#PSA please be careful of mirrors and glass walls

[entertainment]

By popular demand (a reblog from @doodleswithangie) we present the ✨Concussion Cut✨ of Ben Schwartz's (@rejectedjokes) Renfield (@i-am-renfield) Answer Time interview with @overchers.

[skiller0dani]

Palace Garden | General Kirigan

M A S T E R L I S T Shadow and Bone Masterlist

smut requests info w.c | 4.8k summary | You are the General’s personal Healer, he doesn’t go anywhere without you. So when General Kirigan is invited to the King Pyotr’s annual ‘end of year’ party at the Grand Palace, you join him. Except the King’s second son, Nikolai, takes a special interest in you. 

song

My Shadow and Bone pieces will probably include Spoilers from the SHOW. I have not yet read the books, I have only read through most of Six of Crows. I’m finishing that book as we speak, I have only seen the Shadow and Bone tv show, I haven’t read the books. 

PSA: I write with limited knowledge of who Nikolai Lantsov is, although I know he is royalty (King of Ravka I believe) but in the show he isn’t the King, so I made him a Prince. Don’t be mad at me, this is all for fun and it’s FICTION. 

“You’ve received another invitation from the King, just how long do you plan to ignore him?” You snicker as you drop a letter onto the General’s desk. It’s an invitation to King Pyotr’s End of Year Celebration, attended by decorated Soldiers from both the First and Second Army, and hopefully the esteemed General. The previous year the General had ‘urgent’ matters to attend to so he was unable to attend the dreaded party in his words. In truth you always had fun at the King’s Celebrations so you didn’t know what always soured his fun. 

“Until the day after next.” His shoulders were rigid and his tone was clipped. 

“General, tonight is the Celebration. You must answer the King by then, you know that.” You chuckled with a roll of your eyes, watching as the General begrudgingly tore open the envelope. You watched as his eyes scanned the paper in front of him, his eyebrows pinching together in frustration. 

“General?” You knew it was unwise to engage him when he was in a state of agitation but in all honesty, you didn’t fear him the way everyone else did. General Kirigan swiftly ignored you and reached for a pen, and upon further examination your eyes caught your name written on the letter from the King. 

‘I am most eager to meet your esteemed Healer, Y/N.’ 

The General tends to get a tad, possessive, of the things he deems belong to him. You were one the things the General had claimed as his own, and anybody who shows a particular interest in you tends to annoy him. You can see the tension growing in his shoulders, and while you might not know how deeply he cares for you, you know he sees you as more than just his Healer. Hopefully, he sees you as a sort of friend as well. 

“Are we going to attend the Celebration General?” You ask cautiously, watching as Kirigan’s expression shifts from mildly annoyed to thoroughly agitated. You make sure to keep at least one foot distance between you and the General at all times, he tends to be a bit unpredictable when he’s upset. You watch as the General stands, yanking at the buttons of his Kefta before tossing the heavy fabric onto his bed. 

“Yes, we are. Apparently both Princes will be in attendance.” The General says through a huff, reaching for his dress jacket- the black one with gold detailing he wears for social events. The Princes? Neither of the Princes have been spotted inside the Grand Palace for a few months now, it’s no wonder the King has chosen tonight for the Celebration. The end of the year isn’t for a few weeks and normally the Celebration is closer to the years change. You try to mask the mild excitement you feel at the prospect of meeting either of the Princes, although you don’t hear much about Prince Vasily. Most of the young Grisha women training in the Little Palace whisper about Prince Nikolai. 

“Does this please you?” The General asks, his tone distracted as he finishes buttoning his Kefta in the mirror. You shake your head, your eyes briefly catching his. 

“I couldn’t care either way General.” You say with a shrug, and you swear you see the tiniest smile grace the corner of his lips. For as long as you could remember you’ve had a thing for the General, what women wouldn’t? He’s tall, handsome, has dark hair, dark eyes, and he’s powerful. You doubt some Prince could ever compare to General Kirigan, not that you’re hoping one will. A Tailor swiftly enters the General’s chambers then, her eyes landing on you. 

“A package has come for Y/N sir, and she should be getting ready for the party soon.” She says, her eyes only briefly meeting the General’s before flickering back towards the floor. His eyebrows stitch together when he sees the box she holds. You reach for it before his hand raises, “give it to me.” He instructs sternly. The Tailor quickly hands the package to the General and you see an unreadable expression pull onto his face. He plucks a note from the top lid of the package, and hands it to you before opening the package. 

I await our meeting with bated breath dear Y/N. 

- Prince Nikolai

Inside the package is easily the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen. It’s blood red with silver detailing, and it goes all the way to the floor. You take the dress from the General, stroking the smooth silk. He can see the twinkling in your eyes as you eye the gift from the Prince, it sends surges of frustration through his tightening chest. The Tailor ushers you into the General’s bathroom so you can change, and the General turns his back for privacy. It’s been like this for some time now, you hardly ever get ready for social events in your own room anymore. You’d been the General’s Healer for quite a few years now, and on more than one occasion he’s had to provide some Healing for you as well. He’s seen your entire upper torso bare from when he had to heal a stab wound through your chest. Needless to say, you were probably too comfortable in the presence of the General. 

You stepped out of the bathroom and the General turned, his eyes landing on you. For a second he didn’t know what to say, you were absolutely stunning. Your hair had been let in loose curls down your back, normally you wore it up and out of the way so he didn’t normally get to admire your hair falling around your face. The dress hugged each of your curves beautifully, but the color was irritating him. Surely it was tailored to match whatever the Prince was wearing and General Kirigan couldn’t let that slide. 

“Well? Am I presentable?” You ask the General, knowing you’ll need his say-so  before you’re party ready. 

“Nearly.” The General says, his voice trailing off into a whisper as he leans over towards the Tailor. You can see her smile but it’s quickly masked, and you don’t know what he’s saying to her. Quickly the Tailor ushers you back into the bathroom and fumbles around for a few things from her kit. She turns back to you with concentration on her face and soon the appearance of your dress begins to change. The red color fades away and is replaced with an inky black color, and the silver detailing morph into gold detailing. Soon the dress remains mostly the same, except for the fact that it matches the Kefta the General is wearing. When you step out of the bathroom again, you see a pleased look upon the General’s face. 

“Now you’re ready.” 

»»————-　✼　————-««

Your arm was hooked with the Generals as you entered the main hall of the Grand Palace, your eyes immediately traveling to all the ornate decorations covering the walls. Decorated window curtains, glass chandeliers, a wide ballroom laid out in front of you. It was crowded with people, a soft Orchestra playing in the background, and soft chatter. The General wore an easy smile across his face. He was keeping up appearances, you know he didn’t want to be here. His arm held you to his side tightly, and looming before you was the throne for the King and Queen. Stood on each side of them were the Princes, Vasily stood next to the King, and Nikolai next to the Queen. The King looked positively delighted to see the General. 

“General Kirigan! Good you could make it. You remember my sons Vasily and Nikolai don’t you?” The King gestured to both of the Princes, and while Vasily regarded the General with a polite smile, Nikolai’s eyes were firmly on you. 

“Yes of course, allow me to introduce the Princes to my Personal Healer- Y/N.” General Kirigan sounds almost proud as he introduces you, and you bow for the Princes who both send you a smile. Although Nikolai’s smile is flirtier then this brothers, who remains polite. The Queen’s eyes trail down your gown, noticing the slight shimmer to the fabric. 

“Your dress is lovely, you must have had a good Tailor.” She smiles and you blush as you take your place next to the General, your arm slipping through his with ease. 

“Well actually it was a gift from Prince Nikolai. T-Thank you for such a generous gift!” You inform her shyly, feeling General Kirigan’s body go slightly rigid beside you. You carefully peek at the General, and you notice he’s locked in a heated stare-down with Prince Nikolai. 

“You’re very welcome, did the color not suit you?” He asks and it’s just now that you notice the Kefta he’s wearing matched your dresses previous color perfectly. 

“Oh not at all-” 

“I thought it would be better for my Healer to match my Kefta, your highness.” The General cuts in, his voice polite but firm. The General says it as if you should match because you’re his Healer but you know what he’s really saying. He’s telling the Prince he wanted you to match his Kefta and not Nikolai’s, General Kirigan is saying that you belong to him and the Prince knows that.  

“Of course.” The Prince’s tone is tense, and the smile on his face looks practiced. You stay firmly placed by the Generals side, offering a polite smile as the General nearly drags you away from the royalty and further into the party. You can feel the frustration washing off the General in waves, your hand curling around his bicep a little tighter as a weak attempt to calm him. Kirigan almost cant stand the sight of you wearing a dress the Prince picked for you, but seeing the Princes face when he realized the dress he picked no longer matched his Kefta, but the General’s instead was wonderful enough to make up for it. 

“General? I apologize but you’re needed urgently-” A Grisha solider pushes gently through the crowd and begins to whisper hastily in the General’s ear. You see annoyance cross onto the General’s face before he shoos the Grisha away. He turns towards you, leaning down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear. The small action sends shivers down your spine. 

“Can you manage by yourself for a few minutes? There’s something I need to attend to, but I should be back shortly.” He whispers and you quickly offer him a nod before slipping your arm from his. General Kirigan shoots you an apologetic look before following the path the Grisha took before he disappears from sight. You hold a glass in your palm, although you’re not sure what the shimmering liquid is. You feel slightly out of place, and everyone steers clear of you. They saw you with the General, and are probably going to continue to ignore you to prevent receiving the Generals wrath.

“Y/N, right?” You hear a voice to your right and you know who it is before you even turn. Only one person is brave enough to approach somebody the General has placed an ‘unspoken’ claim on. 

“Prince Nikolai.” You smile politely, taking a step to the side to create a small amount of distance from you and the Prince. He sips at his glass, a twinkling of mischievousness in his eyes. 

“So tell me the real reason the color of your dress was altered. I thought we would have complimented each other nicely.” His voice is smooth like honey, his eyes a cool amber. It’s not that you find the Prince unattractive, quite the opposite actually. You just aren’t interested in him that way, and his good looks could never compare to General Kirigan. The Prince is clean cut and refined, while the General is rugged and untamed. They’re opposites in every way, and you just can’t be attracted to anybody else. Prince Nikolai could never compare to the General. 

“I apologize Prince Nikolai, but I wanted to match the General.” You say with ease, finally allowing yourself to take a sip of the mystery drink in your hand. A look you can’t place briefly crosses over Prince Nikolai’s face, if you didn’t know any better you’d say he looked hurt. 

“I see.” Is all he says and for the next few minutes you feel a tense silence before a hand presses against the small of your back. You turn your head and nearly breathe a sigh of relief. 

“General.” You smile, although his eyes are firmly on Prince Nikolai. His hand gently pulls you closer to his side, and your heart races the tiniest bit faster when his hand curls around your hip to rest there. You know you and the General aren’t together, but the placement of his hand tells people otherwise. You lean further into his side, and you can feel his body relax ever-so-slightly as you do so. When the Orchestra plays a slow song, General Kirigan glances down at you with a raised brow. 

“Prince Nikolai, if you’ll excuse us.” General Kirigan says when you notice other couples moving to the dance floor, including the King and Queen. He turns then and leads you out to the ballroom floor, his hand pressing against your lower back, holding your chest flush with his. He takes your hand with his free hand and soon you are both gently swaying to the music. The lights in the ballroom dim, the stars twinkling outside becoming even brighter. 

“General, could I ask you a question?” You ask softly, relaxing into his embrace. When you hear him hum softly in response you turn your head up to look at him, he towers over you. You nibble on your bottom lip, your heart beginning to race like mad in your chest. His grip on your palm shifts to allow his fingers to lace through yours gently. 

“Why does Prince Nikolai make you so...upset?” You ask, and deep down you know the answer. You just need him to say it. General Kirigan’s eyes flicker to meet yours, an expression on his face that you can’t read. His body presses more firmly against yours when his hold on your lower back tightens, pulling you even closer to him then you were before. You wished you could stay here in this moment with him forever, just the two of you and nobody else. You know that in your heart, you’ve fallen in love with General Kirigan but you doubt he’d ever feel the same way. 

“Because I dislike the amount of attention he gives you.” General Kirigan admits, his eyes turning away from yours. You thumb rubs circles over the back of his hand subconsciously as your mind tries to grasp what he just said. 

“Prince Nikolai could devote his entire life to attempting to impress me, and it would make no difference General.” You say softly, drawing his gaze back to yours. Your faces are nearly touching, your noses brushing against each others as you lean up on your tippy toes to be closer to him. 

“Why not?” He can’t help himself as he asks, surely there’s not a chance you could ever feel for him what he feels for you. Part of him hates himself for being so weak, for allowing his heart to care for you, for allowing a weakness to crawl into his heart. 

“Because he could never mean to me what you mean to me General, no matter how hard he tries...he could never be you.” You whisper softly, your cheeks burning hot and your eyes refusing to meet his. General Kirigan feels every emotion he’s tried to push away flood through him then, joy, excitement, glee, pure happiness. A small smile overtakes his face as he leans down to whisper in your ear for the second time tonight. 

“Aleksander.” 

“What?” You’re startled to say the least, pulling back to look into his eyes. Did he just...? 

“That’s my name.” He clarifies, a full smile on his face now. You feel your heart pounding heavily in your chest when you suddenly hear a loud explosion. Startled, you push yourself into General- Aleksander’s chest. His arms curl around your body as the floor to ceiling windows are thrown open, and fireworks are seen outside. Immediately people flood out onto the Palace garden to view the fireworks, and Aleksander is gently leading you outside with them. Your hand is still locked with his as your head tips up to watch the colors explode in the sky. The Alkemi really pulled all the stops for this firework show. Your breath is stolen right from your lungs as you watch the fireworks go off, but soon you feel Aleksander’s fingers turning your face to look at him. Your eyes lock onto his before you’re leaning forward to connect your lips to his. 

His arms wrap around your torso to pull you against him tighter, your arms flying up around his shoulders. You hear the fireworks exploding above you and the cheering of the crowd around you, but soon all of them fade away until it’s just you and Aleksander out in the garden alone. You don’t notice the people cheering for the fireworks around you, and you certainly don’t notice Prince Nikolai eyeing you with a broken heart from across the garden. He’s heard much of your victories in battle, and he knows more about you then you thought. When you part from Aleksander, you see a smile on his face and you know that same smile is mirrored on your own face. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

By the time you make it back into Aleksander’s room, the moon is at it’s peak in the sky but you don’t feel tired. You stand shyly in his doorway, usually this is around the time you’d bid the General goodnight and begin the short trek to your room. But you’re not ready to say goodnight, you’re not ready for tonight to be over just yet and you can only hope he isn’t either. You bite the inside of your cheek just as you turn to head back into the hallway. 

“Leaving so soon?” You hear his voice cut through the silence, and when you turn you see hurt flashing in his eyes. Does he want you to stay? 

“I assumed you’d want me to go...like I normally do.” You say softly, your cheeks burning hot. 

“Stay.” Is all he says, and it’s all you need to hear. You take a few steps into his room, shutting the door softly behind you. Aleksander crosses the room to you, his hands cupping your cheeks and pulling your lips back onto his. Your hands grab at the lapels of his Kefta, drawing him ever closer to you. His lips move languidly against yours before the kiss grows more desperate, his hands yanking your legs around his waist as he lifts you easily. His palms rest on the globes of your ass, quickly turning you and placing you down on the desk, not caring about the papers that are sent scattering off the desk. Your hands are trembling as your fingers work to unfasten the buttons of his Kefta. His hands don’t know where to touch first, gently grasping at the underside of your breasts before trailing down your curves, feeling how the dress hugs you so perfectly. 

“G-General!” You gasp as his lips latch onto your pulse point, his hands digging into your hips. You finally unbutton his Kefta completely, pushing the fabric from his shoulders as soon as it’s freed. You yank at his dress shirt until its untucked from his pants, and his hands reach up your back to pull at the zipper securing your dress. 

“Desperate?” Aleksander teases as he slowly pulls the zipper down your dress, the shoulders falling down your arms. You nod frantically, in truth you’ve never felt this desperate for anybody in your whole life. Your palms cup his cheeks, pulling his lips back to yours as his hands pull your dress down your body until it bunches at your waist. You’re practically panting against his lips as one of Aleksander’s hands slides up your thigh before he pulls away from you. He pulls back, just far enough that your lips can’t reach his. You try anyway, leaning forward and chasing his lips with an open mouth. He chuckles softly but stays just out of reach. 

“What’s wrong?” You whine, your hands resting on his shoulders. Aleksander has a smile on his face, his hands are still on your hips, holding you tightly. He can’t believe that you’re here in front of him, letting him kiss you, letting him undress you. If only you knew all of the terrible things he’s done with the very same hands that are touching you, you’d probably want nothing to do with him. Aleksander brushes that thought away. 

“Nothing, I just wanted to take in the moment.” He smiles but you groan, pulling helplessly at his shirt. He chuckles before leaning back towards you, pressing his lips to yours again. He loves that you’re so eager for him, so needy for him. Aleksander finishes pushing your dress down your legs, leaving you in nothing more than a pair of panties. His hands reach up to cup the underside of your breasts, his lips moving quickly against yours. Your hands reach to the hem of his shirt, and you part briefly to pull his dress shirt over his head. 

“Sure about this?” Aleksander mumbles against your lips as his hand dips into your panties to drag a finger through your drenched folds. You nod helplessly against his lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders when he pushes a lewd finger into your tight opening. He thrusts his finger into you quickly, loving the desperate whines coming from your lips. 

“Words please.” He says softly, quickly pressing a second finger into you. Your nails press crescent moons into his shoulders when he crooks his fingers into you, making you squeal. 

“Yes, yes I’m sure about this.” You gasp, his thumb making contact with your clit and rubbing tight little circles. Your lips press firmly to his again, and he swallows all of your moans. Aleksander groans softly when he feels you grind your hips into his hand, your back arching as his other hand slides up your stomach to pinch your nipple. 

“God all I want is you Aleksander-” You moan, saying his real name for the first time. Hearing you moan his name has shivers trembling down his back, and his fingers pulling out of your tight heat. Your hands are reaching for the waistband of his pants, fumbling with the button before you give up and Aleksander is swatting your hands away. He quickly undoes his pants and reaches into them to pull his hardening cock out. With one hand, he rips your panties from your body, leaving you naked and sprawled across his desk. It’s not a sight he’ll ever forget. He steps into your spread legs, one hand on his cock and the other hand on your hip as he presses his tip against your slippery folds. Your hands pull his chest against yours as you press your face into his neck when he pushes into you. Both of you release a moan simultaneously when you feel him stretching you open. 

“Please tell me this isn’t a one time thing-” 

“Stop talking.” He growls before pressing his lips against yours as he continues to work himself inch by inch into you. You mewl against his lips as he bottoms out, his tip nestled against the spot that makes your toes curl. It burns just a bit, but you’re still panting against him as he stays completely still inside you. You try to pull your hips back but his hands lock you in place, a playful smile on his face as he watches you roll your hips. His pupils are blown open in lust as he holds you against him, and he feels you growing wetter by the second. You want him to move so badly, you feel tears of frustration pushing at the backs of your eyes as you weakly try to once again get him to move inside you. 

“Move please.” You beg shamlessly and Aleksander presses a quick kiss to your lips. 

“You have to promise me something first.” He says softly and you groan, rolling your hips desperately again. He’s so hard inside you, you can feel your walls squeezing him tightly. 

“Anything!” You nearly cry out, you ignore him when you hear him chuckle softly. 

“Promise me that you’re mine. I can’t have anybody else seeing you this way.” Aleksander growls, starting to feel a little impatient himself. Your hands pull his bare chest against yours, your lips a hair’s distance away from his. 

“I promise. I’m yours, only yours.” You promise, your hips wriggling against his once more. Seemingly satisfied, Aleksander pulls his hips back and slams back into you, causing you to cry out as he sets a brutal pace. He slams into you, ramming his tip against your g-spot repeatedly. You cry out as his lips latch onto your neck, leaving bruises in his wake as he bites and suckles any skin he can find. Your arms wind around his shoulders as he slams into you, reducing you to nothing more than a boneless moaning mess underneath him. Your lips press to his and you kiss him with a fiery passion, your body rocking against his. Suddenly Aleksander pulls out, gently yanking you off the desk to bend you over it. Your toes barely touch the ground before he’s sliding into you again, taking you roughly from behind. You hear him hiss through clenched teeth as his hand runs up your spine to twist your hair around his hand. He yanks you up onto your elbows by your hair, holding you in place as he keeps his brutal pace. 

“Oh yes, yes-” All you can do is cry out and moan underneath him, all of your thoughts reduced to nothing more than endless praises to his cock. His grip on your hair loosens before your upper body collapses against the desk again, and his hands move instead to your hips to draw your body back against him to meet his thrusts. Pulling you back against him allows him to ram even deeper inside you, and you can feel his tip hit your cervix every time he thrusts into you. One of his hands reaches around your body to pinch and roll your clit and as soon as he does you’re crying out and moaning like a bitch in heat. His teeth are clenched as he groans above you, you feel absolutely heavenly. 

“Fuck, fuck! Gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” You cry out helplessly, your hip bones screaming in pain every time they’re rammed against the edge of the desk. Aleksander doesn’t slow down even for a second, continuing to brutally pound into you, desperate to chase his own release. Aleksander yanks your torso up so that your back is pressed to his chest and one of his hands reaches down to roll your clit. You cry out desperately as your orgasm washes through you, causing you to clamp down around him tightly. Aleksander fucks up into you, slamming into your overstimulated body until you’re violently trembling and soon he’s cumming in hot spurts. Your exhausted body nearly collapses to the floor when he pulls out and steps away. Aleksander immediately reaches forward to catch you before you crumple to the floor. 

He scoops you into his arms and gently carries you to the bed, and you practically melt into the mattress. You see concern pooling in his eyes as he pulls the blankets over you, his thumbs brushing over the bruises on your neck and shoulders, plus the purple bruises on your hipbones from the desk. He leans down to press his lips to your gently and you smile into the kiss. 

“I know that look, stop worrying. I can Heal myself in the morning, I’m too tired now.” You reassure him and his worry eases a bit before he’s standing to turn out all of the lights and slide into the bed next to you. Aleksander reaches over to pull your limp body against his chest. Pressing a kiss to your head, he holds you against him tightly. 

“Did I go too hard?” He asks into the silence and you nuzzle into his warm chest. 

“It was perfect Aleksander.” You promise, pressing a kiss against his chest. He relaxes then with you in his arms. Soon he hears your breathing even out and he knows you’re asleep. Aleksander knows by now that he’s falling in love with you, but for your sake he has to keep his distance. He’ll have to find a new Healer, no matter how much it pains him to do so. If anybody found out the Black Heretic loved somebody, you’d be in grave danger and frankly, Aleksander is afraid of what he’d do if he ever lost you. His heart breaks when he remembers what he has to do tomorrow, but luckily it isn’t tomorrow yet and he can enjoy laying here with you sleeping in his arms. 

[hangezoeenthusiast]

Dad (part 2 of Papa)

Part 1 Part 3

fem!daughter!reader

word count: 1,285

person: c!schlatt, c!quackity, c!karl, c!sapnap

warnings: physical abuse, cursing, bruises, blood, yelling, alcohol, fighting, eating

synopsis: you were loved, you were cherished, then someone left, and other people replaced that person, and you didn't like that.

(this one is more intense)

You were in your office doing some random work for Tubbo when you heard a knock on your door. “Come in!” you shouted at the door. It creaked upon, and there your papa was, with bruises all around his body.

“Holy shit, what happened?” you stood up from your chair and made your way towards Quackity. He put his hands in front of you, blocking your way towards him, “I’m fine, mi alma, I just got into a fight with someone.” “Well who is that someone, I’m about to beat them up.”

“Calm down Y/n, it’s not that serious.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S ‘not serious’, YOU HAVE BRUISES ALL OVER YOU, BLOOD STAINED CLOTHES, AND THE WORST OF ALL YOUR WINGS, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR WINGS.” you screamed at him. You were desperate for him to tell the truth.

“I just flew into then tree, that’s why my wings look horrible.” “Papa, please don’t lie to me.” you begged him. “I’m not lying lovely.” “Papa, I know you like the back of my hand, please, just tell me.”

He walked towards you, and put his hands on your shoulders, “Y/n, I can’t tell you, I know you will do something bad.”

“Fine, but this better not happen again.”

You stopped the conversation, not knowing who did that to your papa, not knowing that someone you loved did horrendous act of violence.

-

You were walking on the path when you saw something from your peripheral. It was Schlatt and Quackity, arguing about something. “We have to take down the wall.” “No we’re not, there could be invaders right there, waiting for us to lower down our defenses.”

"WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME."

"NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME."

Your parents were having a deathmatch, one of them trying to topple the other, but failing. "WHY DO YOU ALWAYS CONDESCEND ME, I'M TRYING TO MAKE THIS NATION BETTER." Schlatt yelled furiously. "YOU ARE NOT MAKING THIS STUPID NATION BETTER, YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE, I SHOULD'VE NEVER COMBINE MY VOTES WITH YOURS, YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY CAN'T BE A PRESIDENT." Quackity roared.

"TAKE THAT BACK."

"NO YOU TAKE THAT BACK."

You frantically walked over to your dads and interrupted their screaming, "STOP BOTH OF YOU, SHUT UP." The whole conversation became silent, crickets chirping to make up for the argument. "Let's just settle this like normal people, papa, what's your side of the story?" you asked, trying to make them calm down. "WELL THIS SON OF A-" "Papa, quiet down, say it calmly." "Fine", he rolled his eyes, "This son of a bitch wants to take down the wall, full well knowing that Wilbur, Tommy, and their allies could be right on the other side, waiting to overthrow us."

You shook your head with disbelief, "Papa, don't you know that they are can't be in the Dream Smp, they can't be here or outside, Dream banned them." Quackity gaped, he forgot completely about that, "Ohhh, sorry," he said shyly, scratching the back of his neck. "Ok dad, what's your point of view?" you questioned Schlatt. "Well just what you said, Wilbur and Tommy can't be here, so I suggested that we should take down the wall." Quackity was just about to fire up again, "BUT WHAT ABOUT THE OTHERS." "THERE ARE NO OTHERS, YOU'RE JUST PARANOID." "I'M NOT PARANOID, YOU'RE PARANOID."

Their little squabble annoyed the living hell out of you, "Can we just talk normally without any screaming or yelling please?", you pleaded. You just wanted to go about your day, no stress, no arguments, none of that.

"Ok y/n." they synchronized. "Ok, since you guys are being little piss babies, let's do some home therapy yeah, both of you, one at a time, no interrupting the other, tell the other person what they hate about each other, then one thing they like. Dad, you can go first since papa went first last time."

"Well-"

-

That little therapy session didn't work, they just kept interrupting each other everytime the other would say something hateful about them, talk about "good therapy". They split their ways, going off to do something to destress themselves.

You were in your room, watching TV when you heard the front door slam open with ferocity. It was Mr. Jschlatt, too drunk, wobbling around, banging into things, breaking glass jars and plates by accident.

You barged downstairs to find your dad drunk off his face, "Dad, are you ok," you cautiously crept towards him, not trying to get him scared. "Y/n, hey boo, how you doing, how's the wife?" he slurred. "Dad, what do you mean, I don't have a wife, nevertheless a girlfriend." He mumbled, aggresively taking off his suit jacket, tie, and unbuttoning his shirt a few buttons. "Give me some more beer." he demanded of you.

"What do you mean dad, you're already drunk, you don't need more."

He got angered, getting pissed off at you for not getting him beer. So then he got into your face, alcohol lacing his breath, and yelled in your face, "GET ME BEER," then he digged his nails into your shoulder, pushing you down, making you land on the couch. The force was enough to begin a bruise on your body.

"Dad stop, let's go to bed." "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO BED, I WANT MORE BEER."

"DAD STOP." you expected him to just calm down, just go to sleep and apologize to you the next day for shouting at you, that was far from the truth. He picked up and threw a empty glass cup at you, missing, but the glass hitting the wall behind you, shocking you. "WHAT THE FUCK." you screeched, not expecting something to be thrown at you. "Guess I have to get it myself, next time do what I tell you, or there will be consequence, got it." "I got it." you squeaked out.

-

It was the next day, getting up from bed, brushing your face, doing your regular skin care, and taking a shower. After you came out, you looked into the mirror, finding two bruises on your shoulders, and scratches all over them.

"What the hell?" you questioned yourself. "Dad scratched me that hard?" you thought to yourself. You knew that he touched you, but you didn't know that he actually injured you. You got out of the bathroom, and got dressed for the day.

You tried to avoid Schlatt on the way to downstairs, but that failed. "Hey kid, how you doing?" he asked, drinking his coffee, looking normal and without a hangover, not knowing your feelings in the moment. You tried to go past him, but missed your chance. He stopped you, holding your shoulders in place so you couldn't move, "What's the matter?" he asked, not knowing the reason that he was the reason that you were scared.

"Nothing." you murmured. "It's obviously not nothing if you look like you just shit your pants, come on tell me." There was a period of silence, then you spoke up, "Um, someone hurt me." "Who was it, you want me to beat them up." he requested you to tell him.

"It would be hard to beat yourself up." you thought in your head.

"It was you dad." Those four words broke his heart. "Me, are you sure it was me, maybe it was-" you cut him off, "Yes, it was you dad." He broke down, and hugged his arms around you, compressing you into a smell of cigars and expensive cologne, making you flinch slightly, "I'm sorry little one, I'm sorry." he repeated his words, trying to drill his apology into your head.

"Calm down dad, it's ok, I forgive you."

(This was very angsty, damn, also a psa, never, and i repeat NEVER treat anyone like this, even if they did some horrible things)

taglist under here

@ilyimagines @puffed-up-bees @iminpainahh @smolbox-png @y2kluver @vanhakirja

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part four

summary: friends who fool around almost never works. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: idiots, that’s all <3

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four (6.7k), part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: my favorite part by mac miller, addicted by jorja smith, someone to spend time with by los retros

note: finally got myself to update this fic oml zzz quick psa tho, this will now be a six-part series! hope that’s okay and yenno as always, would love to hear what you think about this (validate me in the tags pls im lonely) happy reading babes! <3

“Yo, grandma. Haven’t you had too much tea to drink?” his voice echoes in the room as soon as he walks into it. You carefully set the cup down on the dining table and looked at him exasperatedly. 

“Haven’t you had too much care to give?” you snark back, earning yourself a disappointed look from him. 

“Really, y/n? That’s the best you’ve got?” he shakes his head at your appalling retort.  What a shame.

You were good at pissing him off to be fair. You just weren’t in the mood to throw teases back and forth especially now that you’re feeling particularly vulnerable.

The week has been far too dreadful for you and you know that you’re willing to grovel your way into the weekend to finally have the time to slack off, not worry about taking a bath, and just go crazy with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

However, just like always, Mathew seems to never run out of ways to get on your nerves. 

He carelessly puts his stuff on the table, causing a fairly loud thud on the surface. 

You let out a deep breath, massaging your temple. 

“Somebody’s cranky.” he grins. Not necessarily the kind you’d want to see from him. 

You try to ignore him for a few minutes but you can’t help noticing how his build easily took over much of the space you’ve already been occupying. You irkingly look up at him, closing the book you were reading. You meet Mat’s eyes who just innocently looked back into yours. Waiting. Possibly plotting on yet another sophisticated way to toy with you.

“You’re a child.” you roll your eyes and return to your reading. He says nothing and instead rests his chin atop his enclasped hands, continuing to bother you with his ridiculously beguiling eyes. He presses his lips together before sighing dramatically. 

“What?” you snap, finally shutting your book down as you look at him. 

“I wanna go out.” he looks up at you in an effort to make his huge physique smaller than it really was. 

“Then go out. You’re a big boy.” you breathe. 

“You just said that I’m a child.” he coos, mimicking a five-year-old’s voice. 

“Stop that.” you glare at him. Mat props himself back and laughs, “Come on. I’m bored.” 

You open your book again just as you reply in a tone that Mat’s getting used to hearing. “Boredom doesn’t give you the right to pester me, Barzal.” 

And as an exchange, he speaks in the same tone rather mockingly, “And so is that attitude, Y/L/N.” 

“Come on, y/n. Let’s go out.” he now pleads, looking up at you with what seems to be his worst impression of a ‘puppy eye’.

“Fine.” you finally concede and you see Mat’s beaming smile instantly. 

“Where’d you want to go?” you ask as you take your reading glasses off.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, obviously teasing. 

On the edge of being irritated, you say, “Are you kidding me?”

“Grandma.” he mumbles before saying, “Do you have anything you want to do? And please don’t say book hunt.”

You suppress a smile and maintain your composure. “I’m craving for pancakes right now but I also wanna drink. Go to a bar or something.”

He nods in agreement. Already stitching his game plan.

“We can do both.”  he bobs his all too fine brows.

He didn’t have a hard time getting you on board with his spontaneity. You actually haven’t gone out in a while and the thought of a possible night out doesn’t seem to be so bad of an idea.

You’ve been with Mat to parties and while the two of you don’t mingle as much as the other guys did, he does know his way around the club. The dance floor, however, he tries. He really does.

For about an hour Mathew waited patiently in the living room as he scrolled endlessly on instagram liking a few photos and laughing at posts the fans tag him occasionally. His eyes were peeled away from the screen when he heard the door to your room click. His irises trail onto your body even if he didn’t plan to originally. 

Mathew, albeit dressed simply in his black turtleneck sweater and a beige overcoat exudes just about the right ‘swag’ (as per how he puts it) to stop you in your stupor. Although what you didn’t know was how you weren’t any different in his eyes. You were dressed quite nicely in a black lace bodysuit with a pair of blackpants accentuated by the black boots you usually wear on a night out. Your coat was slung on your forearm whilst you held your clutch purse in your hand so you could close the door with the other. 

“What?” you blink just as you look down to eye yourself. Feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

Mat immediately breaks it off. He clears his throat, pretending to wipe off the non-existent dust on the accent table. 

“What?” he mirrors with an arched brow.

You shrug off his demeanor, snatching your keys from the accent table before putting it in your purse. 

“Have you called a lyft already?” he nods, absentmindedly scratching his temple. 

“You ready? You look— decent.” He says, trying to act casual and distant when he gives you the compliment.

Not noticing the unfamiliar look his eyes had, you return the compliment and say,  “And so do you. Good job for not looking like you came straight out of an H&M catalogue.” you wink at him with a grin. A thing which was then reciprocated by a deadpan look on his end. 

Before he could even come up with yet another clever way to come at you, you start walking towards the door, looking at him once as you motion the way by curling your finger.

“Haul ass, buddy.”

𖥸

10:15 PM 

Mat decided to bring you to the usual place he goes to when he wants to be alone and just enjoy a couple of beers while he chats with River, the bartender he eventually befriends after years spent drinking in solitude. 

The bar had a rustic feel filled with wine barrels in the corner of the room. The seats were leather (mind you, it wasn’t the kind that gets easily worn out through time) and everything looked new to you regardless of all the vintage stuff displayed articulately on the brick wall. A turntable was set on the table stacked with vinyl records, most of which were from the 70s to 80s underneath.

It was obvious that it wasn’t the kind people would know about. Aside from it being located at such a secluded street leading to the suburbs, it wasn’t the type of bar kids would want to hang out in. It only had a few customers and most of them wore suits and came with company. No one really gave a hoot when you walked in with Mathew, aka, the face of the New York Islanders. Which is basically the reason why Mat kept coming back to the place. He felt comfortable and at peace. Almost in retrospect to being at home hanging with his father. 

“I can’t believe this place exists.” you say, mouthing your thanks to River as he hands you both of your drinks. The man that’s definitely aged like fine wine smiles, nodding his head over to Mat who was doing the same before he headed back to mix another set of drinks. 

“Me neither.” he grins, reminiscing about the time he’s found the small pub by accident. 

“This place looks expensive though.” you whisper, making Mathew laugh. 

“Well, it kinda is.” he sheepishly chuckles. “River’s filthy rich.”

“Is he really?” your mouth falls and you look back over the build of the old man. The way his salt and pepper hair was neatly slicked back makes quite a compelling case for what Mat had just said. 

Mat eventually explains who he was. Apparently, he was just another bored fancy man who happened to love making people drop dead and drunk with his over the top mixes. His dark deep set brown eyes are quite of a crowd favourite too. Case in point, the group of ladies seated from across you and Mathew.

“Hey.” you absentmindedly call on Mat who had just sipped on his drink. “I know what we should do.”

“All right.” he puts the glass down, “Lay it on me.”

“Let’s fix you up with one of the girls over there.” you suggest, leaning towards his body so you could get a better view upfront. Mat does not move and instead follows your finger subtly pointing at the other end of the room.

“What’s with the sudden fixation of getting me bagged tonight, huh?” he smirks, shaking his head at the idea of having to go home with some random girl. You give him a side eye as you move away from him. 

“Fixation is an overstatement. We’ll be here long enough for us to get sick of each other.” you explicitly told him. 

Mat eyes you intently. Searching if there was even the slightest doubt in your eyes. 

Long enough to get sick of each other. 

He clears his throat instead and looks across the room. “Which one?”

A gleeful cheer erupts from you just before you look over the girls in question. “What’s your type?” you ask him, not sparing a glance.

Mat looks down on you underneath the bar lights accentuating your features. Your eyes had a certain glint in them that Mat still can’t get a grasp on. Something that was just enough to spark something inside him. He didn’t want to overthink it nonetheless. It must have been just the lights. 

Once Mat sensed that you were about to look at him he immediately turned his gaze forward, squinting his eyes a little pretending to check out the women you’ve been eyeing for the last minute. 

“I don’t really have a type.” he shrugs, casually taking the fragile glass to his mouth. 

You dismiss what he said at once, “Do I look like a child to you? Just answer it.”

Mat shakes his head, “I told you. I don’t have one. If we vibe then we vibe. Simple as that.” 

You did not believe him but you decide to drop it off. Instead, you look back and return to your new found mission. Across the bar, seated were three girls busy talking to each other. 

“Got it.” you tell Mat, nodding your head towards the clueless girl sitting right across from where Mathew was. “The one in the center.” you add. “The one wearing a white bodycon.”

“She’s pretty.” he nods, validating your taste as his potential wingman. “Nice smile.”

Your hand met a firm slap on the table as you went on cheering for him. “Well? Go then!” you give him a nudge, taking it back quickly when you feel a slight hesitation on his part, “Don’t tell me you need me to introduce you?”

He takes the remainder of his glass and shaked off the kick it had in his throat. “You just sit and watch, babe.”

You do as you’re told and lean towards the bar, your elbow carrying all your weight whilst you sip on your half-full martini. 

Mathew’s stance and the way he carries himself immediately caused the girls to notice him coming. Of course, you weren’t really surprised. You watch him approach her,– reading along the words leaving his mouth. There was an exchange of proper ‘hello’s’ as Mat introduced himself to the girls. He reaches out his hand and the curly noirette in the center gives him a firm shake. 

Mat’s eyes momentarily locked with yours just as you see their hands linger in the air— tangled long enough for him to make a quick segway. He winks your way as he sees you grin from your seat, shaking your head just after you felt the need to take a deep breath. A thing you assumed to be because of the drink. So, while Mat leads the girl to one of the empty booths and sits across from her, you call on River and ask for another drink. 

Mathew must have lost track of time by the second drink he shared with Zoe. He learns that she’s from upstate and was just on the island to visit her friends. She’s still working on her major at NYU; coincidentally in the same field as Lianna so that was one of the things they’ve talked about first hand. She wasn’t really into sports so Mat steered clear of his job because he didn’t want to bore her. 

“So…” Zoe smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s the deal with you and the girl you’re with?” 

By the time she asked about you, only then did Mat remember who he was originally with. 

“Oh! She’s—” he looks over to where you’re seated only to find you laughing— no giggling with a man that was obviously a few years older than you. He’s wearing a neat black suit and a button down shirt with a couple of its first buttons opened. Zoe sees him frown, evidently losing his train of thought. 

She calls him with her sweet voice, “Mat?” 

“Yeah?” he absentmindedly answers, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand that was now gently pushing the man’s arm whilst the two of you continue to burst into laughter. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

What’s so funny? 

Finally, Mat hears Zoe’s distant voice that eventually took him back to his seat.

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” he apologetically smiles. “Sorry. What were you saying again?” 

She hesitates to ask about you after taking a quick glance your way upon seeing the way Mathew looked at you. Nevertheless, she decides to go for it.

“Aren’t you two together? I don’t want to come off strong here or anything. It’s just that I don’t want to get in between something if there ever is.” 

Mat looks at you one more time and as if you’ve felt his eyes all along you turn your way and meet his gaze. You shoot him a quiet smile, eyeing the guy sitting beside you, mouthing what he assumes to be an exaggerated “So hot!” on your end. He reciprocates your smile and gives you an approving nod.

Once you looked away, that’s the only time Mat finally answered the woman waiting patiently for his attention. 

“What?” Mat shakes his head wildly, blowing out air off his lips defensively. “No no no. We’re just friends. She’s my roommate actually.” he shrugs you off his mind and instead tries to put his entire focus on her. 

The remaining hours were spent with you and Mat getting along with your respective potential hook-ups. Not that it wasn’t the endgame either of you were hoping for at the back of your minds. 

He’s got to admit that Zoe was the kind of girl he’d be interested in. Another fact he’s kept a mental tab not to mention to you because he knows you’ll just get cocky. 

She was sweet and obviously eloquent. He knows she’s way smarter than he’ll ever be. But out of all those qualities, she was just as passionate at her craft as someone he likes to think he knows well enough. And that alone made a small smile creep on his lips. 

Nonetheless, despite all the aforementioned, Mathew found himself a bit more reserved than he usually is whenever he gets to meet and talk to his potential ‘lady friends’ as how you’ve put it countless times. He just wasn’t his exact self.  And he was beginning to question it. 

There were no fancy hockey plays thrown subtly into the conversation. Neither mentions of golfing nor over the top league events.  No butchered french pet names swiftly tucked in his sentences. And no endless questions that would eventually lead to something along the lines of ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

Well, not until Zoe’s friends got up their seats and she told him herself. 

“Hey. The girls and I are meeting up with some friends in Brooklyn. D’ya wanna come?” 

Mat’s eyes trail down to her hand now gently caressing his. He raises both his brows thinking of a possible ‘out’ because he wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to leave you alone with a stranger. 

He hums, “Sure.” 

Zoe shows him a delighted smile before eventually sliding out of the booth to walk towards the bar she and her friends were formally seated. 

“I gotta use the restroom first. Please excuse me.” she gives him a nod before going back to chatting with her friends. 

You, on the other hand, see Mat leave the table aiming for an archway you presume to be where the loo was. 

“Hey,” you call the man whose name you’ve already forgotten. Your pause was long enough for him to acknowledge the chances that you actually did forget who he was. Obviously.

“Chris.” The man in his early 30s answers with a submitting grin. 

You shyly laugh, squeezing his forearm as you try to apologize for forgetting. 

“Would you mind if I use the restroom?” you politely ask. 

“No, not at all.” he replies and immediately stands to help you get on your feet. Gentleman. 

Once you are in front of the men’s room, you anxiously wait for your wingman. You hug your purse close to your chest. Not a whole minute after, the door finally opens and you meet Mat’s irises with quite a gleeful look. 

A look he wasn’t a fan of for he knew what’s about to come next. 

“Are you taking off?” you eagerly ask, almost hopping on your feet. 

Mat eyes you from head to toe, looking for signs that would stink from a drunk y/n. When he sees none, that’s when he decides to say that he was. 

“Mkay good. I’ll be on my way too. Chris is taking me to New Jersey.” you tell him, briefly looking through the archway to see if there were people listening.

Once you know you’re clear, you lean towards Mat, your lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his ear. Mat feels your heated breath sending a familiar tingle up his spine. “I’ll get to ride a yacht tonight.” you bite your lower lip and giddily smile as if you were a cheeky 16 year-old usually depicted in a coming of age movie. 

“Who’s Chris?” Mat, in spite of taking rounds observing you all night, finds the need to ask. “And why are you coming with him to NJ?” he further questions. 

“Uh– okay, dad.” you step back for a second. You let out a scoff, checking if he was being serious about it. “I thought we’re supposed to go get laid tonight? Weren’t you about to take off with that girl yourself?” 

Mat averts your gaze and starts to scratch the corner of his brow. “Well yeah. It’s just that— he looks sketchy.” he pauses, “plus… isn’t he a little too old for you?” 

You roll your eyes as you’ve already expected to hear the words from him. 

“He’s 31. He’s not that old.” you say rather defensively so you turn the ball back on his court. “And what if he was?  Didn’t you ask one of the moms out??”

Mat’s eyes widens and you try to bite back a laugh. He whispers with a biting tone, trying to save himself. “She didn’t look like one! I’m gonna kill Beau I swear to god.”

“Come on Barz. Don’t be such a killjoy. Text me if you need anything, okay? Wrap things up while you’re at it.” you say at once. Mat doesn’t get the chance to talk you out of such a stupid idea because before he even could, you’ve already planted a kiss on his cheek and started walking away. 

Mat waited for the sound of the heavy doors of the bar, signaling that you and your friend have gone, before stepping back to where Zoe was. She waves him near the coat closet. 

“Hi.” Mat greets her friends before eventually turning his attention on the unsuspecting lass. She meets her with a smile (just like what she’s been doing all night). The same smile, however, drops the second Mat opens his mouth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 

Zoe nods and willfully abides, letting Mat take her gently by the arm. 

“What’s up?” she innocently asks. 

“Something came up.” he says a little too fast than what he’d originally intended. He was going to let her down either way might as well get it over with and rip up the asshole band-aid. 

“Oh.” she says in a tone Mat knew that she completely understood. 

“No worries.” she looks at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll see you around then.” 

He gives her a kind smile and nods. “Take care.” 

Mathew walks towards the bar, catching River’s teasing grin whilst he cleans up after the bottles left on the center of the counter. 

“What?” Mat reacts defensively, taking a seat in front of the lone bartender. River faintly shakes his head to leave just enough curiosity in Mathew’s mind. 

“You’re such a tool, old man.” the kid says aiming for the cold beer River has put away for himself. River did not mind because he’s grown fond of the star player for the past years he’s spent going on late night drinks at his bar. Years that even justifies a proper amount of time for him to know the in’s and out’s of one Mathew Barzal. 

“I haven’t said a thing.” he shrugs amidst the already wide grin on his face. 

There’s wisdom in his eyes that Mathew has always admired. He wasn’t the guy who’d want to talk about what’s going on inside his head but with how River’s pub seems to be just the right place, he eventually concedes and takes a shot to pick on the old man’s brain.

“Come on, spill it out. I know you’re going to anyway.” Mat gives in, running his thumb on the moist label of the bottle. 

River wipes his hands before resting it atop the counter. “Well, it’s just that– I ain’t used to seeing you turn down ladies like that too often. And you’re definitely not one to stick around watching me clean up.”

Mat stays silent for a moment, as if to gather the exact reason as to why he chose to stay. He still has a long way to go before figuring that one out. He wasn’t exactly as sharp as he was on the ice.

“I don’t know, man.” he chuckles tirelessly, “I guess I wasn’t in the mood. That’s all.”

“You?” River shots a brow and dismisses him, shaking his head. When Mat doesn’t answer, he carefully picks on his choice of words and lays it down carefully for him. After all, Mathew should have known that River was old enough to not know what’s going on.

“Though I gotta be honest with you, hijo. Never imagined you’d bring someone here.” he starts. 

What must have been a shot in the dark for the old man was just enough to tear Mathew’s eyes away from staring at the water beads on the bottle.

“What?”

“The girl, Barz.” he says, banging on the head of the bottle to knock the cap off. “She a friend?” 

“What? Y/N?” Mat quirks his brows trailing off where River was exactly headed, “What about her?— Oh, her? Yeah, no. She’s just a friend.”

“She pretty.” he speaks in a sound accent, not wanting to let Mat know he’s growing to like catching the young lad off guard. Mathew nods casually despite the continuous blabbering. “She’s y/n. But yeah— I guess, she is pretty.” 

“Then what are you doing being just friends with a pretty girl?” River inquires, taking a sip of his beer. When he sees him trying to register what he’d just said he then adds, “Why not be with her? Date her?”

“Psh. What? Date y/n? That’s crazy.” Mat shakes his head furiously, “You’re crazy.” 

“What’s so crazy about that?” River takes offense, laughing at the child’s naivete. 

“I can’t date her. I mean— I won’t date her.” he takes the bottle to his mouth, taking a large gulp before continuing, “We’re in this weird relationship thing. A setup, actually, and it’s— it’s crazier than dating her. I swear, you of all people won’t get it.” 

“What makes you think I can’t?” he smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of crazy.” River points out despite the hesitation in Mat’s eyes. “I got all night, kid.” he adds, letting him have the floor to himself. 

“You really want in on this?” he second guesses, not wanting to bore the man with his personal life.

River leans against the brass counter just below the lit rack of vintage scotch displayed on the bar. He then gestures him to give a piece of his mind and Mat finally submits to his offer.

“We’ve been in a few… prior engagements,” he starts trying to find the appropriate word. “Well, sort of.”

River hums, not necessarily getting on the same page as him so he decides to be upfront about it.

“We’ve… slept together.” he confesses.

“So you used to date her?” the old man asks. 

“No.” he answers, “I told you we’re just friends.” 

With furrowed brows, River takes a minute. And once Mat hears an all too familiar “Oh.” he sees him break a chuckle, shaking his head at the thought of what Mat had just told him. “You kids have way too much fun these days.”

Mathew shrugs, “Hey, I warned you. Told you you wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay, make me understand something here. You two sleep together, fool around, do all that shit.” he says, “and you swear you’re not in a relationship?”

“Nope.” Mat answers with pride, popping out the word with a hard ‘p’.

“Huh.” River clicks his tongue, “How long have you two been… engaged?” 

He rolls his eyes when River uses his word, “About two months.” he answers shortly.

“Is she seeing anyone since you two started this thing? You know, casual dates, the ones I presume she’s been getting before you got her into this mess?” he asks him in a tone that only fathers would ever dare to use.

Mat thinks for a moment, trying to recall the last time he’s seen a guy pick you up for dinner besides the old man you’ve successfully bagged for the night. He firmly shakes his head no and simply says, “At least not in my recollection.”

River willfully nods, walking Mat right into the trap. “Well have you been seeing anyone lately?” he asks again, this time slipping a hint of assertion. He hears a crystal clear ‘no’ from the forward and that’s when he broke a goading grin. 

“And you’re telling me you two aren’t together?” he asks yet again, getting on Mat's nerves as he continues to flood him with biting queries, building up the final point he was about to break on Mathew.

“Rivs, for the hundredth time, no. We are not.” he clarifies. 

Mat watches River pour himself a glass of scotch, still wearing a smug grin. “Imma give you a piece of advice, yeah?” he smiles rather teasingly and doesn’t wait for Mat to rebut, “I’m a happily married man so I don’t know a single squat about dating nowadays, but if you’re telling me that you kids aren’t sleeping with anyone else but yourselves? Looks like a damn relationship to me.”

With his brows all quirked in confusion (and denial in the very least), Mathew gathers all his might just so he could refute whatever madness River was trying to inflict on him and screw him up in the head. But before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the heavy doors was all it took to tear up both River’s and Mat’s attention.

“Hi.” you say the moment you were welcomed by unsuspecting men talking by the bar. River acknowledges you by raising his drink, his gaze landing on Mat the moment yours did. 

“Hi.” Mathew mirrors you in an attempt to drown his already racing heart. A smile impending to break loose at any moment but he manages to suppress it. Instead of dealing with his adrenaline, he gestures for you to take a seat beside him. 

“Where’s the sugar daddy?” he laughs the moment you drag yourself from across the room, mocking every word he said. 

“His wife called when I got into his car.” you cringe.

“Oof. Lovely.” Mat makes the distinct expression on his face just before the two of you share a laugh.

“He’s not very smooth with adultery. He needs more practice.” you casually state sarcastically, clicking your tongue. 

As you find the narrative funny, you take a sip on Mathew’s beer. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been drinking way too much the entire night.”

“Well. I’ve got some things to think about—” he cuts himself off upon seeing your mouth ajar, “And no, you’re not allowed to ask because none of it concerns you.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” you dismiss him, excusing yourself to River which he gladly took as his cue to leave.

When he disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your gaze on your friend wearing another one of your mischievous grins, “Hey, wanna get pancakes?” 

“Y/N, it’s almost 3 AM.” Mat sighs, the tiring night starting to creep up to him. 

“So?” you question, swatting his hand away when you catch him checking on his watch. 

“Come on. Stop drinking that.” you insist and take the bottle from his hand before putting it over to the side. 

The two of you said your goodbyes to the lone bartender who was just starting to clean up again. River gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgement before landing a knowing look on Mathew. One that he’s thankful enough not to be discerned by you. 

As you walk alongside Mathew, he unconsciously places a hand on the small of your back— feeling it graze on the fabric of your coat as if to guide you towards the door in an almost romantic type of way. Perhaps, a way someone would behave if they were actually in a relationship. 

Mat notices your body tense but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his hand travels to the curve of your waist just as he leads you through the brass doors.

Once you’re out on the streets, he lets go.

𖥸

After almost half an hour of fighting over which diner is better to eat and get sober at, you and Mat decide to just try the new diner three blocks from your apartment. Being that it was an ungodly hour, the diner was good as closed when you got in. There were a few people inside and besides the student studying alone in the corner booth, the people lounging in the vacant seats were mostly just staff. Too bad they had to work the grave shift.

Mathew, who was rather preoccupied digging in his breakfast platter, gets interrupted when you call his attention. 

“So tell me,” you ask as you take a forkful of syrupy pancake into your mouth. Finally satisfying your cravings. You put the food modestly in the insides of your cheeks when you ask him a question, “What are you like on dates?” 

Mat disgustingly looks at you. You easily get what such a look meant and you immediately roll your eyes. You let your hand fall in mid-air amidst still holding a fork in it to prove a point. “I’m not trying to ask you out, dumbass. Don’t be so delusional.”

He puts his silverware down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Why the sudden interest?” 

“Just curious.” you simply say.

He hums, thinking about how he pulls off a first date. He then clears his throat as he takes you down that road. “First, I’m not bringing her to a 24/7 Diner.” you nearly gag. “She deserves a formal one just in case there won’t be a second date.” he explains. 

You sit there, nodding your head every now and then as he further goes on the details of how he’s like on a date. “Of course, I’d put my best foot forward all the time. Talk about her stuff more than mine and make sure she has a good time.” 

“Have you ever had a bad first date?” you curiously ask. To which he only answers with a stubborn look on his face, the one only Mat Barzal could pull off. “What? me? I don’t do bad first dates.”

“Oh, fuck off.” you flick his forehead as you laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, drowning all the existing noise inside the lone diner.

But as the laughter dies down, Mat catches your eyes as soon as it falls on his. And just like that, there it was again, the exact same glint it had back in the bar. This time, illuminated by the pink shaded light lining up the wall accents of the diner. 

When he realizes that he’s been staring for too long, he settles on turning the tables on you. 

“How about you?” he props in his seat, “What are you like on dates?”

“You know, apart from the fact that you’re obviously into old men.” he snickers and you throw a curly fry on his forehead.

“Excuse me, I don’t.” you say sticking up for yourself.

Mat takes the curly fry that has fallen on his plate and proceeds to eat it. “Sure you do.” 

You roll your eyes, finding it hard to suppress the fact that you might actually do. “There’s a reason why women like old men, chico.”

He leans back and answers with a level headed and quite teasing reply, “And why’s that?”

“Because they’re men.” you look at him with a jerky grin as you continue, “And men, especially of River’s kind, definitely knows how to eat his french fry.”

Mat’s mouth falls wide in disbelief, appalled that you’ve actually found a way to pick up a stone and throw it straight to his face just to rub more salt on the fact that you had to teach a 23-year-old grown man how to eat cunt.

 “You’re an ass.” he says, rolling his eyes. You let out a laugh and shake your head. You were proud of yourself, sure; but showing just that is far too much for a boy’s already hurting ego. Who would have known humbling this man was such a task. 

“I’m playing! You know how to now.” you tell him, “Thanks to me, of course.”

He scoffs and takes a bite off his pancakes, “Cocky.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question.” he reminds you whilst he wipes off his lips with a napkin. 

“There’s not much to tell. You know I’m not high maintenance.” you tell him, ignoring the fact that you haven’t been on an actual date for so long you’re almost sure you’ve forgotten how to be in one. 

“I know it’s cheesy and corny but I do think it’s still in the littlest things, you know?” you sigh. Trying to remember the last relationship (date even) you had wherein those little things, the ones that are merely the bare minimum, were actually given to you. 

“You know, it’s not much, really. Maybe just a good talk without having to watch him watch me talk all night when he’s really thinking about how I’d look naked, you know what I mean?” you laugh it off, “I know, it’s stupid.”

The arrogant man sitting before you was silent for once, profusely wanting to wash the pool of melancholy he sees in your eyes. There must have been a shit ton of guys who overlooked how great of a woman you actually are just because they couldn’t stop thinking with the head in between their legs even just for a second. 

Mathew knows. And he hates that he’s been ‘that’ guy at some point. Probably until now considering him thinking with his balls on was the very thing that got the two of you here in the first place.

You take a deep breath, smiling. “Anyway, that’s better than almost getting with a married man. Right?”

“Right.” Mat laughs, his gray eyes bright under all the lights as he plays with his silverware,— devoid of how much he looked like as if he was utterly and undeniably in awe of not just the energy of the woman sitting in front of him alone nor the fact that she was by far the most unbelievable woman he’s known, but most importantly, he’s yet to realize how much in deep he’s beginning to be for the woman she actually were. 

Just as she is. 

𖥸

You left the diner a good hour before the sunrise and what must have been a quick five minute drive if you had only taken a cab, became a twenty minute foot race between you and Mathew.

You knew that walking was a bad idea but somehow, Mat’s charm and persuasive antics had a better hold than you thought you had on your very capable cognition. 

As you drag your feet into the confines of the elevator in your complex, you hear Mathew chuckling behind you with a firm hand securely placed on your waist supporting your balance. 

“You know— and not just ‘cause I’m an athlete, can I just say that you’re in a very bad shape?” he says almost a whisper in your ear, his voice low and deep.

You roll your eyes, leaning on the steel cold mirror once he pulls away, “You do it in heels then tell me who’s in a bad shape.” 

“Fair point.” he chuckles yet again, shying away. He presses the number for your floor before resting across from you. As Mat watches you catch your breath, he jokes in the hopes of breaking the ice between the two of you. 

“So…” he clicks his tongue, playful eyes looking at you, “Wanna tap?”

Disgusted to your very core, you let out a scoff just as you shake your head. “You’re fucking sick.” you laugh upon meeting his dumb grinning face. Seconds into laughter, Mat’s silence kills off the humor. The two of you exchange glances, the smiles on your faces receding into quietude. 

Mathew didn’t want to end the night letting you in the apartment not knowing what he’s been feeling the moment you’ve let him drag you out for an impromptu night out. And stupid as it was, the only thing he could think of was to slide his foot across the enclosed space embracing the two of you, nudging on your boot. You on the one hand were rather puzzled as to what caused such language. You send him a mental query by arching a brow. He lets his head fall back on the cold metal surrounding the elevator finally deciding to speak his truth.

 “I’m glad we get to hang out now. You know, just like friends do.” he genuinely says. 

“Me too.” you say, smiling. “I really had fun tonight. Thank you.”

As you meet his eyes, you see a glimmer of softness in his gaze. 

“Good thing I got bored, eh?” he says with a smirk. 

“Good thing I came back for you.” you reply.

A quiet smile parts from his lips.

“Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

It was a few seconds when you and Barzy parted from your respective walls to meet the sliding doors as it opened on your designated floor. You were pulling him closer by the tie of his coat whilst his hand was instinctively placed on your hips letting him press his body on you. Your faces were inches from each other’s, evident of not wanting to prolong the totally unplanned foreplay that’s about to go down in a communal lift. 

But just like every film you’ve watched your whole life, the inevitable cliché befalls the two of you when the next words that filled the enclosed walls you’re currently caged in came from the man who has yet to miss a morning jog. 

“What the hell is going on here?”

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: As usual, feedback is always incredible. I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Smutty dreams. Sexual tension. 

Word Count: Roughly 4,400

“I get the back!” You flew into the seat, sprawling out across it before anyone could argue. Wiggling your feet lightly as you got cozy against the leather. The ground was filled with a cooler and everyone's bags, but the long bench more than made up for the cramped conditions.

“Cute.” Sam rolled his eyes as he leaned down into the open door.

“So, I've heard.” You looked him dead in the eyes. Challenging the primal piece inside of him that had reacted to the thrust of your chest before. The reminder seemed to spark it lightly between you two as he rested against the old, muscle car.

His hazel eyes looked more blue in the sunlight than you'd remembered seeing them. Leaving the direct contact, you lowered your eyes to trail over his tight fitting flannel; the red and blue complimenting him perfectly. Emphasizing his size beneath it.

It didn't show just how built the man was, though. The only thing that truly gave it away was how the material stretched across the muscled shoulders. How his veins popped out against his forearms. Utterly ridiculous. Even his damn thighs were cased all too well behind the thick material of his jeans.

His hair was highlighted in the bright outside; looking better than any male's had the right to. You couldn't help but to wonder if the locks were as silky as they looked. The urge to wrap your fingers in it and yank was overwhelming.

Then, he licked his lips; drawing your eyes after the action. A too sweet pink begging for some kind of attention. They weren't as full as his brothers, but they certainly captured your attention. How they stuck together in the corners as he took a deep breath. His tongue pressing against the bottom one as he stared down at your sprawled out body.

He was meant for a good lay. Too bad his personality made petting a porcupine less risky. It really is a shame...

As you checked him out, something just over subtle, he returned the favor. Your E/C eyes were lined, but other than that, you didn't bother with making up your face. H/C hair was left in your natural state. The upper body supported by your elbows so that you could see him when you mocked him.

Hazel drifted lower. You were in a blue flannel shirt; left unbuttoned to reveal the black tank top underneath. The tank didn't leave much to the imagination. Letting the soft curves of your breasts peak out from the top. Rising and falling in tune with your shallow breathing.

The same silver chain from that night dipped down, hiding inside your cleavage. He had no idea what the charm was, and the mystery of it only drew his attention there more. Lingering too long to be polite.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes landed on the pale, faded jeans that encased your sprawled legs. A pair of dainty looking- to him- female style, combat boots poked out from beneath the hems. Matching every other hunter in the world.

His eyes moved back up to your lips just in time to catch the way you trailed it between your teeth. The sight was enough to make his blood pump harder. Reminding him of how it had felt in his dreams to do the same.

You turned away first, stretching your neck to peek at what all was tossed in the front seat. Ensuring you could pawn off a bag or two if claustrophobia kicked up. Trying to ignore the heat of his stare in your body.

Sam's gaze trailed down the angle of your throat before he found the ability to pull himself away. Slamming your door with more force than necessary, he stalked away. Aggravated that you'd managed to move on as if you weren't affected. Something he'd been incapable of.

His breathing was a little too raged as he glanced over to the shadow beyond the tinted glass. Dean had forced him to this. Thinking about his brother slowed his heart rate enough over the next minute or so. Once the urge to climb in behind you passed, Sam slid into the car as carefully as a man his size could. Determined not to look back at you.

Dean whistled as he approached the vehicle. It died on his lips as he realized you two had already settled into the Impala without him. You had your headphones in; staring out the window. Daydreaming as modern rock blasted in your ears. Sam simply fiddled with his phone, silently.

Carefully, the older brother let the engine roar. Sam didn't react at all. Then, he simply turned up the radio without saying a word, and turned away.

A concerned glance back at his brother revealed a jaw clenched lightly as he looked out the window. Withdrawing into his mind. When Dean glanced at your reflection in the mirror, you were smiling lightly. The thrill of the hunt already getting to you before you even got onto the road. It was then that he decided he'd made the right call. Even if Sam didn't agree.

–

A quick tug to your hair had you moaning before you even felt his body cover yours from behind. Sam seemed to like the sound, his own grunt of approval that emitted from his throat. His calloused hand stroked down your side to keep you pinned. Kinky bastard.

You gripped the edge of the table in the library as his breath tickled along where your throat met your shoulder. A light kiss pressed into the skin, earning a shiver in response. He was being deliberately slow to drive you mad. You were sure of it. Arching your spine, you hissed for him to get on with it.

He took his cue ridiculously well; slamming into you roughly from behind. Knowing you were more than ready. That you could take it. You wanted him to give you everything he could. The noises you made simply confirmed it.

You couldn't see him, but you sure could feel him. He stretched your walls impossibly well as he thrust. Both hands had come down to dig into your hips- tight enough you were going to be left with marks. Not that you cared. As long as he didn't cease his ministrations.

Of course, he did. An animistic cry of protest escaped as he pulled away; leaving you clenching around nothing but air. Sam wasn't done, though. Instead, you were yanked around. His fingers dug into the meat of your thigh, urging you to jump up.

You were too desperate not to follow the silent order. Sam caught you easily, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. Ankles locked around his hips. The harsh lips crashed into yours sloppily as he maneuvered you in his arms. Shoving back inside of you as soon as he could.

It was slightly awkward at first. Trying to find the right rhythm without losing contact. He didn't brace you against anything, just using his strength to hold your body where he wanted you. Letting you do the rest.

Sam broke the kiss; moving to coach you in your ear. Huskily telling you when to speed up. Slow down. And you listened to every rasped command at first.

Until you decided that you were in a position where you could do what you wanted. Your hips twisted and lifted at the pace you craved. Your eyes connected with his, letting him see the defiance in your eyes. There was no hesitation as you wrapped your fingers into his hair. Yanking just hard enough to let him know you were in control.

As if Sam would let that fly. Your ass hit the cool wood that you'd been bent over before. Laying your body flat; his solid hold pinned your wrists above your head. A deep slam into your body followed, making you whimper. Nails dug into your palm when he slowly pulled away. His grip wasn't hard enough to hurt, just enough to keep you where he wanted you. A small punishment for trying to take control.

You loved every second of it. Your body arched into his, seeking friction in every way as he took his time pressing back into you. Exquisite torture. His teeth scraped against your throat as drew it out, making you moan even louder.

Finally, you gave him what he wanted, “Sam, please.” Your breathy voice flipped the switch. His pace picked back up to the brutal pace from the beginning, making you scream his name. “Y...ye...yes. Fu...fuck...Sam!”

Your eyes shot open, leaving you disoriented. Instead of the familiar room you'd lived in for two years, you smelled leather. The small roar of the Impala in your ears reminded you of your location as you came back down from the high of the dream. Fear gripped you, then.

Breathing hard, you rubbed at your eyes. Trying to ignore the dampness laying between your legs. You'd talked in your sleep. Bane and Alice used to complain about it all the time. There was little doubt that it would be any exception this time around.

You cursed internally, moving to sit up to see the damage. You had always been a glutton for punishment. Sure enough, it hit before you could stop rubbing your eyes.

“About time,” Sam's voice placed him directly in front of you. Sure enough, he had taken charge over the vehicle. “I thought you were going to wake up Dean.” Your heart stopped at the words. “Good dreams?”

There'd been some kind of noise. That much was obvious. But, he didn't add anything further. Making you believe that his name hadn't been part of it. Instantly, some of the tension left your shoulders.

“Bite me,” You grumbled. Your voice still husky yet from both the dream and sleep. Running your hand through your hair, you zeroed in on the problem. A song that you didn't recognize played softly. The rasped voice promising every kind of filth possible. Well, that explains the mood. “What time is it?” You stretched, feeling more awake. The sky was getting brighter as the sun was preparing to rise.

“Five AM.” He answered gruffly. It was easy to blow off the tone. Lack of sleep and your presence naturally turned Sam into a boar.

“Too early,” You sighed, flopping back down onto your flannel that you'd removed and used as a pillow the night before.

“Don't go back to sleep, yet.” Sam chided, making you wince. “I'm about to stop and gas up. If you need anything, now's the time.” You groaned in nothing short of misery. “Don't worry,” His voice hit a note that you'd only dreamed of, “you can go back to your dreams when we're done.” The tone made your thighs squeeze together. Why can't he talk like a normal person? Jack ass, you grumbled internally.

As he pulled into the nearest station, you fixed your bedhead as much as you could and pulled on your wrinkled flannel. The forgotten liner was wiped away as best as you could. Ensuring no raccoon jabs would make their way to you.

When you climbed out of the car, Sam had bent down to place the nozzle into the gas tank. Leaving his jeans pulled taunt against his well shaped ass. Making your hormonal problem rise back to the surface. Warm cheeked, you trotted into the building. Refusing to stay and gawk a second more.

After you were done, you made your way out of the restroom. A song that you actually knew was playing softly throughout the building. While you grabbed a small snack, you danced lightly. Feeling refreshed enough to rock your hips a bit as you walked.

“Make sure I'm on my toes; on my knees. Keep him pleased; rub him down. Be a lady and a freak.” You sang along, lowly. Not caring if the only other people in the station heard you. “Beating my drum like dum di di day. I like the dirty rhythm you play. I wanna hear you callin' my name. Like, hey ma, ma, mama, hey ma, mama.” You weren't singing it loudly, but not quietly either as you approached Sam at the counter.

The teenager behind the counter looked like he was going to explode simply from a real live woman singing about being on her knees. You and Sam both shot him a look to ensure he hadn't expired on the spot. Yours was more concerned for the boy's ability to ring you two up without overcharging. Sam's was just completely unimpressed by the lack of control the kid had over himself.

His ire was raised high and proud. Not by the horny kid, though. No, it was you.

You just had to go and moan his name in between all kinds of sounds. Noises that he hadn't even been able to conjure up in his filthiest dreams. That wasn't the worst of it, though. Oh no. It was that damned, desperate, 'please' you'd gasped out. As if you'd desperately needed whatever he was willing to give to you.

He'd had a hard on that wouldn't die ever since. The alphabet backwards. Listing every way possible to kill every monster. None of it was working. Instead, your needy whine replayed through his mind. Then, there was the 'bite me'. You'd never have said it if you knew how badly he craved to do just that.

Sam just knew his imagination would adapt. Becoming the more real with the newfound knowledge. The furthest thing from what he wanted. He needed to find a woman he didn't know. Get you out, instead of off.

Then, you had to go and start singing along to Nicki Minaj as if you were the one who had wrote damn the lyrics. That husky little note from your dream still present in your tone. Even the kid at the counter ended up reacting to it.

Sam had to try and discreetly adjust himself as he paid, while you continued to sing along. Your body moving lightly to the beat, as if you couldn't control yourself. If he hadn't taken the risk, you wouldn't have been able to miss his reaction. The last thing he wanted you to know. You already had far too much arsenal at your disposal, while he had little to none in comparison.

“You scared that kid to death, you know.” You chastised as you walked out of the building behind him; attempting to keep up with his long stride. Sam had only had to glower down at the kid when he'd been bold enough to ask for your number, promising to call you 'mama'. More awkward than creepy.

“Best thing I could have done for him. Spare him the grief that comes with you.” Sam stated venomously.

“Okay, I am not that bad. You're just unreasonably biased.” You hissed out. Unwilling to take the attack. “You always have been.” Sam didn't bother responding. He just climbed into the driver seat. You narrowed your eyes before climbing into the warm vehicle, glad to be out of the chilly night air. “One day, Sam...”

“One day, what?” He asked after a second, starting the car. Expecting a threat.

Instead, your quiet voice punched him in the gut, “One day you're going to figure out that I'm not the monster you're painting me out to be. The real villain in this story? Is you.”

Not another word left your lips. A weak sigh left your lips as you moved to lay back down against the leather. Just to escape the animosity until Dean woke back up.

–

“Hi,” You beamed at the cowboy that walked up your way. He'd been silent when the boys had introduced themselves as FBI agents. Refusing to answer any questions until they gave up. Choosing to find different witnesses. Leaving you alone with the stranger.

“So, you're an intern, huh?” He'd caught that much, at least. “I'm Zach.”

“I am.” You lied, leaning against the fence to admire the horses in the pasture. “I'm Y/N.” Mares grazed under the heat of the sun while foals nosed at their udders. Their tails lazily flicking at the occasional fly. “So... did you know the victim?” Your head tilted back towards him. Taking advantage of the friendly behavior.

“A bit. He was kind of a reserved guy.” He shrugged nonchalantly. Moving up to wrap his arms around the wooden fence post. A booted foot came up to rest on a lower post.“He didn't deserve to go out that way, though.”

“No one does.” You agreed, readily. The victim had been found down by the river three days after he'd turned up missing. Chunks ripped out of his skin. Paired with the nest's signature. The body pulled into pieces postmortem. The vampires were merciless to their victims. No dignity left to even the dead. “Do you remember him talking to anyone new? Possibly a girlfriend?”

“You think a girl is responsible for this?” He was clearly appalled by that idea. You fought back the urge to kick him down a notch. Information was too valuable to be risked by pride.

“I think every woman has the potential to murder if pressed hard enough.” It was supposed to be a teasing warning. However, it was nothing less than the truth. You'd been a fine example of it by the time you were a legal adult. Self defense, but a kill none the less.

“Yeah?” He smiled brightly towards you, clearly amused. Missing the serious undertone. “I guess you know best. The job and all.”

“Yeah,” Your lips skewed to the side, “kind of.” You looked back towards the horses, smiling as a small, paint colt tried to get his mom to play. “So, girl”

“Yeah,” He leaned further up on the fence. Giving you exactly what you needed. “There was a new girl.”

“Always is.” You sighed, as if the world just wasn't fair.

“Not always...” He trailed off. Not so subtly letting you know that he was yours for the taking, if you so chose. “Do you ride?” There went all pretenses at professionalism.

“I used to.” You could have taken the chance, and turned it into what he'd been hinting for. But, the urge wasn't quite there. “Very limited experience. One of the places I grew up had horses. I picked up on a bit before leaving.”

You should have wanted to jump his bones. Zach was taller; close to Dean's height. His reddish blonde hair was a bit shaggy. Messy from the breeze in the air. His skin was tanned from his days out in the sun. A black t-shirt clung to his body, emphasizing the strength in his lean body. Light dimples formed when he smiled your way, or talked. Slightly lighter stubble lined his jaw. Even the dirt and dust that coated him from his job seemed to highlight his looks rather than to hinder them.

You should have been more interested. There was just something about him that held you at bay. Oh, yeah. The chauvinist thing.

“Before you go, you should stop back up here. I'll take you on a ride.” There were those dimples. Hoping you'd say yes.

It really was tempting. Give you a chance to knock the younger Winchester out of your head. A chance to enjoy yourself, and take the edge off. His views on women didn't exclude one night stands, clearly. That's all you really needed from him.

“Your boss is going to allow that?” You asked, raising a brow. Leaning in just a bit.

“I'm sure I can swing it.” His grin grew broader. Reading the signals you were sending out.

“Oh, yeah? Why is that?” You turned even more his way. Tilting your head in interest. Giving him a chance to do a once over. Zach didn't hesitate.

“Because I'm his step son. Run this place with him. Own half of the horses.” He wasn't arrogant about it. Simply stated the facts.

“Oh,” You hadn't realized. Different last names. Manager status. You really couldn't be blamed for the mistake. “Guess that would make it a little easier.”

“Just a little,” He laughed heartily. It was such a rare sound for you, that you couldn't help but to react to it. Your own smile coming out.

“We're throwing her to the wolf.” Sam pointed out to Dean as the guy they'd been talking to left to return to work. He'd been useless. Just like the other three. The victim had apparently been a hermit.

“The wolf who runs the place.” Dean pointed out, looking where Sam was. At you and the manager of the farm. “He wasn't going to talk to anyone but her, Sam. And she's more than capable of handling him.”

That you were. Sam watched as the guy's head threw back in laughter at something you'd said. You had practically charmed the pants off of the man with a single look. And from the looks of things, were well on your way to having him wrapped around your finger- if he wasn't already. It was sickening.

“Poor guy is so entranced by her, he can't realize that he's being played.” Sam shook his head. A small breath that translated to a short laugh leaving his lips. It was disgusting.

“She's not playing him, Sam.” Dean snorted, Making sure his brother knew he thought Sam had lost IQ points on the drive over. “She's...what I remember. What I get to see.” The jab wasn't easily missed. To be safe, he continued. “You'd know that if you really knew her.”

“One day you're going to figure out that I'm not the monster you're painting me out to be. The real villain in this story? Is you.” The words echoed through his mind as he watched you interact with that man.

The way you smiled. How easily you talked. How you laughed. It was so unguarded. So different from your approach to him. He'd seen glimpses of it before. But, it was never as prominent as it was with the manager. The grin was larger than a kid in a candy store as you pointed towards the horses, and tilted your head as you awaited an answer to whatever it was you asked.

You should have looked out of place in your dress slacks and green blouse, but somehow you didn't. You blended into the environment seamlessly. As if you really belonged there.

History seemed to repeat itself. “There were some great ones that I desperately wanted to be adopted into.” He wondered if one of them had been a setting like this. Or, if you'd simply learned to let certain pieces of yourself shine through in order to survive. To find a place to fit in. Adapting, and changing yourself to fit to your environment. A never ending cycle.

He couldn't imagine living like that. As often as he'd had to play another role, it was over as soon as he was back around the people he knew. That he trusted. Sam wondered for the first time if you ever had that freedom.

“Yeah,” The younger Winchester finally stated. Stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched the way your face dropped a bit when your head turned towards him. “I guess you're right, Dean.”

“I mean it, Sam- Wait, what?” The older brother's mouthed remained in an 'o' as he tried to find a logical explanation for what was happening. His dark brows slammed together. Turning between his brother and you. “You...you mean it?”

“Yeah,” Sam shrugged it off. Playing it cool. He turned away. Refusing to look back in your direction as he spoke. “I don't know more than one important thing about the woman. Don’t know who she really is.”

“Can I ask you something, then?” Instead of gloating, like Sam had expected, Dean surprised him.

“Shoot.”

“Why did you- do you- give her such a hard time? I mean... yeah. She kinda messed up that first day with the coffee. But, after that... I just can't see it.” Green, questioning, eyes searched Sam's, making him shift uncomfortably and tighten his lips.

“You know, Dean...” Sam shook his head lightly, his brows furrowing together. His lips tugged in tight. “I can't give a good reason.” His hands dug further into his pants as he shifted awkwardly. Almost as if he was ashamed. And truth be told? He was. At least partially. “Part of it was that I was convinced she was using and leading you on. But, the rest... nothing I can put into words.” He didn't mention his conviction that this life would be your doom, and another heart break to Dean's list. It was a little too close to the current situation. Speaking of it felt as though it would curse you.

“Look,” Dean began. Voice thick with authority. “I appreciate you looking out for me. But, it was never that. You gotta let it go, man. It isn't fair to her.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And the rest? That's your hangup, Sam. I can't tell you to get over it. Hell, I can't even tell you to look past it.” Once Dean got going, he didn't stop until his point had been made. His voice lowered as he leaned in. “All I can do? Is tell you that,” He pointed to you subtly, “that woman has been through a lot. Not as much as us- no one can top that end of the world crap. But, it was enough to really mess her up.” His lips pursed in thought before he decided to go on. “On top of that, she's done enough for the both of us these last few years. Doncha think she deserves some kinda chance?”

“I'm not making any promises.” Sam turned just in time to see the cowboy's hand move to rest on your lower back. His jaw tightened in response. “Have you... have you ever had someone get so far under your skin that just the sound of their footsteps is enough to make your pulse race?”

“Can't say that I have, Sammy.”

“She...She's that person, Dean.”

Part Six

Tag: @burningmusicmachine @missmarrinette @sherlockedtash88 @rathersuspiciousbumblebee @sasbb23

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

[its-wabby-stuff]

I think Ben turned into the interviewer at the end.

By popular demand (a reblog from @doodleswithangie) we present the ✨Concussion Cut✨ of Ben Schwartz's (@rejectedjokes) Renfield (@i-am-renfield) Answer Time interview with @overchers.