#and michael is not. going to deal with one of those answers. doesn't even wanna know which he was going to ask

[cozylittleartblog]

happy pride month. i did not make this up for th ememe

[zepskies]

Aww yay!! Thanks so much for diving back in, my friend!! 😍 Girl I think you're right, because despite all the terrible shit that was going on in the 40s with the war, the movies and media of the time was so very romantic. 💕

Can't wait to see what you thought of the rest of this chapter!!

First of all, you know damn well by now that whole snooping in the beginning made me damn nervous. I could care less if that dick gets offended, but man, was I scared of what he’d do to her if he caught her!

LOL I tend to do this a lot, don't I? 😂 I guess I just like the suspense. 😝 But oh yeah, that's the worry right? How's douchecanoe gonna react if he ever finds out what she's doing, and how she's doing it. 😬

Ouch. Such a painful conversation. I was screaming at Sam throughout to shut his damn mouth 😂 Also, Dean… The same evening he picks up a woman?!?! Unbelievable! And I know full well neither brother is really to blame, considering they don’t think of her as anything but an unhappily married woman and certainly not - looking for another man so quickly. But oh well…

Oof ikr? You just wanna throttle him here, even though realistically it's like you said -- they're not thinking of her as Dean's future girl. 😜

The word “scoundrel” got me good too, btw 😆

LOL why are those old-timey words so funny to us now? 😂😂

Uh-huh. Don’t worry, Dean. You’ll get her all to yourself soon enough 😝 And God, every sentence that mentions Michael and his douchbaggery triples my amount of hatred for him.

It's gonna be a bumpy ride, but he'll get there eveeeentually. 🤣🤣

Ugh right? Every time Michael opens his mouth you just wanna --

Oh, no, I’d argue that girl is fully fair game here. Her asshole husband is not respecting or treating her right. All bets are off 😏❤️‍🔥

Hahaaa you're so red-hot for Part 3, istg...

What consequences? “Accidents” happen and solve all problems

lmfaooo right? Like what if a milk truck just "accidentally" backs up into Michael's face. Wouldn't that be fun? 😆😆

Ugh, so close 😩 Not me advocating for them to fully make out while her shitty husband is there and none the wiser

Honestly I was very close to writing that very thing! 🤭 But then I thought, "nah, too much. Save that for *later.*"

Of course the dick has a floozy 😒 Can’t believe he stepped out on her a month into their marriage, too. What a goddamn loser…

Floozy.

But seriously though, Michael's the biggest effing loser! You'll learn more about what his deal is in the chapters coming up...

Swoon 😍😍😍 That man is such a charmer with words. Definitely a professional flirt lol Love the idea of them going on a nightly bus ride through the city together. Oh, how romantic! Again, fully swooning here 🥰🩵

Dean's just got an answer for everything, doesn't he? 🥹😭 VERY much a professional flirt lol, even if he means it, in this case.

Oh yeah, they're about to have a very fun filled night! 😂 Next chapter is the one most inspired by The Clock. 💕

Aww yay!! I'm so happy this story is able to make you swoon, my friend. 🥰 Thank you so much for your wonderful comments -- they really brightened up my day today! 💖💖

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Before we tune back into some 1940s drama, I just wanted to thank you all so much for your wonderful responses on Part 1 of this series. 🥹 It’s my first time doing a story like this, so I’m very happy you liked the jumpstart here. 💖💖

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hints of PTSD, flirting, dancing…

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Part 2: Devil May Care

After you got home from work the very next day, your apartment was entirely empty.

Predictable. Michael was still out.

This time, you counted it as a blessing. You rifled through every corner, cabinet, pocket, and drawer in search of evidence—anything you could use to prove, without even one shade of a doubt, that your husband was the unfaithful scoundrel you knew him to be. You knew it, deep in your gut. In your very soul.

You even rifled through Michael’s desk in his office, through every single folder, drawer, and booklet. You’d never done such a thing before because he was a particular man about his things, and you respected his privacy. 

That was done now. In your search, you found a useless ball of rubber bands and old coupons. You took his father’s old collection of fountain pens, which you knew Michael was precious about, and threw them haphazardly onto the desk to make room for your seeking hands through the rest of the drawers.

You even came across a small, crumpled photograph from your wedding day. This one made you pause.

You considered the picture, its bent corners and slightly grainy black and white lens. You’d worn your mother’s wedding dress, and you stared up at your new husband with the rosiest of smiles. He stared into your eyes then the way he always used to—like a man ready and willing to drown in them.

You sighed and let the picture fall from between your fingertips. It swayed onto the desk’s mahogany wood surface, and rested there. You shook your head and returned your attention to your task at hand, holding your hands to your hips.

The problem was, you didn’t see anything incriminating here…until an idea finally occurred to you. You went into Michael’s closet. You sorted through the suit jackets he still needed to get drycleaned and pressed again.

In one of the pockets, you found a receipt. 

You brought it to Sam Winchester’s office the following morning before work, along with some documents of your household expenses. Like you did the afternoon before, he identified the receipt as one for the Cotton Club, a nightclub in the Upper East Side. You had never been there in your life, but you heard it was one of the new go-to spots in town. It was the kind of place you used to wish Michael would take you to, once in a while.

“It could be a lead or it could be nothing, but I’ll check it out, along with these,” Sam said. He gathered the financial documents you gave him as well. 

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you nodded.

“You can call me Sam if you like,” he said, kind, but still professional. You smiled. Unbidden, it reminded you of his brother.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

Biting the inside of your lip, you gave into the urge to ask the question.

“It was nice of your brother to walk me home last night…what is he up to today then?”

“Ah, well, he’s out to lunch with a young lady he met last night,” Sam replied, with a somewhat wry, but still amused tone to his voice. You frowned.

“Last night? Does your brother meet a lot of women after 9:00 p.m.?” 

Sam chuckled. “He’s not usually wanting for company.”

“I see,” you said flatly. You should have known. The devil-may-care grin on that man was too charming to be anything less than the mark of a shameless flirt. Maybe even a scoundrel. Lord knew you couldn’t take any chances either way.

Dean returned from his day out with Vanessa. She was a nice enough girl, a knockout blonde too. She was smart, studying to be a schoolteacher. But she also tended to twitter on about frivolous things, so much that he couldn’t really remember much of what she said. She did look good doing it though. Not to mention, she let him feel her up while they kissed in one of the alleys, between the ice cream parlor and a drycleaners.

He predictably found his brother whittling away life in his office. Dean dropped his coat and hat on the hanger with a flourish. Sam raised his head from his work with an amused smile.

“Had a good day, did you?” he remarked.

“I can’t complain,” Dean agreed. “Especially when a beautiful woman’s involved.”

Sam shook his head. Before September, he hadn’t seen Dean in three years. Yet some things just didn’t change.

“You gonna see her again?” Sam asked.

Dean made a noncommittal sound. “We’ll see. The day is young, brother.”

Sam raised a finger. “Speaking of which. Mrs. Milligan came by this morning. I’ve been looking through her husband’s finances.”

“Oh really?” Dean sobered as he approached his brother’s desk. “What’d you find?”

“Overall, things seemed to be in order, until I noticed something strange,” Sam said. Dean lowered into the chairs opposite his brother at his desk, and they went over it all together. Sam appreciated another set of eyes on this, with the understanding that Dean would keep the information to himself. 

Starting roughly eleven months ago, there was a check signed to a Mr. Johnson for a moderate sum. Three weeks later, another check, this time a bit larger. For the past few months, Michael Milligan had been making these payments at least once a month, sometimes as much as three, albeit in different amounts.

“He might just have a gambling problem,” Sam said. He rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“Or it could be what she’s worried about,” Dean pointed out. “The name could be an alias. Maybe Mike’s paying for someone’s services…or paying her bills, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly nodded. “That’s a possibility.” He checked the dates on the documents again and shook his head. “Mrs. Milligan told me they got married about a year ago, here in the city. It would mean this guy started stepping out on her a month after the wedding.” 

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

A wall of sound. That was the Cotton Club—the band on stage playing jazz tunes, loudly, if skillfully; the clanking of glasses as drinks rolled past; the clamor of heels and leather shoes as couples swung on the dance floor; and the added layer of people raising their voices to compensate. The room was filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, fighting against perfume and cologne and musk and sweat.

It was a bit overwhelming for Dean at first. He tried to ease himself into the scene with Sam at his side, even if he did jolt at the cork of a champagne bottle popping open. Sam noticed, but he mercifully didn’t say anything. He thumped a hand on Dean’s back to steady him under the pretense of a brotherly pat, adding a smile for good measure.

Sam was there to keep a lookout for Michael Milligan. Dean would help, but it wasn’t like he was being paid for it. He was largely aiming to have some fun while his brother was all serious, focused on the work. Dean was here for the community nightlife. 

The beautiful, beautiful community. As a matter of fact, there were lovely ladies everywhere. One sultry blonde was singing an upbeat, jazzy tune at the mic. Dolores Daye, said the banner above the stage.

Dean’s attention shifted from the stage to the scattered round tables outside the dance floor, as well as the chair lined up at the bar. His gaze caught on someone familiar—on you, sat at a table by yourself. His eyes widened. He slowed to a stop while Sam went on ahead.

You were stunning, almost unrecognizable in a shimmering black dress that hugged every lush part of your figure, with sleeves that draped off your shoulders. His eyes drew down your crossed legs, the sheer pantyhose, leading to a pair of tall, shining black heels.   

You wore a hat and partial veil that covered half your face, but he knew it was you. Those lips of yours were familiar on sight. Now they were painted red, dark and luscious.

“Dean?” Sam questioned him. He’d turned back when he realized his brother wasn’t keeping up with him. Dean subtly pointed you out. Sam raised his brows, but then he noticed what you were doing. You had a glass of wine in hand, and you seemed to be watching someone.

Every now and then your gaze would travel across the room, where your husband Michael was sat at a table filled with other men and women. They were laughing, drinking, playing cards. 

Sam and Dean shared a conspiring look, one that said they had the same thought. They went over to you. 

Sensing you were being approached, you looked over and found the pair of tall, familiar men with a widening of your eyes. That pretty mouth of yours fell open in surprise. 

“What’re you doing here?” you whisper-hissed. You beckoned them to sit down so they weren’t standing out so much while talking to you. Both Winchester men were broad-shouldered and tall as oaks.

“The same thing you’re doing, apparently,” Sam said, once he and Dean were sitting across from you at the table. He showed you the camera he had hidden in his coat pocket. “I’m going to see if I can get a read on what your husband’s up to, maybe collect some evidence.”

You let out a rush of breath. “Good, thank you.”

“Until then, maybe you’d be more comfortable at home,” he suggested.

Dean knew what his brother was getting at. This wasn’t the kind of place for a woman to be hanging around…unaccompanied. Not a respectable one like you, who clearly wasn’t used to being in a roaring nightclub. Plus, if Michael did slip up here, it wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant for you.

You still shook your head stubbornly. “No. I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Sam almost sighed, but Dean shot him a nod. Right then, they had an understanding. Dean would stay and look out for you while Sam tried to get closer to Michael. Sam left you and Dean together at the table thereafter, and Dean ordered a drink for himself. You sipped at your wine.

Dean glanced at you in appreciation. You really were beautiful…and not just tonight. Though he had to smile at your “disguise.”

“You think that getup is gonna fool your husband?” he remarked, gesturing at your form.

Your lips pursed, but you kept your head angled towards him, so that your hat and veil continued to hide your face from Michael’s direction.

“It has so far,” you retorted. “And this isn’t a getup.”

You smoothed slightly self-conscious hands down the skirt of your dress. Dean smiled. 

“All right, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words,” he said. He dropped his chin and raised his brows, earning your gaze under the hat. “It’s quite a dress, sweetheart.”

I’d like to see you out of it, he thought, even though he immediately stamped it down. You weren’t exactly available, no matter how delectable you were. The interesting part was, you didn’t seem to realize it as you fidgeted in your seat, a little self-consciously.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you snipped.

His lips tugged at a smirk. He tilted your hat up a little so he could see more of your frowning face. 

“Want me to do better?” he teased. 

“I’d like you to leave me be. How about that?” you said, grabbing the edges of your hat and tilting it back down. “You’re distracting me.”

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

You met his gaze to give him a hot reply, but your words failed you. Just then, faced with his perfectly handsome, roguish face, you finally noticed how green his eyes were. Holding the gleaming reflection from the crystal chandelier above the bar, they briefly dragged over you again, like he was a starving man, and you were the very last morsel held in front of him.

It was indecent, you thought, but suddenly your mouth had gone dry.

“How about this,” Dean said. He finished off his whiskey and held out a hand to you. “Dance with me. You’ll have a better vantage point to spy on Mike over there.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed, glancing around.

Dean just smirked. He beckoned you again with a raise of his brows.

You hesitated, but you still eventually dropped your hand into his. He stood before you so he could help you to your feet. You allowed him to escort you over to the dance floor, and all the while you fought off your nerves. You were only doing this because he had a good idea; this would help you keep an eye on Michael without looking so out of place, a woman drinking alone at the table.

The band was playing a moderately paced song, which was good. You weren’t in this to be swept into the air.

“Relax,” Dean whispered, once he had you in his arms. His hands were respectably placed on your waist and in your hand. You knew you did have to relax though. Already you were too stiff while tentatively holding his hand, your other resting on his shoulder.

“I haven’t danced in—in a while,” you admitted. You were a little nervous as you began swaying with Dean, letting him lead you. He turned you about with ease, even twirling you under his hand.

“See? There’s nothing to it,” he said, welcoming you back into his arms. “When’s the last time you had some fun?”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. You and Dean shuffled about the dance floor in more complicated steps as the song increased in tempo. You were breathless in a good way. In a way that you couldn’t even remember needing to breathe as the golden lights sparkled in the corners of your eyes.

“He took me to a club like this once, about…I’d say month or so after we got married last year,” you admitted between spins. You had to hold a hand to your head to keep your hat on.

You were distracted enough by it all—the spinning, the laughter and tinkling glasses, the flashes of spotlight in between sultry dim shades, the heady smell of this man’s cologne, and his every touch, however brief on your body, but just as confident and measured. You actually told him the truth.

“I’ve been dying to get out more ever since, but…” you trailed as he spun you again, then winded you back into the growing familiarity of his arms.

Dean smoothly guided you even closer to him by your waist, until there was hardly any room between your chest and his, between your face and his. Your hand curled around the back of his neck on instinct, the edge of your nails just barely grazing through his hair. You wouldn’t know how it elicited a hot zing of sensation down his spine.

“Your husband really is blind, and even dumber than he looks,” Dean said, glancing down at your face. “I clocked you in five seconds flat, just by those pretty lips.”

You lowered your eyes, but not very far. They landed on his plush lips in contemplation. When your eyes met his again, Dean had a conundrum. He just didn’t think he cared all that much about the consequences.

His head began to bow towards yours, just when the song slowed to a stop. Almost without realizing it, he pressed his hand a little more insistently on the small of your back. You found yourself accepting that guiding pressure. Half-lidded eyes and heavy, mingled breaths in between…

“Let’s hear it again for Dolores Daye, everybody!” the host called out.

You snapped to attention and glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the singer. She waved goodbye to the crowd with a sensuous smile on her ruby red lips. Then she walked off stage in her glittering golden dress, and she grabbed hold of a man’s tie. That man was your husband.

Michael wore a wide smile on his face as she led him to his feet by his tie. He stood, his form looming over her, though she didn’t seem to mind—especially when his arm wrapped too familiarly around her waist.

It wasn’t the kind of embrace you would see between strangers, even for the sake of a good show for the crowd. Their faces became impossibly close, but it was just shy of a kiss as she laughed, a sound like fine crystal bells.

Dean noticed why you froze. He turned to look over his shoulder and his expression faded, becoming grim. He led you off the stage, and while keeping a discreet eye on the scene, he lingered at the bar in the center of the room. His arm stayed around your waist. He could tell himself it was to stay in character, but really, he just wanted to keep you grounded…that right now, you weren’t alone.  

Here by the bar, it was far enough that Michael likely wouldn’t notice you, but close enough that you both could hear what was happening.

The host stepped down from the stage and joined Dolores and Michael, laying a heavy hand on your husband’s shoulder. Yet another clue that Michael showed his face here all too frequently. The host waved over his entire table of friends, Sam included. He’d managed to get himself invited to sit with them.

“Come on. Join us out back,” said the host, gesturing behind the curtain.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“For a card game or two, a little smoke, a nice little drink,” Michael said, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. “You in?”

Sam nodded. He glanced over and found Dean across the room with his eyes. They shared a brief, but telling look, after which Sam followed Michael and Dolores past the curtain discreetly. Meanwhile, you were already pulling away from Dean’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go,” you murmured.

You went back to the table to collect your purse. You left the rest of your wine there with a few bills on the table to cover it, and you were off, walking brusquely to the front doors. Dean followed suit, laying some money down for his own drink before he followed after you. The clerk at the front brought you your coat after you handed over your ticket, and Dean did the same.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home,” he said, having to raise his voice even here over the noise.

“No, thank you,” you said thickly.

After you had your coat on, you hastened to the closest bus stop outside the club. It was late, it was dark, and it was cold. You saw your fragile breath on the air as you stood there in your tall heels, and you held yourself for more than one reason as you fought off bitter tears.

You bit your lip and blinked against the burn, but you still had to swipe a few droplets quickly from your cheeks. You tried to even out your shallow breaths. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and started squeezing whatever they found. Whatever was left.

Dean sidled up to you with his hands in his pockets. You heaved a sharp sigh, recognizing him just by his shadow casting beside yours under the streetlamp. You kept your face away from him as you wiped at your tears.

“Why do you insist on watching me be miserable?” you asked. 

“Aw, come on, sweetheart.” He shook his head, carding a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset. I just want to make sure you get home safe, that’s all. …You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” 

You slowly shot him a glance, but you didn’t budge. Your frown deepened along with your furrowed brows.  

“Dean, please. You don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me,” you said.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said.

It earned your attention, your confused and hurt expression.

Dean met your gaze steadily. “I feel sorry for him. Because he doesn’t have a clue what he’s just lost.”

Your breath stilled in your lungs. 

His words touched you, more deeply than he probably realized. Part of you still wanted to give a sharp retort, that you didn’t need a chaperone. You didn’t need him to swoop in and collect you like broken glass…but a larger part of you craved the company. You didn’t want to be alone.

Soon enough, the next bus pulled up at the curb in front of you. The doors opened. 

Dean gestured with a sweeping hand towards the bus’s steps. 

Ladies first.

With another small sigh, you climbed up without a word. You even accepted his helping hand as you did so. Dean stepped up after you, and the doors closed behind you both.

AN: Welp, Happy Valentine's Day! 😅💜 Quite literally an angsty ride here, but what should happen on this bus going nowhere...

Next Time:

You admired his hands as they rested casually in his lap. They were larger than yours, with long fingers. His hands look strong and capable, like the rest of him, even though they were always considerate when they touched you.

“Then you should do something you like doing,” you said. “Fixing cars! That’s good, honest work you can make a living out of.”

Dean looked over at you. “You think so?”

You nodded your encouragement, smiling bright. “I know so. You might be a bit of a flirt, but you also look like someone who can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”

When those words slipped free from your mouth, you realized how he might take that little accusation, let alone how overeager you sounded. Your gaze fell away from him as you felt your face getting warm in a blush.

Dean’s smile slid into a smirk. “I’m a flirt, huh?”

“Well…” You bit the inside of your lip and tried your hardest not to look at him for a while. “At least you’re an honest one.”

Dean laughed freely at that.

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[eisforeidolon]

To be fair, we can't actually know how Jensen really feels about he finale. I do think the at least 4 or 5 different times he talked about his negative feeling regarding the finale were pretty intense by his standards (he's not usually super open about his feelings). Losing sleep over it, calling up and discussing it with various people and his comments about "coming around to it" very much sounded like resignation to me, like he was forcing himself to make the best out of a situation he didn't like. Which could mean there is still some lingering resentment or unhappiness about it there.

I don't see this in contraduction to him being proud of some of the moments in the finale either (like he has said he is), because both of these things can be true. I also think he is way too professional to make a big deal out of barn ops, even if he really did hate them.

Ultimately, I'm not bothered about his feelings regarding the finale either way. If he really does love it now, I'm happy for him, if he is still unhappy about it, I don't blame him (because I hated the finale too for various reasons and I'm not even a heller) and hope he can work towards something he feels more satisfied with.

Oh, well, if you wanna go ahead a do a silly thing like add nuance to the conversation! But yes, you do have a point. Did he really completely come to see it as the best choice, or was he just talked around into accepting it as good enough and has specific favorite parts that he can choose to highlight to keep things positive? I don't know. However, it is a bit of a different question, because what is being claimed by certain people is that he definitely said he hated the finale they filmed because of the way he reacted to what was pitched. Those are very different things.

J2 flew down to talk to the writers with the idea that they were going to have input in what was written, and were given a take-it-or-take-it pitch of what was already decided. Which I think would have been a bit jarring even if he'd been completely on board with their ideas. On top of that, Jensen has specifically said part of the issue was being confronted with The End in concrete form was harder than he'd thought (on top of more specific reservations). By comparison, when they got the actual script for the finale, they were able to change around some details here and there to put their own stamp on it. They'd also already been shooting for months, dealing with the reality of winding down and having last times for X,Y, and Z. There's also the difference between hearing a vague idea and seeing how it's actually written out in detail. Not only that, but he told the same story about having an initial negative reaction to the pitch several times, not quite verbatim. Now did he repeat it that many times because he felt that strongly and wasn't as sure about being talked around as he said he was? Or did he repeat it because they did a whole slew of press for the finale and both Js have always had a tendency to give rote answers for questions they get over and over? Could be either, could be both. The only time I can recall when his phrasing significantly changed was when he said something at one con to the effect of having been on both sides of loving and hating the finale at different times.

Furthermore, everything I can recall that he's said about what they actually shot has been positive. Sure, some of it was promotional so there's some obligation to be positive there, but that doesn't really apply to cons to the same extent - especially with the show being finished. Contrast it with how he's bluntly talked about the Michael vs. Lucifer wire fight. Hell, compare it to how he talked about telling the writer of that climactic scene with Mary in 11 about how he'd finally put together the whole arc of what they were intending with that scene and the writer was like, 'what are you talking about?' Now, that may have been a joke, but Jensen saying he had no idea what they were trying to do with Mary that whole season is hardly complimentary. I could be entirely wrong, but given that he was so open about his initial feelings being that negative? I do kind of suspect if there were still major points he hated, especially as he admitted to knowing it was divisive in the fandom, he'd likely have at least hinted to them by now. I also think there's an important difference between focusing on the positive aspects to avoid the negative, and actively bringing it up himself. Several times there have been questions about his favorite things across the whole series and he's chosen to bring up the finale without prompting. No, he's not going to be unprofessional and refuse reasonable photo ops, but there's a difference between going along (see some of those shipper ops where he's all but rolling his eyes) versus hamming it up and an even further difference versus volunteering to do the pose.

All of that said, I'm not super invested in the idea that Jensen wholeheartedly loves the finale. Maybe even a bit because while I don't hate it like you, I myself am just kind of ambivalent about it. However, Jensen also said at one point he was disappointed they didn't get to do the whole Roadhouse Heaven idea and I fucking loathe everything about that with the fiery fury of a thousand suns, so I don't need to be on the same page as him to remain his fan. I hope he is genuinely happy with it because it'd be kind of sad for him to have ended fifteen years of work on a truly disappointing note, but I can see the possibility that he still would have picked something else given the choice but is making the best of things.

What I'm sick of is You Know Who claiming he was gaslit and forced into changing his weak-willed mind, and insisting they KNOW how he REALLY feels while actively misrepresenting some of what he's said and pretending they didn't hear the other things they don't like.

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 18

Request: Yes or No

Also kind of short

~

You stared out at the river, fingers warm from the heat of the mug in your hands. You felt tired, empty, and disappointed. The roof was a nice place to sit and think. Your gaze dropped down to the ground below.

"I don't believe this is the safest way to test your abilities, (Y/N). Especially since Sam doesn't have on his wings." Vision said in concern, watching Sam hype himself up. You shook your head, laughing.

"It's definitely not safe." You grinned, watching Sam. He looked down from his spot on the roof, shaking off nerves.

"Run the idea by me again." Vision said as Wanda chuckled softly.

"Alright, Sam is gonna jump off the roof and I'm gonna use my powers to keep up in the air. If they don't work, Wanda will catch him."

"You're gonna allow this, Wanda?" Vision looked at the redhead. Wanda shrugged, sipping on her tea with a small smile.

"Ready?" Sam called, sliding down his googles. You nodded, backing up a bit, grinning widely. Sam backed up out of sight before running off the roof. You raised your hand, watching him suddenly fly up. He screamed, arms and legs flailing.

"You might gonna to catch him, Vis!" You called as Sam briefly disappeared past a cloud. Vision flew up, catching Sam and flying back to the ground. Sam raised a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat as he panted.

"Again?"

"Again."

"Kind of chilly out here, don't you think?" You turned your head, looking at Tony. He took a seat beside you, sighing.

"So, how'd it go?" Tony asked, turning to look at you. You licked your lips, lightly shrugging as you sipped on your hot chocolate.

"Good. I learned a lot about my family. It was confirmed that, uh, I was indeed abandoned by my mother. It's great." You told him, giving a small nod. Tony hummed.

"It builds character." Tony said. You snorted, looking down at the hot chocolate.

"Yeah, I guess so." You muttered.

"What'd you learn?" Tony asked, watching you. You sighed, head tilting up. You stared at the passing clouds.

"That my dad was killed here... By.. The Winter Soldier." You breathed out. Tony stayed silent, frowning as he nodded.

"I.. I can't blame him. He was brainwashed and not in control. How did you react when you found out about Bucky and your parents?" You asked, looking at him. Tony licked his lips, looking away from you. He seemed to think about his words, eyes squinting slightly.

"I.. I was more hurt by Rogers than by what Barnes did. Rogers kept it from me and he never planned on telling me. Even if we didn't consider each other friends.. We were teammates. How was I supposed to be okay with trusting him with my life when he was never gonna tell me about my parents?" Tony frowned, sighing heavily. You bit your bottom lip.

"I'm sorry Steve betrayed you like that." You said softly. You wouldn't want to work with someone who betrayed you either. You took in a small breath, looking at him curiously.

"Do you think Steve knows? About my dad?"

"Unless Barnes saw some similarities between you and your dad, probably not. Your dad covered his tracks. He made sure he wouldn't be connected to his family. Very smart of him." Tony offered a small smile. You reached into your back pocket, taking out a photo. It was of the whole family. Your grandparents, Florine, Michael, and even Gerdie as a pup. You turned it around to the back, looking at the phone number.

'Call when you need me, kid'

"People really need to stop calling me kid." You mumbled, huffing softly. Tony chuckled.

"You look like one."

"Oh, fuck off, old man." You gave Tony a playful glare. He scoffed, touching his chest dramatically.

"Are you really gonna retire? I mean, at this point, you're asking to be called an old man." You pointed out, grinning when Tony rolled his eyes.

"Pepper and Morgan need me. I don't want to be an absent father. I know how it feels to have one and.. I don't want to be like my father. I won't make the same mistakes."

"You'll make new mistakes." You shrugged lightly. Tony shot you a look. "But I'm sure you're a great father!"

"Right." Tony grunted, shaking his head. You chuckled softly, placing your cup beside you. You inhaled softly.

"When I was drunk.. I vividly remembering saying that you suck before passing out. What happened?"

"Oh, you were a goddamn mess. Definitely an emotional drunk." Tony replied, making you groan softly, cheeks flushing from embarrassment.

"You said I was a lucky bastard and you cried.. You also kissed me." Tony looked at you, gaze searching for a reaction. Your lips parted, brows raising.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Uhm.." You licked your lips, straightening up and clearing your throat. You stayed silent, thinking of what to say in response.

"Pepper doesn't have to know. It was a drunk kiss that nobody really saw, right? I mean, I already have enough on my plate. I don't need an angry wife on top of that." You blurted out, shrugging lightly. Tony cleared his throat, nodding.

"Yeah, of course. It barely lasted a second." Tony looked forward, scratching the side of his neck. Awkward silence took over, both you and Tony unsure on how to proceed without making things even more weird.

"How are you?" Tony suddenly asked, turning towards you. "Like, in general."

"Terrible."

"Yeah, I feel that. Wanna... Wanna talk about it?" Tony asked. You stared at him, brows furrowing.

"Are you practicing on me for when Morgan needs a talk with you?" You questioned, head tilting slightly. Tony shrugged.

"Yes and no."

"That's nice." You huffed softly, gaze drifting towards the setting sun. You watched him, shoulders slumping.

"I feel.. Incredibly alone. Yeah, Nat is here but I can't rely on her. She has her own issues to deal with. Bruce... Bruce is god fucking knows where and if I tried talking to him, he'd probably just stand there. Clint is also god fucking knows where. Thor fucked off the moment they came back from killing Thanos. The outerspace crew is kind of weird. Steve is... Steve. He'd just give me a speech and a pat on the shoulder. Carol barely comes to Earth and she's also pretty intimidating." You licked your lips, shaking your head as you brought your knees up to your chest.

"The people I used to talk to have either.. Died or chosen to leave. I have to take care of a big ass fucking farmhouse cause its goddamn owner left! My life is slowly falling apart and I have to comfort myself cause nobody seems to care enough! I am so fucking tired of feeling tired. I thought I had found a family but I guess I'm not good enough for those." You raised your voice, feeling the wind get harsh for a quick minute. You let out a deep breath, eyes shutting to keep the tears from falling. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, gently leaning you against a warm body. You sniffle, a shakey sigh leaving you.

"And I am so tired of crying." You whispered. Tony gently leaned his head against yours, hand squeezing your arm.

"I know.. I'm sorry." He said quietly. You relaxed against him, feeling numb and empty. You looked down at the photo. You wondered if this was the life Michael had wanted for you. To be a hero to a planet missing fifty percent of its inhabitants.

"You know what might make you feel better?" Tony asked.

"What?" You sat up, using the sleeve of your jacket to wipe your nose as you sniffled. Tony stood, motioning for you to follow. He offered his hand, watching you pick up the mug. You took his hand, holding it as Tony led you off the roof and down the stairs. You placed the mug on the nearest table, letting him guide you outside and onto the field. You stood in the middle, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"Letting it out." He finally answered, letting go of your hand and taking some steps back. He raised his arms.

"Let it out. Scream, kick, punch, curse. Let it all out." Tony said, smiling widely. You sniffled, still unsure.

"C'mon, I'll do it with you. On a count of three, okay? One... Two... Three!" You inhaled with Tony, eyes shutting as you screamed as loud as you could. You heard Tony chuckle in amazement, opening your eyes. You noticed he had been knocked down onto the grass, the trees nearby having been bent back by the wind. The grass around your feet were burned and gray clouds had formed in the sky. You noticed Tony looking up at something behind you so you turned, blinking and slowly looking up at the large ice spikes that almost reached the clouds.

"Holy shit." You whispered, taking a step back.

"You're still on the tip of the iceberg with your powers, Elsa." Tony said, getting up as it began to thunder. You felt some weight off your chest, turning to face you.

"You know.. That actually did help." You chuckled, smiling gently.

"Well, I am a genius." Tony replied, digging into his pocket and pulling out car keys.

"I should get going. Pepper's cooking dinner and I don't want to miss it." Tony said. You nodded, walking with him towards the road. A sports car drove out of the garage, stopping infront of Tony.

"All my things have already been sent home." Tony said, looking at you. You hummed, nodding.

"You can be an asshole sometimes but.. You'll be missed." You told him softly. Tony gave a genuine soft smile.

"You should visit, kid. You might like my new place." Tony said, opening the door and getting in.

"Give me a call and I'll visit when I can." You said, watching him buckle up. Tony nodded, sliding on sunglasses.

"I'll be seeing you."

"Not really looking forward to it." You replied, hearing a small snort before the car drove off. You watched it go, sighing softly. You looked over at the spikes, licking your lips.

"What more can I do?"

~

Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace @jjk-is-my-shit

[crashdevlin]

Swan Song

Author’s Note: This is part Twenty-six of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: Y/n is living life without marks and without alpha influence...but the End is nigh...sacrifices must be made.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, mentions of Alpha!Dean x Omega!Lisa

Word count: 3583

Story Warnings:  angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, mentions of physical violence against the reader, canon major character deaths and resurrections

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, where are we this week, girl? Hawaii, Puerto Rico?" Bobby asked and you smiled, looking around the dirty Canadian dive bar.

"Santo Domingo. Gotta love the Dominican," you lied.

"Where you really?"

You took a drink of your beer and picked at the peeling vinyl of the table top. "Saskatoon. Cursed church bell, drives people to suicide when they hear it."

"Need help?"

"Nah. I've got this. Just need to convince the vicar to let me melt down a bell that's been part of their church since the 1800s. No big deal." You sighed and scratched at your turtleneck. "How are they?"

"Thought you didn't wanna know about them, Y/n."

"Didn't want to be attached to them. Not the same thing."

Bobby sighed. "They took a trip through Heaven a few days ago...got a message from the big man Himself."

"God? They talked to God?" you asked, eyes wide.

"Talked to someone talks to God...and God said they're on their own."

"Sounds like God...handle it yourself but worship me for 'guiding' you." You rolled your eyes. "Sam isn't taking that well, is he?"

"Dean's taking it worse."

"What? Dean doesn't care about God."

"Think it's more that God was the last hope and He ain't playin'. What are we even supposed to do now, right?"

"Right." A hopeless Dean Winchester was a problem. No telling what he might do. “I’m sure everything will work out. If God isn’t worried, then I guess we shouldn’t worry.”

"Well, I hope you're right, Y/n." You nodded. You were hoping the same. "I'll call next time we got something new."

"Okay. Good luck, Bobby."

"You too."

You slid your phone into your pocket and took a drink of your beer. Things would be fine...or they wouldn't. Only time could tell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't answer when the call came in from Dean's number. You didn't answer five minutes later when the call came in from Dean's other number. You pulled off into a gas station when your phone dinged with a voicemail message.

"Shoulda known you wouldn't answer...but I really wanted to hear your voice, Y/n. Guess your outgoing message will have to do." He cleared his throat. "I've been thinking about you since you left. Nothing is ever right when you're gone. I think you need to know that. I know why you left. I know I was never really good at being with you. I didn't give you a reason to stay. I should have. But you...you had to leave. You had to make that hard decision and I love you for that. Nobody wanted you to make that decision, to free us, but it was the right choice and I love that you made it. I love you for calling me out on my bullshit. You always did that for me." He sniffled and you could imagine him wiping at his eyes. "And you always kept tryin', even though I pushed you away all the time. You should have given up on me a long time ago and you didn't. I love you, Y/n. I should have said it a long time ago...but more I should have showed you. I should have showed you."

You wiped at your eyes and bit your bottom lip. "I really hope you got to see the world, but if you're on the home continent…stay away from the Midwest. I don't know how big the fight's gonna get."

"Oh, God. Dean, what are you doing?" you whispered as you clicked out of your voicemail to call him back. He didn't answer. "Damn it, Winchester!" You called his other cell, but still didn't get an answer. So you called John's cell. "Where’s Dean?"

John sighed. "Indiana. He's on the goodbye tour."

You rolled your eyes. Indiana meant Lisa. Of course. "He's going to say 'yes', isn't he? After everything, he's going to give up?"

"We aren't going to let him. Sam, Castiel, and I are on our way to stop him."

"You better. He does not get to give up."

"We won't let him," John promised.

"How?"

"We've got an angel on our side, remember? And Castiel really isn't happy about Dean throwing away his sacrifice. We'll keep him safe."

You let out a sigh of relief and nodded. "Let me know if anything bad-"

"Don't worry. We're gonna take care of him."

"Thank you, John."

"Maybe you should call him, though."

"I tried," you responded. "He didn't answer." You shook your head. "It's fine. Get his head on straight. It'll be okay."

"Right. It'll be okay."

"Bye, John." You hung up and set the phone on the passenger seat. You looked up at the sky through your windshield. "I know you don't care about what your angels are doing, but please don't let Dean say 'yes'. Please. I don't ask for a lot but please give me this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You should come to Detroit." Bobby's words didn't seem worried. Everything about the tone said it was past time to worry.

"What happened?"

"Sam said 'yes' and-"

"What?!"

"It was supposed to be the end of it, Y/n. He was supposed to get control back from Lucifer and jump into the Cage. It was a good plan. Dean and John even approved it, much as they could, ya know, and it-"

"He really thought he was gonna get control from the Devil? Of course it didn't work!" You ran your hand down your face and dug your fingers into your collarbone through your shirt. "So Lucifer has his perfect vessel...what about Michael? Dean didn’t…"

"No, but John's other son did. Heaven brought Adam back from the dead."

"That was nice of 'em. The dumbass said 'yes' because of course he did. So...the fight is...is happening."

"Yeah." He waited a moment. "Come to Detroit."

You sighed. The End. The end of the fight. The end of trying to stop it. The end of the End. "I'm on my way, Bobby."

There was a dark cloud over the city when you pulled the Firebird in next to the Impala in the alleyway outside their hotel. You could feel the hopelessness in the air as you opened the door Bobby indicated in an earlier text and walked in. Dean's eyes raised to meet yours as Bobby rushed to you and wrapped you in a hug. You dropped your duffel and wrapped the redneck in your arms, happy to see him up out of the wheelchair.

"Since when do you walk again?"

"Oh." He looked down at his body as he stepped back. "Demon deal. Added perk. It's a long story."

"Family tradition, those demon deals. At least you got something good out of it."

"Fer a few days."

You patted his shoulder and smiled. "Comes down to it, all we got is a few days at a time."

Dean stood and stepped toward the doorway. "Hey."

"Hey. I'm sorry...about Sam. I know you were all hoping-"

Dean opened his arms but didn't hug you. He waited for you to step into the embrace, green eyes shining with unshed tears as he waited for you to make your choice. There wasn’t a big choice there. Hold a grudge...or hold the man you love. You stepped into him and wrapped your arms around his chest. His arms closed around you and you felt warmth and anguish in the way he held you. There was pain in his scent, anger and hopelessness, but there was a little niggle of comfort as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

There wasn’t a lot said. It was the first time it really felt like a last night on earth. Even the Angel seemed to recognize that things were done. The fight was over. Everything was about to be over.

“I want you to know,” Dean whispered as the sun started going down.

“I know,” you answered. You knew what he would say. It held different significance on a night like that one.

“No. You don’t. You really don’t know...I’ve apologized for pushin’ you away, Y/n, but I need you to know...I thought I was doing the right thing for you. I love you.”

“Dean. I know. Shhh.”

“You’re everything I ever wanted.”

“Everything you ever wanted Sam to have,” you corrected. “Now, shush.” The silence lasted for a few minutes before Dean left, saying he needed some air.

“We did everything right and it doesn’t even matter in the end,” John said, staring at the ceiling.

“Nah. We didn’t do everything right...and it does matter. What we do is more important than anything.” You sighed and leaned forward, resting your head on your knees. “I should have gone to Thailand.”

“Don’t you want to be here with us in your last moments?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah. But I wish these weren’t the last moments.”

Castiel nodded in agreement, before standing. “We should go down...Dean is-”

“Leaving,” you guessed, rushing down to the alleyway without waiting for the others, approaching as he looked in the trunk of the Impala. “Dean?”

“You goin’ someplace?” Bobby asked. “You’re goin’ to do somethin’ stupid. You got that look.”

“I’m gonna go talk to Sam,” Dean answered, heading for the driver’s door.

“You just don’t give up,” Bobby chastised.

“It’s Sam!”

“If you couldn’t reach him here, you’re certainly not going to be able to on the battlefield,” Castiel tried.

“Well, if we’ve already lost, I guess I got nothing to lose, right?” Dean reasoned.

“Boy, this is a bad idea. I don’t wanna lose both of you,” John said.

Dean shook his head. “Too late.”

“I just want you to understand...the only thing that you’re gonna see out there is Michael killing your brother,” Castiel said.

“Well, then I ain’t gonna let him die alone.”

You watched Dean drive away, knowing that he was on his way to his death. “Fuck. We should follow him, right?”

“No. We need to figure out how to even up the chances a little,” John offered. “Hail Mary brainstorm session. Come on. Let’s do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So...we’re all gonna die,” you said, looking around the room. “We are going to this fight...the fight...to pull distraction long enough for Dean to maybe get through to Sam long enough for Sam to sacrifice himself and throw himself and Lucifer into the Cage. We’re going to die.”

Everyone took deep breaths and nodded. “It’s our only shot,” Bobby said. “For the whole planet, Dean is our only shot.”

“And like the boy said...if we’ve already lost, what do we have to lose?” John said.

"Might as well go down doing something potentially beneficial,” you whispered. “Okay...let’s do this.”

Castiel teleported you to Stull Cemetery just in time to hear Dean tell Michael that he needed five minutes with Lucifer. “Hey, assbutt!” Cas called out, holding up his Molotov cocktail of Holy Fire. The bottle exploded as it hit Michael and he went up in flames. The Angel didn’t last long after that. Lucifer didn’t appreciate the Angel from the lower choir ‘dick’ing with Michael. Castiel exploded into blood and chunks of Angel.

Dean demanded Sam’s attention, but only Lucifer could hear. He grabbed Dean, intent to beat him to death, but Bobby shot at the Archangel, which earned him a snapped neck. John launched himself at Lucifer next and he was thrown across the cemetery, hitting a large stone angel statue. Michael reappeared as Lucifer was beating Dean’s face in with Sam’s fists. You grabbed Adam’s jacket, trying to keep Michael from stopping the altercation. Dean was getting through. You could see it in the hesitation on Sam’s face. You couldn’t let Michael stop it.

“You stupid fucking monkey!” Michael growled, wrapping Adam’s hand around your throat. You sputtered and kicked as he clenched his fist around your neck, cutting off your air. The sound your hyoid made when your throat was crushed like a soda can followed you into the darkness.

So did the sound of crickets. But that wasn’t right. There shouldn’t be crickets in Heaven.

Your eyes blinked open slowly, a sky full of stars greeting you before being filled in by the vision of hazel eyes and a smile. “John? Why are you in my Heaven?”

“Not Heaven, kid. We’re alive, Y/n. Castiel brought us back.” He offered you his hand and you sat up, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

“Who brought Cas back?” you asked. “Because didn’t Lucifer blow him to shit?”

“Yeah. Can only assume God brought him back, just like last time he was blown up by an Archangel.”

“Well, that’s...very nice of God considering that he...didn’t want to help.” John nodded, but he seemed distracted as he let his fingers move to encircle your wrist. “What’s wrong?”

“You...smell really good,” he whispered, his cheeks going pink. “I should…” He cleared his throat and stepped back away from you. “Think everything got renewed.”

You reached up and gingerly touched the area where your concave scars were. You were met with plush, plump skin under the fabric of your turtleneck. When you pulled the shirt away from your neck, you were met with completely smooth skin. No marks, no scars. Pristine.

"I'm…"

"Omega again." John licked his lips and stepped further back. “Unmarked, pure omega.”

“I’m...this is insane. I can’t believe he just...made me...a normal omega again.”

John nodded and cleared his throat. “I think it’s a real good thing, don’t you?”

You nodded and smiled. “I think it’s an amazing thing.”

“Why don’t we go ahead and see if we can find Dean.”

You smiled a bit sadly. “I know where Dean is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watching Dean through the front window of Lisa Braeden’s Cicero home made your heart crack. The pain was immense, a longing taking up residence in your chest as you watched Dean hold her, his nose buried in the crook of her neck. Scenting her...his omega.

“You could knock,” John suggested, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. You were sure he was trying to keep from physically comforting you. As much as you wanted the comfort, you appreciated John trying to keep his distance more. “You know he’d be happy to see you alive.”

You shook your head. “No. He’s dreamed of this, John. He dreams of her.” You clutched at your shirt collar. You'd changed into a v-neck on the way to Indiana, excited to show Dean but you knew now that it didn't matter. "He deserves her...and the kid...and any kids she might give him of his own. He deserves to be happy. Let's just...let's go."

"Are you sure?" John asked as you turned away.

"My car is in Detroit. Let's go."

You stared out the window as John drove. It was a blow but not one you couldn't overcome. Dean wasn't ever going to be yours and it was best for you to recognize that and move forward. You were a brand new omega. No marks, no scars from cutting the old marks out. No Dean. No Sam. John, well, he was being nice now but it was going to be best for you to stay away from him, too. You would do best by yourself just like you had since you cut your marks out. You were better alone.

"Don't leave yet," John said as he pulled the stolen car in beside your Pontiac. "You should get some sleep. Get a room, get some rest. Don't drive on this."

You reached over and set your hand on his cheek. "Underneath it all, you're a good man, John. I really appreciate it when you let that man out for me." You swiped your thumb across his cheekbone and smiled. "I'll get a room...but not here. Detroit is not a good place...it's where we lost Sam. Get some rest yourself, though."

"You've got my number. If you ever need anything, Y/n, I'll be there."

You nodded and smiled tightly. "I'll try not to need anything." You got out of the car and headed for yours. Maybe you'd actually travel the world this time. Maybe you'd just hunt the same as always. But you were going to try to not need a damn thing.

You drove out of Detroit and headed South, not stopping until your eyes began to vibrate with lack of sleep. You pulled over into a rest stop and turned off the car, lying the seat back and curling up on your side, waiting for sleep to take you.

Dean would be happy. That was the important thing. Dean was going to be happy with his normal life and you could be happy saving lives...without an alpha. Without anyone. Just you and the road and a good hunt...until you died.

You dreamed of Dean. You dreamed of taking Lisa's place in the normal life...so that you could be what Dean deserved. But even in your dream, Dean made excuses. "I love you...but I can't mark you." "I love you but I can't be with you." "I love you but…"

You blinked your eyes open a few hours later and gasped to see a figure in your passenger seat. You sat up and stared wide-eyed at Sam. "Am I still asleep?"

"Well, I'm not Dean so I'm guessing you're awake."

You ignored the gut shot about Dean and reached into the back, quickly splashing holy water on him and waiting for the sizzle that never came. You pulled your silver knife next and Sam dutifully offered his hand. "Why do you idiots always go for the most nerve-heavy extremity when getting cut? Take the jacket off and give me your bicep or roll your damn pant leg up, you jerk," you snapped. Sam just smirked as he pulled his jacket and flannel off. You were really expecting him to burn with the silver but he didn’t...and moreover, he smelled like Sam. He was not a ghoul. You laughed as you dropped the knife in the center console. "How in the world did you get out of the Cage? I know how hard it is to get out of Hell, but you went into Lucifer’s Cage."

"Can't tell ya." Sam shook his head. "Just woke up in Stull Cemetery, went to check on Dean, saw you and Dad...decided to follow you."

"Why didn't you say something in Cicero?" you asked, analyzing Sam's face. He seemed off. Why would he follow you instead of talking to you and John? Talking to Dean?

"You were with Dad...and I could smell you from across the street, Y/n...I knew you came back all new and improved. Wanted to see what you would do about that. Turns out...nothing."

"You didn't tell Dean you're back?"

"Neither did you." Sam tilted his head and smirked. "He thinks we're both dead...and that means he's gonna stay in Cicero with Lisa. He's going to live a normal life with a normal woman. He's not going to die on some job before he reaches forty. He deserves that...and that's why neither of us knocked on that door."

"So, you're just gonna dive back into the work headfirst and...forget about Dean?"

"Forget? No. But I'm going to leave him the Hell alone. He left me alone at Stanford for years until Dad disappeared and Jess died. Don't you think he deserves the same treatment?"

You looked away and pulled your seat up straight. "Of course he does. He deserves everything.”

“So, we’re going to let him have it, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Sam reached out and set his hand on your knee. “And we can have what we deserve.”

You looked down at his hand, disgust filling you. “Remove it, or I will remove it for you.”

“Come on. You don’t really have a reason to deny me. Not with Dean with Lisa.”

You reached down and pulled his hand off of you. “Dean is not the reason I denied you, Sam. Why are we backtracking here? You seemed to understand this before.”

“We had fun before, didn’t we?” Sam asked.

“It doesn’t matter if we had fun...because the fun stopped mattering as soon as you marked me.” The discomfort you were feeling in his presence made you slip your hand under your seat and pick up your pistol. “You were going to rape me, Sam. That kinda ruins any future fun.”

“You would have liked it, Y/n. I wasn’t planning to hurt you too much.”

Having him admit to it so nonchalantly, with a smirk on his lips, filled you with an angry fear. He didn’t even seem to care. It was worse than when he was hopped up on demon blood. You pulled the pistol out and pointed it at Sam’s temple. “Get the fuck out of my car, Winchester.”

He chuckled and put his hands up. “I’ll see you when you get your panties out of that twist, Y/n.” He backed out of the car and turned, a bit of a skip in his step as he walked away. You hit the lock on your doors and turned the engine over. You’d have to do your best to avoid the resurrected Winchester...just like his father...just like his brother. Best to stay alone. Best to get away.

~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie @paryl @wereallbrokenangels @the-american-witch @that-one-gay-girl @tatted-trina6 @sunshineandwings86 @lunarmoon8 @wheezyeds @vicmc624 @couldabeenamermaid @vulgar-library

[spnsmile]

This might as well be the fathers talking about Jack fighting god and fighting their feelings. Can't fight both!

#tears tag #fluff tag #hurtcomfort tag

15.11. Coda

When Castiel found out that while hunting for Jack, the Winchesters clashed heads with the Goddess of Luck herself, he was furious.

To know about the dead or alive gamble where they naturally lost made all the butterflies in his stomach burn, if that was the correct expression.

But to realize he could have gotten Jack and lost the Winchesters at the same time? It soured his mood the entire day.

He didn't stop giving Sam and Dean glaring looks that made Sam duck his head while Dean, well, stays Dean.

"You could have lost your lives." he says with gritted teeth and reproachful tone as Dean sits with him in the library because the angel wouldn't stop glaring the whole day and needed to be appeased for Sam's peace of mind.

Dean only smacks his lips on his glass.

Castiel couldn't help glowering at the nonchalance.

"Look, Cas. It doesn't matter, okay? Me and Sam are fine."

"And if you weren't?" Cas says heatedly, "what would have happened if she took your lives, Dean?"

"Then at least you got Jack-"

"Don't give me that." Cas says sternly, deep voice almost growling it made Dean look up. He finds the angel glaring sharply, in commmander mode, "Just don't."

They both glower at each other, Castiel with that lump in his throat while Dean shakes his head and leans on his knees.

"It was a gamble." the hunter says quietly.

"I wouldn't have agreed with you risking your lives on a pool game."

Dean shrugs.

"Yeah, Cas, you would have stabbed her."

"No doubt about that. What was I supposed to expect from you and Sam, going head on against lady luck?"

"You weren't there. There were these people... We couldn't just leave them." he lowers his head. Castiel watches him for a moment before sighing heavily.

"I'm just glad nothing bad happened, Dean."

"You know what she called us? Fortuna? She called us heroes."

A somber mood falls at the pair once the younger members of the group had slipped to their rooms, leaving the best friends by the table, soaking in the comfort of each other's presence. Unti the angel breaks it quietly.

Castiel stares with a small smile forming on his lips towards his friend.

"You are."

Dean scoffs. "Heroes who let kids fight adult battles, Cas? Tell me what you really think."

Castiel is silent for a moment, eyes on the glass of wine he is holding.

"I'm proud of Jack."

Dean rolls his eyes at the angel who gives him a soft look, "I'm proud of you too, Dean. But this is a powerplay of the gods and other beings... My kind. Not yours and Sam's. Maybe it's time for the two of you playing in the front lines and let us do the fighting. You and Sam have done enough battles more than necessary. I think it's up to me and Jack-"

"So it's me and Jack now?" Dean doesn't look at him for a moment. When he did, it's sharp and critical green eyes gazing over the blues. "You gonna bench us because we're humans?"

Castiel leans forward, blue eyes intent on Dean. "Because I care. I will be more at ease if you and Sam are safe."

"You really think that?"

He and Dean shared a long look, and then after a period where Dean just makes a face the same one he used when he asked Castiel if he's letting Jack, Dean falls silent.

And a silent Winchester is never a good thing. Castiel watches as Dean stands up and bids him goodnight.

Sighing, Castiel went to check on Jack, to stay with him as much as he can. He tells himself Dean needed time.

But in the middle of the night, while he and Jack sit talking in the library, the Nephilim suddenly stills, head inclining to the side like he's listening.

"Jack?" Castiel asks, worried.

"Dean." says the Nephilim, brows furrowed. Castiel's pupils dilate. He hangs for Jack's every word. "He's praying."

Castiel mirrors Jack's expression. He doesn't hear anything from Dean so-

"To Who?"

Jack frowns deeper.

"Michael? But I thought he's-"

Castiel bolts up from his chair and races towards the hunter's room, Jack staring after him.

"Dean!"

He doesn't bother knocking. He pulls the door open, takes one look over Dean sitting at the edge of his bed with hands clasped together. Dean startles.

"Cas... "

"What are you doing?" Castiel demands, looming upon Dean.

The hunter opens his mouth when Michael suddenly speaks in his mind, jolting him a little as he stares into space. Before anything could be said, Castiel yanks Dean's collar and roughly pulls him up, cutting the connection.

"The hell, Cas!"

"You're not going to let Michael in again! I won't let you!"

"Oh, so you let Jack do whatever he wants but bench me? Am I the kid here?"

"No! That's not-"

"Dammit, Cas! If a kid can sacrifice himself, so can I, now leave me alone! Michael's agreed he needs to deal with Chuck this time! No turning back! I'm fighting!"

"No, Dean!"

Dean's eyes darken, his voice lowers.

"Cas, don't fucking make me banish you from my room! I'm doing this. I let you and Jack do everything you want now let me do this!"

"No!"

"I don't need your permission!"

"No!"

"What no!?"

"No, Dean! You have to stay!" Cas flings his arms around the hunter, his whole body slamming on Dean's as he pulls him tightly in his arms.

Dean grits his teeth when he feels the pressure, wraps his arms around his angel too. It takes a moment and he realizes the angel is shaking so bad, it drains the hunter's will to argue. He settles his anger aside and drops his face on Cas' shoulder.

"Dammit, Cas... You can't ask me to stay behind. You know I don't do that. I don't stay safe." he whispers, doesn't stop himself from planting his lips on the side of the angel's cheeks whose face is buried on his neck.

Castiel breaths heavily on his collar.

"I need you here, Dean. We... I need someone to go back to, we all do. We need something to look forward to when we think of winning. Winning is not an empty bunker... Winning is not your empty room... Winning is not our empty seats...winning is staying together... I... I need to make sure we win. It means all of you are here..."

Dean pressed his lips close and looks up his open door where Jack and Sam are standing. He flickers his eyes on his brother who sadly looks back at him. To Jack whose worrying his little forehead over them.

Losing his family overnight? Dean can understand.

Dean tightens his grip on Cas who hasn't spoken since. For even Cas to be so... frightened. It's so rare, yet so true and pure. The hunter sighs on the angel's neck again.

"Why d'you think I wanted to help, Cas? It's coz I wanna protect that dream too... I wanna protect you, Sam and Jack. It's not a suicide mission. I'm gonna fight to get back all of you and not lose anyone. Not this time. So you gotta let me. We gotta trust each other."

He sees Sam nod from the corner of his eyes. Sees Sam take Jack and they close the door, leaving Dean with his angel.

After what felt like eternity, Dean pulls from Cas a little and looks down his wet face. It should be illegal to still look so hot even when crying. Cas is just that beautiful.

"Didn't think you were so worried for me." he smiles, wiping away the streak of tears on Cas' cheeks. Looking at his angel fondly.

"You have no idea what you are to me. " Cas murmured, sinking on Dean's arms again. "Don't call Michael. Please, Dean..."

Dean doesn't answer. Cas tightens the embrace and grumbles on Dean's collar bone.

"Clingy bastard." Dean chuckles and slowly steps backwards to his bed. "You gonna cling on me like this forever?"

Cas says something on the line of "bold of you", "assume I'd even let go" with mouth hot on Dean's neck.

"Oh? So you gonna stay with me forever, Cas? You gonna be here after everything? With me? " Dean hits the edge of the bed, but doesn't drop. He has to stop. His question comes out nonchalant, but it rang of his worry

Castiel pulls up and finally stares him in the eyes, erasing any wall that's been between them for long, leaving only trust and openess. Those blue eyes rob Dean off his breath, like always.

"Say it then." Castiel says, voice gravelly, so endearing and appealing. Dean can't imagine falling for anyone else. Not in this life, not in any other next life. Cas will always be his it. He will never ask anyone this. He's never let anyone either, but for Cas-

"Stay."

Cas tackles him down the bed, their bodies tangling, no air or space with their lips locking, their souls tuning.

Stay. That's it. That's their win.

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

—chapter nine ; with heat & wet skin.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta. 

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing, implied nsfw, drinking, mentions + drug use

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

MASON was quick on his feet when he was given the slightly odd request Teresa had asked him to do last minute. It had nothing to do with the gallery or with separation of last minute business meetings to be scheduled in the margins of the diary. It was just that he had to safely track down a dangerous man. Luca Changretta was still in England, hot-headed with a plan.

Teresa loved fur shawls. Though she detested how the cheap ones she could afford wore out from time to time, from the "fur" falling out like leaves from a tree in autumn, or even its colour turning from new to depressed (and even she grew so envious over the women who wore the luxurious, expensive ones at parties). Tommy Shelby never bothered with buying her what she wanted, which she was fine with, but one man with the Italian genes spoiled her with one that she kept in her closet. A grey-ish white. Teresa often takes one look at it, before sliding it over to reach the silky see-through shawl when she is simply relaxing in her home. At parties she debated even thinking of taking it out, but then there was the other shawl that was made of black fur, and it closed together with a silver clip to keep her shoulders warm.

The fur shawl was just like the painting she avoids at her own work. Both were so beautiful and timeless, both sharing personal meaning. But tonight, it finally saw light from staying in the wardrobe closet for too long. Teresa held it out in front of her, then clutched it in her arms.

The bar was built together with grey walls, none sound-proof. On the other side you could hear the jazz band playing music for the party, or footsteps from the owner or a bartender heading out back for more stocking of gin. If you were on that side, you'd hear the giant doors spring open from the doorman that allowed Teresa to enter inside. The man at the counter watched as her dress fell all the way down to her heels, not too long so she wouldn't trip. Her hair was in its curls once more, and wrapped around like comfort was the fur.

She reached a booth and set her purse on the table. "White wine."

"Ma'am-" the server goes.

"A man will be joining me very soon." Teresa made a smile, as the unescorted woman if Luca were to not show up. Had she imagined if Luca burned the invitation letter she mailed to his hotel, or simply tossed it away, in future to be used as scratch paper, or even as a roll up (if Luca is one of the many people that did snow), she may have just wasted her time getting dolled up just to not be served at her booth.

"Last time I met up with a woman at a bar, she proposed a deal, and lied straight to my face."

She shot her head up.

Those eyes.

Looks like her night wasn't going to waste after all. "Are you talking about Polly?" She watches as Luca Changretta helps himself on the other side of the booth, the same server coming over to Teresa with her white wine.

Teresa waited while staring down at Luca's own glass being poured with four fingers of whiskey. Luca glanced at Teresa's outfit, not answering her question. "You're wearing the shawl I got you? I can't believe you still have it."

"What, like I got rid of it? Why would I give it to someone else who would treat it like a rag?"

"Hm." Luca took a sip. "So, why did you summon me here? Actually, I know the answer to that one. You're a businesswoman, as we both know. You invited me here to propose some kind of deal, eh? Like I got the time to spare one more fucking thing before I go do what I came to England to do?"

"I know about the vendetta, Luca." Teresa began. "And I know the deal you made with Polly, which was a lie, by the way. I know about that. What I also know is that you don't just plan on crushing the Peaky Blinders. You have more on your mind. You're so greedy that you would want to overthrow Alfie Solomons as well. If he were to betray Tommy with the deal you made with Mr. Solomons, you know you and your men would come after him as well and take over his business."

Luca nodded. "I had a feeling you knew. I had a feeling Tommy Shelby brought you back to Birmingham, no?"

"I know your patience is wearing thin, and you're done giving people more time. But then there's me."

"Right, forgive me," Luca places a hand on his chest. "Why not talk about the royalty in front of me as well? What could she possibly request for this time?"

"I wanna know why I was never sent a Black Hand."

Luca laughs, trailing his fingers around the rim of his glass. Whatever Teresa said or did, she definitely wasn't laughing. Nothing seemed funny to her on her end. She did, however, miss that laugh of his. It was more of a chuckle, but she loved it like it was honey in hot tea. "Let me tell you something. It's best to stay out of this, right? Since you resigned, messing with us is like throwing stones at the devil."

"I'll play in the snow with the devil to prove you wrong."

Luca scoffs harshly. "So you're one of those people that snorts white lines just to feel good?"

"That was just my own figure of speech, Luca. I don't do Tokyo," Teresa replied. She cringed at the habit Arthur and Michael carelessly picked up on. "It's everyone's thing now, but not mine."

"That makes two of us." He took another sip. "I'm doing you a favour here, Miss Griffith. Stay out of this and do your own thing."

"There's no need for you to call me that," she comments.

"Why the hell not? Formalities are a thing of the past now?"

"You're talking to me as if we just met. We had something together."

"Yeah, had."

Teresa gave a glare, grabbing her wine. Luca smirks. "All right. Whatever you say. Jesus, kid. You're so fuckin' difficult."

"Kid," she scoffs at his remark. "And Ada Thorne is on your list and she doesn't get her hands covered in blood. So why wasn't I included?"

"You feel left out?" Luca snickered.

"I just wanna know why. I know damn well you haven't forgotten about me. Even if what we had to you was just for pleasure, you found out that I was once a Peaky Blinder."

Luca stares. "You wanted out because you felt like it would devour you forever, so I respected your wishes. You told me why you threw in the towel. And I know you're not a Shelby, you don't wanna be a Shelby."

The server comes up to them. "Sir? Ma'am? Would any of you like to hear the specials tonight?"

"No, thank you." Teresa smiles.

"More whiskey," Luca says. "And for the lady, she'll have more wine." Teresa raised her brows. She didn't mind more wine, would she care so much about knowing her limit before it was time to wince at the tab?

"I forgot you love whiskey," Teresa points out.

"Italian whiskey," Luca made a hand gesture. "As I was saying... have you thought long and hard about this, as to why I'm here? As to why I want Tommy Shelby dead, how I now want everyone dead?"

"Your father." There was a pause between the two. The jazz band transitioned their music to a much slower song this time, and it started easing the nerves in both the former couple's systems despite the volume of alcohol consumed. "Arthur Shelby killed your father. John Shelby killed your brother Angel."

"If things didn't happen the way it did, my men and I would be cozying up in New York counting stacks by stacks."

"And I wouldn't be seeing you here," Teresa added. "Almost ever again," Teresa thanks the server for the excess wine refilling in her glass, then Luca's. "Now can we talk about the giant elephant in the room?"

Luca furrows his brows.

"I know why you left, Luca. I know it's been five years, but you really just packed up and left. I've never seen you so frantic until that day when you were running to the train." Not even an eye bat. "I grew miserable ever since."

"Can I say this?" Luca leaned forward, placing the cuffs of his tailored suit that it laid flat on the tablecloth. "Whatever emotion you saw in my eyes on that day, whatever it was, it was for the sake of being alive for my family. Someone's gotta help keep the business up and runnin'. None of it works if I'm not there."

Teresa stares at Luca. This man wasn't wrong. It wasn't like he was running everything in his family all on his own. His father led the family in Birmingham that Angel was a part of, even his mother lived with them, but what makes New York so important and comforting to Luca must have felt like a whole outlet of anything he ever accomplishes, how many Tommy guns he can hold and keep in his home like picture frames, how many men he has to hire from Sicily and America just to help kill one family. All of that was justified when he boarded that train to the Liverpool docks.

"Oh," Teresa straightened her back. "So much for being the big, bad capo."

"Be careful," Luca warned, pointing a finger at her. "Don't question a gangster's honour."

"You know I crack jokes here and there," Teresa's lips curled into a smirk as it reached the rim of her glass.

"So do I," said Luca.

She looked down at his hands that rested on the table. His experienced, non-scrawny hands that had a black hand tattooed on his wrist, one with a crown, and maybe some other new ones Luca got over time. She used to kiss all of them, even the one on his neck that was a cross. His right hand was wrapped with big, gold rings on two fingers, except he only kept his ring finger free of anything, that was something she wanted to bring up. "You got all those rings on your fingers but not a wedding ring.

"Not like you got one on yours, either. Unless you took it off before coming here," Luca jokes.

She shakes her head. "I've been too busy to fall in love with another soul. But you? You didn't tie the knot with Viviana back in New York?"

Luca scowled, knowing Teresa hadn't forgotten about that woman as he did. "No. I still see her occasionally."

"Yet you haven't done anything with her? Never bothered to find anyone to satisfy your mother?"

"My mother says any woman from New York or even from the old country would do."

"What did you say, after?"

"Mamma, you're killin' me.'" Teresa had to chuckle at that, Luca smiled at her. He then looked around the bar, seeing how more of the guests had gotten up to dance with their dates as the jazz music cranked up their higher tunes like a machine. "Don't tell me we're gonna be sitting here all fuckin' night. You wanna dance, Miss Tour Guide?"

The nickname he gave to her the first time. Did he really sit in front of her and tell her he couldn't remember everything they had, then? "I'm a little rusty," Teresa declines.

'We gotta stretch our legs somehow. I ain't even see your whole getup for the night."

Teresa had no problem getting up from the booth. She stepped out so that her heels were shown as well, and she placed the fur shawl down on her seat so her shoulders were out. The dress wasn't purchased by Luca, but by her, and she felt like a Grand Princess, like a little girl playing with their mother's dresses and makeup. She was never too insecure about her looks since it never bothered her, but she felt beautiful, and she wondered if Luca will still ever see her as beautiful whether or not she is clothed in front of him.

Luca kept on staring. "Then perhaps we can head somewhere else," he suggests. "Somewhere we're both quite familiar with."

How and why didn't matter, the young man who looked to be around Arthur Shelby's age paid no second thought to his surroundings as he aggressively snuffed the thick lines of cocaine that formed on the ledge up his nostril. He begins wiping away any excess off his face, exiting the balcony seats just as the Italian mobster escorts Teresa inside the dark theatre to their respected spots.

"You're a lover of theatre," Teresa spoke quietly as the show resumed to its first act.

"If you dress like one, you are one." Luca hooked his leg over the other, folding his hands on his lap.

It was silent, not the awkward or tense silence, but silent to respect and see the performance. Silence or absolute noise, the stage was the latter. The good kind of noise. The skimpy dancers twirled with batons, the man and woman playing the perky main lovers belted the note they must have spent days and nights rehearsing over and over.

Luca knew there would be performances every night back in New York City. There was always something to do and somewhere to go, otherwise you'd be glued to your chairs at home.

The show was about to end, and Luca, for the first time in God's glorious mysterious time, took Teresa by the hand and curled them together on his lap, his eyes were fixated to theatricality in front of the hundreds of people.

Teresa reacts, slowly looking down. It was nearly dark, but she could feel the giant, lumpy rings from his fingers bump into hers. He always held her hand during a show, and would only let go to join the applause when a number came to its big finish, or when the grand finale brought hypnotic joy and bliss in each audience member's senses like himself that he just had to give the standing ovation.

But just as the audience erupted in deafening applause, cheers and whistles, Luca and Teresa remained the only two members seated, their hands still holding.

HIS hotel room was neat and tidy before he left, now the sheets on the giant bed wrinkled like aged skin when Luca held Teresa down to remove her stockings. She missed his touch. The feeling of being pinned on a bed as he dominated over her, practically tearing what she wore for the occasion just to see her underneath as a sight for his sore eyes, it was definitely there, and her heart pounded.

"Luca," she breathed out a moan. He kissed her softly, now only responding with pacing movements, from positioning her to grabbing the protection from the nightstand drawers. Though he was careful with the dress and fur shawl that was set on the office desk he sat in earlier, within seconds her brassiere was tossed on the floor. With the help from Teresa, she managed to undress Luca from head to toe by just sitting up, and he was now unclothed from the fresh tailored suit his uncle made back in Mott Street.

They kissed again, and Luca went in.

+ me writing "smut": 🧿👄🧿 but ooooo shiiiit their “business” meeting was quite a night lol.

[159potterhead]

(this is answer to the previous ask. It's gonna be long. I'll try to give you the insight)

Yeah. I mean apart from me there's also this one other guy he's also regular victim like me coz he also broke a rule but he gets bullied by different seniors not the Michael guy gang. And it's not particularly about the gang or the group coz all those seniors are friends with each other so anyone can bully any junior. This guy has a job for calling me when those seniors ask to see me and this guy makes a run to the cafe coz those seniors wants to eat something. He's always running around here and there. I feel bad for him.

There are more than 200 peeps I guess. They had human ethics class when they called me but that time professor wasn't taking their lecture so most of them left but then too there were too many people in there. Yk I told you I'm in Biotech so like this we have all kind of subjects for major like physics, chemistry, maths, statistics, life science and many more and for all these branches we have a common subject called Human ethics which is compulsory for every one. So all of the branches together sit in one big classroom for this subject.

Tbh, I really don't know what that guy wants, I thought maybe I'll avoid him so I won't get in trouble but it happened opposite coz he got seriously pissed after that. That was the most embarrassing day of my life, I remember everything, I got very close to crying. And he never really talks to me but he called me in their class and was like, why are you avoiding me? And I can't say that to his face, so, I said, 'I was not.' And then he listed a few palce where I tried to avoid him and I had no answer to that, it's a long story but he bought that list of slangs that I once wrote and he told me to read the whole list (it has around 70 curse words half which I had to make up on my own. Initially it 50 but afterwards they increased it. I'll get to it later) He told me I had to yell those words until the person sitting on the last bench can hear me. It was brutal. And he was standing right on my head saying, 'I can't hear you,' I would have killed him that day. I got very close to crying. I only made it till 4-5 words. I skipped few days after that day it was the worst thing ever that's how everyone in his year got to know about me.

Yes! I tried to avoid him many times. If I saw him coming I used to changed my path and I think he noticed coz I wasn't subtle at all. And idk what's up with him coz he started playing hide and seek, if he noticed me changing direction or going the long way to avoid him he just used to take the short route and get there before me just to freak me out. And that guy is not even in my line of vision he's way taller than me and I freaked out every time when he used to come in front of me suddenly out of nowhere. I looked okay not a big deal from outside but from inside I always went in emergency mode, my hands used to get cold. Sue me, I have anxiety I can't help it and if someone will act like this I will feel a little afraid or intimidated yk. And after that task of reading the list out loud he stopped. So that was relief. I often think does these people don't have humanity or what. If I was a guy I would never do this to a girl. And yk this bullying part is also a reason why I'm done with guys. Don't be sorry, it's okay I had my fun in school, so I was kinda prepared for this.

I think you didn't get it. It's the weird universal rule going on from ages, we have to give respect to every senior even if they are from other branch. The rules are not made up by any college authority. It's just something that is going on among students, professors doesn't know a thing about it. There are many rules. We have two cafes over here and one of them is strictly reserved for seniors, a junior person cannot step a foot over there.

Yesss! You get me! That's why I was looking. I don't think it's peer pressure. I think that he thinks I don't respect him and I broke the rule. I think he got more confident after his friends knew. And I think his friends told people of his class that's why they all knew my name.

All my friends and classmates already knows about it. They can't do anything coz those people are their seniors too, and we are supposed to do as they say. One of my tired tried to help me coz she knew someone in the senior batch and that person talked to that Michael guy about me and guess what? They just doubled the slangs. And I had to prove my innocence and I bargained but then too I ended up writing 70. So there's that.

(it’s alright, write ten pages even if you’ve got to)

it’s all cause of those stupid rules!!😡 oh my, poor kid:(( y’all have feet, go and get your own food from the cafeteria! i’m starting to feel bad for him too, he’s just trying to get along with his college years, let him be!!

ohh, so you get stuck in the same hall for a whole lecture? that’s just nice🤦🏻‍♀️

yeah that makes absolutely no sense btw🤨?? baby noo😭 I wish I had been there for you!! umm we have nothing between us, I can avoid you if I want to?? jeez I wanna punch this dude so bad rn. ok srsly what is up with that list omg. YOURE JOKING????? HE MADE YOU DO THAT??? IS HE INSANE OR INSANE??!!? im so so so sorry!!!! that just sounds like an awful way to get introduced to the rest of the school, plus I can’t imagine the toll it had on you!!😭😭

???? what a creep??? I mean that’d be fine if it was a friend, but what the hell does he want?? you have a right to be intimidated, and it’s not your fault you’ve got anxiety, can’t he get it?!! either he finally saw that his actions are that of the devil and felt sorry for you and stopped, which I doubt very much. or someone in that class saw and made him stop afterwards. he shouldn’t be doing this to anyone, regardless!! this is your actual villain origin story against guys, and honestly, I can very clearly see why now. even though, this doesn’t mean that you deserved an ounce of it!

how is that supposed to be any better?? and fine I can show respect, but to the point of calling them maam and sir, is this a school or military grounds? yeah okay that reserved spot thing is passable.

ah okay... a shitty dude followed by shitty friends... how respectful.

honestly thank god I don’t attend your college, no offense. under whose authority am I to blindly do as they say, I don’t get it, I really don’t! oh that’s just great😫 props to them for talking to him though. that just sucks, I am incredibly sorry! :(((

🎶honey I'll be your shelter, I'll be the one to take you through the night. whenever you need shelter, I'll make everything alright, make everything alright🎶💕