s4turns-st4rs

[s4turns-st4rs]

hello! i'm not sure if you're still open to matchups, if not ignore me :3

for the fandoms, could i have harry potter, and/or shadow and bone???

. . .

she/her. pansexual. ravenclaw. intj, 5w6-sp/sx-541.

i guess you could say i'm an asocial individual, saying very little and am blunt with my words, preferring little to no social interaction with people (excluding those i'm close with). think things through before acting on a decision. i'm one to internalise my emotions, often getting lost in thought and intense feelings.

my friends say i'm grumpy but sweet. they say i'm on the logical side, not very emotionally expressive. the time i do talk a lot is when i'm blabbering about my interests to them.

short, 5'1". caramel coloured hair. blue-green eyes.

i enjoy reading, playing PvP video games, and watching films in my spare time. other times i'm probably looking up things about dinosaurs, space, or ocean animals. strenuous activities i enjoy are mountain biking (on kiddy trails ofc) and laser tag. hide and seek is my all time favourite childhood game, as well as World of Warcraft.

favourite movie genres tend to lean towards more action, horror and mystery. music-wise, definitely metal, rock, rnb, pop, and kpop. big on savoury foods, pretzels are my favourite snacks. i love strawberry milk and hate water. i am a big cat person, but i also love dogs. mice and rats too, as well as snakes and lizards. green is my favourite colour, i have a massive aversion to pink. big elf lover.

i don't have an ideal type appearance-wise. what attracts me is uniqueness, someone different. someone that isn't afraid to take the next step.

my ideal date? either laser tag, going to a carnival, or staying in and binging movies.

your happy potter match up is … neville longbottom !

𖦹 neville’s always been soft spoken, but your bluntness has been something he’s loved about you since the start.

𖦹 he’s always found it so attractive, your lack of fear when talking to others.

𖦹 you make him have movie marathons with you. he hates the action and the horror (he’d much rather watch an episode of gilmore girls) but it’s a brilliant excuse to cuddle you when the scary bits are on.

𖦹 he comes prepared to your movie nights, knocking on your dorm room door with hands full of snacks (pretzels, because he knows what you like), and pillows and blankets stuffed under his arms.

𖦹 LOVES that you love reading. every time he sees you, he makes sure to inquire about your latest read, and without fail, he always asks your thoughts, even if he doesn’t recognise the name.

𖦹 neville is into dinosaurs too. in a big way. the archaeopteryx is his favourite, if you were wondering.

𖦹 he’ll arrive in your dorm after spending hours in the library, carrying at least five different books, mostly of dinosaurs. or sea animals, or space. whatever he could find.

your shadow and bone match up is … nina zenik !

𖦹 nina LOVES going on outrageous dates with you. the most outlandish thing you can think of, she’ll take you there.

𖦹 she is equally adventurous, and would have no qualms about joining you on your mountain biking. even on the kiddy trails.

𖦹 afterwards, she buys you both strawberry milk. or, she buys one strawberry milk with two straws, and makes you share it with her like something straight out of a cringe 2000s rom-com. you complain, but she can see in your eyes that you love it.

𖦹 the moment you move in together, it’s like your home becomes an animal shelter. nina is just as much of an animal lover as you (if not more so), and every second day she arrives home with a new furry friend in her arm.

𖦹 she’s got always got some excuse, (“he just looked so sad!” or “she was the only one left!” or “he’s a rescue!”). every time they get less and less convincing, but she knows you’ll never really say no to an extra housemate or two.

𖦹 nina dresses up for an elf one halloween. if you’re looking could choose one outfit for her to wear for the rest of her life, that’d be it.

𖦹 also you’re absolutely kidding yourself if you don’t think nina would constantly take the piss about your noticeable height difference. you’re basically a walking arm rest for her.

a/n: girl this took so long… i am sorry… i hope it lives up the (embarrassing) wait.

[s4turns-st4rs]

ngl i had just watched marie antionette and scott pilgrim as well so i was on the look out for more jason schwartzman movies to watch

aaughhgahgghh he’s so good in all of them…

also if anyone wants to watch more jason i would absolutely recommend asteroid city he’s soooo brilliant in it !

[s4turns-st4rs]

tell me why your writing convinced me to watch rushmore for the first time 👀

…i loved it though

LMAO i’m glad my writing convinced you and you enjoyed it!! it’s such an underrated wes film i feel.

[s4turns-st4rs]

heyyyy could you please write literally anything roman roy related i’ve just got into the succession fandom

ofc i get if not but just wanted to send a request in

you wanna guess what me and roman have been textin’ about?

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒ roman roy oneshot﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: anon i am always happy to write for this freak.

requests are always open <3

in which: roman has never been one for self control, especially in the work place.

words: 1.1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: guess - charlie xcx & billie eilish

it’s almost the end of your shift when you finally return to your office from the third tiresome meeting of the day. the setting sun creeps in through the curtains, spilling across the carpeted floor, and the door is slightly ajar. roman’s been in, again. despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth at thought of your … insistent boyfriend.

it was almost admirable the extent to which he dedicated himself to annoying you at work, even at the expense of his own productivity. this time, there’s a post it note on your desk, his messy handwriting identifiable to you even from the doorway, and a bouquet of roses beside it.

you reach your desk, and read the post it note. in his scrawly handwriting, it read,

can’t wait for tonight, sexy. xx

god, he is incorrigible. but even you have to admit the roses do smell lovely. you take a moment, admiring the carefully wrapped bouquet, and the fraying ribbon that held them together. that’s how you know roman did it himself. but it touches you, that he decided to do diy it rather than paying someone to do it, like he would for anyone else. you sit on your desk, flipping the edge of the post it note back and forth as you stare the scrawled message.

you’re lost in your romantic reverie, before an infuriatingly familiar voice snaps you out.

“enjoy the gift, princess?”

you jump at the sound of roman’s voice, head shooting up to see him peering around the corner of your still ajar door.

your paranoia overrides the feeling of annoyance and reluctant appreciation, and you scan the building through the glass walls of your office. you know he doesn’t care that your relationship is supposed to be secret, but you do.

“it’s lovely.” you respond, cursing yourself for the genuine gratitude that shines clear as day through your words, despite roman’s teasing tone.

but instead of taking the piss like he usually does (and you expected him to), a little genuine smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“glad you like them.” he said, strutting over to you with infuriating smug confidence. too close. you can feel his warm breath tickling your face, and you know the sight would raise questions if anyone else saw.

he comes to stand between your thighs, his fingers immediately reaching out to feel your skin against his. you give him a look, a weak attempt to keep him professional, although you both know roman roy hasn’t been professional a day in his pathetic life.

he drops his head, his lips tickling against the skin of your jawline, down along the hollows of your throat. his hair is gelled, but stray strands still tickle your skin as he mouths your neck.

“your dad fucking scares me.” you say, eyes darting around the building, but your hands give you away, tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

roman manages a slight scoff, pulling away for a moment. “yeah, he fucking scares me too.” he lifts his head to look at you directly, his brown eyes making your stomach twist.

“… missed you like hell today.” he said, the raw honesty in his voice rare, but that made it all the more meaningful. it makes your heart swell, seeing the genuine emotion that only you seem to bring out of him. you go to respond, an attempt to validate his rare words of affection, before a voice rings out.

“roman!” kendall. from down the hall. that prick.

roman spins around, shooting you a teasing smirk, as he marches out of your office. it’s like a switch, the way he changes between the roman that you are familiar with, and the roman that panders to the expectations of the roys.

he pulls away from you, shooting a slightly apologetic look your way, knowing you don’t like being interrupted. kendall’s getting closer, you can both hear his brisk footsteps. roman looks at you once more, before taking a reluctant step back, and turning to go, as kendall comes into view.

“see ya later, bitch!” he calls out as he sways his hips through your door.

“bye, jerk.” you say, a fond smile on your face despite your words, knowing he can’t hear you anymore. he’s probably too busy yelling at kendall now.

greg is in your office now, sitting stiffly in the seat opposite you as you explain logan’s latest attempt at bold acquisition. his eyes wander, across the office, until they reach your phone, which lit up with three messages from a certain ‘roman♡ ’.

he looked back up at you, managing a croaky, nervous, “roman? are you— like, roman roman? roman roy?”

your eyes shoot to your phone at his words, hand snapping out to shut it off, and turn it face down on the desk. not that you didn’t trust greg, but it was unlikely he wouldn’t go snitch to his precious tom, who would in turn tell shiv, and so on so forth. you couldn’t afford it snowballing like that.

“no. … another roman.” you say, voice brisk.

greg nods, evidently keen not to get on your bad side. “right, yeah, of course.” he doesn’t believe you, of course, but he’s not willing to interrogate this any further. not at the risk of his job, anyway. he looks over at you, at your averted eyes, stiff shoulders and furrowed brow, evidently hiding something.

“… it’s okay… if it is … like, this roman. i won’t tell anyone.” greg says, eventually. “… mainly because he scares me.”

you look up at him, a hint of appreciation in your eyes. roman could be an intimidating figure, especially to someone like greg, who was … easily intimidated. you don’t respond verbally, but he nods in response, catching your drift.

there’s a moment of silence, before you start again.

“he’s not that bad.” you look up at greg, and spot roman in the office, making exaggerated kisses and suggestive references, blowing kisses in your direction, just outside your doorway. “once you get to know him.”

[s4turns-st4rs]

love is blind and you’re far too kind !

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒ max fischer headcannons﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: guys three guesses which film i’ve been obsessively watching this week. i am in my wes anderson era tho i feel and i need jason schwartzman in an all consuming way that i cannot explain in words. i know this will highkey flop so PLEASE lmk if you liked it. i will make more regardless. anyway, enjoy lovelies xxx

requests are always open <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: oh la la - faces

𖦹 max is so desperately pathetically down bad obsessed in love with you from the moment he sees you. it’s like he forgets about everything else; rushmore, his clubs, blume, miss cross, dirk’s fit mum, everything.

𖦹 you saw what he did for miss cross. none of that compares to what he plans for you.

𖦹 he writes you an eloquent, handwritten letter, proposing a date, a romantic picnic in the local park. he sneaks the envelope into your bag, along with an accompanying perfect rose.

𖦹 your first date is perfect. he brings you a bouquet, full to the brim with flowers he picked himself, and a basket full of food he and his father made over the weekend.

𖦹 max is an … extravagant lover. while he does not have the highest budget, the effort he puts into to every gift and display of affection is unparalleled.

𖦹 you help him study, an attempt (likely in vain) to get his grades up. although he spends most of the “study” time gazing longingly at you while you work on a particularly complex algebraic question.

𖦹 if you don’t think max would call you every pet name under the sun, you are wrong.

“good morning, my flower.” “afternoon, lovely.” “how are you, my princess?” “yes, my dear.”

𖦹 and everytime he delivers them with the same sheer honesty and adoration that makes your knees weak.

𖦹 max would give you the entire world if he could. you are his rushmore, after all.

[s4turns-st4rs]

rival!ben shelton who can’t help himself. he sees he and taylor townsend are scheduled to play you and jack draper in the mixed doubles final, and he won’t lie, he’s thrilled.

rival!ben shelton who knows the game is tense. tension is high, and the scoreboard is close. 6-7 (8,10) in the first. currently 6-6 (4,6). they could win this, and the thought of ben’s stupid smug face with the trophy makes your stomach churn. he hits a forehand, shooting past jack’s outstretched hand, but it’s long. but the umpire doesn’t seem to think so.

rival!ben shelton who’s all up in your personal space the moment you question the umpire’s call. but you’re just as determined as he, if not more so, unflinching despite his overwhelming proximity to you. he’s shirtless, teasing, and he knows it. he rolls his racket around in one hand, the other playing with the waistband of his shorts in a way that feels like cheating.

rival!ben shelton who gets an undeniable thrill knowing you haven’t moved away from him. his breath tickles your face as he argues. he lets his eyes drop down, raking over your figure just enough for you to notice, before they snap back to your face, dark brown eyes drilling into yours. he never spares the umpire a glance. it’s not about the title anymore.

[s4turns-st4rs]

sigh…

bf!carl morck who’s a little insecure about his greying hair. he was never particularly worried about getting old, but soon enough, he’s going to be on the job looking like a damn pensioner.

bf!carl morck who loves that you love his greying hair. it’s like you’ve got a sixth sense for it. you never mention it verbally, but whenever carl starts to feel self conscious, you’re there. whether you’re running your hands through his hair as you kiss on the sleepy sunday mornings, or helping him trim his salt and pepper beard on monday morning before he leaves for work, it always makes his heart swell.

bf!carl morck who doesn’t realise just how much you love his greying hair. how the strands fall into his eyes as he moves, the way his beard tickles whenever he kisses you, and how the grey brings out the colour of his piercing eyes. you’ve bagged yourself a silver fox, and you’ll be damned if you let the nursing home steal him away.

[s4turns-st4rs]

bf!carl morck who’s a little insecure about his greying hair. he was never particularly worried about getting old, but soon enough, he’s going to be on the job looking like a damn pensioner.

bf!carl morck who loves that you love his greying hair. it’s like you’ve got a sixth sense for it. you never mention it verbally, but whenever carl starts to feel self conscious, you’re there. whether you’re running your hands through his hair as you kiss on the sleepy sunday mornings, or helping him trim his salt and pepper beard on monday morning before he leaves for work, it always makes his heart swell.

bf!carl morck who doesn’t realise just how much you love his greying hair. how the strands fall into his eyes as he moves, the way his beard tickles whenever he kisses you, and how the grey brings out the colour of his piercing eyes. you’ve bagged yourself a silver fox, and you’ll be damned if you let the nursing home steal him away.

[s4turns-st4rs]

oh, what a curse it is be a lover girl !

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒ seamus finnigan headcannons for @eliibenkova﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: these lwk took forever… but they are here know! i hope you like them as much as i liked writing them. anyway, enjoy lovelies xxx

requests are always open <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: lover girl - laufey

𖦹 seamus LOVES seeing all your art. he thinks it’s fascinating the way you are able to express yourself in so many forms. he especially loves when you dance.

𖦹 the moment he finds out you like lilies, he buys you a bouquet. “just because.” he said. after that, they appear on every gift he gets you.

𖦹 seamus would do his best to help you during this or your sensory episodes … even if he doesn’t really know how to.

𖦹 whispering little words of advice as he runs his fingers up and down your arms, sweet nothings of support in his goosebump-raising accent, to make sure you’re okay.

𖦹 if you start bed rotting, seamus does his best to help you out of it. he’ll bring you food and water, remind you to sleep or brush your teeth, or he’ll will just stay beside you until you’re better.

𖦹 often when he’s bored, his fingers find their way into your hair, curling in dark strands of your grown out layers. one time, he tried to braid your hair, but it didn’t turn out as well as yours do. but you kept it in all day.

𖦹 he is SOSOSOSSOSOSOS happy you’re into pda bc girl there is not a moment were he’s not touching you. all the time.

𖦹 his freckled hands are constantly splaying across your skin, holding your hips to pull you closer to him, or an arm around your shoulders just to be close to you.

𖦹 he lwk loves that you’re a half blood because he can talk to you about his family, and you just get it. you know exactly what it’s like, and whenever he’s ranting, that cute nod of agreement thing you do makes his heart squeeze in a way no one else does.

𖦹 if you start speaking czech, seamus might just melt right there and then. he finds it unbelievably attractive, and will often ask you to speak so he can just listen, even if he doesn’t understand.

𖦹 he’ll ask you to teach him some words, struggling over pronunciation and stumbling over vowels. but he finally gets it right, shooting a smug smile at you, repeating the word like a prayer.

𖦹 and when you struggle with your english because you’re tired… don’t even get him started, he thinks it’s so cute. he listens close, trying to figure out exactly what you mean, but seamus’ vocabulary isn’t the most advanced, so the two of you often end up sitting together trying to remember the word you’re thinking of. <3

[s4turns-st4rs]

a blurb … i am taking carl reqs now … so feel free to share your thoughts …

just binged half of dept q with my dad … do we want carl morck fics … because i have some things to say ….

[s4turns-st4rs]

carl morck gets furious when you’re injured in an investigation. like, seeing red, blind fury, charging bull type of furious.

he immediately demands moira put him on the investigation, animatedly vowing to find whoever fucking bastard had the nerve to attack you. despite moira noting a level of … general emotion from carl that she’d never seen before, he was denied, along the grounds of it being “too personal.” bollocks, carl thought. but he thought that about a lot of things.

when he wasn’t with you in the hospital, sneaking you beers and copies of case files, he was at the station, hovering over the detectives, making snide remarks and snarky comments as he tried in vain to snoop on the progress of the investigation.

he was like the worst backseat driver ever.

“well, don’t you think that…?” “didn’t you notice…?” “you should look into…”

despite everyone’s … irritation at him and his constant interruptions, he is determined to contribute as much as possible to your case. because you’re his friend. and that’s what friends do, right?

[s4turns-st4rs]

just binged half of dept q with my dad … do we want carl morck fics … because i have some things to say ….

[s4turns-st4rs]

prompt 6 w/ dean winchester ♡

i wound up here (by holdin’ on) !

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒ dean winchester oneshot﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: au! where dean went to stanford for a bit before returning to hunting when john went missing. the timeline is a bit confusing, sorry lol. lots of stuff in the drafts, so stay tuned! anyway, enjoy lovelies xxx

this request is from my 100 follower special, which is also still open !

requests are always open <3

in which: this is the last time sam gets dean to book the motel.

words: 2.1k 🤡

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: wound up here (by holdin’ on) - wednesday

♪ you reappear before i noticed you were gone ♪

it’s dark, cold, and damp when dean and sam winchester emerge from the vampires’ nest. former vampires’ nest. they’re all gone now, thanks to the brothers.

they make their way out onto the empty street, streetlights shining on the otherwise dark road, soft rain pattering onto the concrete.

dean takes in the sight of sam, shirt torn, blood smeared on his face. dean can’t tell if the blood is sam’s or the vampires, and he doesn’t know which one he’d prefer.

“wow. you look like crap, dude.”

sam responds with a short “could say the same for you.” but before dean even had a chance to think of a comeback, sam started again.

“did you, uh, book that motel room, like i said?” sam asks. there’s a long moment of silence. too long. dean’s lack of response is enough. sam’s head falls back with an exhausted huff, exhaling a cloud of fog into the cold night air.

immediately, dean raises his hands in defence.

“it was full!”

sam doesn’t look impressed. he cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at dean, about to go on some long winded criticism, before dean starts again.

“alright, alright, i messed up. but i can get us an even better place to stay.”

sam raised his eyebrow, skepticism clear as day across his face, but didn’t respond, waiting for dean to elaborate on his genius idea. but the elder brother didn’t, just turning on his heel and marching towards the impala like a man on a mission. sam, despite his reluctance, jogged to catch up with him, muttering something about “one job” and “useless siblings” to which dean paid no mind.

the two of you had first met when john had first taken dean to california for a job. dean was 6, so sam would’ve been 2. he couldn’t remember, but that weekend had been playing on loop in dean’s brain since the day he left.

john winchester wasn’t much for fun, but dean had been allowed a brief stop in the park on the way back to their motel room after a successful mission. he spent most of the time just watching, observing the other kids — obviously unaware that it made him seem like a total weirdo — until he spotted you. he watched you try to play with a group of boys, suggesting a game of football, but you were quickly dismissed by the unruly group of young boys. something along the lines of “girls can’t play.”

this made six year old dean’s blood boil. he marched right over there, ready to pick a fight. but he stopped when he saw you, now alone in the corner of the park, kicking at some dirt. he watched the dirt coat your cute pink sneakers for a moment, and jogged over to you. he went to offer you a game, but realised he had no ball, and sheepishly recounted this to you. his heart swelled when you suggested you play together anyway, and the two of you played together until the sun went down and your parents dragged you kicking and screaming (quite literally) away from each other.

dean knew he wasn’t meant for stanford. he could feel it, the moment he enrolled in this stupid degree. the sports field was the only place he felt sort of in his element, with his starring on the football team. and maybe he liked the cheerleaders too, sue him.

on wednesday, he left another lecture, feeling more confused than he’d entered. screw this, maybe he’d go back to the old ways. go back to john. back to hunting.

the bump on his head knocked him out of his conflicted maelstrom of hypotheticals, and he looked up, resting a hand on his head. that was going to bruise.

he looked up to your sheepish face, shifting on your feet in slight embarrassment. you managed a “uh, sorry.” butterflies filled his stomach at the sound of your voice, his heart pattering in his chest a hundred times faster than it should be.

“nah, s’alright.” he said with a shrug, shifting his bag on his back. “do i, uh, know ya?”

his eyes watched your face as your brow furrowed, clearly trying to figure out if you were meant to recognise him. the silence stretched on for too long, and he mentally berated himself. now he looks stupid and desperate.

he watches you think, head tilted in thought and sneakers scuffing against the wooden floor of the hallway. the sight of it was like a flash, and his eyes snapped open.

“oh my god, i remember ya! from the park!”

he watches your face change again, realisation sparking in your eyes. you nod enthusiastically, and your agreement sent a wave of relief through him.

rekindled, the two of you were glued at the hip for the larger part of dean’s brief college stint. he spent much time hanging out with you, in the library, helping you study, or looking in vain at his own research project, before promptly dismissing it in favour of watching you.

it felt like dean’s cliched heaven, spending days on end with you. he felt as close to normal as he ever had. he didn’t think he wanted it, until he had it. and it made him feel complete.

until john went missing.

he didn’t tell you why he left. he didn’t tell you he was going to leave. he just waited until the dorm lights were off, packed his bags, and off he went. you asked around, and sam had left the same night too. family business, you supposed. and you were right, in a way.

he reached up, and rapped his knuckles on the wood of your door. it takes a moment, and dean feels sam’s expectant eyes drilling into him from behind. but the sound of soft pattering footsteps approaching your door from inside make his shoulders relax.

”dean winchester as i live and breathe.” you say as you open your apartment door, surprise evident in your expression.

the two brothers stood in your doorway, bruised, bloody and dripping on your welcome mat, like two infuriatingly adorable stray puppies.

dean feels a stab of guilt at the sight of you, messy hair, tired eyes, and wrinkled pjs. he’d forgotten most people weren’t up until the crack of dawn. but he wasn’t most people. and he knew full well that you weren’t either.

you usher the two brothers inside, putting the kettle on and setting up the spare bed. depsite your reassurances that it’s really no bother, the guilt lingers.

your kitchen is small and quiet, but warm. it’s a nice change for dean, who’d admittedly spent the last seven years in shabby motels with tiny, damp, mouldy kitchenettes. he watched the clock above the fridge tick, the only noise in the otherwise silent room, the time 1:27 clear on the clock face. he must be a madman, showing up at this time. you must be too, letting them stay here at this time.

silence engulfs him, the warm cup of coffee you made him providing a comfort in his cold palms. his gaze turns to the window, looking down onto the silent, still street. maybe if he’d stuck around, this could’ve been him, too. rented apartment, two cats with you. it’s not exactly white picket fence, marriage and kids, but it sounds pretty damn nice to him.

he’s snapped out of his fantastical reverie when he hears a quiet voice behind him.

“why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood?”

he turns, and you’re there. in your warm pyjamas. looking the same as he remembered you, yet, so different. he realises he hasn’t yet responded, and manages a hoarse “just my luck, princess.”

you shoot him an unimpressed look at the pet name. you haven’t been called that in years. he gives you a sheepish pout in response, but doesn’t apologise.

the two of you fall into silence. dean can’t tell if it’s comfortable or not. he taps his foot on the wooden floor, biting at his lip and averting his eyes. he had forgotten how tongue tied and useless you made him feel.

you watch him, the way his familiarly piercing green eyes wander anywhere except for your face.

“… it’s good to see you.” you regret the words the moment they spill from your mouth. good. it feels good to see dean winchester the same way it feels good to poke a bruise, or press your nail into an itchy mosquito bite. because even if it does feel good now, it’ll only make it worse later. and you know that all too well. both of you do.

you watch him, the way he winces when he moves, the split in his lip, and the bruise slowly blossoming on his cheekbone. moving on its own, your hand reaches out, lingering just before his cheek. when your fingers graze his skin, you snap out of it, snatching your hand back, and away from the allure of his soft, tan, freckled skin. you run a hand through your hair, willing them to stay firmly by your sides.

“… are you going to tell me how this happened? or are you going to pretend forever?”

he bristles slightly at your words. “i ain’t pretendin’.”

“dean.” you say, and he can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine at the sound of his name on your lips, in your beautiful accent, with that firm tone.

“… i can’t tell ya, princ— y/n.” the nickname nearly slips out before he corrects himself, with a cough.

“how stupid do you think i am?” you ask quietly. he did this all time, you remember it clearly. the vague, recycled excuses whenever there’d be a new scar, standing out against the scatter of cuts and bruises that littered his body. “i know something is happening. so tell me what it is.”

dean can’t deny the firmness in your voice, no matter how much he wills himself to stay strong. he knows it’s better for you to stay out of this, but he can’t help himself anymore.

so he tells you. everything. about sammy, about his dad, about demons, and angels, about castiel. he even manages to tell you about hell, eyes wandering across the magnets on your fridge to avoid facing the pity that lay in your eyes.

he finishes, looking at the clock that now reads 2:36. over an hour. he spoke for over an hour. selfish bastard.

when he finally managed to tear his eyes away, he forced himself to look at you. you hadn’t said anything yet. that was worse than any yelling or freaking out.

you don’t even know how to respond. and dean isn’t surprised. he probably sounds insane. but the emotion in your eyes makes him hope that you believe him.

he runs a hand through his hair, exasperation noticeable in his expression in a way that only you have learnt to read.

“i shouldn’t’ve come here. i shouldn’t’ve brought sammy. it was stupid and selfish, i’m sorry—”

you interrupt him almost immediately, responding firmly. “no. i’m glad you came. really.” you say, and this time, you think you really mean it.

he stills at your words. it’s clear from his face he doesn’t believe you, the guilt still gnawing in his gut.

“… i believe you.” you say, because that’s all that you can think of to say that doesn’t sound stupid.

dean swallows. it’s been a long time since he’s heard that, and god, he’d be lying if it didn’t feel like a weight off his shoulders. the sigh that escaped his lips feels like a physical relief, and his body deflates, shoulders dropping and head falling forward.

your body moves without hesitation, arms reaching out to wrap around him. dean’s body melts in your arms, and for once, he lets himself relax. his head falls into the crook of your neck, slotting in like the final missing piece of a puzzle that had plagued you for all the years he’d been gone. he is cold, despite the warmth of the kitchen, and his exhaling breaths make you shiver.

“… i missed this.” he managed, voice muffled by your skin against his lips. he knows it’s stupid, but the feel of you feels like home. it makes him forget everything that’s plagued him for so long, and it feels like an overwhelming relief just to hold you again.

“this?”

“… you. i missed you.”

[s4turns-st4rs]

bf!max fischer who kinda acts like a creep when he first falls for you. you’re a new student, and he promptly volunteers to give you the grand tour of his beloved rushmore. he can’t help being a bit showboaty, regaling you with the details of his many achievements at the school. you can’t blame him, after all, he did save latin.

bf!max fischer who takes notice of you. filing anything and everything away in his mental book of ‘details and facts regarding the gorgeous new student’. it’s full to the brim, answers to seemingly inconsequential questions. but it wasn’t inconsequential. not to him.

bf!max fischer who is only just recovering from his world-shattering crush on miss cross, and you seem like the perfect person to let ruin his life again. except … you don’t. you don’t reject his advances, or his gifts, or his endless creation of clubs and teams in regard to your hobbies and interests.

bf!max fischer who feels a little light headed when you agree to his proposal, an elaborate date at the restaurant down the road that sells your favourite italian desserts. he can thank the mental book for that one. biscotti, mentioned thrice during the weekly astronomy society meeting, 26/8/98.

bf!max fischer who is a surprisingly good boyfriend. not that you had low expectations, necessarily, but the few signs he showed of sociopathy had deterred you slightly. he pays close attention to the details of you, knowingly aware of your likes, dislikes, hobbies, tells and green flags. he makes sure to emphasise his. but he knows you’ll love him regardless.

[s4turns-st4rs]

your camera roll with roman roy as your boyfriend !

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ if someone’s god really made you look that pretty, i would throw my back out prayin’

[s4turns-st4rs]

HI hi hi so this is gonna come across strangely but do you happen to be a catfish and the bottlemen fan? i came across a dean x reader post, something bout photos you’d take, and the caption-y thing was a lyric from hourglass and i had a little heart attacky thing cause dean winchester + catfb especially hourglass!!! holy cow. anyways uh sorry for the mini rant but i am easily excitable

yesss oh my god !! i was meant to see them last year but they cancelled 😔 but yeah dean is sosoooosososo hourglass to me and i’m so happy people understand the vision

[s4turns-st4rs]

1k notes???? this is so insane i’m so glad you’re all as weird about dean as i am ♡

your camera roll with dean winchester as your boyfriend !

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ and i’m so impatient when you’re not mine i just wanna catch up on all the lost times