishonored sometimes and I ADORE The Outsider. To the point where I do actually plan on getting his mark tattooed eventually! So just.. Genuine attachment regardless of any story changes I'm dedicated to Nereus

@/goddesstrolls For religious reasons, I can't post her name. Starts with an H. She's Bast's very buff beautiful rust woman. A huntress. A legend. An icon. I ADORE her. It KILLS ME that I can't interact with her because I can't say her name!! Plus I just get nervous because,, womyn,,

 Ailaxi- @/tempi-fantrolls Okay, so this is going to be very shameful of me and we're all just going to ignore it for a moment okay? I struggle to keep up with the dash, even when I had the free time and the mental health but the #1 troll I always managed to catch on my dash was Ailaxi from them. And oh my GOD I ADORE lil grouches! Especially SOFTIE GROUCHES. It has been a while since I've been able to keep up at any level so this is VERY much just vague memory but I see that gray man and I'm like yes. my boy he has returned.

Daiona- @/norts-trolls Nort is another person I struggle to pick favorites with but right now it is STRONGLY Daiona. This I don't have words for in the same way I don't have words for the profound loneliness that sneaks up on me that I can only explain via sending my husband pictures of abandoned, overgrown, half destroyed houses that look like no one's even urban explored them in at least a decade. Daiona fills that same feeling to me, I hope someone makes sense of that.

Voghel- @/happyhappyfantrolls I have said it once, I will say it again, we are VILLAIN LOVERS here at Knavestroll! Voghel was one I locked onto early and have not let go! I try to go keep up with events and comics on this blog when possible because so many characters have fun interactions, deep relationships, and there's familial bonds that get to me...but also I want to see Voghel.

Babble- @/wandering-trolls I NEVER leave behind an EDM girlie. Just look at her. Look at her and tell me you can't love her I'll fist fight you

Mikael - @/mik-mania I just think Mikael is neat. That's it. thats the whole thought

Rhulan- @/morgombie It was love at first sight. If I remember right, I think I even got to draw her once! Not 100% on that thought, please remember I do have memory problems. but anyways! THE DESIGN FUCKS SEVERELY. SO GOD DAMN STRONGLY.

Malara- @/ask-swagger-dagger-trolls I was blessed with getting to know the story behind Malara's design and it stuck with me. Some days I think about doing something similar but honestly, Malara fills that need for me. She's like a silent presence with me sometimes. Filling in where that friend would have. Now, Tam has some amazing other trolls I love for lots of insanely silly reasons but..Malara stuck with me the most, for that reason.

Wicata- @/goldenguillotines So. I have to be honest, GG has a lot of trolls and I love so many of them that with my memory issues some of them bleed together. I did have to go look up her name, but this is a design that sticks with me. When I think of GG, this is the design that comes to mind because to me. I would see her on my dash endlessly and every time I saw her I'd stop scrolling because I had discovered another neat little detail in her sprites, in the art of her, in her design! GG has so many amazing designs and characters so please don't take this as a 'this is all there is' it's just what stuck with my broken brain.

HeeHoo - @/trollbreak JONAH. One of the platonic loves of my life is literally all of Jonah's clowns, and I am the EXTREMELY proud owner of a clown designed by Jonah! (As well as a mimic dragon amongst other designs) But I can firmly say my Jonah-clown obsession started with Heehoo. He's just a little guy! He would never do a murder, it'd dirty his pom poms! Just a lil guy who does a lil dance and stands in your hands and when he leaves and you look down there's rainbow footprints on your palm! Just OUGH Peak Clown for me. Peak clown design for me too. The mustache fucking kills me

Now, this is not NEARLY all of them. I could go on for ages but I've been told by three separate people to go try sleep again because I've hit the 27 hour mark but. Here is a small handfull of favorite trolls and thoughts about them!