#im GOING to read gold proposal

[dino--draws]

"I'm adding it to my reading list" I say about any SCP thing I hear.

<- fir ass does NOT have a reading list. it's in fir brain and fi has the memory of a squirrel on ketamine. Half are forgotten. The other half is shit fi's already read but would read again in a heartbeat

[angelesca]

forbidden love: the tree and the butterfly w.c. ~800

cerces waxing fanfic about you and anaxagoras to maintain the agenda (w/ the chrysos heirs being silly)

23/04/25) edited! bc im a certified idiot with no braincells IM SO SORRYYYY!!😭😭

“Have you read the latest volume of 'Forbidden Love: The Tree and the Butterfly'?”

“Who hasn't?! The chemistry between the main characters is such a breath of fresh air! The two are constantly arguing, the tension had me kicking my feet!”

“Say... doesn't Broccoligoras, the male lead, remind you of Professor Anaxagoras...?”

“!!! You make a good point! A face as stern as stone, but a heart of gold. So dreamy~”

Anaxagoras simply smirks—heh—hearing his students behind him.

You gag, feeling the previously digested meal lurch. “So, Broccoligoras—I mean, Anaxagoras,” you speak up, trying to drown the voices. “Are you going to ask your dear parent to stop writing us in situations I would rather die before experiencing?”

“Cerces is not my”—Anaxagoras stops, taking a deep breath. Then, a knowing chuckle—“your childish ploys to rouse my temper work naught on me, blind follower of Romance. Try harder, won't you?”

You roll your eyes at his challenge. “Why are students of the Grove of Epiphany so engrossed with this... interesting literature, anyways? I would never share a bed with you, just because there happened to be only one.”

“That's not the important part,” Anaxagoras tuts, crossing his arms. “Cerces must possess iron guts, to be massacring my upstanding character without a care."

“You mean with how Broccoligoras is handsome, smart, green, and tall? Unlike you?”

“Excuse me?” Anaxagoras shoots a glare. “Those are all truth (he's green?), especially the tall part—what I'm referring to is some of the degrading remarks by Broccoligoras about dromases, written in poor taste.” Tut tut.

You mumble, “You crazed dromas freak...”

“Do you think that offensive? That is of highest praise—I am not to be categorised with laymen, thank you.”

Before you can retort, Hyacine suddenly appears, stopping you in your tracks, eyes gleaming. In her hands—you sigh—a volume of 'Forbidden Love: The Tree and the Butterfly'. Is this secretly Cerces's plan for world domination?

Hyacine shakes your hand, and then Anaxagoras's. “Congratulations on the engagement you two!”

You almost exploded on the spot. Hyacine was one step away from being charged with your murder. “What?!"

She tilts her head, opening the book. “Am I wrong? But Cerces wrote it here...”

“Page two-thousand-and-two-hundred,” Anaxagoras says, “is when the main character proposes to Broccoligoras after debating him for twelve nights straight. Then, they rode off into the sunset on a dromas. Quite romantic.”

“Oh, right!” Hyacine nods. "My favourite part, very romantic indeed.”

Two-thousand-and-two-hundred pages? Is Cerces's only hobby to torture you both with their prose? You rub your temples. “I hate to say this, but I think their propaganda is working.”

Anaxagoras shakes his head. “You mean to say—heh... You are enraptured by my greatness after all?”

Your hands goes straight for his throat, in your head. A thought crosses your mind. “Wait, how did you know the exact page?”

Silence. A single bead of sweat rolls down Anaxagoras's good eye. He doesn't even blink it away. “Only a scholar is allowed to question. I won't answer.”

Suddenly, a student barges into Anaxagoras, thud, shouting a hasty apology as they run off. You look down at what dropped from Anaxagoras, stunned.

Hyacine beams a bright smile. “Oh, Professor Anaxagoras! You're a fan of 'Forbidden Love: The Tree and the Butterfly' too?”

... Behind a wall were Tribbie, Castorice, Phainon, and Mydei huddled together, spying on you and Anaxagoras. Aglaea, clearly the only mature one, had better things to do.

Phainon holds the latest volume of 'Forbidden Love: The Tree and the Butterfly'. “Wow,” He reads a page in the book, looking at you and Anaxagoras. “It's just like in the book.”

“Let us see!" Tribbie pulls Phainon down to her level, scanning the words. “Wow! Just like in the book! Do they ever tire of arguing?”

Mydei grunts. “What are you guys on about?” He peers over Phainon's shoulder. “Ugh... it's just like in the book.”

Castorice nods slowly. “I have collected O' venerable Master Cerces's (?) books since the first release. I can say too... Wow, it's just like in the book.”

Phainon pauses before saying, “I thought you weren't on good terms with Cerces, Castorice?”

"We made up after they revived my favourite character, Costa-Rica, in the twentieth volume."

Mydei groans for the hundreth time. "Cerces is not even trying to hide it," He scans the book. "My-day...? Oh, come on. And Paimon?"

Phainon asks, "Who?"

"Hey!" Tribbie averts the topic. “The book! What happens next?”

“Right,” Phainon clears his throat, recclaiming the book from Mydei. “Next... A carriage hits Broccoligoras into the main character which results in an accidental kiss–”

A loud crash is heard. The Chrysos Heirs are too stunned to speak.

Mydei scratches his chin. “Does Cerces happen to be a fortune teller? Maybe I'll pay them a visit to see if I need to re-evaluate my friends.”

...

... Huddled behind a pile of books in their sanctuary, Cerces works through the endless books while brainstorming.

“Hmm... soulmates? Or should I write childhood sweethearts next? How about marriage of convenience?”

a/n: forbidden love: the tree and the butterly is an actual book in the game, which is where i got the inspo from lmao. cerces just like me frfr. 3.1 hurt me, so i have silly fluff drafts for all of us after the pain</33

[mononijikayu]

crazy little thing called love—ryomen sukuna.

Your jaw dropped. "Gold?" "Go big or go home, right?" He tilted his head, looking far too amused by your reaction. You scoffed, still trying to process how utterly ridiculous this conversation had become. "You do realize how insanely hard it is to even qualify for the Olympics, let alone win?" He shrugged, completely unfazed. "Yeah. So?" You rubbed your temples. "You really think you can pull that off?" "I know I can." he said simply. “I’m amazing. There’s no denying that, especially right now. But in the future? I know I’ll be a beast.”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Volleyball! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Baby, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Volleyball Pro! Sukuna, Astrophysicist! Reader, Fiancee! Sukuna, Fiancee! Reader;

Words: 8k words.

Note: people have been asking if there will be a part 2 where sukuna ends up proposing and i was thinking about how im going to do it because i want it to be fun and i want it to be as ridiculous as possible. and this is what i came up with. this is not the end for them, i think i will come by from time to time. i think i need to think about other stories too. in any case, i hope you enjoy this one!!! i love you all~

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

lovesick playlist

THIS WAS HOW YOUR MINI DATES WERE LIKE EVERY LATE AFTERNOON. And you were more than content with that. After all, you were both too busy to always meet outside of school. This is why you became a manager in the first place. You wanted more time with him as much as you could. 

You knew that from the moment he became a part of the volleyball team. But sometimes, it was hard with him. In some ways, he had gotten so used to you being there that he doesn’t want to be without you whatsoever. He’s crazy about keeping his lover like that.

“My love, I’m going to go. I have to leave.”

“No, you’re not.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “My club manager duty is done. I have a life outside of watching you hit a ball over a net.”

Sukuna scoffed, arms crossed as he leaned lazily against the gym wall. “A life? What, you mean going home just to do the exact same thing you’d do if you stayed here? Reading your physics books?”

Your eye twitched. “That’s not the point. You know that.”

He smirked, stretching his arms overhead, the muscles in his shoulders flexing obnoxiously. “It kinda is, babe. No offense.”

The rhythmic sound of a volleyball bouncing against the polished court filled the empty gym. The night was quiet, save for the distant hum of cicadas outside and the occasional squeak of Sukuna’s shoes as he moved across the floor. 

You knew exactly where this was going. Because it always went this way. You, attempting to leave. Sukuna, refusing to let you. It was routine at this point.

And you stay anyway, opening up your bag and taking your books and reading. And then taking his bag and then laying down on the benches, resting your head as you wait for him to finish. 

You wanted to change that today.

At least you hope you can change it.

Your boyfriend is way too good at being clingy.

“I need to study, you know that.” you tried again, hands on your hips.

“So study here.” He shrugged. “You do it all the time.”

“I want to eat.”

“There’s snacks in my bag.” He huffs, taking the ball in his hand once again. “I got your favorites from the store.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And what if I want actual food?”

“Then we’ll go after practice.”

“Are you—”

“Yes, I’m paying.” He confirms to you, not even looking at you. “Why do you think I have a part time job?”

You inhaled sharply, weighing your options. On one hand, you could still leave. You could be strong for once and walk out that door like a free person.

On the other hand…It was true that you’d just end up studying at home anyway. And eating wasn’t really an issue since you’d just steal whatever food was within arm’s reach.

And if you were really being honest with yourself, staying meant spending just a little more time with him.…Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. And not that he would admit that as easily either. It was just the way it was for people as prideful as you both.

You sighed dramatically. “You are so needy.”

Sukuna grinned, already knowing he won. “You call me needy for wanting you here and yet, here you are. Not leaving.”

You shot him a glare but walked back to your usual spot on the gym bench anyway, pulling out your notes with a huff. You take his bag and pull it closer to you. You unzip it as carefully as you could, as to not look desperate, and take out the snacks he packed for you.

Sukuna laughed, turning back to the court. “You look cute when you pretend to be mad, babe.”

You picked up one of the balls and launched it at his head.

He dodges it really well, diving down onto the floor.

He snickers, looking at you with those mischievous eyes.

“You’re really helping me practice here, if anything, manager-san.”

“Get to practice before I actually leave, dumbass.”

And with that, he did, all the while he was grinning like an idiot the whole time. Meanwhile you then continued to slouch by the sidelines, legs stretched out in front of you, your back resting against the cool wall. You flipped another page of your physics book, fixing your reading glasses. You let out a yawn. 

“I forgot you got reading glasses.” Your boyfriend whispers, as he stops to put away some of the balls blocking his way. 

You didn’t bother looking up, lazily flipping to the next page of your textbook. “Well, yeah. I don’t wear them all the time.”

Sukuna huffed, rolling a volleyball toward the cart with his foot. “Still weird seeing you in them.”

You arched a brow, adjusting them on the bridge of your nose. “Why? I think I look distinguished.”

“More like a nerd, babe.” he teased, walking past you to grab another ball.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head. “Oh no, my boyfriend just called me a nerd. However will I recover from this devastating insult?”

Sukuna snorted, shooting you an amused look before getting back to practice. You returned to your book, the familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking and volleyballs hitting the floor filling the gym. The rhythmic thuds had become comforting at this point. It was a background noise you had grown so used to that silence would probably feel weird without it.

At some point, Sukuna jogged past you again, stopping just long enough to flick your glasses up your nose with his finger. You swatted at his hand. “Stop that.”

He smirked. “What? I think they’re cute now.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

He chuckled, going back to his drills, and you returned to your book, settling in for another night of studying while your ridiculously competitive boyfriend spiked volleyballs like his life depended on it.

"Do you ever think about the future?" you asked absentmindedly, setting aside your book. You lift your head watching as Sukuna spun the ball in his hands.

He scoffed, tossing it up lazily before catching it again. "What, like college and boring adult stuff?"

"Yeah, that. Or, I dunno… where we’ll be years from now." You say, putting away your reading glasses.

Sukuna’s smirk didn’t falter, but he paused just slightly, his fingers gripping the ball. "You mean whether I’ll go pro and become filthy rich while you settle for some dull-ass office job?"

You rolled your eyes. "That’s not what I meant, dumbass. I mean… what kind of lives we’ll lead. What kind of people we’ll become."

There was a beat of silence as he let your words settle. Then, as if dismissing any weight they carried, he sighed dramatically. "Ugh, don’t get all sentimental on me now, babe."

You huffed, throwing a stray piece of tape from the floor at him. "I’m serious, my love."

And for once, he looked at you. Really looked at you. Not with that usual cocky glint in his eyes, but with something more unreadable, more… thoughtful. But just as quickly as it came, the expression disappeared, replaced by a lopsided grin.

Without another word, Sukuna tossed the ball high into the air, stepped forward, and sent it flying over the net with a sharp, resounding spike. The force of it sent a slight gust of air your way, and as the ball slammed into the opposite court, he finally spoke.

"Well, I plan to marry you."

The words landed just as hard as the ball did.

Your breath hitched, your mind momentarily blank.

Your mouth opened, no words escaping from it.

"What?" You finally said, after a little while. “Are you serious?”

He turned, walking over to retrieve the ball as if he hadn’t just shattered the casual flow of the night. "You heard me."

You stared, trying to process the casual, almost nonchalant way he had just dropped that on you. "You can’t just—what the hell, my love? What do I say about that?"

He chuckled, tossing the ball up once before catching it again. "What? Not the answer you were expecting?"

"You—you don’t just say something like that after a spike!"

"Why not?" He smirked, tilting his head. "Figured I’d let you know my future plans, since you were so curious."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to let him see how flustered you were. Instead, you scoffed, crossing your arms. "You’re insane."

"And you’re stuck with me, you know that." he shot back, that grin never leaving his face. “I mean come on, babe. We’ve been together, what? Four years at this point?”

There was something about the way he said it. It was not just a teasing remark to him, but something firmer, something certain. It sent warmth creeping up your neck, and you hated how much his words lingered. You felt your face become insanely warm, red even as his words marinated even further.

“It’s a forever thing for me, babe.”

“You’re so—”

“Love you too, babe.” He grinned at you. 

Your boyfriend Sukuna turned back to his practice, as if the conversation was already over. But for you… you knew this night would be playing in your mind for a long, long time. It was like every other new information from your physics book escaped your mind instantaneously. 

The weight of Sukuna’s words still clung to the air, thick and undeniable. You tried to ignore the way your heart pounded, the way his declaration had knocked the breath from your lungs, but it was impossible. Your lips pursed into a tight line, still red in the face.

"You're insane," you muttered, shaking your head.

Sukuna only chuckled, tossing the ball up and catching it lazily. "Yeah? And?"

You exhaled sharply, standing up and stretching your arms, trying to regain some sense of normalcy. "You don’t just go around telling people you’re going to marry them out of nowhere."

His smirk widened. "I didn’t say people, though. I said you. It’s only going to be you."

You huffed, crossing your arms. You were pouting at this point. And Sukuna just found that too cute. "Oh, well, my mistake. That makes it so much better."

Sukuna spun the ball on his finger, his sharp eyes glinting mischievously. "Tell you what, babe." he started, voice laced with amusement. "Let’s make it a bet."

Your brows furrowed, wary. "...What kind of bet?"

He let the ball drop to the floor and stepped closer, standing just a little too close, his presence all-consuming. "I win a gold medal in the Olympics." His voice was smooth, deliberate. "And when I do, you’ll marry me."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

You stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the moment he’d burst out laughing and tell you he was messing with you. But he didn’t. His expression was unreadable, teasing but also impossibly serious.

"Ryomen Sukuna, do you even hear yourself?" You threw your hands up. "Winning a medal in the Olympics is not some casual thing you can just—"

“Hey, hey. My name is my love, we will correct that right now.” He cuts in almost too smoothly. “And second, it’s not going to just be a medal. It’s going to be a gold medal. And first try!”

Your jaw dropped. "Gold?"

"Go big or go home, right?" He tilted his head, looking far too amused by your reaction.

You scoffed, still trying to process how utterly ridiculous this conversation had become. "You do realize how insanely hard it is to even qualify for the Olympics, let alone win?"

He shrugged, completely unfazed. "Yeah. So?"

You rubbed your temples. "You really think you can pull that off?"

"I know I can." he said simply. “I’m amazing. There’s no denying that, especially right now. But in the future? I know I’ll be a beast.”

And the thing is, you do believe him. You believe in everything he does, in everything he is. Ryomen Sukuna isn’t just some overconfident athlete running his mouth. You know that his words aren’t just meaningless bravado thrown into the air for the sake of arrogance. 

No, everything he says, everything he sets his mind to, he backs up with raw, undeniable talent and relentless hard work. He’s never been the type to say things he doesn’t mean. If Sukuna said he was going to win, he was going to win. If he said he was going to be the best, he would make it happen.

And if he said he was going to marry you, it's not just words.

It’s his promise, one that he plans to fulfill no matter what.

Well, you didn’t stand a chance against that will, did you?

His confidence wasn’t just arrogance. You know that much. It was the kind of unwavering certainty that could only belong to someone who was born to be great. The kind of person who wasn’t just meant to exist but to leave a mark so deep on the world that people would still be talking about him years down the line.

He was the type of person who set his sights on the impossible and made it real. That’s why, even when he said something absurd, something reckless and unbelievable…..You still believed him. Because he was Ryomen Sukuna. And Ryomen Sukuna never lost.

But still, it was the Olympics. 

It was still something that was so far away.

Things could change from all that time.

"You’re making this sound like a joke, aren’t you?" you muttered, more to yourself than him.

He scoffed. "I don’t joke about things I actually want. You would know that best, babe."

Your breath caught. He was right about that. And you knew it. But there was something about the way he said it. There was no teasing lilt, no cocky edge. Just raw certainty. Just raw confidence. Endless bravado, endless affection. You could see it in his eyes.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus. "Fine, fine." you said, crossing your arms. "If….and that’s a huge if—you actually win gold, I’ll consider it."

Sukuna smirked. "Not good enough for me."

You rolled your eyes. "I’m not just gonna say yes to marrying you based on a bet."

"Then say yes because it’s me." He whispers to you, his eyes warmed with tender love. Tender love just for you. “Say yes because you love him.

Your heart skipped a beat.

The heat on your face triples.

Damn him, damn his smooth words.

He must’ve noticed the way you faltered because his grin widened. "C’mon, babe. Don’t be so serious about it, huh?" he coaxed. "Where’s your sense of fun?"

"This isn’t fun, it’s absolutely crazy." you shot back.

"And yet, you still haven’t said no."

You hated that he had a point, and hated how he knew you so well. He grins as you, watching your pout grow even more prevalent. You glared at him, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. 

"Fine." you relented, sighing heavily. "If somehow, you actually win an Olympic gold medal, then I’ll marry you, Ryomen Sukuna."

Sukuna’s smirk deepened, victorious. "Good. Promise sealed. No backing out now, okay?"

"But don’t get cocky!" you warned, pointing a finger at him. "It’s not gonna be easy, and I highly doubt—"

"You might as well start planning the wedding now, babe." he cut in, already walking back to his side of the court. “I mean, it’s going to happen no matter what.”

You groaned, sinking back onto the bleachers, head in your hands. What the hell did you just agree to? Why did it feel like a bad deal on your part? You sighed as you fixed your position, springing up from your slump. 

You really should have read the fine print before agreeing to this. Maybe ask your boyfriend to make a contract about this. Because now, as Sukuna continued spiking balls with that obnoxiously smug grin on his face, you found yourself staring at the court, your mind spiraling into an entirely new crisis.

“Wait, wait.” Your eyes narrowed. “What if you end up winning in the Olympics when you’re 18 or 19?”

Sukuna paused, ball in hand, and turned to you with a slow, knowing smirk. “Well, babe….” he said, spinning the ball lazily on his finger. “You know what happens.”

Your stomach dropped. “No. Ryomen Sukuna!”

“Yes.” He whistles back to you. “And that’s not my name, you know that.”

“Sukuna, that’s way too soon—”

“Too bad! You already agreed!” He pointed at you accusingly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That’s a verbal contract, sweetheart. Legally binding!”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Oh my god.”

Sukuna just chuckled, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. “Not my fault you underestimated me.”

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Oh, I underestimated you? You’re the one planning an Olympic medal-to-marriage speedrun!”

He shrugged, unfazed. “And?”

You gaped at him. “And!? My love, that is just…..You—You’re seriously okay with getting married as a teenager?”

“I mean, yeah. I was ready to bet my life on you when we were even younger. Why not?” He cocked his head, looking at you like you were the crazy one. “If I win early, I win early. Not my problem.”

“It is your problem!” You waved your hands around in exasperation. “You’d be legally stuck with me at a stupidly young age! What if you regret it? What if I regret it? What if we get sick of each other?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Babe, I’ve been dealing with you for years. If I was gonna get sick of you, it would’ve happened already.”

You sputtered. “Dealing with me?! Excuse you! I should be the one questioning whether I want to deal with you for the rest of my life!”

He grinned, walking toward you with slow, confident strides. “Then don’t agree to stupid bets.”

You pointed a finger at him, almost so childishly. “You tricked me into this!”

He leaned down, resting his hands on the bench on either side of you, caging you in. “I didn’t trick you, babe.” he murmured, tilting his head. “I just made sure you didn’t say no.”

You blinked up at him, cheeks heating. Damn it. This was so unfair. How was he effortlessly cool and stupidly attractive even when talking about something as ridiculous as marrying you as a teenager? Sukuna smirked knowingly, clearly enjoying your flustered silence.

You swallowed, gathering yourself. “Still, my love….” you muttered, looking away. “You don’t even know when you’ll win.”

“Maybe so.” he admitted, standing up straight again. “But I will win. And when I do, you better have your dress ready.”

You stared at him, completely exasperated. “Oh my god, I hate you.”

He grinned. “Love you too, fiancée.”

You grabbed your physics book and whacked him with it.

Unfortunately, that didn’t wipe the smug look off his face.

If anything, the grin just grew wider than ever before.

YOU ENDED UP IN LOS ANGELES 2028, YOUR BOYFRIEND ON THE COURT IN HIS JAPAN TEAM UNIFORM. The deafening roar of the stadium echoed around you, a symphony of cheers and chants, many cameras echoing into a hail of flashes, and the pounding bass of the match music.

Bright lights shone down on the Olympic volleyball court, illuminating the players lined up for the final set. Each one a figure carved out of sweat, grit, and years of relentless training. But out of all of them, your eyes locked onto just one.

Vice Captain Gojo Satoru stood in the center of Japan’s national team, his white hair slightly damp with sweat, his uniform clinging to his lean frame. Even from the stands, you could see the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, his ever-present arrogance radiating off of him like a damn spotlight.

His blue eyes, sharp and glittering under the stadium lights, flickered toward Captain Ryomen Sukuna. Sukuna stood tall at the net, his scarlet eyes narrowing as he rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing beneath his jersey. There was no smirk on his lips, no taunts thrown across the court like Gojo was clearly ready to dish out. 

No, Sukuna was locked in. Focused, deadly, hungry. And across from him, standing with equal intensity, was the French National Volleyball Team.It was an even match, a battle of the titans, an Olympic final that had already left the world breathless.

Outside Hitter Megumi Fushiguro took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling steadily despite the sweat dripping down his face. He had been playing a hell of a game, his spikes cutting through the French team’s defenses like a blade. But there was no denying the exhaustion creeping into his stance, no matter how fiercely he tried to shake it off.

Middle Blocker Itadori Yuuji moved forward, cracking his knuckles as he bounced on his feet, a grin still plastered on his face despite the pressure. His energy was boundless, as always, but you knew he could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

This was it.

The final set.

One more for the win.

One more push, one more kill, one more moment of sheer brilliance. And they would either walk away with gold, or with the regret of coming so close and falling just short. You swallowed, hands gripping your knees as you leaned forward in your seat, barely aware of how tightly you were clenching your fists.

And then, in the middle of the tension, Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but grin. “Hey, Captain!”

“Huh? What do you want, Gojo?”

"Don’t choke, Captain!" he teased, just loud enough for you to hear over the roaring crowd.

Sukuna didn’t even blink. He just smirked, the look in his eyes dark and dangerous. "Just make sure you’re still standing when I spike the last point over your head."

The referee blew the whistle.

The ball was tossed into the air.

And the final set began.

Down on the bleachers, everyone was just holding their breath. Including you, who was just tense. Quantum Physicist Geto Suguru was sitting way too comfortably in their VIP seats, arms crossed, expression unreadable as he lazily popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth. He looks at you, offering you a snack. But you couldn’t help but shake your head.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, not even looking at you.

You huffed. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because, isn’t this quite a moment?” Geto drawled, turning to face you. “Your fiancé is one point away from winning an Olympic gold medal.”

You glared at him. “He’s not my fiancé.”

He smirked. “He might as well be at this point. How long has Sukuna been bragging about it?”

“He still has to win the medal, you know.”

“Well, just one more set here, senpai.” Geto’s purple eyes echoed mischief. “You’ll see then.”

Beside Geto, your heart was pounding so hard you swore it was trying to break free from your chest. And through all the roaring cheers, the flashing cameras, and the tension thick enough to choke you—Sukuna’s voice echoed in your head, as clear as if he was sitting right next to you.

"If I win a gold medal in the Olympics, you have to marry me."

You could still hear the smugness dripping from his voice. The absolute certainty behind his words, as if he had never once considered the possibility of losing.

At the time, you had laughed. You had rolled your eyes, told him he was being ridiculous, brushed it off as just another one of his arrogant declarations.

But here you were, sitting front and center, watching the final match of the Olympics unfold right in front of you. And because the universe loved to mess with you, your boyfriend was about to win a gold medal. 

Suguru nudged you, his voice low and far too amused for the situation. “If you run now, I’ll cover for you.”

You scoffed, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “That’s tempting.”

Before he could respond, the stadium’s announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, shaking the very air around you. “Japan is at match point!”

The crowd roared, the energy in the arena reaching its peak. You watched as the opposing team served the ball, the rally hitting fast and aggressive. The players diving, blocking, setting, all fighting for the final point. Then, like clockwork, you saw it.

The perfect setup. You hadn’t seen anything like it. The ball went up, and just like you knew he would, Sukuna moved fast and jumped, soaring higher than anyone else on the court. His body twisted midair, his form effortless, his presence commanding. And then, it happened.

CRASH.

The ball slammed onto the opposing team’s side with terrifying precision. The whistle blew. The crowd exploded. Japan had won. After waiting for so long, there was finally a win for the country. And Sukuna led it.

Geto Suguru went up and started to cheer out loud.

But you just sat there. You had lost the bet once and for all.

The stadium was chaotic. Cameras flashed, confetti rained down, and the entire team tackled Sukuna in celebration. Geto stretched his arms behind his head, grinning. “Welp. That’s that.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m going to throw myself off this balcony.”

“I’d pay to see that, senpai.” 

You kicked his leg. “You’re so annoying.”

Suguru let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat like he was watching the most entertaining drama of the decade. “Well….” he mused, smirking. “Guess I should start looking for wedding gifts.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Shut up, Geto Suguru.”

He patted your back, mock sympathy lacing his voice. “You really should’ve negotiated better terms.”

You sighed. You really should have. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Oh, senpai, on the contrary—I’m just telling you when you can tell yourself that with the future of time travel.”

You kicked his leg again. 

He just laughed at your response.

You purse your lips into a flat line.

Your entire soul had left your body.

The crowd was still screaming and celebrating, the commentators were probably losing their minds on live television, and yet none of it mattered right now. Primarily because Ryomen Sukuna was coming straight for you.

He cut through the chaos like a man on a mission, stepping over confetti and shoving past reporters with the kind of single-minded determination that should have terrified you.

He ignored his teammates still caught in their celebration, ignored Gojo, who was literally trying to climb him like an overexcited golden retriever, and ignored the cameras tracking his every move. 

Because all he cared about right now was you. 

Suguru, still lounging next to you like he wasn’t witnessing your impending doom, let out a thoughtful hum. “Y’know, this would be a really good time to run, senpai.”

The medal ceremony happened about twenty minutes later, but honestly? 

You could barely process the repercussions of all of this.

You still could not handle the fact that the bet was lost.  

The stadium was still in chaos, electric with the high of victory. The Japanese national team stood in a sharp line on the podium, sweat still glistening on their skin, their jerseys slightly wrinkled from the celebration. The gold medals around their necks shone under the stadium lights, reflecting the sheer magnitude of their win.

Sukuna stood front and center, because of course he did. He looked completely in his element, standing there with his arms crossed, his uniform slightly loose around his broad shoulders. His scarlet eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and undeniable smugness. 

The smirk tugging at his lips practically screamed, Yeah, I won. And yeah, I know exactly what that means.

Your stomach dropped.

Because you knew what it meant, too.

Your fate has been sealed with the win.

Twenty minutes. That’s how long you had to process the reality of your situation. That’s how long you had to sit there in the stands, listening to Geto’s barely contained cackling beside you while he kept glancing between you and Sukuna like this was the best entertainment he’d seen in years.

And, because the universe hated you, the moment the ceremony ended, Sukuna moved. Your breath hitched as he walked off the podium, cutting through the crowd like a man on a mission. People were cheering, cameras were still flashing, but none of it mattered because he was heading straight for you.

Oh, no. You knew that look. The second his scarlet eyes locked onto yours, something deep in your gut twisted. He’s not letting you get away, not right now. Not when his life long dreams came true at the same time.

“Well…..” Geto sighed beside you, stretching out his arms like he had all the time in the world. “Guess this is it for you.”

You glared at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

He grinned. “Oh, I am. That’s why I’m enjoying this.”

Before you could respond, Sukuna reached the barrier separating the court from the stands. The crowd reacted immediately, voices rising in curiosity, in anticipation because this….This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t something athletes did after winning a gold medal. 

And yet, Sukuna didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the top of the barrier and vaulted over it. Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t a damn obstacle at all. The gasps were instant, reporters scrambling to follow, the stadium cameras swerving to capture the moment.

“Oh my god, what the fuck?” you whispered, panic rising in your throat. “He’s coming.”

Geto, utterly unbothered, nodded sagely. “Yeah, I’d start running now.”

Your body froze in your seat, unable to move at all. Because Ryomen Sukuna was scaling the stands with ridiculous ease, weaving past rows of spectators, his eyes never leaving yours. Your pulse skyrocketed almost instantly. 

You gritted your teeth. “If I run, do you think he’ll chase me?”

Suguru snorted. “Oh, absolutely. And then he’ll catch you. Man’s an Olympian now.”

Your heart was pounding against your chest. Because he was right. You were so doomed. Then, before you could even react, Ryomen Sukuna vaulted over the barrier like it was nothing. You gasped at that, mouthing him to be careful with a panicked look.

Security barely had time to register what was happening before he leapt onto the stands, scaling them with ridiculous ease. People gasped and pointed, cameras flashed like fireworks, but you barely processed it because he was getting closer.

Suguru let out a low whistle. “Damn. He’s really coming for you.”

You shot him a glare. “You think?”

And all of a sudden, Sukuna was there. Still slightly out of breath, sweat-drenched, and absolutely radiating victory, he loomed over you with an expression that was both smug and dangerous.

Your body is locked up. For a moment, neither of you said anything. He twirled the Olympic gold medal between his fingers and smirked down at you.

“So, babe….” he drawled with a grin on his face. “Do you wanna pick the wedding venue, or should I?”

Suguru made a choking sound beside you. “Oh, my god.”

You froze in your place, still staring at him. Every neuron in your brain short-circuited. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be serious. You never expected this moment to happen whatsoever. He urges you to take the medal. But then you nearly fell on the side.

“Woah, careful there, babe.”

“My love, I….This is….”Your voice was barely above a whisper, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. “We are literally in a stadium. The cameras are still on you—”

“And?” he shrugged, smug as ever. “A deal’s a deal, babe. Verbal agreements matter too, you know.”

You wanted to die at this moment.

You were so red and flustered.

Suguru, meanwhile, was thriving.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever witnessed, oh my god.” he sighed dreamily, already reaching for his phone. “I need to record this for future generations.”

You smacked his arm. “Suguru, I swear to god—”

Sukuna crouched in front of you, his eyes gleaming with something softer beneath all that cocky bravado. He dangled the gold medal in front of you, letting the gold glint under the bright stadium lights. “You remember our deal, don’t you?”

Your breath caught. Because of course you did. He had said it years ago. So easily, so confidently, like he had already decided how your future would go.

"If I win a gold medal in the Olympics, you have to marry me." He smiled at you, so warmly, so full of love. “And that’s happened now…..So….”

At the time, you had laughed. Brushed it off. 

Thought, there’s no way that would happen just yet.

But here you were, sitting front and center—and he had won.

On his first try, nonetheless. 

You exhaled sharply. “I hate you.”

He laughed, that deep, victorious laugh of his. “Nah. You love me.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand tenderly with a wide happy grin on his face. Your breath hitched as he placed the medal in your palm, his fingers brushing against yours, warm and solid. 

“Hold onto that for me, babe.” he murmured, voice dipping into something dangerously tender.

Your stomach flipped. “What?”

He reached into his pocket.

And your entire existence imploded.

Because between his fingers was a ring.

Not just any ring. It was stupidly elegant, clearly custom-made, and so undeniably you that it knocked the air from your lungs. The band was sleek and sophisticated, refined yet unassuming. It was something you could wear every day without it getting in the way. But the real kick? The centerpiece.

A gemstone, deep and endless, like the cosmos itself.

It wasn’t a traditional diamond. Of course it wasn’t.

Because Ryomen Sukuna knew you all too well.

You didn’t do anything ordinary, and he knew that.

No, what sat on that band was a star sapphire. It was a deep, burning ruby red, almost black under certain lights, with a radiant six-rayed star shimmering across its surface. A star captured in stone. Your own piece of the universe. And somehow, it was functional too. Because, of course, he thought of that.

The design was subtle, but you recognized it immediately. The band had fine etchings, equations so minuscule they were nearly invisible. But you knew them. Orbital mechanics, gravitational constants, the formulae you used daily in your astrophysics work.

Your throat closed up. “My love, you are so…..”

You felt Geto go still beside you, all traces of laughter gone. The crowd noise faded into a dull hum, the stadium, the cameras, the flashing lights.

All of it blurred into the background. Because Sukuna had designed this for you. Not just a ring. It was a promise. A piece of your entire world. Your world now interwoven into his, for all your lives.

Your vision blurred, overwhelming emotion just taking over you at this moment. You swallowed thickly, lips parting, but no words came out. Sukuna, smirking but softer than you’d ever seen him, twirled the ring between his fingers. 

“I figured you’d want something practical.” he murmured, voice lower now, quieter, like this moment was just for you. “Can’t have you taking it off every time you work.”

You stared at him, stared at the ring, at the undeniable thought put into every detail. Your hands trembled. He noticed, he always does. Smirk widening, because of course he noticed—he reached for your hand, effortlessly lacing his fingers through yours.

“Babe.” he teased, his voice so infuriatingly smug. “Are you crying?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, heart slamming against your ribs. 

“No.” you mouthed, obviously lying.

Geto snorted. “You absolutely are.”

You kicked him once again.

But your gaze never left Sukuna.Your stupid, cocky, unstoppable lover. Your future husband. A laugh, one which was helpless and disbelieving and overwhelmingly in love, escaped your lips almost instantaneously.

“I hate you so much.” you whispered.

His grip on your hand tightened, his smirk turning into something so devastatingly fond. “No, you don’t.” he murmured.

And ugh.

You really didn’t.

You never will.

You love him too much.

Sukuna, so unbothered, tilted his head. “Well? I’m cramping here, babe.”

Your entire soul felt like it had left your body. This wasn’t happening. There was no way this was actually happening. But it was. Because of course it was.

You forced yourself to look back at him. Slowly, hesitantly. And there he was right in front of you, hopeful, tenderly. Lovingly. He continued to wait there, patiently. 

Like he already knew your answer. 

Like he had always known.

Like he had never doubted it.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. You groaned softly, dropping your head into your hands, as if shielding yourself from the sheer magnitude of this moment would somehow make it less real.

(And of course, it didn’t.)

He just grinned back at you.

Smug. Triumphant. Unshakable.

Because this was his win. His victory lap. 

You inhaled sharply, hands trembling, throat tight. Your vision blurred, your breath hitched, and despite everything. This ridiculous bet, the years of teasing, the absurdity of this entire moment. It was then where you nodded.

The movement was small, almost imperceptible at first, but then you exhaled and did it again. Much firmer this time, the emotion swelling so overwhelmingly in your chest that it nearly knocked you over. And then, voice cracking, eyes glistening, you let that word come out.

“Yes.”

The world just exploded. The stadium erupted into chaos. Cheers, screams, a deafening roar of noise as people realized what had just happened.

Confetti still rained from above like rain drops falling down, camera flashes went in wild abandon, and somewhere in the distance, Geto whooped so loudly you were sure he’d lose his voice tomorrow.

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t move. For a moment, he just looked at you, really looked at you. Like he was memorizing the way you said it, the way you looked at him when you did. He grinned. Bigger. Wilder. Brighter.

Without hesitation, he reached for your hand, your trembling hand, and slid the ring onto your finger, firm and decisive. Like it had always belonged there. Like you had always belonged to him.

Then, with zero shame and zero warning, Ryomen Sukuna grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you right into his arms. Into him. Into home. Into this crazy little thing called love.

“I love you.” You whispered to him. “So so much.”

He smiled at you, pulling you even closer. “I love you too.”

epilogue

You had spent years earning your place among some of the brightest minds in astrophysics. Late nights spent poring over research, heated debates about black holes and dark matter, and an almost unholy amount of coffee had gotten you here. 

You had co-authored the many papers that go through these doors, papers which pushed the boundaries of human understanding, worked on groundbreaking discoveries, and stood at the forefront of space exploration here in the office.

But, of course, that’s not always what goes on in the office.

Sometimes, it was pure chaos that comes and goes.

And today, unsurprisingly, was one of those days.

“So when’s the wedding, Mrs. Olympic Champion?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples as your lab partner, Hana, grinned at you from across the break room. “Not you too, Hana.” you muttered, slumping into your chair.

“Are you kidding?” Hana leaned forward, her mischievous smile widening. “Our very own genius astrophysicist is engaged to the Ryomen Sukuna—Olympic gold medalist, international volleyball star, walking menace and not to mention, hot? Of course I’m going to be all over this.”

A few of your other colleagues perked up at that, their heads turning toward you. Kenji snickers. “Wait, are we talking about senpai’s engagement right now?” 

You shake your head as you take a sip of your coffee. “Guys, seriously. This is not a big deal.”

“Oh, right!” one of the postdocs, Ren, chimed in. “I saw the proposal clip online. He really did it right there in the stadium, huh?”

“International and domestic television, no less!” another added, whistling. “That’s insane.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I hate all of you.”

Hana ignored you, her eyes glinting with amusement. “So, how does it feel knowing that your fiancé made the entire world witnessed your suffering?”

“Like I lost a bet I didn’t know I agreed to.” you grumbled.

Ren snorted. “Well, to be fair, you did agree to it.”

“I was a teenager!”

“Yeah, but he won, didn’t he?”

You groaned, dropping your forehead onto your desk as laughter erupted around you. “I hate all of you.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be shy, senpai!” one of your colleagues, Haruki, teased, leaning against your desk with a knowing smirk. “You’re engaged to Japan’s golden boy. Quite literally. The whole world knows.”

“Yeah.” Kenji chimed in, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You’ve been on, like, every news site. And Twitter. And TikTok. You’re basically an international event at this point.”

You peeked up from your desk, groaning. “I didn’t ask for it to be a national event.”

Hana gasped dramatically, gripping your wrist to examine the ring Sukuna had so proudly placed on your finger. “Okay, but look at this rock.” 

“It’s a beautiful rock, yes.”

She turned your hand from side to side, making the light catch on the diamond. “You could blind someone with this thing.”

Kenji whistled. “He really spent a lot of money on this, didn’t he? This is an expensive sort of build. Didn’t you say that he went and got this specially made at a lab? Insane.”

“But it’s still blinding!” Haruki says from the other side of the room.

“I wish it would blind you with it!” you muttered, pulling your hand away as another round of laughter rippled through the office.

Kenji smirked. “Bet you’re regretting that ‘at least he’s rich’ comment now, huh?”

You froze at them. Your head snapped up. “How do you know about that?!”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s everywhere.” Hana drawled, pulling out her phone and flipping it around to show a very viral clip of Sukuna’s post-win interview.

There he was. He was grinning like the smuggest man alive, draped in his gold medal, bragging about how you totally proposed to him first. You could feel how your soul left your body as you continued to go through these pictures.

Kenji snickered. “You are never living that down.”

You covered your face with your hands. “I hate him more than I hate you guys.”

“Aw, that’s cute.” Hana cooed. “Saying you hate your fiancé instead of saying you love him. You guys have such a colorful language of love!”

“Shut up—”

BANG.

The office door slammed open.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

You didn’t even have to look.

Because there, standing in the doorway in all his Olympic glory, was none other than your personal menace—Ryomen Sukuna, standing ever so proudly as though knowing very well that he’s Japan’s volleyball hero and number one reason you were being relentlessly teased at work.

And judging by the absolute smirk on his face?

He knew exactly what he was doing.

You shake your head at him.

“My love.” you deadpanned. “What are you doing here?”

He waltzed in like he owned the place, sunglasses perched on his nose, hands shoved into his pockets, the picture of cocky confidence. “Visiting my fiancée, obviously.”

A chorus of gasps and ooohs followed.

You wanted to die almost instantly.

You will never live this down more than anything else.

Kenji leaned back in his chair, looking way too amused. “So it is true? You two have been together since high school?”

“Middle school, actually.” Sukuna shrugged, sauntering over to your desk. 

“How about the proposal?” Haruki comes around and asks. “Was that middle school too?”

“No, that was my last year of highschool. But I was always serious. She was just in denial about it ever happening.”

“But how about the post-win proposal?” Hana asked, a smile on her face.

“That was—”

You shot him a glare. “You ambushed me with a ring minutes after winning the Olympics.”

“And you still said yes, babe.” he said smugly, reaching out to tug your chair closer so you were practically against him. “Isn’t that the truth?”

Your colleagues were eating this up.

You could feel a headache coming on.

They’re going to be all too great friends here.

“God, this is better than TV, you guys!” Hana whispered.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “My love, I’m working.”

He grinned, clearly unbothered. “And I’m being a supportive fiancé.”

Kenji chuckled. “By interrupting her work?”

Sukuna shrugged. “Hey, I let her do her stuff about stars and galaxies and whatever science stuff she does all the time even when I was practicing and doing something else. I think I deserve some attention.”

“You get too much attention, if we’re being honest here.” you muttered.

He ignored you completely. “So, anyway, when are you guys throwing her an engagement party?”

Hana beamed. “Finally! Someone with real priorities!”

You gasped in betrayal. “Hana!”

Kenji smirked. “Honestly, it’s the least we can do for our future Olympic WAG.”

You froze. “What? What the fuck is that?”

Hana grinned. “You do know what that means, right?”

“Oh my god, don’t—”

“Wife And Girlfriend of an Athlete.” she said sweetly. “You’re officially a WAG now.”

You stared at her, mortified. “I have a PhD. I’m going to remain a doctor, thank you very much.”

Sukuna cackled. “And now you also have a husband—or you will soon.” He draped an arm around you, pressing a ridiculously loud kiss to your temple just to make things worse. “Though are we hyphenating our names or are you just taking mine?”

“Clearly hyphenating, I was the one who earned my degrees.” You pointed out to him and then your face scrunched. “Hold on, why are we talking about this right now?”

“Hey, it was a fair question, babe. Didn’t know it yet.”

“We could talk about that at home!”

Kenji snorted. “Guess we’ll have to change your office nameplate soon. Dr. WAG.”

Hana wiped a fake tear from her eye. “Dr. WAG sounds so powerful.”

Haruki, the ever-opportunist, grinned as he leaned lazily against your desk. “I’m sure the director would be more than willing to pitch in for that. Maybe even make it gold-plated, in honor of our Olympic champion.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto your desk again. “I hate all of you.”

Sukuna, who was enjoying this way too much, smirked and tugged your chair closer, effortlessly wrapping his arms around you from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, his voice a teasing purr.

“Aw, babe, don’t worry.” he cooed, ever the menace. “At least I’m rich.”

You whipped around to glare at him, but he was already grinning down at you, looking so damn pleased with himself. And then, he winked. Winked hard and charming. Like he was the smoothest man alive. You kicked him under the desk. Hard.

He hissed, jerking his leg away. “Oi—”

“Shut up, Ryomen.”

“Ugh—that ain’t my name! Say it properly!”

Hana gasped dramatically. “Marital conflict already?”

Kenji shook his head. “Tragic.”

Haruki sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. “And they were such a promising couple.”

You threw crumpled paper at them, earning a laugh from them. Sukuna, having recovered,  was laughing way too hard against your shoulder. And despite all the teasing, all the chaos, and the endless insufferable smugness that came with being engaged to him, you wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Kenji smirked. “So, Mrs. Olympic Champion, when’s the wedding?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. Ask him.” 

“What about me?”

You jerked a thumb at Sukuna, who was still latched onto you like a koala. “When’s the wedding?”

Sukuna, ever unbothered, simply hummed. “Whenever she stops pretending she doesn’t want to marry me.”

Hana gasped. “Oh my God. You’re the one dragging your feet?”

You groaned. “I am not dragging my feet.”

“She’s in denial, still.” Sukuna stage-whispered to them, a teasing tone lacing his words. “But don’t worry, I’ll get her to the altar. One way or another.”

Kenji snorted. “Damn, you really did bag an Olympic gold medalist and a menace.”

Hana sighed wistfully. “Goals.”

Haruki grinned. “I give it two months before she caves.”

Sukuna smirked. “I’ll take that bet.”

You turned to him, incredulous. “Are you seriously betting on our wedding date?”

He grinned. “You know I love a good bet, babe.”

Hana leaned forward eagerly. “Okay, but what’s the wager?”

Sukuna thought for a moment. “If I win, she has to let me pick the honeymoon destination.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And if I win?”

His smirk widened. “Then you get to pretend you had a choice in marrying me.”

You kicked him under the desk again, mockingly smiling.

Hana, Kenji, and Haruki howled with laughter.

Sukuna winced but still looked entirely too pleased with himself.

This was what a happy marriage promises to look like. 

And you both could not be any happier about that.

[aventurineswife]

I love to think that Aventurine would tie a strand of his hair (i mean its like gold already) around his beloved's ring finger as a silent engagement ring...Literally... Imagine coming to him crying that it ripped and him laughing telling that there are way more from where it came from as he detaches another strand and double ties this time just as a reassuring :') [feel free to use the idea if it inspires you im just so obsessed nowadays]

Ties that Bind Us

Summary: After a delicate strand of Aventurine's hair, which he had tied around your finger as a silent engagement ring, breaks, you approach him feeling emotional.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Light Angst, Comfort, Established Relationship, Suggestive(nothing explicit), Intimate Moments, Playful Teasing, Emotional Reassurance, Soft Romantic Gestures, Vulnerability.

Warnings: Mild suggestive content, Emotional vulnerability, Brief crying, he calls you “Love” (because you are the love of his life 🫶).

A/N: THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA, INSTEAD OF GETTING AN ARTIFICIAL THING, YOU GIVE YOUR BELOVED SOMETHING GENIUNE AND OF YOUR OWN 😭 BUT MAN HE'S GONNA GO BALD IF HE KEEPS OFFERING HIS HAIR!!

(Keep those requests coming, I love writing about them! Perhaps send something slight spicy(don't ask me for full smut😭) or gorey too if you dare that is ;))

In the dim glow of your shared home, a soft breeze rustled through the open window as you watched Aventurine, or Kakavasha as you privately called him, sit at his desk, deeply engrossed in his work. His sandy golden-blond hair fell in perfect waves, shimmering under the gentle light. You smiled, fondly remembering how, just days ago, he had tied a single strand of that very hair around your ring finger.

A silent promise. A commitment so personal, it felt more intimate than any grand proposal.

But now, that golden thread had snapped, the ends frayed where the delicate piece had worn out over time. You felt a tug at your heart. It wasn’t just a strand of hair, it was the bond you two shared — fragile, tender, and impossibly beautiful.

Approaching him quietly, you stood at his side, fingers fiddling nervously with the broken piece in your hand. “Kakavasha…” you whispered softly, breaking his focus. His magenta and cyan eyes flicked up from his work, softening when he saw you.

“What’s troubling you, love?” His voice was rich with warmth and affection, though laced with his usual playful charm.

You showed him the broken strand, lips quivering slightly as you murmured, “It… it snapped. I’m sorry.” The weight of your emotions caught you off guard, and you blinked back tears, feeling silly for crying over something so small.

But Aventurine’s expression didn’t change. In fact, a gentle chuckle escaped his lips. His signature smile spread across his face as he reached out to cup your cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “Oh, my dear…” he murmured, his tone both amused and deeply affectionate. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Before you could protest, he reached for a new strand of his hair and, without hesitation, gently wound it around your ring finger again, this time doubling the loop to ensure it would hold longer. He kissed your hand once he finished, a light peck full of promise. “See? All fixed. Stronger now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly through your lingering emotions, touched by his gesture and the way he made light of what had seemed like a disaster to you. “Thank you.” you whispered, your heart swelling with warmth as you looked into his eyes.

He tilted his head, studying you in that way only he could—reading every nuance of your expression. "Crying over a single strand, hmm?" he teased, leaning closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. "It’s like you're trying to tug at my heartstrings."

Your blush deepened as his thumb stroked along your jawline. "What happens when it breaks again?" you asked, though the question came out in a more breathless tone than you’d intended.

Aventurine’s smile widened, his voice dropping into something more intimate, more his personal self, Kakavasha. “I’ll keep tying new ones,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand found its way to your waist, pulling you close. “Over and over again. Until there’s no more hair left to give. And even then…” His lips found your temple. “I’ll find something else to bind us together.”

You shivered, not just from the cool breeze that swept through the room but from the way his words wrapped around your heart, anchoring you to him in a way that felt unbreakable.

As you rested your head against his chest, your heart pounded in sync with his, your body relaxing into his embrace. The warmth between you grew, soft and inviting. His fingers played with your hair now, lazily twirling a few strands, but there was something unspoken in the air.

"Kakavasha…" you whispered, your voice trembling with something more than just gratitude.

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through your body. "Cracking already, are we?" His fingers slipped beneath your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes shimmered with mischief, but there was something deeper—something more vulnerable, peeking through the cracks of his usual playful facade.

Aventurine cracked, and Kakavasha peeked out.

The depth in his gaze was unmistakable now, and your breath caught in your throat. You could feel the shift between you two—the teasing banter giving way to something far more intimate. His lips hovered near yours, barely a whisper away, his warm breath mingling with yours.

“And if you break again…” His voice was a low, sultry murmur, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “I’ll be right here, fixing it every time, love.”

His lips brushed yours, gentle at first, as if savoring the moment. But soon, that gentleness gave way to something more passionate, a deeper need igniting between you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer still, until there was no space left between you.

And in that moment, as his kiss deepened, you knew — no matter how many strands might snap, or how many times you might fall apart, Aventurine, Kakavasha, would always be there, ready to tie them back together.

[lsunstreakerl]

ohhhh im sososo in love w/ ur worldbuilding in fmf !? like i am not joking it's been on my mind 24/7 and ltrly got me thru this exam ssn (which is finally over yayyy)

i finally have a lot of time and lots to yap abt and this ask is gonna go so many different places cus. i have an inability to stay on track. hope u don't mind <3

im v interested in a lot of things fashion-wise for both kingdoms, along side other topics but my current brain worm has been abt the wedding itself. i have to imagine that customs r very different up north compared to central (ricos kingdom is centre, right?) ones and one of the main factors for me is the prince consort's attire.

would max wear his own traditional attire to signify the relation between two kingdoms or would he have to conform to the verhoeven wedding attire? and does he get a choice in the matter? i think this is a pretty major stand-in or reflection of the progressiveness/conservatism of the laws, and by extension, the people there. or at least of the royal families. i have like a wedding attire design analysis cooking up im js waitinggg for that hint or nudge twrds it (other than the tailoring and measurements mention which were very a nice touch!) so i have some material to go off of and don't accidentally mess w/the writing flow.

and sparring clothes !! ohh im thinking abt sparring fits a lot. lightweight loose sweatshirts for consistent long practice hours, tighter fits and cleaner material for evaluation sparring (and some show-off), maybe leathers for max to demonstrate certain situations better i js know rico and townspeople would go crazyyyyy.

also im thinking fmf au where everything is the exact same except townsfolk have twitter. i don't know how. they js do and purely for the sake of treating the royal families how we treat f1 drivers (and all of stantwt yk)

(these r so fun to make shsjsksk wait i got a create a separate ask of js these)

anyway yeahhh yapping over !! love ur work as always mwah xx

CONGRATS!!! exam season is The Worst Thing Ever and I'm super happy and not at all jealous that you're free!

oh I'm such a worldbuilding nerd it's genuinely a problem. fmf is entirely self indulgent and that's just another example LOL. I have no problems with rambling asks :D there's technically spoilers for the wedding below but I put lots of thought into it so I think you should all read it anyways 🫶

wedding thoughts: there's a little bit of a mix going on here! for the actual ceremony, they've both got white suits. Rico's has chunkier gold embellishments compared to max, who has finer silver jewelry. (matching with his diadem that I talk a little about here.) there's an element of northern customs with both of them having white fur cloaks (a gift from the north in celebration of max- his people put a lot of their time and energy into getting the materials and constructing two of the cloaks. it's a clear sign of approval by his own people back home.)

cultural northern customs involve having to chase your partner down after the offered proposal in what is widely considered to be a fun, slightly horny "hunting" game. sure, you can propose- but if you can't even catch the person you're trying to marry, are you really a good fit? the chaser usually has to avoid traps set by the partner being chased, who's goal is to go without getting caught until the sunrise. when the partner being proposed to initiates the chase by running, it's a partial acceptance. full acceptance is given if they're caught.

central kingdom customs involve a very large festival-style celebration that features lots of bright colors, and clothing that's flowing and showcases movement for dancing. very big emphasis on marriage being a solid foundation and element of a healthy community, so any kind of union (royal or not) is celebrated with a bunch of enthusiasm. traditionally there's a lot of dancing through the day into the evening, and then the night ends when the townsfolk carry the newlyweds and dump them into the lake. (symbolizing the washing off of any past struggles or baggage, and that when they leave the lake together they're starting their new life as partners)

for the rico and max, they do both! the initial hunt after the proposal, and then the festival after the ceremony.

sparring clothes please I love your brain. generally soldiers wear lightweight clothing to practice (unless they're doing armor training) which max is fine with, but when he's teaching certain movements and evaluations he wears the leathers. there's lots of theories floating around why he does that, ranging from "he's trying to make us overthink it" to "it's a reminder of how different the styles are" it's actually just because his leathers are very well broken in and comfortable.

PLEASE THE TWEETS 😭 I was trying to decide what was making me laugh harder- "twitter for medieval magic devices" or the fact that max is on the phone reading off of a scroll. absolutely hilarious, thank you 🤍

[cassyapper]

hi do u have any favourite fics to recommend?? I'm on the hunt for something good to read and I trust reccs more than anything 👀 👀

HI ANON I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME TEN BILLION YEARS TO ANSWER THIS BUT YES I HAVE RECS rubs my hands together. i assume this is for jjba specifically noritaro so i'm gonna focus on those but if u were thinking of smth else send a follow up ask!

0. he's bad news but i'm no better by simkjrs

putting this as "0" because it is incomplete (it is the only incomplete fic i'll put on this list) but it is. THE noritaro fic. you need to understand. it is SO FUCKING. good. as expected of the ceo of jotaro kujo simkjrs but holy fucking shit. jsut so good. i dont know if it will ever be finished but what we got? jsut gold. i tink it's absolutely worth a read take it from someone who normally doesnt pick at incomplete fics. jsut so good. fuck.

literally anything by ao3 user succubused

theyre so fucking wise they are THE noritaro understander. oh my god their fics are so good. i read their entire noritaro catalogue at the beginning of lockdown in 2020 and i actually lost my fucking mind i'm a different person now from it. holy shit actually life changing. just great stuff. they understand the characters so well. really intriguing interpretations and aus ugh. so fun

2. all deine wundun by ao3 user fivour

a short fic that goes into kakyoin's pov when he lsot his eyes in the n'doul fight with some jotaro there. rlly in character i think and jsut ugh. really good. technically it's for the ova but i can see it fitting any canon iteration of jotaro and kakyoin

3. you cannot see him for the storm by ao3 user deadofdecember

a fun exploration of jotaro and kakyoin's relationship and how it develops over the journey. it's so heartrending dude. the first noritaro fics i ever read #godbless

4. heartstopper. by razzmatazzz

REALLY FUNNY AND CUTE FIC where a non-enemy standuser accidentally turns kakyoin into a frog and yeah. princess and the frog stuff. it's so funny and cute they pass frog kakyoin around in a circle trying to see what will work ugh SO funny. so cute i lvoe it

5. habits by souriswriter

very cute and good fic of kakyoin being the observant young man he is regarding jotaro while hierophant is insufferable aobut his budding crush. i love sentient stands bro

6. anything by ao3 user queenieofaces

ANOTHER CERTIFIED NORITARO UNDERSTANDING oh my GOD their fics are so good. they get jotaro particularly well and jsut UGHGHG just so fucking good. i giggle i laugh i feel sick to my stomach. truly their fics have it all. they do a really great job of showing how close they got so fast and why it makes sense

7. anything by ao3 user skysquid22

i haven't read All of skysquid's noritaro catalogue yet but of the ones I Have read, oh my god. so fucking good. they really pick at their tragedy so well it makes me so sick oughh god. but other than that they have some lihter fics that are so funny. UGH. so good

8. off script by gandmvsm

*note that you need to be logged in to read this one* post part 3, kakyoin tries and fails to propose a handful of times before he finally gets it right at the perfect imperfect moment. soo fuckin cute and sweet

9. the stars under heaven by brightwing

EXACTLY THE KIND OF FIC I WAS LOOKING FOR AFTER I FINISHED EYES OF HEAVEN STORY MODE. so fucking good. there's more going on than jsut noritaro but my GOD it's jsut. so fucking good. they get jotaro so well im so sick. ughh so good

10. crazy little thing called love by nevermordor

CUUUUUUUTEST FIC EVER where jotaro is like it's not a date. wait is it. no it's not. im so fucking stressed out right now. fucking kakyoin IT'S SO FUCKING FUNNY AND CUTE i literally cannot read it in one sitting i have to get up and pace a bit like midway through cause it is so fucking cute. jotaro is so gone for kakyoin it's so fucking CUTE. and likewise kakyoin is trying so hard to impress jotaro and make sure he has a good night UGHHH. so good

11. creep by rigmaroler

very fucking cute and funny fic about kakyoin being weird as hell and jotaro's classmates not understanding not only how jotaor puts up with it but also how he in fact enjoys it. and just general post part 3 cuteness had kakyoin lived and gone to the same school. very sweet

12. lazarus by fivour

fivour again <3 this fic is like. au where kakyoin lives and it's in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. joseph heals him w hamon. kakyoin is disorientated and in pain and scared but jotaro is there and he keeps him grounded UGH

13. mahalo by platzchen

another proposal fic <3 this time jotaro is the one on the knee. so so cute

14. brighter than sunshine by undeadarchivist

ONE OF MY FAV NORITARO FICS FUCKING EVEERRRRRRRRR oh my god it's so fucking good and cute. it's a kakyoin lives au but it starts during part 3 then spans after it. jotaro is so in love with kakyoin it makes me so sick. he LOVES HIm! nad he in turn is so loved by kakyoin in this fic it has actually made me cry. i reread it so often. SO FUCKING GOOD fuck

15. let the good times roll by nevermordor

nevermodror again <3 this fic is so funny. alcoholic joseph, avpol, noritaro, stuck in a hotel while it rains (cause it is winter). just lots of fun and very cute, rlly nice to read this one to take the edge off of some of the more serious/angsty ones on this list

16. choked out by wlwchiaki

missing scene in the sun arc while they all settle into the reality they're in in that cave star platinum dug up. jotaro and kakyoin are so young here oughh it aches. FUCKK so good

umm yeah that's what i got for now. IF you want to see more, you can check out my bookmarks on ao3 <3

[elkcrown]

you know what since I was talking about the rain world ending and i rambled a little about the karma system and how its all fake.

Big spoilers ahead and whatever I will be talking thoroughly abt the game lore (excluding downpour i don't consider it canon).

Karma in rain world isn't real and we've all been tricked to think it matters at all.

Here's a list of things we should consider regarding the information about karma.

We start on the lowest karma, and as slugcat rests it goes up until it caps at 5. Each of these karma levels represent the basic animal urges. Violence, lust, companionship, gluttony, survival.

The ancients are the ones that considered shedding the base natural urges of an animal necessary for ascension.

The ancients are also the ones that proposed the idea of ascension, and declared that the cycle of life, death, and rebirth is so awful that no creature would want to be a part of it.

(light blue pearl, outskirts)

Now, a lot of this game is about religion- and in the case of the ancients it touches upon the idea of the opressiveness of religion and exploitation therein. Anytime I think about how the ancients left behind the iterators to "solve the problem" for the rest of the creatures, it makes me think of how missionaries go to places to try and "save" the people there.

The ancients' religion is a manipulative cult. First, they convince (almost) all of their people that life is awful. Then, they continue with proposing the idea of solving that problem- no longer living. But there's a catch! You have to die correctly. You have to EARN this "blissful" release from the horrible fact of living. Either by rigorous torture (living off of tea and starving yourself) or by paying money.

(Bright red pearl, farm arrays)

Then, they make it a societal norm- an HONOUR to die in the way They Think Is Correct. But you HAVE to do everything they say to shed yourself of those nasty animal urges and be ready for ASCENSION. And they put a price on it.

But we have to remember, not only did they create a religion that convinced them all that living is horrible...

They destroyed the entire ecosystem that used to be there and replaced it with ruins or whatever managed to descend from purposed organisms.

The ancients were able to alter cells of creatures- the ability to do such a thing at all is described here.

(Gold pearl, Chimney Canopy)

So who is to say that they didn't alter the cells of their own people? That they didn't create all purposed organisms with that idea of karma inside of them? The gates respond to the slugcat, it reads something about its karma. Its a machine reading something within its genetic data. The guardians respond to creatures with karma- and in fact are hostile to anything NOT at karma 10.

But the guardians were made by the ancients to protect their temples. To prevent anyone "unworthy" from going down.

The iterators are forbidden from altering their own karma- how is that something you can do if its not an actual, physical trait somewhere within them? Somewhere within their genetic code that the ancients tampered with?

But most notably-

Cheesing your way past the guardians using flashbangs and throwboosts is an intended feature of the game, and you can go down and into the sea and ascend with no issue. If karma truly mattered for ascension, then why can we ascend without the approval of the guardians?

Slugcats are descendants of purposed organisms, they have this "karma" meter wired into their bodies.

So anyway karma isn't real and the ancients forced a mass suicide of their own kind as Im sure whoever benefitted from exploiting their own citizens had been long gone, leaving behind nations of people desperate to leave the world behind as they have been convinced its the only thing to save them from the horrors of living.

[pbaz7]

THE RING YALL THE 💍 YALL

her breathing still uneven as she slowly came down from the high Paige had just pulled from her a few times.

- nth I’m js tryna figure out why I didn’t read this happening

"You said you wanted to have my kids. You for real baby?"

- Hm.

“Wassup, mama?”

- honestly this my favorite phrase!

“I guess…I just—I wanted to ask if you’ve thought about it. How many kids you want? Or if you even want more.”

- the way I’ve had this convo with two ppl (one was my “bsf” and the other was smo I talked to) should be studied as a “wtf are you doing” case

“You say the word, I’ll put a baby in you tonight mama.”

- paige breeding kink agenda starts now. OOOOOOHHH WHO SAID THAT.

“That’s my job, ain’t it?”

- she been in Texas too long talking bout some “ain’t it”

A small body suddenly launched into them with a playful yell.

- he doesn’t know wtf going on I love it

“Today?!” he asked, a little hopeful.

- you’re close sweetheart it’s alr. Today, tomorrow, it’s all the same!

“You love my ma. And she loves you. That means we all love each other, right?”

- AND IF THE CHILD CAN UNDERSTAND THAT SO CAN THE REST OF SOCIETY CASE CLOSED.

“So…can I call you Mom too?” Lukas asked, looking back at Azzi again, a little tentative this time. “If you wanna be my mom too.”

- and I’m crying.

she knew that there was one person she needed to talk to first—Azzi’s dad.

- she’s so stressed

Paige was pacing in slow, tight lines across her bedroom floor,

- like I said

After that call, Paige threw herself into planning the proposal—every detail, big and small. She spent hours researching a location, writing and rewriting what she wanted to do that day, and working with a jeweler to design a custom ring and box that felt exactly like Azzi.

- iktr.

It became her secret obsession.

- she so cute

“You’re gonna make it up to me,” Azzi whispered, a small smile forming on her face.

- freak master fudd

Can I have chicken nuggets?

- CHICKEN NUGGETSSSSSSSS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Until a few days before the proposal.

- I squealed

Paige threw herself in front of the drawer, arms out like she was shielding Azzi from a bomb.

- nonchalant final boss btw…

Her legs ached—a lingering reminder of the night before

- yo man wtf.

The entire space was filled with flowers. Bouquets in soft pastels and deep reds were arranged along the counters, windowsills, and even the table. They caught the morning sunlight pouring in through the oversized windows, casting a golden glow over everything.

- HAPPY ENGAGEMENT DAY

The best part’s still coming.

- IM CRYING

BDB

- I had to stop crying to say are we serious

It was plain, save for the engraving on it—the handwriting wobbly and earnest: “I love you, Mom.”

- I’m gonna throw up

But it was the way Paige was looking at her—calm, smitten, like her entire world had just walked onto that plane—that made Azzi stop in her tracks.

- fuck azzi and her ugly crying IM UGLY CRYINV

“That thing you do with your tongue…makes me see stars every time,” she says smoothly, locking eyes with her.

- gagged me mid cry

“You always do, daddy.”

- paige daddy kink confirmed

Spread out in front of her was the horizon, the sun kissing the edge of the mountains in a blaze of orange, gold, and soft pink and purple. A still lake shimmered beneath it all, catching every color like glass. The sky stretched endlessly, painted in strokes of color that seemed too perfect to be real.

- I’m such a fucking ugly crier wtf.

OH MY GOSH IM SICK I CANT

Paige was down on one knee, holding a ring box that was unlike any Azzi had ever seen

- 😭 but actually crying

“will you marry me, baby?”

- who could say to this oh my gosh I can’t I’m still in tears

“I’m engaged…”

- and I’m still crying

Paige barely able to take her eyes off Azzi’s hand every time it caught the light.

- that shit glistenin gango

“You would’ve cried if I said no,”

- in what world would she say that?

Hold on before they keep making out I need a minute to say that was the best thing I’ve ever fucking read and now my expectations for my engagement are extremely high but gosh I love love and I’m still crying so I’m gonna continue now

“Take me upstairs. Let me show you what it’s like now that I have your ring on my finger.”

- yawp iktr.

the two of them disappeared upstairs—hearts pounding, hands roaming, and nothing ahead of them but forever.

- 1. I need to see what happens upstairs. 2. I need to see the wedding. 3. I need an epilogue with more kids.

Ok I’m still crying. I can’t even. Goodbye. don’t call me a sap or soft or a crybaby because this is a valid ass cry.

- annoying anon🥸

nth l'm js tryna figure out why I didn't read this happening

whore

paige breeding kink agenda starts now. 000000HHH WHO SAID THAT.

just know i’m side eyeing you 🤨

nonchalant final boss btw...

she so delusional for that

I had to stop crying to say are we serious

very serious

OH MY GOSH IM SICK I CANT

lmao this is sending me

i am indeed still going to call you soft because you are :)

[oneclickangel]

summer love, wild and free.

day 2 of scrunkly week baby !!! still kinda late but im trying my best.

for day 2, the theme is summer! gotta love summer. i went with both the prompts sandy shores and crashing waves + road trip of our lives!! the two go so well together, i cant help it

still my self-insert oc, paper cut x joe reverse 1999 ... it's romantic this time bc i am cringe but i am free. also yes this is longer. not sorry

also title inspired by this crj song! a lot of her fluffier songs remind me of my this selfship tbh ... listen to it while reading for a better experience? maybe? anyway

An arm raises to shield the sun. No matter how strong the individual, the sun will always prove to be quite the formidable foe. And for Paper Cut, the blistering heat is more than enough reason to stay indoors.

“Joe, I love you, but asking me to go out in this weather is no different to asking me to willingly jump into a volcano.”

He complains, yet his feet find their way outdoors, towards their agreed meeting spot. He says hi to any familiar faces on the street - either they were his patients or are Joe’s friends (or both even). Paper Cut has lamented the fact that his networking skills could use some work and he wishes he hadn’t; because it was sort of the reason why he’s stuck in this predicament.

Joe proposed to him that the summer is a perfect time to make new friends and that he’ll make some arrangements to help his lover out. Paper Cut, ever the people-pleaser that he was, couldn’t say no to him or his wide smile at the time. Pretty privilege is a curse, he realized.

All that thinking makes the trip to their meeting spot feel short at least.

“Babe! So. Guess what?”

Joe exclaims the moment Paper Cut enters the scene, which is Joe leaning on the hood of some car. Paper Cut squints. If he has to be honest, he is not in the mood for guessing games. But he’ll spare some of his annoyance to answer a simple question… with another question, since Joe definitely couldn’t hide that car in any way.

“Whose car did you steal?”

Joe is quick to defend himself, most likely a habit sprung from his gangster living. Paper Cut doesn’t actually mind his lifestyle (he finds it quite attractive at times even) but it doesn’t prevent Joe from wanting to prove himself a good guy any less. 

He jokes but the heat gets to him so he sounds somewhat stoic. In that moment, he wishes the sun could just melt him down into a puddle of guilt.

“Hey hey hey, I rented it, alright? And for the whole weekend too.”

But more importantly.

“T-The whole weekend?”

He isn’t super shocked that Joe can afford it - he has his sources of income - but rather, the fact that this arrangement of his is gonna span the whole weekend. He’s already preparing to say goodbye to his free time.

As much as he enjoys spending time with Joe, Paper Cut is an introvert first and foremost. Time to himself is as precious, if not more, than gold. But Joe… oh God, he loves him too much to say no to this.

Calm down, Paper Cut. It’s just a weekend out. It’s harmless. On the contrary, more sunlight is good for your health! You’re a “doctor”, you have to set a good example for your patients.

“Fuck yeah! Just the two of us, on a road trip of our lives…”

Did he say just the two of us?

Paper Cut finally perks up for the first time that day. Maybe there is hope for this socially awkward little doctor.

“Well, at first I did want to set us up with some friends of mine from Sunset District but then I thought… we haven’t really gone anywhere far, just the two of us yet.”

Paper Cut can tell Joe is trying his best to not point out that the former thinks that the lesser the company, the better… but he appreciates his effort. Even if Joe is basically enabling his boyfriend to stay in his comfort zone.

Well, this whole trip is supposed to be a comforting thing, right? Paper Cut tries to justify the situation to himself.

“I like how you had to add ‘far’ in your little excuse.”

Paper Cut can’t help but tease his adorable boyfriend. Especially since he often reacts as he does at the moment: small smile and the corner of his eyes crinkled, with a touch of deep brown on his cheeks. He scratches the back of his head bashfully.

“Okay, yeah, we go on bike dates around here all the time but this! Is a whole-ass car!”

He proudly slaps the hood of the car but not without stealing a quick glance at it, in case he accidentally damages it somehow (he did not, thankfully). Paper Cut chuckles when he can’t find it in him to argue with the proclamation. It is, indeed, a whole-ass car. It’s more convenient for a road trip to wherever the hell Joe is planning on taking him.

Seriously, how can he say no to this?

“I just have one question.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’m existing without an ID so I have no place to judge you for that.”

If there’s anything Paper Cut loves more than Joe, it’s questions. The latter has always loved his curious nature but this time around, he comes prepared.

“Yes, I know how to drive, no, I don’t have a license.”

Or so Joe thought.

“Fair point.”

Joe pouts to himself. Paper Cut has his unpredictable moments it seems.

Paper Cut adjusts his glasses.

“Why didn’t you just buy a car? Don’t you have the money for it?”

A look of clarity crosses Joe’s features. There’s a reason why Paper Cut is the brains of this two-man operation called a romantic relationship.

“...I didn’t think of that.”

Paper Cut can’t help but reach up to kiss his idiot boyfriend.

“Ocean Beach is such a stupid name for a beach. Like yeah, duh, I sure hope it does.”

For an introvert, Paper Cut quite easily starts the 10th conversation in the last two hours alone. The heat is still getting to him and he can’t bring himself to willingly fall asleep. Not to mention that he can’t stop singing along to the songs on the radio anyway.

“Couldn’t they have named it something pretty like, oh I don’t know, Sunset Beach? Sunset District is right there.”

Paper Cut leans back in his seat and sighs dramatically, cursing the fates that gave naming authority to people as creative as a food stain. Joe only offers a small laugh at this reaction.

“Of course you’d complain about beach names, Mr. Writer.”

He simply says, eyes laser-focused on the road to Paper Cut’s relief. The latter blabbers on, appointing himself as the main contributor of entertainment, radio be damned.

“But you agree, right?”

Asking Joe questions which answers he doesn’t even care for proves time and time again to be an effective way of providing such entertainment.

“Yeah. They should’ve named it after me. Joe Beach.”

Paper Cut pretends to gag.

“Full offense but that’s worse.”

The car is filled with boisterous laughter once more that day and the couple have a feeling that it would be far from the last time it would ensue again.

“Okay, I’ll take back half of what I said. This place is beautiful.”

Water laps at Paper Cut’s ankles. It calms his earlier nerves, from the rush to check in to the hotel Joe somehow booked in advance (Joe’s attempts at romance are one thing that Paper Cuts are not too curious about; he’d rather wallow in their mysterious nature). The view subdues his disappointment of not being able to catch the sunset. The stars carry a mystical aura of their own. Paper Cut knew this in theory, as he is a writer, but the real deal will always be indescribable, nor can it be replicated by visual artists.

“Only half?”

Joe bursts Paper Cut’s bubble of thought but he does not take offense. Paper Cut scoffs as his lover finally stands beside him.

“The place is pretty but that doesn’t make the name itself pretty too.”

Joe lets loose a laugh that’s free of any worries. A truly unbridled expression of joy, and Paper Cut finds himself completely enamored. A fond gaze turns towards Joe. Paper Cut feels his heart fill up with so much love. He feels as if he could burst, not unlike the stars above when they eventually transform into supernovas.

“You’re prettier.”

Paper Cut has to admit, he has no urge to roll his eyes at such a corny line. He doesn’t fight the blood rushing to his cheeks either.

“Shut it, will you?”

Paper Cut’s argument grows weak with the loving look that Joe gives him. No amused giggles, no profound sarcasm, only affection. In a way, Paper Cut’s wish is granted. All is silent and still, save for the tiny waves caressing their feet.

Even as they walk back to their car for the weekend, they say nothing. There simply is nothing to be said. When you’re under a blanket of stars, they do the talking for you. But gifts? Gifts are self-made efforts still.

And Joe knows what kind of gift to end the Saturday night with.

[wrongcaitlyn]

Read the pollen one-shot. WHOA.

The whole thing is just tragedy after tragedy like ok my heart doesn't exist anymore

DID THEY BOTH AGREE TO THE NAME KAYLA AND PHOEBE

Apollo hoping that Will doesn't turn out like him ☹️ like a valid concern considering his.. habits.. but also like ☹️

Darren ILY omg

Now that we've seen pretty much how their relationship is I'm just like so 😭 it's so bittersweet HE WAS GONNA PROPOSE

I had a headcanon that Apollo was gonna propose bc I'm like that'd be so angsty THEN APOLLO ACTUALLY DID PROPOSE OMG

No but like hearing how Apollo lowkey pushed Naomi and Latrica to the side 🤕 like I get he was going through a lot so I cannot be too mad but also bruh (in my delusional hopes and dreams Naomi and Apollo stayed good friends even though I knew they didn't 😞)

BABY WILL AND AUSTIN

Apollo always responding to his mother oh he's such a mama's boy don't even

Him having to even DOUBT his mother's love oh my god Apollo needs a hug

This oneshot was lowkey (highkey) alcoholism galore like whoa Apollo go see a therapist pls

I hate Zeus that's it I hope he rots

IM A LITTLE LATE TO THIS ASK BUT THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS AND OMG I CANNOT BELIEVE IT'S BEEN ALMOST TWO YEARS SINCE I'VE STARTED READING DEAR READER 😭😭 like talk about emotional ☹️☹️

I will never regret deciding to read this bc I was simply bored in my hotel room while on a trip to San Antonio 😭😭 searched for gold ended up finding diamonds 🫶🫶

"The whole thing is just tragedy after tragedy" LITERALLY THEM LMAOOO thats the goal when writing apollo. he must be tragic always.

unfortunately apollo did not help naming kayla </33 they were tossing back and forth names for a while and waiting to come to something that would fit but by the time apollo left for tour they hadn't decided on something. kayla phoebe was chosen by darren because kayla means laurel/crown (haha, can you guess why he chose that), and phoebe is meant to be a reference to apollo the god/greek mythology. so darren still was keeping apollo in mind but i dont think apollo knew the name of his kid till they met up in august, darren did tell him then </3

IT REALLY IS BITTERSWEETJSDFJ LIKE AHHHH they were so close and yet they were also so far </33

"No but like hearing how Apollo lowkey pushed Naomi and Latrica to the side 🤕 like I get he was going through a lot so I cannot be too mad but also bruh (in my delusional hopes and dreams Naomi and Apollo stayed good friends even though I knew they didn't 😞)" - YEAH APOLLO IS LIKE. lowkey highkey toxic and like im not really gonna try and play a justification game because he has a lot of flaws but was also put in a lot of tough positions and was also just really young but! he definitely was also not blameless in these things it's just kinda a tough situation all around :/

except for apollo's dad/zeus he's entirely to blame for everything always

APOLLO LOVES HIS MOM!!! but he is unsure of her loving him back sometimes :(( (she really does, but,,, well again it's a tough situation all around. loving somebody doesn't mean always knowing the best thing to do for them, and his mom also didn't always make the best decisions </3)

yeah,,, thankfully i can tell you that apollo DOES eventually get therapy/go to rehab/go sober so very proud of him but. it did take a whileJDSFJ

the way that i look at it is that he wasn't able to go sober when it was to benefit his own life (to keep darren in his life/fix his own problems), but he was able to when it was to protect will (from being adopted by his parents and being put into the same cycle of fame that he was).

"I hate Zeus that's it I hope he rots" REAL!!!!!

"IM A LITTLE LATE TO THIS ASK BUT THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS AND OMG I CANNOT BELIEVE IT'S BEEN ALMOST TWO YEARS SINCE I'VE STARTED READING DEAR READER 😭😭 like talk about emotional ☹️☹️"

IM A LITTLE LATE TO RESPONDINGSJDFJ SORRY IVE BEEN SO BUSY THIS WEEK BUT AHHGHSDF NO SAME. im honestly just so excited to finally finish it even though it still prob won't be for a while - the goal is definitely to get it done in 2025 though,,, preferably before college LMAO WE'LL SEE!!! the end is near i swear

THANK YOU SO MUCH <333

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics With Titles That Start With R (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

Rabu Hoteru (ao3) - justiceshorts

Summary: In which Dan and Phil stay at a love hotel whilst their in Japan.

rainbow, proud (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Phil really wants the corgi shirt, but Dan thinks he has enough already

rat and relaxation time (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan and Phil wake up on the first day of their holiday.

Reach for the Stars (ao3) - KaytheJay

Summary: Dan is a lawyer who went to New York when he forced himself to take a break from work. He thinks it is a pointless trip until he runs into his favorite YouTuber from back in the day.

Reaching for the Floor (ao3) - uglyhowell

Summary: Dan’s a horny teenager whose boyfriend lives hours away. Or, in which Phil teaches Dan the wonders of Skype sex.

read between the lines (i will if you will) (ao3) - Ablissa

Summary:

Phil ^_^ (5:31 PM) Dan?

danisNOTonfire xD i swear im really not. come check. (5:31 PM) yeah?

Phil ^_^ (5:32 PM) I think I’m in love with you I just I can’t wait to meet you – Skype conversations between Dan and Phil, leading up to their first meeting. 2009!Phan. Prepare for fluff.

Ready Player Two (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Their paths diverge for a time.

Reasons why Phil’s body is a fail - slightlydizzier

Summary: Phil didn’t exactly draw the best numbers in the gene pool lottery, and here are a few reasons why.

rebrand (ao3) - dan-whoell (infiniteseriesofhalfways)

Summary: Phil makes some changes and meets a boy named Dan.

Regenboog (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: In a hotel room in Amsterdam, Dan and Phil celebrate pride in their own way.

Relax, Recharge & Arrange a Terrarium (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: It’s a much needed day off from tour. The two of them enjoy some well deserved private time, and Dan considers whether his new terrarium decor is a little much.

Release Your Inhibitions - pedestriansquirrel

Summary:  All of these unconventional ways of showing affection seemed to work quite well for the both of them, until something about their relationship changed.This change was displayed in the tiniest glint of silver from the chain Phil wore around his neck that, unknown to anyone else, contained a gift, a gift that was given after Dan had proposed in mid-October.

Réponds à Ma Tendresse (ao3) - Blorbiron

Summary: Dan is visiting, and that’s Phil’s absolute favorite thing ever- which is kind of sad, maybe, for someone he’s known for like two months, but he can’t be bothered to care. Because Dan’s sitting right on his bed, close enough to touch, and cackling whenever Phil dies in Crash Bandicoot. Which is a lot.

Revenge is Sweet (ao3) - danteasers

Summary: Phil’s girlfriend breaks up with him, and to make her jealous Dan and Phil go to some extremes that make them question their feelings about each other.

Risk and Reward (ao3) - domisnotonfire

Summary: This work is inspired by Appetite & Defiance by jestbee and is supposed to be a continuation of that series, read that first or this one won't make sense. All credits for the idea of this fic and any original characters goes to them.

Road Trip (ao3) - danteasers

Summary: Dan and Phil go on a road trip in America where they massively fail at doing stuff.

Road Trip Disasters - doomedhowell

Summary: Dan and Phil decide to do a road trip in America, and unfortunately, things keep going wrong. Now, they found themselves stuck in the middle of Texas where it’s summer and the heat is unbearable.

robot in the dorms (ao3) - itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualweeb)

Summary: dan goes to university in florida and meets his roommate phil. after a few months, and despite dan’s facade of disinterest, he begins to actually like phil and his nerdy ways. the robot that phil designs doesn’t help.

Robots and Railroads (ao3) - niveuos

Summary: Dan is a robot, and Phil loves Dan. But how can Dan love him in return when his heart is made of metal and gold?

rock, paper, scissors (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan and Phil play rock, paper, scissors to decide what to do in bed (because sometimes, it's the fairest way to make a decision).

Romance Is Boring (ao3) - mothinaweb

Summary: Dan is a lonely 28 year old man who one day stumbles upon a silly little man named Phil in a coffee shop. They become part of each others lives and their relationship grows, and Dan finds more and more that he can’t ignore what he’s feeling anymore. Or rather, what he’s not feeling.

(Or, Dan is aromantic, Phil is not.)

Room For Two (ao3) - dip_and_pip_trash

Summary: Tour is great but sometimes it’s nice to actually share a bed with the person you love.

routine (ao3) - qrovers

Summary: The scene is as follows: The dining room is empty except for Dan, who sits in front of his computer about to upload We’re All Doomed. There is the lingering smell of fries and dips. Dan is in his pajamas, the Minecraft ones Phil always manages to hog. By the side of his desk, a full cup of cocoa has since lost its steam. It’s also from Phil. “To relax you,” he said.

Dan knows he just made two by accident.

run as far as your dark brown eyes can see (ao3) - chickenfree

Summary: Dan’s laughing, pleased with his own joke about being an awkward child, about misfit war wounds, which Phil will obviously relate to.

Oh.

(Or: the many times Phil has been surprised, and the one thing that didn't surprise him at all.)

Running Now I Close My Eyes- daniactuallysnuffledthatpopcorn

Summary:  Bad days don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. This time, Dan is hit by one on a trip to Florida with the in-laws. Fortunately, Phil is always right there with him.

[spookfished]

first murders speculation

ok so obviously i think the witch did it. honestly playing umineko as a game thats Meant to be Solved is kinda unintuitive for me bc usually when i read stuff i just like go with the flow and wait for the story to unfold. like not that many theory crafting things. so im not a huge mystery guy lol! also i want beatrice to show up

but also, out of everybody rn eva seems to have the most means + motive for killing the 6 people (besides beatrice/the ritual)? her martial strength is specifically mentioned; also, killing all her siblings + kyrie simplifies inheritance greatly, lol. natsuhi + jessica alone wouldnt be able to lead the charge on keeping uroshimiya headship, and iirc eva was also the person spearheading the whole "give us money for the imaginary gold" effort.

gohda is pretty much collateral, but you could propose that eva knew about shannons feelings (even if she didnt know that george proposed/felt the same way) and wanted to nip that in the bud.

pretty cool! now all we have to do is wait for the two to be parted :3

[yanderepuck]

KAAAAAAAAAAAAAT *hug*

:3

No you do not see me here procrastinating my Culminative assignment worth some large percentage! XD

Hihi! Can't write my academic stuff rn and got pretty vampires on the brain so I was hoping you'd let me talk about it until my academic mind comes back from whatever vacation it took!

What's a quality of a character that immediately bonds you with them? Like...what makes you love them? If you don't mind me asking!

I'm just thinking about how I fell so hard for Arthur...XD

Like for me it was kinda like "Arthur has a heart of gold he's my husband now this is happening"

What's something that bonded you with your guys? If you're cool with me asking that!

and what's something you'd want to do around town if you were in ikevamp?

And what do you think makes a good pureblood?

Do you have favorite tropes in fanfics? I'm curious, sorry if you answered that already I have the memory of a goldfish rn...

If Will and Charles proposed to you, how would you imagine thoes rings to look? I actually bought a ring from walmart of all places (I don't have the luxury of going to a jewelry shop to get one made!) that just had a very Arthur feel in my opinion! I wear it when I need some support throughout the day!

What things do Will and Charles do to cheer you up when you're sad?

I'll stop bothering you! Sorry :)

I just needed a bit of joy

I'm procrastinating on so much too ._.

For some reason I really love a clingy character. Idk if it's bc I'm clingy myself. Which is probably why I LOVE Charles. He's so clingy and I want to be clingy back. And we'd just constantly hold hands and cry when we have to let go for even a moment.

Something about them being a lil crazy is hot too. I can't really explain that one....

If I was there I'd mainly want to go sight seeing. The thing is.. idk ANY French so I'd be struggling the whole time. But I'd also be really excited about the fashion bc I love wearing corsets. And I'd 100% let Comte buy me anything I wanted.

I don't really have any favorite tropes???? I really only write and read smut???? But I do love silly little aus. With ikevamp I really love modern aus.

As for a ring...uhhhh...I'm not really a jewelry person...I've never worn rings...so I've never thought about it.. I hate diamonds..they actually aren't worth anything and I'd rather have something with color...maybe an opal..but I would rather have a necklace over anything.

HONESTLY ALL THEY HAVE TO DO IS CUDDLE ME AND LET ME SLEEP ON THEM AND ID BE SO HAPPY. IM SO CLINGY. I NEED PHYSICAL TOUCH. PLAY WITH MY HAIR AND RUB MY BACK. THATS ALL I WANT

Also....DONT THINK YOU ARE EVER BOTHERING ME. I LOVE YOU DUMMY

Also forgot the pureblood one. Uhhhhh not Vlad

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

okay idk if you've listened to evermore but i cant stop thinking about tis the damn season and dorothea being about kylux, with hux being dorothea and then i get sad lol

IM SO FASCINATED BY OUR DIFFERING KYLUX EVERMORE THOUGHTS OH MY GOD

I’m a folklore girlie at my CORE even tho I’ve been listening since debut so ofc i also love evermore the VIBES!!

(Hold on im saving this as a draft real quick this is worth getting out of bed to use the computer)

So i absolutely see your point about dorothea, but I think i get lost on that a bit because of the high school themes, and at 28 I have so much trouble reading high school aus, they make me feel gross? even college aus are starting to get that way, so I'm mainly writing grad/law school if i play with academia.

(if ur looking through my ao3 bookmarks this doesn't, weirdly, apply to ships i discovered WHILE in high school. thank god, I read so much steter fan fiction when I'm in a particularly foul mood.)

TIS THE DAMN SEASON THO

now that's a got the germination of a fic in me. It hasn't made the list of "actual aus I'm going to write" but it'll get there once I have even a HINT of plot.

I have a big au in my head about champagne problems as the starting song from Hux's POV, where he turns down the proposal of the proper society candidate and then runs away and meets kylo and it's a whirlwind romance?? I love that shit, I swear??

but RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME IS MY BIGGEST FUCKING HUX SONG THO

like imagine a world were they wERE together and then starkiller happened and everything goes to shit and it's over, but KYLO NEVER SAYS ANYTHING and hux iS STILL AT THE REST-AU-RANT

I have cried to this au that exists ONLY IN MY HEAD

REAL HUMAN TEARS ABOUT IT ANON

(It's also on my playlist for the KYlux big bang but in that au it's entirely in kylo's head, and more a statement on his state of mind than the actual plot. THat fic is ONLY GOOD VIBES it's 100k of self indulgence and honestly a shameful amount of smut)

Willow also works for Hux, I feel like? It's an au, obviously, but I'm sure you've all fuckin noticed I only write modern AUs Im an absolute SLUT for them.

I just feel like "They count me out time and time again," and "show me the places were the others gave you scars" are pARTICULARLY good lines for them?

Gold rush is also perfect for any AU were you have Hux feeling self conscious? It's a song that's entirely about not wanting to fall in love, because you think it's not realistic? Like, it's about dreaming how good a love could be and then denying yourself it?

Tolerate it is great for a break up au from Kylo's perspective, absolutely, especially if you make kylo young enough that their age difference is proportional enough to matter, to change the dynamic of their relationship?

This sentence is just an appreciation of no body no crime i'm not using it for a kylux au its just a fuCKING GOOD SONG. Signed, former olive garden employee

Don't get me started on your losing me btw i wILL have a break down.

anyway yes I have mANY THOUGHTS about evermore this is surely both too much and not what you asked for but I hope it was at least enjoyable!!

[youdontknowe]

Okay I’m back at (hopefully) better than ever

I also have a new set up so I read on my iPad and write in my notes Instead of going between tabs on my phone

1. I forgot she got knocked tf out by mystery archangel for a sec I was like damn girlie what you gotten into now

2. Oooo who is you??? I have a feeling princess is gonna love her or want her dead(or get her ded in the next few paragraphs)

3. lol hunters being clocked by the plaid is the funniest thing in the supernatural verse

4. OHHHHH SAMS GIRL IN THE SHOW

5. oh damn the earth grew around her that’s cool (I’m never letting go of my god hc)

6. Actually maybe like mother nature meets god mix for her?

7. Not the notes those took forever to compile

8. Severe misjudgement indeed cus she doesn’t know when to quit and has a big ass brain

9. “John winchesters dead.” COLD ASS STATEMENT that alone should make people fear her cus she survived him and I bet you later on people will have rumours she killed him

10. You know im scared for the day she tells Dean she loves him cus what if that’s what triggers the sky storyline. My little heart couldn’t do that

11. Ohhhh someone good and it being her makes sense cus from what I’ve seen in little clips she’s really nice

12. LMAO not the glitter pen

13. Poor woman she doesn’t know the threat of death does nothing but atleast motivate this little freak

14. Ewwww that is seriously gross but tactical vomiting is so funny

15. “A lot of things. jury’s still out on most of them.” Howling with laughter she’s so quick with it

16. Calling Sam and Jo her siblings 😭

17. Book and blade seem to be her witchy tools

18. I hope princess learns asl for Eileen (if she doesn’t already know it big brain and all)

19. Lmao I can’t believe she actually bit Eileen she’s like a feral cat that’s reverted from her partial domestication from Dean

20. Giggling she can’t help either thinking about him or gushing about him at any given opportunity

21. I can’t with her just offering up her body for a ambush funeral 💀 it’s so very her and it’s so fucking funny

22. I wonder if this talking about Sam leads to a lil Sam/eileen side action (her and dean get to tease the shit outta him in revenge)

23. Oooo is this accidental travel In her dreams again????

24. Smooches time eheheh

25. We like library’s they have lore that gives us the secrets ✨

26. Indiana Jones mention (looking back the whole morals thing is so foggy when you look past the fact he’s fighting Nazis. Also punch Nazis being the whole film series is 👌🏻)

27. She’s made of magic ✨

28. Girl hood is sharing info that is probably illegal or atleast morally questionable

29. Heist safe is funny asf

30. Set up for Sam and Eileen 👀 (I can’t lie I’ve never watched the show but I’ve seen clips I ship them)

31. God you really know how to build tension btw it’s crazy that I’m like 😬 reading a few sentences already

32. I forget that she really does feel everywhere cus that little mention of deans gold was a perfect example of how far she can actually reach (across a big ass ocean)

33. ‘They think it means whore or bride’ wild dual meaning word there ngl (she’d be both for Dean in a heartbeat she said so herself)

34. Oh Jesus the red guys back

35. So that’s why it was so quiet he’s on a murder spree

36. Lucifer of all things the silver not thinking he’s gonna hurt her is crazy cus he’s nuts

37. “You don’t get to tell me what to do YET” 👀 I caught that I’m taking notes (literally)

38. Oh no I hope things go in a way sammy doesn’t have to go through the cage it’s so sad all the stuff that insinuated lucifer did to him

39. Now that he proposes his ideas it’s looking like if it comes to it she’s gonna take the deal 😬

40. Oh my god sammy my pookie, my son. This is all the more sad and nice paired with that one shot 😭

41. YESSS MAKE THAT FUCKER SCARED maybe it’ll put things more to right for her and the family

42. Eeee more dream scape fluff

43. Of course he’d find a way to have a no sex in dreams rule that man is really the best

44. I kind of see their love as like bloody but in a warm and I’d slay all your enemy’s for you way. Because they are so devoted

45. Poor Dean she drops off the face of the earth more than they’ve kissed while awake

46. Lmao Sam is always ready to throw out a side jab in any situation

47. Poor bobbys been stressed out for decades at this point but she’s funny so it’s fine

48. DAMNNNN 9.5 is like crazy strong right? I’m rusty on my natural disaster information (anyone else have that fase as a kid?)

49. Giggling Dean just wishes he wasn’t a better man cus all these evil women be pissing him offf

50. Ehehe he’s horrified by these books saying he’s slept with a bunch of women when she’s right there and not even in the books

51. At this rate Sam’s gonna catch hands from Dean

52. I snorted at Dean being shoved out to walk it off over a book saying he settled down with someone other than her

53. No denying it happened just corrected the information cus hell yeah he got to make out three times with her

54. The powers affecting Dean is so cool!!!

55. TOGETHER AGAINNNN

56. Wait she just teleported herself

57. Awww Sam swaying her is so cute he’s just a cutie

58. Normal people illegal or us illegal is so so real

59. Bobby being the only voice of reason*

60. Awww cuddles

61. ‘If this was what being needed felt like, dean never wanted to be anything else again.’ Did you just punch me in the heart

62. That line about Dean saying she’s the closest thing to god isnt just a cutesy little Dean being a lover boy is it 👀

63. I can’t wait for things to be easier they need to get laid so badly

64. End note: you are so so real on all three counts cus Becky your on my hit list as well as Dean/sams. Eileen you’ve taken up being my rebound girl bff. And she needs to get dicked down badly like thrown about like a ragdoll for a few hours minimum

65. I love ittttt. I’m going right over to make a start on the next chapter :p 💙💙

Chapter 22 - I'd Go Black And Blue

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: I always hate saying "this is my favorite chapter so far" in case y'all hate it, but there's one scene in particular there that's a top 5 Babylon scene for me personally. If you guys can guess it, I'll... idk you can chose a bonus chapter theme. Enjoy!!

Chapter Title from Make You Feel My Love by Bob Dylan

Word Count: 18.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You make another friend, and Dean makes another enemy. Usual Warnings.

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

Chapter 21 - Chapter 23

Read on A03!

Your head fucking hurts. A dull pain in the back of your skull, like you’d been hit with a club and knocked out. Everything is fuzzy, and there’s a high ringing in your ears, but you’re not tied up. 

The floor is cold under your body, and you can’t feel any wind. There’s no sense of danger, but there is something shuffling around near you. Nothing’s sliced or burned you, the only additional, foreign pain existing in the sting on the tip of your finger.

You need to open your eyes and figure out where you are. But every muscle feels like it’s been threaded with lead and iron, and your head fucking hurts, and you don’t even know how you got here.

All you can remember is a blur. 

The Blue, in the church.

An archangel. 

You’d called for Cas, and the Blue showed up instead. It had said you needed to get some sleep, but you don’t feel rested. Just a little fucking sick and dizzy, despite being frozen to the floor. 

And if he’d shown up after the Blue left, you wouldn’t have been there, which means you aren’t home, which means-

Dean.

Something like electricity jolts through your body. 

And when your eyes fly open—stinging from the sudden intrusion of light—you’re staring down the barrel of a fucking shotgun. 

“God- Fucking-“ You scramble back against the wall, and the shotgun only follows you. “What the-“

“Don’t scream.” A strangely accented voice comes from the other side, and you lean to the side just enough to see its owner.

It's a woman. Pale, a little on the shorter side, with long brown hair and narrowed eyes that are never leaving your face. She's holding the gun like it's a second limb, rather than a tool. Relaxed, keeping it trained against your brow with her shoulders relax. The same way Dean and Sam do. 

Like a hunter.

“Who-“

“Don’t speak.” The woman snaps, and you blink, but obey. 

The Silver is starting to wake up, bristling from threat of the gun, but you can get out of this exact scenario before with only your knife-

Fuck. 

Your jacket is gone. Which means your knife is gone. The knife Dean gave you is gone-

“My knife-“

“I said don’t speak.” Her voice is harsh, but the words are still oddly rounded. It’s really not your biggest concern.

You open your mouth—the Silver starting to build, because this woman made the smart choice not to tie you up, but she took your fucking knife—and she shakes her head, pressing the gun forward.

“I am going to lower the gun to hear you. If you move, I shoot you. Got it?”

You raise your brows, keeping your mouth closed, and the woman sighs.

“Just nod.”

You nod, and that seems to be enough. The gun lowers, and you and the women blink at each other. 

She’s teal. A dark, pretty teal that starts near her eyes and spreads like fire out. She’s definitely a hunter—only hunters wear that much plaid—and there’s no blood stains or visible scarring, so she’s either a very good one or an incredibly bad one. 

Your money is on the former, but it could go either way. The gun might look natural in her hands, but she also didn’t tie you up, and that’s a stupid move. She did take your knife—smarter move, you need to get back to Dean so you wouldn’t have pulled punches—but she’s still lowering the gun, which isn’t great survival instinct. She has no way of knowing that, if she makes one wrong move, the Silver will explode and rip that teal straight from her body.

But she said she’s lowering it to hear you. 

You don’t know what that means. 

“I’m sorry about the gun,” the woman shrugs, but still doesn’t put it away. “When I tried to tie your wrists, you seemed distressed. I think you were screaming.”

“You-“ Your eyes narrow, and the woman hasn’t looked away from you for a second. “You think I was screaming?”

“I’m deaf.”

Oh. That explains the accent. And you might have gotten that sooner if your head wasn’t on a loop of Dean, Dean, you said you’d get home to Dean

“You’re American.”

You blink at her, and nod slowly. “How’d you know?”

“You don’t seemed shocked by the shotgun.”

“Europe has shotguns.” You counter, and she shrugs.

“Not like this. This is for hunting.”

“You can hunt without a gun.”

The woman gives you a dry smile. “Not the things I hunt, no.”

“Monsters?”

She pauses. “You’re a hunter.”

“Yep.” You hum, and she frowns.

“You don’t look like you hunt.”

Huh. “Don’t I?”

“You weren’t armed.”

“I had a knife.” You sit up slightly, and the gun moves right back to your brow.

“I said don’t move-“

“I’m not moving.” You scan around the room—dark, a little damp, probably a basement, at least the Sky can’t see you—and glare back to the teal woman. “What the fuck did you do with my knife.”

“It’s back there.” She nods into the dark, and a light weight moves off your shoulders. Not gone. That one piece of Dean you always get to have, just back there. “So you are a hunter?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

Her head tilts slightly. “How do you hunt without a gun?”

“Talent.” You mutter, and the Spiderweb is straining and whining in your body. “Believe me, I’ve gotten the lecture.”

The woman lowers her gun again, frowning at you. “The lecture?”

“My-“ Dean. No proper word to call Dean that doesn’t make you sound insane. “Friend. He doesn’t like that I hunt without a gun. He’s really dramatic about it.”

“You have hunter friends?”

“Yeah. I, they’re actually waiting for me-“

“In America?”

“That’s where I left them, yeah.”

“How were you planning to return?” She’s watching you wearily, and she might think you’re lying.

For once, you’re not. 

But you also don’t know her.

So you have to be careful what you say.

“Flight.”

“Without a passport?”

You shrug. “I’d work it out. Am I here to be questioned about my travel plans, or can I go?”

The woman shakes her head. “Not until you answer my questions.”

“All I’ve been doing is answering your questions-“

“Not the ones I want to ask.” She scans over you carefully, a small frown on her face. “Would you like some water? Or food?”

It’s only when she says it that you feel it. A little faint, your throat dry, and the room suddenly spinning like now that it’s been reminded of the situation, it’s realizing you’ve been knocked out for-

Fuck. 

You don’t actually know how long you were out for. You can still only remember the Blue telling you to get some sleep, and then it’s all dreams. You might have been out for days, but you also still hadn’t been eating or drinking before, so it just might be catch up with you. 

Everything still hurts. Everything always hurts. And the Silver is waxing and waning in your body, starting to coil before settling comfortably back down. It’s making you feel a little sick.

You’d try to just pray to Cas—to appear into the room and take you home right now—but the Blue said you were still interfering. An archangel had told you to stop interfering. And you want to. You don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of you. But you promised. You’d told Dean you would go home, and then you didn’t. You’d been knocked out, and taken here. 

You still don’t know where here is. 

Or how long Dean’s been waiting for you. 

“I have some-“

“What happened?” You blurt, and the woman blinks at you. 

“That was one of my questions for you.”

Shit.

“Do you want food?” The woman repeats her offer, and you swallow, but nod. 

You’re starving. And you’d promised Jo you’d be okay, so you need to eat.

“If I walk away, are you going to run?”

You pause, then shake your head. If you need to get out, the Silver will explode, or you’ll try that prayer to Cas. Right now, you need a few answers yourself. 

And food. 

Your head is spinning, and food sounds really good.

The woman seems to decide you’re not lying, and she moves into the darkness for only a second before returning with a water bottle and sandwich. You’d be worried about poison, but if she wanted to kill you, she’d just fucking shoot you. 

And she looks almost amused, as you chug the water bottle in seconds, turning your attention to the sandwich and all but shoving it in your face seconds later.

“You’re hungry.” She says, and you shrug, quickly chewing and swallowing before you answer.

“I was knocked out.”

“Only for three days.”

Three days.

That’s not bad. You can explain three days, when you get out. You just have to get out.

“Where did you find me?” You wipe at few crumbs from your face as you speak, and the woman—you should probably ask her name—gives you an odd look. 

“I am not sure. It looked like a church.”

Something twists in your stomach. “Looked? Past tense?”

She nods. “It was covered in vines and flower and water. Pretty. Not a church anymore.”

Fuck. “Oops.”

The woman frowns. “Did you do it?”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t know her. You don’t know who she works with—you doubt Ketch, but you’re in no position to lack vigilance—what she wants from you, or why she took you at all-

“The earth was grown around you.” She links her fingers together in a wide gesture, her shotgun resting at her side. “I had to rip it up to get to you.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes. Nobody would just rip up the earth to get to you.

Dean might.

No one else.

“Why?” You ask, rubbing over your wrists. “Were you looking for me?”

“No. Was nearby. Felt the earth shake, went looking for the source. Found you.” Her hand moves back to the shotgun. You don’t let your face shift at all. “What are you?”

There it was.

That’s why you’re here. 

“It’s complicated.”

She shakes her head. “Try.”

“I…” You take a long, slow breath. “That’s not a good idea.” 

“Why not? I know you are something.” The gun’s back in her lap, and the Silver starts to go taut again. Readying itself to snap. “I thought you were a witch, when you reacted to the iron. But you didn’t have any books or tools-“

“I didn’t?” You blurt before you can stop yourself, and it’s not helping your case, but you don’t care. “What did I have?”

“Nothing.”

“No- Fuck.” The Silver is building, and all you can do is dig your nails into your palm to keep it down. 

Everything. Gone. All your books and notes, fucking vanished, and what was it for. You left Dean, and now all you have to show for it is an ache in your chest and bags under your eyes.

And the Blue has told you not to go home. You’re betting he thought this would deter you, and you’d spend a lot of time scrambling to get everything back, or being so afraid of how you’re changing things that you’d crawl back to wherever you were made. 

But he’s made a severe misjudgment about you. 

First of all, you have most of that shit memorized. You’re not a fucking idiot, and you’re a good hunter. Everything you need to know lives in your head. The Blue took it, but now all that’s telling you is that, no matter what you do, Heaven isn’t going to be happy with you. That they won’t be happy until you’re safely chained and locked up in their care, whether you’re at Dean’s side or not.

And you’re sick. You’re exhausted and in pain and so fucking sick. You’ve always been sick, and you’ve always infected and interfered and destroyed. 

But you’d rather be sick at Dean’s side—where he can hold you in the dead of night and you drown in the Gold of him all the time—then something docile and chained up without him. He won’t be safe anyway. Between what he’s told you and what the Blue mentioned in passing, Heaven’s got plans for him outside of the seals that have nothing to do with you. And Dean’s sat with you through everything you allowed him to. All your sickness and crying and trying to claw your way out of your own skin, only holding you tight until you could breathe, and letting you go because you asked. And you’ll crawl to him and hold him in Hell, if that’s what it takes for you to return the favor. 

Second, you’re really fucking good at causing problems for people that try to control you. For people that hold you and try to pin you there, wanting you mounted high up on their wall.

John Winchester’s dead.

You don’t do checkups on your family, but they’re down one chosen, special, vile little girl forever.

Ketch has a slump in his back, and Anna’s gone.

It doesn’t never works out in their favor. 

Finally, you always end up back at Dean. You run from everything, but when you have nowhere left to go, you always end up back at Dean. No matter how sick you are, you always end up back at Dean.

And it may be the worst fucking curse of your life, how you’ll never be able to tell Dean you love him, because the Sky will hear, and it might take him away. Because Dean will hear, and he doesn’t deserve that.

But he’d said he needs you. He waited for you, even when he shouldn’t have. You promised you’d stop running and then left, and you said all the way down and stayed away until he called you, and you looked back.

You always look back for Dean. You love him. And you’d do anything for him.

But the Blue took you away from him. Knocked you out and sent you- 

He’d said he’d send you someone good. 

Your eyes narrow on the woman. “You working with the angels?”

She stares at you. “The angels? What angels?”

“Heaven angels. God angels.” You’re still only met with a blank expression. “They’re hunting for me, you might have seen a blue-“ She won’t know its color. “A blond one. At the church.”

The woman mostly looks shocked. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not. “Angels are hunting for you? Are you crazy?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Depends on how loose you’re playing with the term crazy.”

“Fucking-“ The woman shakes her head. “What about that note? I don’t think angels leave notes.”

You frown. “What note?”

She nods, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small, blue sticky note for you to see. Move Me! is written in glitter.

“Yeah,” You mutter, rubbing your thumb over your palm. “That’s an angel.”

“And you think they’re hunting you-“

“They are. It’s a long story, but I- I have to go.”

“No,” the shotgun is back. You don’t have time for this. “I am still asking questions-“

“Like what?” You challenge, raising your chin and moving to your knees. If she shoots you, she fucking shoots you. At least you’ll see Jo again. Maybe you’ll find out if the Sky actually cares enough to haul you back out. 

And if it doesn’t, you’ve walked in and out of Hell for Dean before. Given how the Silver is starting to roll like a storm through your body, you don’t think it will be that big an issue, to claw up through the earth and return to Dean’s side. The earth might even part for you like the ocean, if you ask it right. If you scream that you have to get back to Dean, and that nothing is going to get in your way. 

This lady isn’t working with the angels.

You still need her to get out of the way.

“Listen.” You keep your words slow, taking a firm step forward and swallowing bile as the gun aims for your head. 

Bobby would kill you. 

He can get in line.

“I am going to leave. I have a few things to do, but then I’m going back to America, because my- My family needs me. And you can try to shoot me, but historically, trying to kill me has never worked out in anyone’s favor.” 

The woman’s eyes widen. “I- I will shoot you.”

“Do it.” You snap. “I-“

She doesn’t shoot you. She raises the blunt end of the gun and slams it into your chest, and sends you stumbling back as she shoots to her feet, cocking the gun and reaiming it for your foot. 

This would be a great time for the Silver to snap. To burst through the room and rip the teal from the woman’s body, so you can shove it back in fast before fucking running. But she’s not grabbing at your wrists, she’s not a demon or angel, and the only threats she’s making are to you, and apparently, the Silver is over that. 

So you have to do this the old-fashioned way. 

You dodge the gunfire, but only barely. Springing to the side and slamming into the woman’s body, right as she whacks your shoulder with the barrel of the gun. You regain your balance a little faster, and it lets you dart in the corners of the room, grabbing through the dark for-

A hand wraps around your shoulder, and you turn with a swinging fist that collides with the woman’s jaw. Blood spits in your face as her knee hits you in the gut, and you are not in good shape for a fight. The pain rushes through you and somehow causes a throbbing in your head, the sandwich letting itself up too easy, and you vomit all over her face.

She recoils, wiping herself with a disgusted expression, and there’s your window. 

The jacket had been folded fairly neat on a wooden crate, and it seems all the Blue left you was your knife and flask.

You can work with that.

The click of a safety comes from behind you, and you duck just in time. The rebound of the shotgun is working in your favor. The woman is occupied just long enough for you to roll under the barrel and-

She fucking kicks you again. A groan escapes you at the blunt pain, but you don’t give her the opportunity to reaim, sweeping her legs out from under her and knocking the shotgun out of her hands as she falls at your side. 

Neither of you can get the upper hand. Your knife gets knocked across the floor seconds after the woman’s gun, and you might be a better hand-to-hand fighter overall, but your whole body is also made of pain. When you punch her it’s weaker, and when she knees you in the gut a little more bile spits out.

You don’t have the energy to go for as long as she can.

But you fight dirty.

This woman doesn’t seem to have a problem with the ethical questions of hunting—she was about to shoot you—but she also doesn’t seem to be on board with moves like biting and ripping hair.

And when you employ said tactics, she scrambles back as if you might be carrying rabies. 

“What is wrong with you?!” Her voice is almost a screech, and you shrug, wiping your mouth with your palm.

“Lot of things. Jury’s still out on most of them.” You slump against the wall, wincing at the pain that shoots through your shoulder. “You up for a truce?”

She narrows her eyes. “Are you going to try and run again?”

“Probably.” You shrug. You’re too tired to lie. “Are you going to try and kill me again?”

She shrugs right back. “Maybe.”  

“I think that’s a stalemate then.”

“Yeah.” The woman groans, glancing down at the bite mark on her arm. “Do you need any ice?”

“I’m good. Sorry about, uh- That.”

“It’s fine.” She gives you a small smile. “You did say people who try to kill you end up regretting it.”

That pulls a short laugh for your chest, and it hurts—she must have gotten a blow there too, somewhere in the fight—but you can’t bring yourself to hate it. Means you’re still alive. And that you can laugh, because unless you count phone calls with Dean—which even in the better moments, were always lined with tears—you haven’t laughed since you left. 

You end up spitting up a little bit of blood. 

You really fucking miss the Silver not just choosing when it came out. It’s amazing that Dean, Sam, and Bobby just exist with these bruises and cuts all the time. Dean’s voice in your head is humming slow breaths, but it’s barely helping. When you get home, you’re going to steal a whole Walgreens first-aid aisle.

But you need to get home first.

You look up at the woman, examining her own injuries, and wave for her attention. “What’s your name?”

“Eileen.” She tilts her head at you. “You?”

You answer her, running a hand up and down your calf, and you’re both just watching each other now. Your knife and Eileen’s shotgun still in the dark corners of the room, neither of you moving to try and grab them.

“What does your family need you for?” She asks, and you sigh.

“My dad’s injured, my brother fucked up and I’m worried about him, and my-“ No proper word. “Best friend asked me to come back.”

Eileen hums. “Did you leave?”

“Yeah.” A lump is forming back in your throat, and when your eyes flick down, your fingertips are frosted with pastel blue. “I- I lost my sister.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Eileen pauses, before adding. “My parents died. It’s not fun.”

You huff a soft laugh. “No, it’s really fucking not. Were they hunters?”

“No. My mother knew about it, though. Is your-“ She stops herself, shaking her head. “You already said they were hunters. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You mumble. “Long day. How’d your mom know?”

“Her dad was part of a fancy group of them.” 

Your head shoots up. “Fancy group? Was he British?”

“American immigrant to Ireland.” She stares at you. “Why?”

“I- How long have you been hunting?”

“My whole life.”

You nod slowly, frowning at the air. If she’s been hunting that long, in Europe, she must have an idea. Have a rumor. Just a fucking lead you can chase, to get what you need. 

“How long have-“

“A while.” You lean forward, ignoring the aching protest through your whole body. “You heard of an asshole named Ketch?”

Her eyes narrow, her lips curling slightly into a sneer, and that’s a yes. “Arthur?”

You nod, and she scoffs.

“He’s a dick. Won’t work with me because I’m deaf, always whining about hunter pigs getting in the way.” 

You grin. He is a dick. “Is he part of the big fancy group?”

“Sort of.” Eileen’s words are cautious, but she’s still not making a move to restart the fight. “Different branch, I think. They don’t like me enough to tell me technical things.”

“What do they like you enough to tell you?”

“Not much.” She gives you an odd look, her words still slow. “Why?”

“He stole my book. And tried to kidnap me like, twenty times.”

“Ah.” Eileen smiles slightly. “How did it work out for him?”

You snort. “Bad.”

That gets a laugh from Eileen, and it’s a little spluttered like yours, but it’s nice. Full and real and a little loud, echoing around the basement for several moments, and your own smile grows. 

You haven’t talked to someone that’s not either trying to kill you—or the frustrating, insufferable, awesome love of your life over the phone—for so long.

It’s another thing that’s nice. And Eileen had just beat you up, but you both seem to be done with that. If you’re careful, you might even have an ally. She seems to hate Ketch. That alone is a hallmark of a good person. You just need to see if she’s committed to this not letting you leave thing.

“How are we feeling about the truce?” You ask carefully, and Eileen only shrugs.

“Are you going to tell me what you are?”

You pause. It’s not good to tell a lot of people. You’re not sure why, but the more people know about you in general, the worse things get. Openly sharing the fact that you’re a Magdalene, when that’s something even Heaven considers better as not known, seems unwise.

But you’re really tired. And you really want to go home. 

Getting home means getting the Book and—ideally—the Blade back. The Silver has always responded to the Blade, so maybe that can kickstart it, and get you back to being dangerous, but useful. And the Book is in Enochian, and full of weird shit. There will have to be something useful to the whole apocalypse situation. And if not, nobody had died when you’d had the Book and the Blade.

That alone can be a false comfort. 

You mostly just don’t want to be useless. Don’t want to return as just a sickness that Dean seems to be fine catching.

It’s better not to think about that. About how maybe you are infecting and hurting him, but he’s a fucking adorable idiot, so he just doesn’t care. You don’t know why he wouldn’t care.

He should care.

He shouldn’t be asking you to come home, because now you have no choice, and he really doesn’t understand exactly how much you love him. How willing you are to be sick if it’s what keeps him alive. 

It hadn’t kept Jo alive. But fighting it hadn’t kept Dean alive before.

You won’t fail a third time.

You won’t.

So you need the Book and the Blade.

Eileen might be able to help with that. And you may not be able to tell her what you are, but you can also tell half-truths. It’s better than lies. Better than full truths. 

The last person you told full truths was Jo. 

You feel fucking sick again. Bile rises in your throat, bitter on the back of your tongue and making you choke on the air. The Silver isn’t rising, but it is shifting, and you’ve started to claw the skin of your arms. 

Eileen says your name slowly, and you dig your nails in, forcing yourself to come back down. “Are you-“

“I’m fine.” You mutter. “I- I’ll tell you what I am if,” you narrow your eyes. “You help me. To find what I’m looking for.”

Eileen only holds your gaze. “What are you looking for?”

“You know that book I mentioned?” You wait for her nod, then continue. “I want it back.”

“Your book?”

“Yeah. And my knife.”

Her gaze flicks to the floor. “Your-“

“Different knife.” You mutter. “This one’s a gift. The other one is… weird.”

“Huh.” Eileen raised her brows. “Weirder than you?”

You snort. “Same amount of weird, actually. You in?”

Eileen’s scanning over you, and if she says no, you’re going to be stuck in a loop of fighting and resting until she kills you, or your escape. And she has a lot of reasons to say no. You do sound insane, she found you with the earth growing around you and a sticky note from an—alleged—angel, and you’re not winning any awards for worth helping after fucking biting her-

“You are sure Ketch took your shit?”

You nod. “Him or Davis.”

Eileen blinks. “Mick?”

“Sure.”

“If it is Mick, I know where your stuff might be.” She gives you a weary look. “But you can’t be mad at me if it’s not there. And you have to tell me what you are.” 

It’s not a bad deal.

That doesn’t stop you from pushing it, just a bit.

“Why do you care what I am?”

It earns you a flat look. “I pulled you from the earth and you talk about angels.”

“I could just be crazy, you know.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “I’ll judge that when you tell me.”

She’s not backing down.

You won’t either.

“Alright, then.”

Eileen grins at you. “Alright.”

There’s a second where you’re both staring at each other, and then you’re moving at the same time. Eileen grabs her shotgun and kicks your knife across the floor, and you shrug on your jacket with a grimace at her vomit-stained clothing.

“Do you- We can stop so you can shower-“

She waves you off. “I’ve been covered in worse. I’ll change, shower later.”

You nod thoughtlessly, feeling through your pockets one last time to check that the Blue really did take your phone. You need to call someone, just to tell them you’re alive and still trying to get home. And after how your last prayer went, you’re not jumping to make another one soon. 

But your phone is gone. And when you ask Eileen to borrow hers, Bobby’s number goes straight to voicemail, and you’re a fucking idiot who never memorized anyone else’s. Not even Dean’s. 

You’ll apologize when you get home. For vanishing like that, giving him another reason to worry when he’s already got so many. You’ll fall in front of him and wrap your arms around his legs, giving him even more weight and apologizing for it every second, until he picks you up and moves you to the bed. Not to rest. 

You’ll rest when you know he understands. When he gets that—at the end of it—you’re always just his. That as long as you have hands that refuse to hurt him, you’ll drag yourself though mud and dirt to return to his side. To crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck as you prove to him that you’ll never leave.

As you show him with a hand between your bodies, or your mouth kissing down his chest. Letting him guide you like he’d promised—or at least you’ve twisted his words into promising, just in your head where it can’t hurt anyone but you—and he understands-

“How old is your brother?”

You turn and blink at Eileen. The ride has been wholly silent save for the radio—she can’t hear you if she’s not looking at you—and you’d settled too quickly into fantasy.

“I thought we’d stop and eat.” She says, and the engine has indeed turned off.

You need to get it together. “I- That would be nice.” You mumble, rubbing your thumb over your palm. “I’m hungry.”

“I know. You threw up your lunch all over me.” She reaches into the back of her car, and pulls out a Tupperware. “BLT or PBJ?”

“PBJ,” You hum, grimacing to yourself as Eileen passes you the food. “I don’t like bacon.”

“You can take the bacon out.”

“I do.” You smile to yourself, a very wide, charming smile flashing over your vision. “I usually just sneak it onto my- De- My friend’s plate. He loves bacon.”

Eileen gives you a vague look, swallowing before she speaks. “The friend who wants you to come home?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you not tell him you hate bacon?”

You shrug. “Probably could, but he’d get really dramatic about it.” How do you not like bacon, Princess?! It’s- It’s bacon! “Plus he gets really excited when he has more bacon than he thought. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” She raises her brows. “Are you- Are there feelings?”

Fucking- 

You must have a big, blaring sign on your forehead that says I love Dean Winchester.

Sure, Jo knows because she knows you, and Sam knows because he basically is your brother, just as Bobby is your dad, but they all have spent time around you. Listened to you talk about Dean, seen you turn back for him and flush at his voice and name, clinging to him like the sorry little girl he still can’t figure out you are. The one that’s going to be tosses aside and forgotten, when he finds better-

Not the time for that. You’ll have plenty of time to try and mark Dean somewhere visible so everyone knows that no matter what they do, you’ll always love him, and that should terrify them.

Right now, you need to work out how Eileen figured out that you love him from basically fucking nothing.

And you’re not saying anything. It’s not helping your case. 

“I-“ You clear your throat. “It’s complicated.”

Eileen nods, and drops it just like that. “How about your brother?”

“My- What brother?”

Her eyes narrow. “You said you had a brother. Who fucked up.”

“Oh. Sam.” You shake your head, giving her an apologetic, close-lipped smile. “Sorry. Forgot I called him that.”

“Is he not your brother?”

“No- Ye- Sorta.”

Eileen tilts her head. “Family?”

“Yeah. He is. And he’s twenty-five.”

“Younger?”

You hum a conformation, taking a large bite of your sandwich, and Eileen’s remains neglected in her Tupperware. 

“Do you have a big family?” You give her an odd look, and she sighs. “I grew up without one. A family. I’m… curious.”

“Well I- I sort of grew up without a family too.” You frown into the air, the bread of the sandwich smushing between your fingers. “I- I had my dad. And my uncle. But I only met the rest of them when I was an adult.” You shrug, looking fully back to Eileen. “What happened to your family? Parents die when you were young?”

“I was an infant. Killed by a banshee. I’ve been hunting it since, but-“

“Have you tried throwing a funeral?” You cut her off before you can stop yourself, and she frowns. “Shit, sorry, just- Banshee hunts go really well if you’re throwing funerals. All the emotion, it’s like a- uh-“ You sigh. “I can’t think of anything. But they’re good.”

Eileen nods slowly, giving you a tentative, small smile. “It’s okay. I haven’t tried that, but I also don’t know how to throw a funeral.”

“You can use my body, if this goes south and you have to kill me.”

Her smile grows. “I will.”

You tell Eileen a little more about your family, while she eats. About how Bobby thinks you don’t know about how he uses shea butter lotion, but you shared a desktop before you bought—stole—a laptop, and you’ve seen his shopping history. She hears about Dean less than most people—you’re trying to make up for the slip, but based on her amused expression as you talk about how you think he genuinely believes his car has a soul, it’s not working—but Sam plenty, with all his books but no fucking clue how to work a self-checkout machine.

You know that because you’d been standing right next to him, staring at it for three straight minutes until Dean gotten back and explained how.

Explained to you how. He’d guided you up with a hand on your lower back, and scanned two items before letting you scan the rest. Sam had craned over your shoulder, and spent the rest of the drive back to the motel grumbling about favoritism. 

It had helped, though. When you’d chosen to sit with him and read instead of watching TV with Dean. 

And Eileen listens, nodding along so you know she understands. You get to hear much about the hunter who raised her—it sounds like with less vigilance than John, but more urgency to join hunting than Bobby—and she mentions that she likes muscles cars too, as well as big, long books, because they give her a reason to ignore people waving for her attention. 

When the ride starts again, there’s a little less wired air than before. You don’t feel better—you’re not sure you remember what better even could mean right now, when it’s not home—but Eileen’s not going to shoot you, and you’re not going to try and ditch her to do this alone. You could.

Right now—with pale blue stuck on your fingers and the Spiderweb howling for Dean so loud you have to ignore it, or you’ll go insane—you don’t want to.

The radio is low and soft, all the roading winding with the same scene of grass and trees and grass and trees, to the point that you’d think you were driving in circles if you didn’t know better. And the Sky isn’t flaring, over and over and over above you, but if you close your eyes you won’t be able to see it. And when you do—with the music and wind and hum of the engine—it’s bordering on peaceful, and if Eileen’s not going to kill you, there’s nothing to help you fight the sleep as it-

You’ve never been here before. 

It looks like a camp. A military camp. All the buildings are low, and they don’t look to be all that well put together. Wooden doors and low, rotting foundations, the pavement below your feet cracked and the grass overgrown. There’s a strong, golden haze cast over everything—lit from the sun, suspended right above the horizon and never moving—and people who mill about like ghosts. Their bodies tensed and eyes heavy. 

You don’t bother to try and talk to them.

You’re looking for Dean. 

This is the type of dream you would have about him. The type of dream you’ve always had, that has only grown sharper over the years. Where everything is golden, and your mind is making up any excuse for him to be near you. This scenario seems to be an apocalypse. 

If you believed in interpreting dreams, you’d think that your mind was trying to tell you something about how you feel like the world is ending because you’re not home.

The more likely case is that you’re simply stressed about the apocalypse.

And Dean. You can’t find him. You poke your head into buildings and down alleys, and there’s a very strange Cas that stares right through you, and a small, bearded man who’s eyes feel like they’re following you–even though you know better—but no-

There he is. 

The whole world feels like it’s glowing. He’s sprinting up towards you with a wild expression, and it’s not real, but that doesn’t stop the small sound from leaving your throat. 

He always looks so real. And when he crashes into you, his hands find you the same way Real Dean’s would. Grabbing your face between his hands and quickly scanning over you for injury, pressing you right up to his chest like there’s ever a chance you’d try to run away. 

And this is the part that makes you certain it’s a dream.

Dean kisses you like he’s about to die. Like you’re about to die. Like more than the universe will crumble if he doesn’t kiss you, and hook his arm around your waist to pull you just a little bit closer. And you can’t feel it—not really, when it’s all in your head—but you can still melt into him. Curl your fingers on his shirt and open your mouth for Dean to take more.

It would be nice if he could take all of you. Pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, then take you out of the dream into the real world. And you’d wake up with the Real Dean asleep at your side, his arm thrown over your waist in his sleep. 

You could pretend like you never left. You could pretend you’re allowed to take things from him, and climb over him, waking him up with soft kisses over his face and a smile when he blinks up at you. 

For now you’ll settle for this. For this Dean hauling you fully up into his arms with barely a grunt, and burying his face in the crook of your neck when you pull apart.

The whole world smells like a phantom of cinnamon. 

If you die, right here in your own mind, there would certainly be worse ways to go.

“You’re okay.” Dean mutters against your skin, a hand combing through your hair, and it sounds more like he’s trying to convince yourself. “Son of a bitch, Princess, I kept saying shit about you missing, and you are, and- Fuck-“

You lean back, just enough to see Dean’s eyes a little glossy. You don’t know how he deals with you crying all the time.

Just the sight is making you feel like your heart is being crushed into millions of pieces that you can’t figure out how to offer him, to patch up the pain. 

Instead you just wrapped your arms fully around his neck, drop your face onto his shoulder, and stay wherever he wants to move you. 

“I miss you.” He mutters. “Miss you so freakin’ much. Everything’s a mess, and Cas said he couldn’t find you, the angels are fucking douchebags, and I- I need you here, baby. Can’t do this if you’re not here.”

Baby. 

You know I love you, baby.

You swallow, turning your head to press a light kiss to his neck. You’ve always wanted to do that. 

He makes a small sound, and that’s going to haunt you louder than ‘baby’ is.

“I miss you too.” You whisper, and Dean sighs.

“You wouldn’t happened to know where you are, sweetheart?”

“Nope.” 

“Shit. Worth a shot. Stranger things.”

You hum, propping your chin up to scan around the ruined camp around you. “Do you know where we are?”

“Uh-“ He sighs, holding you a little tighter. “Just a nightmare, about the end."

"The-"

"End of the world. If Lucifer wins."

“Oh.” Your fingers are digging into his skin. It’s a good thing he can’t feel it. “That… fucking sucks.”

Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, it does. Whole thing really fucking sucks. Lose Sam and Bobby, Cas' fine, but human, and you- you're-“

He cuts himself off, and you lean back to scan over him with a frown. “De-“

You let out a soft yelp as you're crushed back against his body, his grip tight enough to suffocate you, like he's trying to mold himself to you until it's impossible to tear you away.

It's already impossible for someone to tear you away. Even when Dean's not with you, he's there. Removing him would be like trying to take your shadow. Just simply fucking impossible. 

"It's fine, now." Dean presses his face into the side of your head, his breathing is deep, as if he's trying to inhale you. "You're here."

You flush. It's fine. Dean's fine.

Right now, it's all fine, because you're here.

"I- I miss you, De. A lot."

"I know, Princess. I-"

"You don't." You shake your head, grabbing his face between your hands and running over every deep line and small scar. It's all still Golden. And in here, it's yours. "You- I miss you so much. I want to come home, and I miss you, and I- I said all the way down but I don't want to go there if it's not with you- and-"

Dean mutters your name, tracing his thumb down the bridge of your nose until you're leaning into his touch, your voice evening out once more.

"I wanna come home." Your voice is almost a childish whine, and Dean's lips twitch slightly.

"I do know, baby. I promise I- I'd give goddamn anything just to know where you are." He sighs, his thumb dropping down to trace over your lips, and you think you'd be happy melting into the depth of him and never bothering to climb back out.

"Dean- I-"

"I know." He mutters, pressing his thumb on your lower lip, and you can only sit in him and pray to absolutely nothing that this, somehow, could become real. Tangible. 

Permanent.

He’s kissing you again. Slower, carefully, as if you might shatter or dissipate if he’s not careful.

You really wish you could feel it. 

And then the Sky starts to split open, and it’s all gone.

Someone’s saying your name, and it’s not Dean. 

You’re still not home. Not in a bed, but in a seat, that’s made of leather and sticking your skin, just like the glass near your face. You’d be bothered by it, but there’s still too much of your mind trying to grab the idea of Dean kissing you, being happy you’re there, missing you half as much as you miss him, and you don’t want to move.

The voice is close to your ear now. Round and oddly accented- 

Eileen.

“We’re at the place.” She’s saying, and you appreciate that she’s not trying to jostle you awake. That could have ended poorly for everyone. “If you want to get home, you should probably get up.”

That’s the right thing to say. Your eyes shoot open, and you push yourself off where you’d slump on the door.

“You fell asleep fast.” Eileen offers as you rub your face, watching you with the same amusement from before. “Seemed like you could use it. But we’re here.”

“Where’s-“

“They have a big, important, secret library.” She nods out the window, and you follow the direction to see-

It’s not a castle. You’ve never seen a castle, but you’re pretty sure that’s too small to be a castle. But it’s got all the fancy architecture and surrounding gardens and a fucking iron fence to keep people out—that’s going to be annoying—and the scream of I think I’m more important than you are all over it.

“Secret.” You repeat, your tone dry, and Eileen shrugs.

“They think it is. It’s where they keep artifacts they gather on their travels.” 

“You mean steal, don’t you.” 

She nods, and you let out a heavy sigh, dropping your voice under your breath.

“Fucking- It’s not fun when it’s real.”

“Wha-“

“Movie I like that’s not great with morals. Don’t worry about it.” You reach into your jacket, shifting around the flask and pulling out your knife. “Is it warded?”

“Against what?”

“Uh…” You. “Witches?”

“I think so.” She says, watching you as you take a few, long breaths, trying to test where the Silver is in your body.

It’s not set to explode, but it’s also not entirely down. There’s a slight edge to it, that’s bumping up against the Spiderweb and making it ripple and throw light all over your body.

Something might be off with this. Something will go wrong, even if Eileen doesn’t intended it to.

You’ll get through it.

You have to. 

“Are you a witch?”

You sigh, and shake your head. “Sort of. I’m made of the things witches use.”

You won’t tell her the name. If you tell her the name, she might look into it more, and the Sky is beating above you. It won’t like that.

Half-truths. 

Only the pastel blue on your fingers—running with you wherever you go and never trying to do anything will help—will know full truths. Jo might be the only non-angel or demon who understands just what you could do, with the Silver. She’s the only one who knows you’re a virgin, too. Who knows just how much you love Dean.

She’s the only one who really knows you love Dean. You all but broke that last rule and told her. 

And she’s the only one who will ever know. 

Because she’s the only one who gets the whole truth, forever, all the time. 

But she made you promise you’d be okay. And okay means talking to people that aren’t the sky, demons and archangels come to taunt you, and Dean. 

So you tell Eileen the half-truth, and it doesn’t itch on your tongue. She doesn’t react too much, either. You think she knows it’s not everything, but just like about Dean, she doesn’t push it.

“Do you want help in there?”

You pause, the Silver rolling once more, and shake your head. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“No problem. I’ll try that funeral thing, too. Might work.”

“Will work.” You correct, spinning your knife in your hands. “Trust me.”

Eileen gives you another amused look. “Alright, crazy. Heist safe.”

“I will.” You offer her a smile in return, and it’s not full, but it’s not strained either. “If you’re ever in the states, call my dad. His number should be in your phone. Say you’re looking for Sam, then tell him you’re looking for me. He’ll pass it on.”

Bobby and Dean wouldn’t. They’d snap that they’ve never heard that name in their life, then hang up the phone. 

Sam will. 

Eileen nods, and neither of you are all that interested in long goodbyes. She seems like a practical person, and you’re really fucking sick of goodbyes all together. Given your luck and odd habit of meeting people then never being able to avoid them, you’ll see her again.

And now, you have a job to do. 

The Silver is starting to build. You hop the fence—biting on the inside of your cheek as blister form on your skin from the iron—and get into the library without a hitch, but the Silver still builds. Nothing is happening as you wander down the hallways, but the Silver just keeps building.

Maybe it’s because this is too easy. Because you’re just walking inside, and there’s nothing and no one stopping you. 

There should be someone stopping you. Ketch and his people don’t seem like the lax security types, and Davis was better, but he did seem to love his lore.

You’d think there’d a least be a guard, but there’s no one.

Not even a librarian. 

And the blur kicks in.

If you were smarter, you’d turn around and run. Damn it and pray to Cas now, them get the fuck out of here. The Silver is already winding too tight, and you might tear through more than the building when it snaps.

But you’ve come this far. And you’re not smarter.

It doesn’t help that you know they’re here. The Blade and the Book. They’re calling you forward, reminding you that they’re made for you. Made for the Magdalene to have, as a gift. Promised to you, just as you’re promised to Him. Take them, because they’re yours. 

The Silver is glowing. Starting to fall out of you without destruction—until you’re the wisdom of all the books on the shelves and the grief of the spaces between the Sun and the earth, and very, very far away, something perfect and Golden and your more than anything else—all while continuing to wind up inside of you. It feels a little like being a galaxy, consumed in the black hole but still everywhere. Still everything.

You still can’t figure out what’s wrong. There’s not a bloodstain on the floor or a dent on the wall, no alarms or cries for help making it through the blur.

Only the Book and the Blade, calling you forward.

And it’s in a glass case, when you stumble into the room. 

Just the Blade. 

They might be separated, and you’re not stupid enough to leave the Blade until you find the Book. You only pause to read the small placard they’ve added, noting that it’s a witch-blade that causes insanity, marked with Latin, Hebrew, Arabic, and Enochian. 

They know about Enochian. 

That’s going to have to be a problem for later.

Right now you’re scanning over the rest of the placard, lingering on how most of the Blade has been translated, save for one word, that they’ve reprinted on the metal.

Magdalene. 

They think it means either whore or bride, which is a fascinating dual stance to have. 

Not the time. 

You glance around, and rip a curtain down from the wall to wrap around your knuckles, and—before you can think twice—slam your knuckles into the glass.

Nothing slices your hand open. No one screams at you for destruction of property. 

Something is really fucking wrong, and you need to move.

But it happens in a flash. 

You grab the Blade—it still fits perfectly in your hand, it still belongs to you—and just like the first time, you’re lost.

It’s quicker this time. The moment where you’re everything from the hope of the soil, buried under the too fancy building to the blinding fury of the loneliest stars, wishing for something to orbit around them.

And then you crash back down, and you feel it. 

Shadows, creeping towards you before curling away. 

Fuck.

“Finally.” A voice sighs from behind you, and your grip on the Blade tightens. “I’ve been waiting forever. Almost thought I missed you, but nope.” It laughs, and your skin crawls. “That’s a fun little trick you’ve got there. Well, fun for me. For you I’d bet it’s a bit of a problem.”

You turn, and there he is.

The Red. Slammed and violent inside his vessel of some poor asshole that’s already gone.  

Grinning at you like you’re all he’s ever wanted to see. 

“I knew you’d come for that.” He nods to the Blade in your hand. “Even took care of the whole building for you. And don’t make that face.” He rolls his eyes, dismissing you with a hand. “There were like, only forty people in here. And most of them were boring, and mundane, and really? Kind of stupid. Seven of the men were rapists! So you’re welcome.”

You swallow, and still don’t speak. Just like with the Blue, the Silver is being frustratingly uncooperative. Growing up before shrinking down again, like it can’t decide if it should attack the Red.

The Red is vile, but it’s not here to hurt you. The Silver doesn’t seem to believe it’s here to hurt you. Which is fucking insane, because this is-

“Do I need to introduce myself? That song says I do. But you,” it frowns at you, tilting its head. “You should know. Do you know?”

You nod, dragging your voice from your chest. “Lucifer.”

“There we go!” He claps his hands together, his grin growing. “I’d offer you a prize, but y’know. For you, it would be pointless.”

You don’t know. Before you can ask, he’s moving on.

“Here’s the deal, doll. Can I call you doll?”

“N-“

“Well I’m going to. It’ll grow on you, trust me.”

“I-“

“Shh.” Lucifer hold a thousand fingers up to his lips, shaking his head. “You don’t get to tell me what to do yet. And I’ve had no one to talk to for so long. Listen, or I track down that new friend of yours and stab her just like the Angel stabbed that sweet girl that followed you like a fucking puppy. Got it?”

The Silver still doesn’t react. All you can do is nod, and swallow your vomit when Lucifer grins.

“Okay. Like I was trying to say, here’s the deal. You and me?” He gestures between your bodies, raising his brows. “We should be friends. And I know, being friends with Satan, spooky. But if you help me, I help you.”

You open your mouth, and he shakes his head.

“No, I know what you’re thinking. How could I help you. Well, doll.” His mouth pulls into a wide, horrible grin, and he has teeth. Sticking out of him and his wings like horns, tinted with red like he’d been eating himself.

It’s fucking disgusting. And he just keeps talking.

“All I’d ask for you to help me get little Sammy Winchester to say yes to me playing puppet with him, and that’s it.”

“I-“ You blink at him. “What?”

Lucifer sighs. “There’s a whole game being played here, doll, you don’t have to understand it. What’s important is that you know I will not hurt you. Michael’s a little pussy, if he wins he’s going to lock you up to keep you safe. All wrapped up and ready, a perfect, sweet present. But I’ll let you roam however you want! I’ll free you from all the stupid fucking plans! You can stay with me, just to fuck with him, or I- I’ll even make you a deal! That’s a classic, right? Deal with the Devil? That’s what killed Dean, too, it’s artful-“

The Silver flashes. Quick, spurred by the Spiderweb, whipping out until glass shatters, and Lucifer cuts himself off with an amused look.

“Alright. Touchy about Dean, got it. Hey,” he grins at you again. “Good thing that’s the deal, right? Heaven wins with Dean, he’s gone. And Mikey is way too much of Daddy’s boy to try and touch you. If I win,” he spreads his arms in a wide gesture, grin widening. “I’ll let you keep Dean around, as a pet! All you have to do is get Sam to say yes-“

“Sam won’t listen to me.” You whisper, because it’s all you can fucking think to say, but Lucifer just shakes his head. 

“Wrong. Oh, that’s- It’s actually kind of sad, how wrong you are-“

“I’m-“

“I’m sure Gabe told you, but Sammy adores you. You made him hold on so long.” Lucifer pouts at you, and the Silver rushes through you, right under the surface, making no effort to break out. “I mean, if Heaven hadn’t been such dicks, and you’d toughed it out, Sammy might have stopped drinking demon blood all together. You made him like Ruby less. Want to be around Dean more.” Lucifer laughs, and every time is worse than the last. “You know, out of everyone, you shook him the most. He didn’t want to disappoint you, maybe even more than his strong big brother. You chose to stick with them. You never treated him like less because of what he was, and he’s only ever seen the best things in you. How happy you make Dean, how you’ll talk to him about anything, how you always saw right through John’s lies and big man shit. If you said it was a good idea, he’d do it. Dean trained him well. You’re never wrong.”

But you’re always wrong. You so fucking wrong, all the time.

You’re not sure you’re breathing, and if you aren’t, you’re only being kept awake by the Silver. 

You need to go home.

“I-“

“No!” Lucifer cuts you off with a tsk. “Don’t answer now! Take some time and think about it, because you and me together? We could do great work. But if I were you, I’d make a choice fast. Before it’s too late for the Dean part of our deal to go through.”

“The-“ You’re choking on the Silver. It’s trying to burst out of your throat, or your fingers, or your back. You can’t even really tell. “What do you-“

“Nothing.” Lucifer shrugs, taking a step back, his expression on your unreadable. Tense. “But I can’t control all my demons. Just like Heaven couldn’t control all their angels, and Dean? He’s prime hunting meet right now-“

That’s it. 

That’s what the Silver explodes for.

And just before it does, you realize what the expression on Lucifer’s face is. 

Fear. 

Real, pure fear.

But then he’s gone, and the Silver doesn’t care. It just wants something to hurt. Something to change. 

And it’s not coming back down. Not fully. So you still can’t really think. Whatever you’ve turned the library into, whatever awful beauty you’ve created, you can’t really see it, either. It’s all just fucking Silver.

You have to run. 

Home.

To Dean.

——————

“I’m not goin’ crazy! There’s some weird fuckin’ shit happening here, Rufus!”

Dean frowned, Bobby’s voice echoing up the stairs of the house. The paint on the walls was different—a darker color, a little more chipped—and the carpet was brand-new. 

He remembered when Bobby got that new carpet. Dad had dropped them off, Sammy had liked how soft it was, and Dad had mocked Bobby for his new girly obsession with interior design. Bobby had waved it off then, and only scowled when Dean asked if he had a new girlfriend, because Dad said men only did stuff like that for their girlfriends.

Now, Dean could know he’d been an idiot. Dad probably never would’ve done stuff like that for a girlfriend, Sammy had been right—the carpet was soft—and Bobby had done it for Her. Because someone would have to be insane to not try to make everything as nice as possible, for Her.

Even in a dream, Dean couldn’t stop missing Her. And Dean would bet a lot this was a dream, because Bobby wasn’t in any position to buy a new carpet right now, out in the waking world. 

Son of a bitch, She was going to be pissed about that. 

“Bobby, you’re sayin’ the plate exploded-“

“Yeah, I am!” Bobby sounded like he was arguing with someone. It was probably Rufus. “I’m sayin’ I didn’t sleep, got pissed she didn’t do the dishes-“

“Got pissed-“

“Yelled, Rufus. I fuckin’ yelled, and I know that wasn’t right, so save it. Went to walk it off and get her somethin’ to apologize, but when I got back the dishes were broken.”

There was a loud sigh, and Dean started slowly down the hall. Whatever fight was happening, he kind of wanted to see it.

“Don’t gimme that face, asshole-“

“You’re bein’ paranoid, Bob. Maybe she just smashed the dishes-“

“No. You ain’t listenin’. She broke all of them. Even the ones in the cabinets she can’t reach. It was like they’d just burst on freakin’ the spot.”

Dean turned to the top of stairs, and froze.

There She was. 

It was a smaller version of Her, with hair in complex braids and little fingers, grabbing at the bannisters of the staircase. She was wearing a dress, and fuzzy socks, and Dean was pretty sure that if Dad had dropped them here all those years ago and She hadn’t hidden, he still would’ve crashed down into Her. Still would’ve worshipped the ground She walked on. He might have gone insane about it, trailing after Her like the shadow he was. Back when he couldn’t even properly shoot or fight yet, and she could probably still have made the tides bend to Her will. 

Then She turned and looked at him, and whatever fight Bobby and Rufus were having wasn’t important anymore.

It was all just Her.

It was always just Her.

She waved him over, and Dean obeyed without a thought. Scrambling down the steps until he was pressed right at Her side, crowding all Her space because in here, he was allowed to. He didn’t have to worry about failing Her or pushing Her away. He could just wrap his arms around Her and kiss all over her neck, before resting his chin on the top of Her head. He was punishing no one but himself, with how She giggled in his ear and held his arms against Her. 

And God, it was the best torture there could ever be. It made Dean feel like he was being ripped in half and fused back together all at once. Made him feel useful, when She leaned back into him with a hum, then like the lowest piece of shit in the mud when it hit him again that this wasn’t real, and he was making Her something she might not want to be. 

Sammy called it lucid dreaming. 

“What’s lucid mean,” he murmured Her name in her ear, She twisted to smile at him, and he might as well have been hit by a damn truck.

“In full control of your own actions or thoughts.” She said, still peering through the banister at what was probably the kitchen. “Like when you sign a will, you have to be lucid.”

Dean nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Her in his arms. He was a little worried that if he let go of Her, and all the light in Her body, She’d turn into nothing, and Dean would wake up in the dark. Alone.

So he held on tight, and buried his face in the crook of Her neck. Even in his dreams he could smell that fucking fruit. It was becoming a little like an anesthetic.

“What happenin’ out there?”

She hummed, a hand moving up to comb through Dean’s hair as She spoke, and he held Her a little tighter. “This is when Bobby started to figure out I wasn’t just a little crazy. He’s going to fight with Rufus for ten more minutes, then I’m going to have an episode because I think he’s going to kick me out.”

Dean froze. “He doesn’t-“

“No. Never.” She sighed, leaning Her head against his. “He calms me down, makes me hot chocolate, and tells me that we’re going to figure it out. Tomorrow he’s going to take me to a Psychic friend of Rufus’, and I’m going to- Uh-“ She swallowed, Her grip on Dean tightening as Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She loses all her senses. Literally. I think she lives in a facility in Chicago now, because she can’t hear, or smell, or feel anything but pressure-“

“Hey.” Dean let his lips ghost over her neck, and she let out a soft, breathy sound that was going to make his hard rule of ‘no sex in dreams, because She was still his best friend, and he had to respect that’ real fucking difficult to follow. “I get it. Don’t hurt yourself.”

She laughed softy. “Don’t tell me what to do, Winchester.”

“Sorry, Princess.” He leaned back, pressing a kiss to Her cheek and trying not to feel too proud when She giggled. “Can’t boss me around all the time.”

“Try me-“

“I’d love to.” He smirked, carefully grabbing Her chin to tip it back. “You have no idea how much I’d love to boss you around for once, baby.”

Flush. Hitched breath. Parted lip.

He was the luckiest son of a bitch alive, just to even know Her. To have seen Her enough to have her memorized, even if it wasn’t in every way he wanted. Hair tangled, but still glossy. Eyes brighter than the fucking universe, skin smooth against Dean’s. 

But he paused. There was a cut on Her lower lip, and a few visible bruises on Her face, and while Her features had been growing gaunt in his head—a lot of tension in his body seemed to exist from the worry that she wasn’t eating or sleeping, lately—She’d looked like this.

“What’s-“

“Nothing.” He grunted. Just a dream. She wasn’t actually hurt. He was pretty sure She wasn’t actually hurt. And he wanted to think about Her, here. In this dream, where She wanted him. 

“Dean-“

“I just miss you, sweetheart. Never gonna stop missing you.” He brushed a little hair from Her face, and Her face split into a wide grin.

“You miss me?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Course I freakin’ miss you, you know that-“

“How much?”

“More than fuckin’ oxygen-“

“But you have oxygen right now-“

Dean moved his hand lightly to Her neck, keeping her gaze fixed on him, and She let out a soft squeak that was going to drive him insane. “Princess?”

“De?” She whispered, bright eyes doing that flutter thing that always made Dean’s cock twitch, and he groaned.

“I miss you more than anything, baby.” He lowered his mouth to ghost over Her’s, and this was pushing it right to the line. “You’re never gonna be able to understand how much I fuckin’ miss you, but I do. I’d rip out my heart, if it made you come back to me.”

She swallowed and nodded, almost fully melted into Dean’s body, and it didn’t matter what Heaven offered him to take Michael in. Nothing could ever be better than this. 

And then something shook the world, and it was all gone.

“Dean, wake up, dude-“

“Fuck off.” He rolled over, moving the pillow to block over his ears. He didn’t want to hear Sammy right now. He just wanted to pass out and go back to Her siren voice, haunting him just as it always had.

“C’mon, Chuck texted me-“

“Don’t care. Let the angels have him, Sammy, what’s the asshole ever done for us anyway.”

Sam sighed from somewhere off to the side. “He did help me escape Lilith. And I know you don’t mean that, Dean.”

“You don’t-“

“I miss her too,” Sam’s voice had dropped to being impossibly soft, and Dean’s gut started to twist. “And we’ll find her. But we have to keep going, Dean.”

No, they didn’t.

They needed to be looking for Her. She’d said she was going to pray to Cas, but Cas said it never came through. She was fucking missing, again, and when Dean tried to call Her it just went to fucking voicemail. He didn’t give a shit about Chuck and his life-or-death situation. 

He just wanted his fucking girl home, so he could snap at Her about being insane and then hold Her until everything in the world was finally okay again.

“Dean. We gotta go.”

Dean let out a long, slow groan, and forced himself up. The morning was so fucking bright. And not Her bright, guiding Dean down, down, down and making the pit feel like it was full. Painful bright, that made him squint and rub his eyes.

Sam was, annoyingly, right. 

With all the angels running around, if Chuck was in danger, that was going to be a problem.

But that didn’t stop Dean from scowling and stewing into, for the entirety of the ride. Wasn’t like he had anything else to do. 

The trail on Her was all but dead. When She hadn’t appeared with Cas, after the last phone call, Dean had called for him instead. Just to check.

Then, it had been just to check.

“Dean, you know I am busy looking for-“

“God, yeah, I know.” Dean had been white knuckling his guns as he cleaned them, scowling at the air, and Cas had paused.

“Something is troubling you.” He’d said Her name slowly, and Dean might have almost broken his jaw. “I have told you, Raphael was likely just trying to provoke you-“

“Well, it fuckin’ worked.” It had. After they’d summoned the feathered asshole, Raphael had hummed that She’d make a good motivator, when it came down to it. Dean had almost shot him, and only managed not to because of Cas physically stopping him. But that wasn’t the goddamn point. “Cas, she-“

“I am not going to betray her trust and-“

“No, it’s-“ Dean had run a hand over his face, shaking his head. “She said she’d call you, man. I asked her to come back, and she said she’d call you.”

Cas had blinked, a small frown of his face, and Dean had felt something to the right of his heart clench.

Cas hadn’t needed to confirm it with words. Dean had understood. 

She was missing. 

Fucking again. 

And Cas couldn’t find Her. It had been damn near a week, and they hadn’t heard one word. When Dean pushed him, Cas said he’d lost the scent—whatever the hell that meant—so how She couldn’t be tracked unless she wanted to be.

But She wasn’t avoiding them. She’d promised She’d come back home, that She wasn’t running. That She’d return to Dean, and everything could be okay again, so She wasn’t running. 

Dean was pretty sure She wasn’t running. He hadn’t done anything to drive Her away that he could think of. He’d been just as careful with Her as always, and She’d been calling him, and She’d- She’d fucking promised. Pinky promised. Dean owed Her a dance, and She wasn’t running from him anymore, and they’d said all the way down. She had to come back to him. That was how this was supposed to work. 

And if She was missing, it couldn’t be anything good. Lucifer was out and running around. Heaven clearly knew things about Her they weren’t sharing.

She was in danger. They needed to be looking for Her, not saving Chuck. He had a whole douchebag archangel to do that.

The only thing that kept Dean from turning the car around was Sammy. He needed a win, and saving Chuck would be one.

And Dean was a little worried Sammy was blaming himself. For Her being gone. 

“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean had muttered a few days ago, frowning at his burger in the diner booth. “I just got a bad feeling. I can’t stop thinking about her-“

“Which is,” Sam had raised his brows. “Different than normal?”

“Shut up, bitch. I’m being serious. Last time she went MIA like this I found her with a fuckin’ stab wound on the Mexican border-“

“Dean, I- I know.” Sam had sighed, a strange shadow crossing over his face. “But you told her everything, didn’t you. Maybe she- I mean- If she knows-“

Dean had frowned. “Knows what?”

“Lucifer. And me. How- That she was right.” Sam had bowed his head, his voice dropping. “About Ruby.”

“She knew she was right about Ruby-“

“Yeah, but- I don’t know. Never mind.”

In the moment, Dean had spiraled. Moved around thoughts of maybe She didn’t want to come home. To deal with their shit, with the burden that just being near Dean brought. Why would She let Dean, of all fucking people, even stay in Her orbit when he’d failed Her, and Jo, and Sam. 

Because he had. He hadn’t fought harder to keep Her next to him, and now She was missing.

He hadn’t been faster with Jo. Pushed harder for how he didn’t like the plan, gotten away from the demons to trade himself in her place. Jo was gone gone. If Anna had taken Dean instead, the angels would just pull him right back up. They needed him. But Dean had failed, and how he’d lost Her and the closest thing he’d had to a sister. 

And Sammy. 

He’d failed Sammy.

He hadn’t saved him from Ruby’s clutches. Hadn’t gotten him to listen. The only victory Dean could claim was not letting the kid wander off on his own after the cage opened, and even that was failing. 

Because he’d missed what Sam meant, in the diner. How She might not come back, because of Sam.

It was an insane thought. She never ran because Sam pushed Her away. Sam had only ever been loyal to Her, keeping her secret and going with Her plans, and treating Her well, even when She and Dean were fighting. Just like She’d always treated Sammy well, when he and Dean were fighting. 

Dean was the common factor there. The one who fucked up, and lost Her.

And he lay awake at night about it. When he was afraid to close his eyes, because it didn’t matter if he had a nightmare or dream, the worst thing in the world would be not dreaming of Her. Not waking up with the smell of Her fruit still lingering in the air and his hand bruised from Her phantom touch. There was always a chance that this night would be the night She wasn’t there.

So he’d stare at the ceiling, and try and work out where he’d gone wrong. But he could never fucking find it. Whenever he thought of when She’d vanished before, Dean could pin a reason to it. Dean left first. Dad drove Her away. Dean drove Her away. Dad used Azazel to drive Her away. Dean’s death drove Her away. 

But Dad was dead, and couldn’t touch Her anymore.

And Dean had been so fucking careful with Her. Tried to hold Her right and be Her shadow, even when holding Her meant through the phone—choking on the lump in his throat when he listened to Her cry, but never hanging up—and being Her shadow meant waiting for Her to return. 

He’d gotten up in the dead of night, two days after the phone call. Shuffled into the kitchen just for water, and gotten a heart attack when Bobby grunted his name from the doorway.

“Son of a bitch-“

“Stop being a dramatic baby.” Bobby had rolled his eyes, glaring at Dean from his wheelchair. “It’s my house, ya idjit. I’m gonna be in it.”

“It’s 2 in the damn morning-“

“And we’re both up. So stick it.” Bobby had paused, giving Dean an odd look. “I’m guessin’ it ain’t thirst keeping you up.”

In a way, it was. 

Dean wasn’t stupid enough to say that, though.

He’d sighed, leaning against the counter, and taken the risk. He’d needed to talk about it with someone.  

Bobby might be the only person who really understood. 

“I miss her.” He’d muttered, his voice already going hoarse, staring at the water in his glass. “Shit, Bobby, I- I miss her so much. And I keep thinking about how she might be on the floor somewhere, and I won’t be able to get to her.”

Bobby had sighed, and rolled further into the kitchen. Until he was right in front of Dean. “I know. I do. And I- Fucking hell, I miss her too. House is always too big without her, and you two dumbasses aren’t half as funny as she is. But, he’d reached up, grabbing Dean’s forearm until he looked up from the glass. “Listen to me, Dean. Since she was fourteen, there have been months at a time where she don’t come home. Where I get a phone call a week and then she’s showin’ up covered in blood with another stolen car for me to scrap. But she always shows up. Always comes home.”

Dean had shaken his head. “But-“

“I know you wanna look for her. And if you think you can find ‘er, trust your gut and go. But wherever she is, don’t think she’s not tryin’ to get back.” Bobby’s voice had dropped, and in the dim light of the kitchen, Dean could’ve fucking sworn he saw something like pain all over Bobby’s face. “She’s a fighter more than a runner, when she’s pushed to it. And if she wants to come back, I don’t think God himself would do well standin’ in her way."

Dean could agree with that. 

And he tried to replay it, whenever he wanted to jump out of the car and rip up the world until he found Her.

She always came back. 

And She’d promised, so She would.

She had to. 

“There was an Earthquake in France.” Sam said, jerking Dean’s attention back from his thoughts. “9.5. Bobby thinks it’s another omen.”

Dean grunted, glaring out at the road. “Omen for what, this time? Just more freakin’ death?”

Sam shrugged. “Don’t know yet. There’s still damage assessment happening, and the press is saying that the earthquake might have been a result of something else.”

“Something like what? Lucifer?”

“Still don’t know, Dean-“

“Then why are we talking about it?”

Dean could feel Sam’s flat look. “Because we need to be paying attention to his stuff. And you brooding isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I’m not brooding-“

“Yeah, you are.” Sam said Her name, and Dean was going to strangle him. “She’d say it’s brooding.”

“Shut up.”

“Dean-“

“No. Shut up, and listen to the music.”

Sam sighed, and listened. Dean wouldn’t strangle him. He was trying to help, even if he was being a little fucking bitch about it.

But Dean was going to strangle someone. 

Chuck wasn’t in danger. He was using those stupid books to throw a costume party that exploited their lives, and not even the good parts. Fucking Becky—Chuck’s messenger girl, the one that was obsessed with Sammy—had tricked them into coming here, and now they were losing valuable time to look for Her-

“Dude, you gotta relax.” Sam muttered, scanning around the room of nerds, and Dean scowled.

“This is fuckin’ stupid, we should just go-“

“It’s not gonna help her, Dean-“

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes, I do.” Sam gave him a firm look. “If Cas finds her, he’ll call us, and if she ends up back at Bobby’s he’ll make sure she’s fine-“

“Who are you talking about?” Becky appeared between them, looking back and forth with wide eyes. “Is it Anna? Are you looking for Anna?”

Dean shouldn’t hit a girl. His fist still curled to punch this chick’s face in.

It was good Sam answered first. “It’s not Anna. Anna’s dead.”

Becky frowned. “No, she’s not-“

“How the hell do you even know about Anna?” Dean snapped, and Becky just shrugged.

“Chuck told me. And she’s not dead, she escaped Castiel and Uriel-“

“Then she turned around and sided with heaven again.” Sam muttered. “Anna might not be dead in Chuck’s version, but she’s dead in our lives."

“In your- Are things different than in the books?” Becky’s eyes widened, and Dean gave Sam a flat look.

“Nice going, dumbass.”

Sam sighed. “She’d probably find out anyway, Dean-“

“Well, she did, because you fuckin’ told her-“

“Wow.” Becky was looking between them, shaking her head. “You guys swear a lot more than in the books.”

Dean scowled. “There’s a lot more to swear about in real life, lady.”

“Like the mysterious she that you lost?” Becky was smiling again. Punching her was quickly becoming a very real option. “Is it Lisa? Bela? No, Bela’s dead too. Jo?” Dean felt his chest ache and twist, and he must have visibly tensed, because Becky’s smile widened. “Oh my gosh, it’s Jo, isn’t it! Did you go back to Jo, Dean-“

“Jo’s dead too.” Sam grunted. “Anna killed her.”

Dean got a very firm don’t shoot the crazy lady look. He rolled his eyes, and moved his hand off his gun. 

“But- Anna killed Jo? Then who killed Anna? Was it Dean?” Her voice dropped to a whisper as a few more idiots dressed in leather jackets and open button ups moved past them. Dean wasn’t allowed to shoot her. “Did Dean kill her in revenge- Murdering one lover in the name of another-“

“One lover?” Dean spat, and Sam let out a long sigh. “What the fuck are you talking about-“

“You and Jo had a thing.” Becky stood her ground, although her voice was suddenly a lot smaller. Good. “And- And Chuck said you slept with Anna-“

“With Anna-“

“Dean.” Sam grabbed his shoulder, shaking his head. “Not worth it. It’s- It’s probably better nobody knows.”

Dean scoffed. “That’s pretty fucking easy for you to say, Sammy-“

“It is.” Sam held his gaze, keeping his words steady, even though fucking Becky was still listening. “If she was in the books, her family could find them. Chuck might not have used last names, but- I don’t know, dude, they could connect the dots and track her down. She’s safer not being a part of this, Dean, and you know it.”

Sam was right. God fucking damnit, that was a good point. And if She had been in the books, all of Dean’s thought about Her would be available to the public. There would be people dressed up with glossy hair and jackets and knives, trying to imitate her bright eyes and siren voice, like a crude, faded knockoff of one of those fancy statues in museums. It was bad enough to look around the room and see all the reminders of the worst parts of Dean’s life—there were three yellow-eyes, and Dean wanted to march over and rip out their stupid contacts—so he didn’t need people fucking up the best part. 

He already had to put up with Becky.

He really wished he was allowed to shoot her.

“Is there… a secret person?” Becky pried in a hushed whisper as some guy with a clipboard rambled into the microphone. “Who’s not in the books? Who Dean’s sleeping with instead of Anna and Jo?”

“Yes.”

“Sam-“

The bitch just shrugged, smirking slightly as Becky turned to Dean. 

“You have a girlfriend?” 

Dean ignored her, and shot Sam a very firm I am going to murder you later look.

Sam didn’t seem as worried about it as he should be.

Becky still wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

And Chuck was taking Q&As. But as much as Sammy was right, a lot of the questions were pretty fucking simply answered by Her.

Everything was better with Her.

A guy dressed as Bobby asked why Sam didn’t explore witchcraft as an option to save Dean. Chuck shot Dean a nervous look, and mumbled that Sam had been too stressed to think of everything. 

Becky gasped, moving herself right into Dean’s view. “Did your secret girlfriend do the witchcraft? Did you not die in real life-“

“No, uh,” Sam swallowed, his voice dropping slightly. “He died.”

“Oh no.” Becky gave Sam a sympathetic look—not Dean, which was pretty fucking rude, cause Sammy hadn’t died—and placed a hand on his chest. “That must have been so hard for you, Sam.”

“Yeah, uh,” Sam coughed. “It was rough. Think it was worse on-“

“Sam.” Dean grunted, shooting him a firm glare, and Sam nodded.

“Right. Sorry.”

It continued all afternoon. Through the Q&A—someone asked if Dean would ever settle down with Lisa, and Sam had to shove Dean outside to walk it off—and their conversation with Chuck. Becky kept fucking pushing about it, and Chuck didn’t seem all that happy about the situation either.

“I- I didn’t include her for a reason, Becky.” Chuck gave Dean another nervous glance, and Dean just narrowed his eyes. “There’s a lot of complicated things going on, and I don’t fully understand them, so I wanted to just focus on making the books enjoyable-“

“And I’ve enjoyed them! But I want to know everything, Chuck, please.” Becky pouted again, and all Dean wasn’t sure how the expression could look mind-blowingly perfect on Her, and constipated on Becky. “Haven’t I earned it-“

“No.” Dean grunted, and Becky rolled her eyes. 

“You just want to keep your secret girlfriend all to yourself-“

“Girlfriend?” Chuck cut in, gaping slightly at Dean. “I- I didn’t know you guys were dating-“

“We’re- It’s complicated-“

“No, it’s not.” Sam rolled his eyes. “They’ve made out. Twice.” 

Dean scowled, and he should punch Sammy right in the jaw—what the fuck happened to better as a secret—but before he could, the words fell right out of his mouth. “Three times.”

“Three- When did the third time happen?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Why didn’t you tell me-“

“Because of this,” Dean gestured to the shocked faces of Chuck and Becky, and Sam sighed.

“Yeah, but- Alright. That’s fair.”

There was a second of silence, and Becky broke it with a cough. 

“Is she pretty?”

Sam snorted. “She’s way out of Dean’s league, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She was. Son of a bitch, She was out of everyone’s league. She was playing a wholly different game, and it was made of being the brightest thing in to every exist. Playing in Her league would probably mean killing God or something.

And She’d still been kissing Dean. 

Chuck gave Dean an odd look. “But she- likes him?”

Dean opened his mouth to snap something—he wasn’t sure what, but it would be made of didn’t matter, because Dean was the only one who got to be Her shadow and he’d rather jump headfirst into Hell than be anything else—but Sam laughed first.

“You have no idea-“

Dean stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m going for a walk.”

He wasn’t telling anyone in particular. And a walk meant going outside and pacing around the lawn, glaring at the dirt under his feet and breathing slowly until he wanted to kill someone less. 

Sam was such a fucking shit. Dean was going to put hot sauce in his underwear again, or shave half his head in his sleep, or throw him off a cliff. 

But it was less the snitching, that was fueling the fury in his body. 

It was the ache. Missing Her. Just fucking wishing She was here, because if She told Sammy to shut up, he’d listen. He never teased Her about anything. And if She was here, Sam wouldn’t try to stop Her from killing Becky. She’s spin Her knife in her hand and give Becky a firm glare when she got to close to Sammy, and the bitch would back the hell off, Dean could even put a hand on Her lower back and she might lean into him, smiling up at him as they traded whispered jokes about how fucking stupid this whole thing was. 

She wouldn’t put up with it. Any of it. At the end of the day She was Bobby’s daughter, so She didn’t put up with any of this fucking bullshit.

And maybe when Chuck asked if She liked Dean, he’d get to watch Her flush, and her breath hitch with parted lips, and he’d get to know. That She felt some of it. That She would still give Dean those pretty, fluttering eyes when he teased Her. That there was a chance—if he grabbed Her chin and smirked down at Her like he’d done in so many dreams—that She’d whisper his name, and Dean would get to kiss Her in front of everyone. And they could all know that Dean was Her shadow. That there was no one who would touch Her or protect Her like he could.

Fuck, he missed Her. 

And it didn’t matter how much he called for Her in his head—looking up at the sky like it might take his plea for her, and throw it across the universe—nobody was listening. 

Then something to the right of Dean’s heart pounded. Strained. Echoed around his rib cage in a way that way borderline painful, growing and growing and growing as it only got worse. All the world was Technicolor, and air was shifting into that sticky warmth that came before a storm, and Dean could fucking swear he could smell Her on the rushing wind, could see the sparkling glass in the pavement growing brighter and all the flowers on the edge of the forest start to bloom in seconds. 

Something was coming. Dean knew something was coming. And he should run back inside and tell Sammy, but his legs wouldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. Every single fiber of his being was keeping him rooted in place, like he was anchored there by that pain in his chest, and then-

He almost fell to his knees.

She was there. 

Here. 

In front of Dean, blinking at him with slightly glazed eyes and silver pupils, but here.

It wasn’t a trick, or a replica. Dean should probably be more vigilant of that, but he knew. Nothing else made the world look like this. Made every color brighter and every edge sharper. Nothing could ever duplicate the sheer beauty of Her, as if all the stars and waterfalls and gardens and storms and fireplaces had been shoved in one woman.

It was all Her. 

Dean whispered Her name, and she just stared at him. 

Not speaking to him. Not moving for him. But not moving away, either. Just looking at him as Her hair seemed to float around Her face, and when Dean took a slow step forward—the pain in his chest easing slightly as he moved to Her, and it was the only place he could ever think to go—She didn’t flinch. 

Her pupils were still sheer silver, and Dean felt a little like he was looking at something he shouldn’t be. It should be hurting his eyes, how bright She was.

But it was more like looking at a lighthouse, or the North Star. There was nothing to do but follow it.

Nowhere to go but home.

Dean reach out a hand to touch Her, to trace over Her face and She was real. Soft and warm under his fingers. Leaning into his touch. 

And the silver in Her eyes flared, when he tried to move away. Her hand darted up to hold Dean against Her, lip parting as she shook her head. 

“Princess, are you-“ 

She took an unsteady step forward, until She was pressed right into Dean’s chest. Fingers tracing over his face so gently as he just stared at Her, and looked perfect, but still a little gaunt, and there were bags under Her eyes, and she still wasn’t speaking-

Dean muttered Her name, catching her hand in his, and Her eyes fluttered as she looked up to him. .

“It’s okay.” He whispered, squeezing Her hand three times, over and over and she leaned a little further forward. “I’ve got you, but- Shit- Wait-“

The beauty of the world was only growing brighter, as Her eyes grew glossier. More and more silver.

Dean moved his hands to hold Her face—there were not visible injuries, but it was only a small comfort—and did the one thing he’d only ever done right.

Calmed Her down. Running his thumb over the bridge of Her nose and mutters low words about how he was here, and She was fine, holding Her until she came back down to him.

“You’re gonna be okay,” He muttered Her name, keeping his gaze fixed on Her’s, even as Her eyes fluttered closed. “I’m here. I’ve got you. All the way down, Princess. Come back down for me.” His voice was a rasp. He didn’t try to fight it. “Please come back down.”

She let out a shaky breath, and when She blinked Her eyes open, her pupils were blown out and glazed, but black. 

She was back. She could see him. And slightly swollen lips parted as She scanned over his face, Her voice barely a breath when she spoke. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, offering a small smile. “It’s me. I’ve got you, Princess.”

“Are- Are you-“

“I’m okay.”

She made a sound like a whimper, and suddenly Her face was buried in into him, Her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

She was shaking as another choked sound was muffled against his chest. 

Dean felt like he was being split in half by lighting. Like he’d stepped into the middle of an electric storm, and everything was moving too fast and too slow all at once. She smelled like fruit and fit so well against him, and She wasn’t vanishing, but She was sobbing, and it was making Dean’s heart split and fracture.

But he just kept holding Her, combing his finger through Her shiny hair, right up until the sounds stopped, and Her breaths became even. 

She’d passed out.

Good.

He could just carry Her home. 

Dean hooked his arms under Her knees and hauled Her up his chest, glancing around the yard one last time to check that this really was just it. That he’d asked Her to come home and She had, without demons or angels on Her tail. 

And it would be so easy to miss it. To mistake the way the air seemed to be shimmering as a trick of the light, or decided that the way the flowers and moss seemed to be bursting out of the trees was just a natural phenomenon. Yet there was no mistaking how—growing out the walls on the inn, like an odd limb—there were branches hanging with iridescent apples that glowed. 

But it was all Her. 

No trap.

Just Her, fit perfectly into Dean’s arms, and knocked the hell out. 

Dean said Her name as he turned back to the inn. Just to make sure She really was down. She didn’t even shift or stir, and he sighed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Her head. 

She moved further into him at that. But Her eyes barely even fluttered, and Her grip didn’t tighten. She just squirmed until Dean could feel how fucking warm She was—too warm, bordering on a fever with the way sweat was clinging to Her brow—and keep his cheek pressed to Her’s as he marched back inside.

“You’re gonna be alright, baby.” He muttered, turning to let his lips ghost over Her skin. “You’re home. It’s gonna be okay.”

She didn’t so much as hum.

And She was still so fucking warm. 

The smart thing to do would be put Her in the car, then go find Sammy and tell him what was going on. But every time Dean so much as shifted Her, She’d make that whimpering sound, and something to the right of his heart would ache. It would be easier to just show Sam. Easier to just keep holding Her, because she wanted him to, and Dean couldn’t deny Her anything if he tried. 

“Dean!” Sam called from behind him, somewhere in another freakin’ hallway. “Look, dude, I think there might be a case here, and I’m sorry for teasing you about-“

Dean turned, and Sam’s voice trailed off as he said Her name, his eyes growing almost comically wide.

“I- You-“ Sammy’s eyes were fixed on Her sleeping form in Dean’s arms, his voice almost a whisper. “How?”

“Don’t know.” Dean grunted, and Sam’s eyes shot back up to him.

“What do you mean, you don’t know-“

“I mean I was standing outside, thinking, and then she was fuckin’ there-“

“Thinking about what-“

“That’s not important-“

“It seems pretty important, Dean! People don’t just fucking teleport-“

“Shut up.” Dean hissed through his teeth, and Sam snapped his mouth shut as She twisted slightly in Dean’s arms, settling down after a few, long moments.

“Fuck.” Sam whispered, looking back to Her, sleeping peacefully once more. “That’s- Are we sure it’s not a trap-“

“Yes.” He grunted. “And if you wanna hear the truth, I don’t really give a fuck if it is.”

Sam let out a long breath, then nodded slowly. “I’ll stay and take care of this. Probably just a salt and burn, and with all the fake us’s around here, one of them has to end up being useful.”

“Thanks.” Dean started his walk back to the car, and Sam quickly fell into pace. “I can have Bobby send someone-“

“I think Bobby’s gonna be occupied, dude.”

Dean huffed a dry laugh, glancing back down, because even though he could feel Her, he still had to check She was real. “Yeah, I’d bet that too.”

“You gonna call him?”

“I’ll do it on the road.” Dean ducked through the door as Sam held it open, giving a short nod. “Text him if you need something, though, I-“

“I know. I-“ Sam took a deep breath, and Dean glanced at him with a frown. His face was turned down, his eyes still fixed on Her. A little like he was trying to will Her to wake up.

Dean understood the feeling.

His keys were in his jacket, and he couldn’t hold Her and get the car started. Passing Her into Sam’s arms felt a little like his heart was trying to move out of his chest to go with Her, but he’d survive. He’d managed this long not touching Her at all. Managed longer. And She didn’t fold into Sam the same way She had with Dean, but she didn’t wake up or fight it.

And Dean didn’t miss the way Sammy’s shoulders relaxed, when he realized She wasn’t going to try and push him away. 

“I’ll call you when I’m back,” Dean muttered, unlocking the Impala as Sam swayed Her slightly, like he was cradling a baby. 

She’d be pissed about that, if Dean told Her. She’d pout and scowl and mutter that She wasn’t a fucking baby.

Dean just found it kind of adorable. Like some weird, twisted image of a kid singing their parent a messy lullaby. 

“Okay.” Sammy nodded, still swaying Her as Dean opened the door. “If I’m done before then I’ll call around and see who’s nearby-“

“Sam!” Becky’s shrill voice echoed through the parking lot, and Dean really wished Sam had let him shoot her. “Oh my gosh, Chuck told me that you think there’s a real case, did you find- Who is that?”

Dean didn’t fucking appreciate the venom is Becky’s voice. The lady was lucky to even be in Her presence.

“It’s- Uh-“ Sam looked to Dean with almost a desperation, and Dean sighed, reaching out to take Her back.

She fit right back into him. 

The real struggle might be getting Her into the car. 

“Sam, you have to tell me if you’re with someone else-“

“I- Why?”

“Because it’s not fair-“

“To who?” Sammy was spluttering as Dean maneuvered Her onto the bench, Her grip impressively tight for a woman who was passed out.

“To me!” Becky whined, not seeming to give a fuck that Sammy wasn’t even touching Her anymore. “It’s stringing me along, Sam, and that’s not very nice-“

“Becky?” Awesome. Chuck here too, now, and Dean still couldn’t get Her in the damn car. 

“You gotta work with me, Princess.” He muttered, drawing back up to his full height. “I can’t drive you home in my lap-“

That wasn’t actually a shit idea. Dean had done more without being pulled over-

“Becky?” Chuck was still walking over. Dean was really leaning towards the lap plan. “Oh, shit, there you are. You know, I told you that so you wouldn’t run off- Are you guys leaving?”

“No, uh-“ Sam cleared his throat. “Just Dean. He’s got some other stuff to attend to-“

“Really?” Becky scoffed. “Listen, Dean, I know you’re too cool for all this stuff, but a lot of people worked really hard-“

“No, Becky, it’s not that-“

“Then what is it- Is it that slut-“

Dean had been ignoring most of the conversation. 

That got through. 

“Hey.” He whipped around, still holding Her tight against him, and narrowed his eyes at Becky. “You talk about her like that, I put a bullet in your fucking brain, you got that?”

Becky nodded, her face a little pale, and Dean let out a breath. 

“Good. Sammy, how illegal is driving with someone in your lap?”

Sam frowned. “Are we talking normal people illegal, or us illegal?”

“Us illegal.”

“Then I’d say like, 45%-“

Chuck cut Sam off with a breath of Her name, and they both froze to find him staring, mouth open, face a little pale. “Is- Is that her?”

“Yeah.” Dean grunted, his fingers curling slightly against Her body, and Becky frowned.

“Who’s-“

“Don’t worry about it, Becky.” Chuck said, his eyes still fixed on Her, and Becky let out a dramatic huff. 

Chuck seemed done talking, though. He just kept staring as Sam helped Dean move into the car—he figured out a strategy where he rolled Her to the side once he was sat down—and Becky tried to ask more questions that were wholly ignored. It was pretty easily chalked up to how She was the only person in Sam and Dean’s lives the prophet couldn’t read. 

It was still pretty fucking creepy. 

And Chuck was still staring in the rearview mirrors, as Dean pulled the Impala away. He seemed almost in a trace, shaking his head right before they drove out of view.

Dean had bigger worried though. 

He had to get Her home. 

She remained down, the first four hours of the drive. Dean allowed himself to press a carefully kiss to Her temple every few miles—to check Her temperature, and no other selfish reasons—and Her possible fever wasn’t growing, but it wasn’t going down, either. Likely not a side effect of doing whatever the hell that had been, but probably not a sickness, either. A sickness would mean She was vomiting, shivering, coughing slightly in Her sleep, doing something else besides burning like the freaking sun. 

But She wasn’t. She was just settled against Dean, breathing without a single hitch, even when Dean fucked up and hit a bump. 

She seemed fine, visibly. On the surface, where Dean would find cuts and bruises if someone had hurt Her. 

But maybe being in that borderline catatonic state had healed Her. And someone had been hurting Her, and when She woke up, she’d start screaming and crying and scrambling away from Dean’s touch. 

He could deal with the first two. When She screamed and cried, Dean just had to stay with Her, and sooth Her however he was allowed. But if She scrambled away, Dean didn’t know what he would do. If he had Her back, just for Her to not want him anymore. 

That was a lie. Dean knew exactly what he’d do.

He’d wait, and follow Her wherever She asked him to go. 

All the way down.

He called Bobby, around hour five. When She was staring to roll a little, readjusting Her face and wiggling closer into Dean’s side.

It took two tries. Dean should’ve used Her phone. The old fucker would’ve picked up right away.

“Dean, I’m in the middle of damn dinner, and Sam said it was just a salt and burn-“

“Bobby.” Dean muttered, glancing down at Her as he spoke. “She’s back.”

There was a long silence, and Bobby’s voice was hoarse as he said Her name. “You found her?”

“Kinda. More like she found me.” Dean let out a long breath, and She hummed slightly. “It’s- Has she ever gotten a fever? Using her thing?”

Bobby sighed through the speak. “Only for a few years, when she was real little. She used to make the floors form black mold after I cleaned ‘em, and one time the trees all started growin’ some weird glass-lookin’ fruit, then she’d get a fever. But it stopped when she started usin’ her… methods. She warm when you touch ‘er?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she’s fine. She gets cold when she’s sick. Sorta like touchin’ a dead body.”

“Alright.” Dean let out a long, slow breath, shaking that image from his head. “We’re heading back now, but Sammy stayed behind, he’s gonna work the case himself-“

“Dean-“

“Maybe send someone, just so he has extra hands-“

“Dean.” Bobby’s voice was firmer, and Dean swallowed. “Stop drivin’.”

“I-“ Dean must have misheard him. “What? I’m driving her home-“

“From Oregon, ya idjit. That’s a fuckin’ day.”

“I’ve driven longer-“

“I know, but she needs you.”

Dean swallowed. “Bobby, I-“

“Don’t play humble and stupid with me, Dean. You ain’t good at either. She needs you, and you’re already fuckin’ there. Movin’ Her around is only gonna distress her when she wakes up.”

“But-“

“No but. Trust me, I wish you could just teleport her right back to me, but ya can’t. And you ain’t been sleepin’ well, Dean. One more night without her home ain’t gonna kill me, but findin’ out your dumbass passed out at the wheel and drove off a bridge will. Rest.”

Dean opened his mouth to tell Bobby that—actually—teleporting did seem to be an option on the table, but the line clicked dead, the conversation forcibly over. 

The motel they pulled off to was nicer than Dean usually opted for. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why. The credit cards were stolen anyway, but Dad had always insisted they sleep in the cheapest place available. 

And She used to steal all those fancy cars, before Dean bought Her the Firebird. 

Dean had a feeling She did it for the same reason She always gave about all Her skincare and makeup and hair shit. Made Her feel a little more normal.

This did feel a little more normal. They had air conditioning that didn’t rattle, and a door where Dean trusted the lock, and they were sleeping in a bed that didn’t have lumps in it.

Together. 

Dean had tried to move away. Just for his own peace of mind, he’d made an effort to pry himself away, and then She’d let out that whimper and he’d given up. She’d let him know if She didn’t want him there, when She woke up. Dean didn’t doubt that for a second. But for now She let him wrap around Her—their shoes resting near the door and their jackets folded together on a chair—and kept sleeping peacefully as Dean just watched Her. 

He couldn’t sleep. Bobby had been right, he needed to, but he couldn’t. He needed to keep watching Her, in case an angel swooped down and tried to take Her away. Dean needed to keep looking to make sure She was real, and this wasn’t just an impossibly cruel dream.

And he’d been here before. Holding Her through the night and just staring at Her like a creep. But he’d never allowed himself this close. Where his chest was all but pressed against Her’s, and Her breath fanned over his neck, and their legs were tangled together under the sheets.

Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever been this close to anyone. He’d cuddled, after sex, but this felt different. Softer. She was still trying to bury Herself into him. Dean was keeping his hands over Her shirt, but he’d allowed himself to rest his face against Her hair, and breathe in the fruit until his body fully relaxed. 

She was here. Holding him. Her fever slowly dropping and Her soft, humming noises becoming more frequent as she only burrowed in closer.

Bobby had said She needed him. 

If this was being needed felt like, Dean never wanted to be anything else again. 

And when She woke up, there wasn’t any panic. Her eyes just fluttered open and landed on Dean’s, neither of them making any move to pull away. 

They didn’t speak for a long moment. There didn’t seem to be a damn point to it. Her hand reached up between their bodies to trace over Dean’s face with an impossibly light touch, and Dean just let himself fall into Her eyes. Fixed on him. Looking so fucking tired, but still bright. Always bright. There were lights from passing cars dancing through the windows, but She was brighter. More beautiful. And a few tears were rolling down her face as She met Dean’s eyes once more, features a little puffy from sleep, but no less ethereal. 

And Sammy used to be obsessed with mythology, when he was a kid. And Dad had been sure to let him know what was danger and what was fantasy, but Dean had sat next to the kid and let him explain all the different gods until he fell asleep, and Dean moved him into the bed. 

There had been a lot of gods. The biggest thing Dean remembered thinking was that, for all of history, people had spent too much time worshipping things that didn’t fucking exist.

He knew he’d been right, now. 

Because in all of human history, nobody had ever seemed to work out what the closest thing to God actually looked like.

Her. 

It was—always had been—that fucking simple.  

It was just Her.

“Dean.” She whispered, and he gave Her a small grin.

“Hey, Princess. I-“ He had to keep it together. For Her. 

But that didn’t stop his voice from dropping to a rasp.

“I missed you.”

“I-“ Her lips tightened, wobbling slightly, and Her hand was lingering against his jaw.

Dean wished he had a good reason to turn it, and kiss Her palm. 

“I missed you too.”

He nodded slowly, holding his voice as he forced the words out. He had to ask. 

He had to know.

“Are you staying?”

Her breath hitched slightly. “Do you want me to stay?”

Dean nodded, because there was nothing else to do. “All the way down.” And before he could stop himself- “Please.”

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft. “All the way down.”

And that was it. They fought and screamed about this before, but it had ended the same way every time. 

They’d both stay.

All the way down. 

She cleared Her throat, scanning over his face. “Are you hungry?”

He’d never been hungrier. He’d never craved anything like he wanted to roll Her over right here, and claim his place fully as Her shadow. As he wanted to make Her feel good, take full care of Her, show Her how much he’d missed Her with his hands and tongue and- 

“Dean?” She whispered, and he sighed.

Not now. Not when the tears were still dry on Her face, and Dean was a little afraid She’d grow wings and fly away if he didn’t give Her enough of a reason to stay here in the mud, with him.

He’d show Her later. When things were easier, and She could pass out peacefully against him, after. 

“I could eat. Saw a gas station a mile or two back.” He offered Her a small grin. “You wanna drive, Princess?”

Her smile might have been bright enough to wipe the sun out of existence. 

Dean wouldn’t care if it did. 

At least She’d still be here, at his side. 

Right where they both belonged.

End Note: Becky I hope you know that you are now in danger. Eileen you've never done anything wrong in your life ever. Princess, you need like a nap and maybe some dick.

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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[jc-lambert]

To an Unknown Royal Court

Please forgive me: I am an American unknowledgeable of the royal structure of the two islands described as Ireland and Wales. I had never heard of you folks. Once again: my area is having a squabble between Mohawks and Kiowa, which can be worse that when romance humanity and judaica fight. So, I have to sit and debate life elsewhere outside of Wichita.

Princess Michael of Kent? Your name is Michael? You do not have a name? You're the higher court of angels aren't you? I've heard that such types don't have names at all… and if they did they wouldn't share them with the Luciferian Courts or the Courts of Man or Humanity.

(Im now reading that you where a Baroness named Marie)

Are you one of those non-human, non-persons from the Christian Courts of the Arc Angel Michael? That would mean you are from the same dimension and/or plane of existence as my grandparents. They where farmers who thought to move to America and claim lordship over Snowdonia while married into the gunpowder industry's corporate families. Due to allegations of witchcraft for that, I have to sit in Kiowa Territory unarmed as a prisoner of holy war. The city doubles as a compound for 5th Dimensional Creatures.

I would naturally propose an orgy between your people and mine in the spirit of business… however that might have me in trouble….

My grandmother married a Luinstra. I am sort of an heir of the city. I also just got done having my co-wife asassinated, Diane Luciferre au Delacroix of Baton Rouge. So we are to be described as right proper demonics who might have you in trouble just for contacting you.

Can I trade you mineral wealth in America and steal Antarctica from Princess Beatrix and give it to you in exchange for drugs, money, and this and that?

I read you are paying 120,000 pounds for rent. Do you have drug and digital resource? Rent that high has to be paid for and it would take gold and platinum to buy off the silver market, and gold and platinum can be had by the troy or metric ton for just hard work.

I need to be resourced so I can go elsewhere and do whatever alone and be with god so to speak.

Such a trade would be like giving you all of Sean O'Grady's gold. (leprechaun Irish gentleman: physically modified by witchcraft and science, over 100 years old looking less than 30)

Antarctica has platinum mines. More platinum than north america had gold.

If you want to take it from OTHER royal families and this and that….

I can provide the gunpowder.

I'm also told I am not able or allowed to give any claim of lordship over snowdonia or cardiff to Constable Arabella: a cousin who still lives there even if she is moreso a right proper good valid being than any of us ever where.

But seriously…. I would need resource to shop medicate, heal, and space to hangout. Local Authorities and churches have me dead in the water due to the way legal teams have circled me.

jc-lambert.tumblr.com

thats my web location for now… but the churches usually are at war with me and it's schedule to change.

Oh… thats right… Ladies from your culture aint to know anything of business or have business discussed infront of them?

Who would I speak to about the topic? You seem to have your own court rocking which would mean employees, but then too I do know how to be overproductive and have my own stuff and junk looking good when things arent. Like right now: I have a website, a phone number with my name in it, homeowner and heir of a whole city. However Im sleeping under the trees.

I do understand that most women do try to keep such things from their husbands so they can maintain an air of mystery and mystique.