#and she dead ass looked right at me and said

[demie90s]

I LOVEE MENACE READER, I NEED ONE WHERE THE REF KEEPS MAKING FLASE CALLS AND MISSED CALLS MAKING HER CRASH OUT, THEN THE LAST FALSE CALL SHE GOT, SHE CRASHED OUT ON THE GIRL WHO WAS FOULING HER AND THE REF

𝐔𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 X 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Play Stupid. Win Stupid.

MASTERLIST, MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: The ref has one more time to blow that dusty-ass whistle before you take matters into your own hands. You’ve been fouled, hacked, shoved, and tripped all game—and somehow you’re the one getting the calls.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Sports chaos, menace!reader, tension, locker room aftermath, team rallying around you

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Cussing, ejection, light physicality, reader might’ve said “get your whistle out your throat before I do it for you”

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.8k

ᴠɪʙᴇ: “I’m calm until I’m not. And when I’m not, you better be.”

I swear I tried to behave.

Geno had one rule for me this game—keep your cool. And for the first three quarters, I really tried. For real. Every time that girl bumped me, pulled my jersey, elbowed me low, I just breathed. Blew it off. Looked at the ref. Who—surprise, surprise—was more interested in staring at the sideline than doing his job.

By the second quarter, it was clear. They weren’t gonna play fair. And he wasn’t gonna call fair.

She shoved me in the back going up for a rebound. Nothing.

KK got tripped—and we got the foul.

Azzi caught an elbow to the face. Whistle? Silent.

By the time we hit the last few minutes of the third, I stopped reacting. Didn’t look at the bench. Didn’t talk to the refs. Just nodded every time she hit me.

Fourth quarter. Close game. Crowd loud.

We’re running a clean play—Ice driving baseline—and here comes someone barreling into her like she’s trying to clear traffic. Ice hits the floor hard, sliding across the hardwood like a dropped phone.

No call.

I stopped dribbling.

I just stood there. Ball in hand. Breathing hard. The crowd’s screaming. The team’s yelling.

And the ref?

He blows the whistle.

On. Me.

“Offensive foul. Number 17.”

I blinked.

Then I looked at Geno.

That man looked like he aged five years in two seconds. His clipboard didn’t even make it to the floor—he just dropped it.

I handed the ball to the nearest girl.

Took off my headband.

And walked.

Straight up to the player who’d been fouling us all night.

“Yo,” I said, loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough to stay dangerous. “You got one more time to touch her like that.”

She didn’t back up. She smiled. Real smug.

I tilted my head.

“You think this funny? Try me again. I swear to God, you won’t finish this game walking.”

Then—then—the ref steps in, puffed-up like a Dollar Tree security guard.

“That’s enough,” he says, waving me off. “You’re out. Technical.”

I looked him dead in the face.

“Oh, word?” I said, taking a step forward. “You wanna eject me? Cool. But make it worth it.”

Then I reached for his whistle—and snatched it clean off his lanyard. Man looked like he saw his life flash.

“You gon’ need this when I’m done with her,” I said, tossing it at his chest. “To call the damn ambulance.”

Azzi damn near ran off the court to hide her laugh. Paige is holding KK now, trying to keep her calm. Nika’s standing next to the scorer’s table mouthing, she gone snap.

Too late. I already did.

Security starts coming toward me. I back up slow like I know the drill, hands up like “yeah, yeah, I’m leaving.”

But not before I walk past the player again—closer this time—and lean in like I’m whispering a prayer.

“I swear to God, if Ice so much as bruises, I’m finding you in the parking lot. Pack your shit early.”

The whole gym is watching. Camera flashes. Phones out. Geno’s got two hands on his hips like he’s about to faint.

I don’t celebrate. I don’t dap anybody up.

I just leave.

Locker Room

The room’s dead quiet when I walk in. Everybody moves like I might still be ticking.

I sit down on the bench, unzip my warmups, and stare at the floor.

Ice walks in last. Her cheek’s red. Ice pack in hand.

She comes to me, sits right next to my knee.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” she says, real soft.

I don’t look at her.

“She didn’t have to hit you like that.”

“She does that to everybody.”

“Then I’m not everybody.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just puts the ice pack on her shoulder.

Then, after a minute, I turn to her. Grab her chin gentle.

“Let me see your face.”

She lets me.

I press my lips to her forehead. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Say the word,” I whisper, “and I’ll find her in the parking lot.”

Ice laughs.

⸻

Later that Night, Group Chat

📱Paige: [screenshot] Yo this ref deleted his Twitter 💀💀

📱Nika: “play stupid. win stupid.”

📱KK: I still can’t believe you really took the whistle

📱You: He ain’t deserve it. He just renting it.

📱Azzi: Geno wants to talk tmr

📱You: He better not touch me either then

[alotofpockets]

What friends are for | Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "That's what friends are for, right?" - "Right, because you're definitely not more than friends."

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.2k

-----

When Kyra joined Arsenal, the two of you instantly became friends. While she had found comfort with her fellow Aussies, she gravitated towards you. Her second week at the club? You already labelled yourselves as best friends.

Steph and Caitlin were happy to see Kyra make a new friend. They loved her of course, but she could be a little pest, and they were grateful that her energy would be divided between more people than just the two of them.

It didn’t take long before they started questioning if the two of you weren’t more than friends though. The two of you seemed to be glued to each other’s sides. From pitch walk partners, to always linking up for drills, to being over at each other’s places all the time. Yet whenever they asked, Kyra always told them you’re just friends. 

Movie nights had become your favourite thing to do with Kyra. It had become a tradition for the two of you to have at least one movie night a week. Movie nights always included a sleepover, so today’s one did as well.

Kyra opened her door and smiled when she saw you standing on her doorstep, your kit bag slung over your shoulder. “Come on! I am so excited about this movie.” She said as she pulled you into her apartment. You put down your kit bag next to the door and kick your shoes off. “You picked without me?”

She looks at you dead serious, “Yes, you picked without me last time, so now it’s my turn.” You knew picking last time was going to come back to bite you in the ass, but it was movie night, so you’d have fun no matter what. “Alright Kyky, what movie did you pick?”

“Home Alone!” She yells from the kitchen, where the microwave had just dinged to let her know the popcorn was done. “Home Alone? It’s May, why are we watching a Christmas movie?” 

Kyra walked back into the living room, “I love Home Alone, and so do you, so no complaining.” You playfully rolled your eyes and sat down on the sofa. Kyra sat down beside you and handed you the popcorn, “See, I knew you would give in.” 

You shove her lightly, before cuddling into her side. It was by your own definition the most comfortable way to watch a movie. Together you watched, laughed, and ate your popcorn. And once the movie was over, you made your way over to Kyra’s bedroom. She had a one bedroom apartment, as did you, so you had always shared the bed.

The next morning, you woke up cuddled into Kyra's side. It wasn't unusual, this is how you woke up most sleepovers with Kyra. You got up to get a headstart on breakfast while you let Kyra sleep a little longer.

“You're too good for me.” Kyra states as she follows the smell of her favourite pre-training breakfast. You smile at her groggy morning voice, “I try.” 

Kyra drove the both of you to training. Once she parked the car you jumped out, since you had a session with the physio in five minutes that you had almost forgotten about. In your haste you quickly run past Steph, who had just gotten out of her car. She watches you with an amused smile on her face, and then turns to Kyra.

“Finally got the missus to move in, and now you’ve scared her off?” Kyra rolls her eyes. “I think she actually enjoyed herself quite well. She even made me breakfast.” Steph looked at her with eyes of disbelief, how could she not see it. “What? That’s what friends are for, right?” She asked when she noticed the look Steph gave her. “Right, because you’re definitely not more than friends.” The older Aussie told her while rolling her eyes, before walking off, leaving Kyra to trail behind her.

You had made it just in time for your physio appointment, and with some tape applied to your knee, you were free to join the rest of the girls for training. The day started with some warm-up exercises before working on the rest of the planned training session.

To finish the session off, you were playing a little 5v5. Everyone on the team always got super competitive while playing 5v5, even if it was just to be named winners of today’s session.

Apparently you and Katie got a little too competitive, because when you were jumping up to head the ball, Katie’s head collided with yours. The two of you fell to the ground, each clutching your heads. 

The medical team was quickly by your sides, but Kyra was quicker. She hadn’t even been on either of the teams, she was just sitting on the sidelines, yet she had gotten up and sprinted across the field to get to you as fast as she could. She crouched down by your side, quickly getting some of the grass off your face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The medical team pushed her to the side. “Kyra, you need to give us some space.”

She stood to the side watching them do checks on you, but then to her side she saw Katie already standing up, fully cleared by the medics that were checking out, and something within her snapped.

“Look what you did!” She snapped, lunging towards Katie. Luckily Caitlin caught on to Kyra quicker than she could do anything and stepped in between her and Katie. Before either Caitlin or Katie can say something, you speak up. “Kyky, don’t.” It was all you had to say for Kyra to fully stop, making it so that Caitlin didn’t have to hold her back anymore. 

Katie chuckled at how easily you were able to stop her from her anger. “Ha, your wife said you're not allowed to hit me.” Caitlin quickly stepped forwards again and sent her girlfriend a disappointed look. Katie held up her hands in surrender. “It’s not my fault she’s whipped.” She said under her breath as she stepped back.

Kyra kept her eyes on Katie, the girl who hurt you. Her eyes were filled with anger. “She’s up.” Caitlin said to Kyra, and she quickly focussed back on you instead. “Are you alright?” You nod, “Yeah I’ll be fine. Maybe a bit of a black eye.” You could see Kyra’s eyes turn angry again, so you put your hand on her arm. “Breathe, Kyky, I’m okay. Katie did nothing wrong.”

She let her eyes focus back on you, to double check if you were really okay. Then she nodded slowly. “Can you maybe get me an icepack?” Kyra smiled, “Yes, of course. One icepack, coming right up.” She didn’t have to run, but she did.

While she is occupied doing that, you head over to Katie. “Sorry about her. Are you alright?” Katie’s smirk grows, “Even speaking for her like you’re married I see.” You roll your eyes. “Grow up.” You say jokingly. “Fine fine, I’m good. Seems like you got the worst of it, you’ll be okay?” You nod, “Yeah, I should be good. I think I’ll have myself a nurse 24/7 for a bit though.” You say as you watch Kyra sprint back with an icepack. “Lucky you.” Katie says as she pats your back as she watches your eyes shine just a little brighter as you watch Kyra nearing.

-----

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[youdontknowe]

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

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

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

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

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

4. OHHHHH SAMS GIRL IN THE SHOW

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

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

7. Not the notes those took forever to compile

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

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

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

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

12. LMAO not the glitter pen

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

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

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

16. Calling Sam and Jo her siblings 😭

17. Book and blade seem to be her witchy tools

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

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

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

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

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

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

24. Smooches time eheheh

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

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

27. She’s made of magic ✨

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

29. Heist safe is funny asf

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

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

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

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

34. Oh Jesus the red guys back

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

42. Eeee more dream scape fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

55. TOGETHER AGAINNNN

56. Wait she just teleported herself

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

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

59. Bobby being the only voice of reason*

60. Awww cuddles

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 22 - I'd Go Black And Blue

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

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

Chapter Title from Make You Feel My Love by Bob Dylan

Word Count: 18.9k

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

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

Chapter 21 - Chapter 23

Read on A03!

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

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

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

All you can remember is a blur. 

The Blue, in the church.

An archangel. 

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

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

Dean.

Something like electricity jolts through your body. 

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

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

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

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

Like a hunter.

“Who-“

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

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

Fuck. 

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

“My knife-“

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

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

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

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

“Just nod.”

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

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

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

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

You don’t know what that means. 

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

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

“I’m deaf.”

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

“You’re American.”

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

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

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

“Not like this. This is for hunting.”

“You can hunt without a gun.”

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

“Monsters?”

She pauses. “You’re a hunter.”

“Yep.” You hum, and she frowns.

“You don’t look like you hunt.”

Huh. “Don’t I?”

“You weren’t armed.”

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

“I said don’t move-“

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

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

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

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

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

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

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

“You have hunter friends?”

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

“In America?”

“That’s where I left them, yeah.”

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

For once, you’re not. 

But you also don’t know her.

So you have to be careful what you say.

“Flight.”

“Without a passport?”

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

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

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

You still don’t know where here is. 

Or how long Dean’s been waiting for you. 

“I have some-“

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

“That was one of my questions for you.”

Shit.

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

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

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

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

And food. 

Your head is spinning, and food sounds really good.

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

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

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

“I was knocked out.”

“Only for three days.”

Three days.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. “Oops.”

The woman frowns. “Did you do it?”

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

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

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

Dean might.

No one else.

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

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

There it was.

That’s why you’re here. 

“It’s complicated.”

She shakes her head. “Try.”

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

But he’s made a severe misjudgment about you. 

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

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

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

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

John Winchester’s dead.

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

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

It doesn’t never works out in their favor. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “What note?”

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

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

“And you think they’re hunting you-“

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

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

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

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

This lady isn’t working with the angels.

You still need her to get out of the way.

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

Bobby would kill you. 

He can get in line.

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

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

“Do it.” You snap. “I-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can work with that.

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

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

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

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

But you fight dirty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shrugs right back. “Maybe.”  

“I think that’s a stalemate then.”

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

“I’m good. Sorry about, uh- That.”

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

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

You end up spitting up a little bit of blood. 

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

But you need to get home first.

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

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

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

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

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

Eileen hums. “Did you leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your head shoots up. “Fancy group? Was he British?”

“American immigrant to Ireland.” She stares at you. “Why?”

“I- How long have you been hunting?”

“My whole life.”

You nod slowly, frowning at the air. If she’s been hunting that long, in Europe, she must have an idea. Have a rumor. Just a fucking lead you can chase, to get what you need. 

“How long have-“

“A while.” You lean forward, ignoring the aching protest through your whole body. “You heard of an asshole named Ketch?”

Her eyes narrow, her lips curling slightly into a sneer, and that’s a yes. “Arthur?”

You nod, and she scoffs.

“He’s a dick. Won’t work with me because I’m deaf, always whining about hunter pigs getting in the way.” 

You grin. He is a dick. “Is he part of the big fancy group?”

“Sort of.” Eileen’s words are cautious, but she’s still not making a move to restart the fight. “Different branch, I think. They don’t like me enough to tell me technical things.”

“What do they like you enough to tell you?”

“Not much.” She gives you an odd look, her words still slow. “Why?”

“He stole my book. And tried to kidnap me like, twenty times.”

“Ah.” Eileen smiles slightly. “How did it work out for him?”

You snort. “Bad.”

That gets a laugh from Eileen, and it’s a little spluttered like yours, but it’s nice. Full and real and a little loud, echoing around the basement for several moments, and your own smile grows. 

You haven’t talked to someone that’s not either trying to kill you—or the frustrating, insufferable, awesome love of your life over the phone—for so long.

It’s another thing that’s nice. And Eileen had just beat you up, but you both seem to be done with that. If you’re careful, you might even have an ally. She seems to hate Ketch. That alone is a hallmark of a good person. You just need to see if she’s committed to this not letting you leave thing.

“How are we feeling about the truce?” You ask carefully, and Eileen only shrugs.

“Are you going to tell me what you are?”

You pause. It’s not good to tell a lot of people. You’re not sure why, but the more people know about you in general, the worse things get. Openly sharing the fact that you’re a Magdalene, when that’s something even Heaven considers better as not known, seems unwise.

But you’re really tired. And you really want to go home. 

Getting home means getting the Book and—ideally—the Blade back. The Silver has always responded to the Blade, so maybe that can kickstart it, and get you back to being dangerous, but useful. And the Book is in Enochian, and full of weird shit. There will have to be something useful to the whole apocalypse situation. And if not, nobody had died when you’d had the Book and the Blade.

That alone can be a false comfort. 

You mostly just don’t want to be useless. Don’t want to return as just a sickness that Dean seems to be fine catching.

It’s better not to think about that. About how maybe you are infecting and hurting him, but he’s a fucking adorable idiot, so he just doesn’t care. You don’t know why he wouldn’t care.

He should care.

He shouldn’t be asking you to come home, because now you have no choice, and he really doesn’t understand exactly how much you love him. How willing you are to be sick if it’s what keeps him alive. 

It hadn’t kept Jo alive. But fighting it hadn’t kept Dean alive before.

You won’t fail a third time.

You won’t.

So you need the Book and the Blade.

Eileen might be able to help with that. And you may not be able to tell her what you are, but you can also tell half-truths. It’s better than lies. Better than full truths. 

The last person you told full truths was Jo. 

You feel fucking sick again. Bile rises in your throat, bitter on the back of your tongue and making you choke on the air. The Silver isn’t rising, but it is shifting, and you’ve started to claw the skin of your arms. 

Eileen says your name slowly, and you dig your nails in, forcing yourself to come back down. “Are you-“

“I’m fine.” You mutter. “I- I’ll tell you what I am if,” you narrow your eyes. “You help me. To find what I’m looking for.”

Eileen only holds your gaze. “What are you looking for?”

“You know that book I mentioned?” You wait for her nod, then continue. “I want it back.”

“Your book?”

“Yeah. And my knife.”

Her gaze flicks to the floor. “Your-“

“Different knife.” You mutter. “This one’s a gift. The other one is… weird.”

“Huh.” Eileen raised her brows. “Weirder than you?”

You snort. “Same amount of weird, actually. You in?”

Eileen’s scanning over you, and if she says no, you’re going to be stuck in a loop of fighting and resting until she kills you, or your escape. And she has a lot of reasons to say no. You do sound insane, she found you with the earth growing around you and a sticky note from an—alleged—angel, and you’re not winning any awards for worth helping after fucking biting her-

“You are sure Ketch took your shit?”

You nod. “Him or Davis.”

Eileen blinks. “Mick?”

“Sure.”

“If it is Mick, I know where your stuff might be.” She gives you a weary look. “But you can’t be mad at me if it’s not there. And you have to tell me what you are.” 

It’s not a bad deal.

That doesn’t stop you from pushing it, just a bit.

“Why do you care what I am?”

It earns you a flat look. “I pulled you from the earth and you talk about angels.”

“I could just be crazy, you know.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “I’ll judge that when you tell me.”

She’s not backing down.

You won’t either.

“Alright, then.”

Eileen grins at you. “Alright.”

There’s a second where you’re both staring at each other, and then you’re moving at the same time. Eileen grabs her shotgun and kicks your knife across the floor, and you shrug on your jacket with a grimace at her vomit-stained clothing.

“Do you- We can stop so you can shower-“

She waves you off. “I’ve been covered in worse. I’ll change, shower later.”

You nod thoughtlessly, feeling through your pockets one last time to check that the Blue really did take your phone. You need to call someone, just to tell them you’re alive and still trying to get home. And after how your last prayer went, you’re not jumping to make another one soon. 

But your phone is gone. And when you ask Eileen to borrow hers, Bobby’s number goes straight to voicemail, and you’re a fucking idiot who never memorized anyone else’s. Not even Dean’s. 

You’ll apologize when you get home. For vanishing like that, giving him another reason to worry when he’s already got so many. You’ll fall in front of him and wrap your arms around his legs, giving him even more weight and apologizing for it every second, until he picks you up and moves you to the bed. Not to rest. 

You’ll rest when you know he understands. When he gets that—at the end of it—you’re always just his. That as long as you have hands that refuse to hurt him, you’ll drag yourself though mud and dirt to return to his side. To crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck as you prove to him that you’ll never leave.

As you show him with a hand between your bodies, or your mouth kissing down his chest. Letting him guide you like he’d promised—or at least you’ve twisted his words into promising, just in your head where it can’t hurt anyone but you—and he understands-

“How old is your brother?”

You turn and blink at Eileen. The ride has been wholly silent save for the radio—she can’t hear you if she’s not looking at you—and you’d settled too quickly into fantasy.

“I thought we’d stop and eat.” She says, and the engine has indeed turned off.

You need to get it together. “I- That would be nice.” You mumble, rubbing your thumb over your palm. “I’m hungry.”

“I know. You threw up your lunch all over me.” She reaches into the back of her car, and pulls out a Tupperware. “BLT or PBJ?”

“PBJ,” You hum, grimacing to yourself as Eileen passes you the food. “I don’t like bacon.”

“You can take the bacon out.”

“I do.” You smile to yourself, a very wide, charming smile flashing over your vision. “I usually just sneak it onto my- De- My friend’s plate. He loves bacon.”

Eileen gives you a vague look, swallowing before she speaks. “The friend who wants you to come home?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you not tell him you hate bacon?”

You shrug. “Probably could, but he’d get really dramatic about it.” How do you not like bacon, Princess?! It’s- It’s bacon! “Plus he gets really excited when he has more bacon than he thought. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” She raises her brows. “Are you- Are there feelings?”

Fucking- 

You must have a big, blaring sign on your forehead that says I love Dean Winchester.

Sure, Jo knows because she knows you, and Sam knows because he basically is your brother, just as Bobby is your dad, but they all have spent time around you. Listened to you talk about Dean, seen you turn back for him and flush at his voice and name, clinging to him like the sorry little girl he still can’t figure out you are. The one that’s going to be tosses aside and forgotten, when he finds better-

Not the time for that. You’ll have plenty of time to try and mark Dean somewhere visible so everyone knows that no matter what they do, you’ll always love him, and that should terrify them.

Right now, you need to work out how Eileen figured out that you love him from basically fucking nothing.

And you’re not saying anything. It’s not helping your case. 

“I-“ You clear your throat. “It’s complicated.”

Eileen nods, and drops it just like that. “How about your brother?”

“My- What brother?”

Her eyes narrow. “You said you had a brother. Who fucked up.”

“Oh. Sam.” You shake your head, giving her an apologetic, close-lipped smile. “Sorry. Forgot I called him that.”

“Is he not your brother?”

“No- Ye- Sorta.”

Eileen tilts her head. “Family?”

“Yeah. He is. And he’s twenty-five.”

“Younger?”

You hum a conformation, taking a large bite of your sandwich, and Eileen’s remains neglected in her Tupperware. 

“Do you have a big family?” You give her an odd look, and she sighs. “I grew up without one. A family. I’m… curious.”

“Well I- I sort of grew up without a family too.” You frown into the air, the bread of the sandwich smushing between your fingers. “I- I had my dad. And my uncle. But I only met the rest of them when I was an adult.” You shrug, looking fully back to Eileen. “What happened to your family? Parents die when you were young?”

“I was an infant. Killed by a banshee. I’ve been hunting it since, but-“

“Have you tried throwing a funeral?” You cut her off before you can stop yourself, and she frowns. “Shit, sorry, just- Banshee hunts go really well if you’re throwing funerals. All the emotion, it’s like a- uh-“ You sigh. “I can’t think of anything. But they’re good.”

Eileen nods slowly, giving you a tentative, small smile. “It’s okay. I haven’t tried that, but I also don’t know how to throw a funeral.”

“You can use my body, if this goes south and you have to kill me.”

Her smile grows. “I will.”

You tell Eileen a little more about your family, while she eats. About how Bobby thinks you don’t know about how he uses shea butter lotion, but you shared a desktop before you bought—stole—a laptop, and you’ve seen his shopping history. She hears about Dean less than most people—you’re trying to make up for the slip, but based on her amused expression as you talk about how you think he genuinely believes his car has a soul, it’s not working—but Sam plenty, with all his books but no fucking clue how to work a self-checkout machine.

You know that because you’d been standing right next to him, staring at it for three straight minutes until Dean gotten back and explained how.

Explained to you how. He’d guided you up with a hand on your lower back, and scanned two items before letting you scan the rest. Sam had craned over your shoulder, and spent the rest of the drive back to the motel grumbling about favoritism. 

It had helped, though. When you’d chosen to sit with him and read instead of watching TV with Dean. 

And Eileen listens, nodding along so you know she understands. You get to hear much about the hunter who raised her—it sounds like with less vigilance than John, but more urgency to join hunting than Bobby—and she mentions that she likes muscles cars too, as well as big, long books, because they give her a reason to ignore people waving for her attention. 

When the ride starts again, there’s a little less wired air than before. You don’t feel better—you’re not sure you remember what better even could mean right now, when it’s not home—but Eileen’s not going to shoot you, and you’re not going to try and ditch her to do this alone. You could.

Right now—with pale blue stuck on your fingers and the Spiderweb howling for Dean so loud you have to ignore it, or you’ll go insane—you don’t want to.

The radio is low and soft, all the roading winding with the same scene of grass and trees and grass and trees, to the point that you’d think you were driving in circles if you didn’t know better. And the Sky isn’t flaring, over and over and over above you, but if you close your eyes you won’t be able to see it. And when you do—with the music and wind and hum of the engine—it’s bordering on peaceful, and if Eileen’s not going to kill you, there’s nothing to help you fight the sleep as it-

You’ve never been here before. 

It looks like a camp. A military camp. All the buildings are low, and they don’t look to be all that well put together. Wooden doors and low, rotting foundations, the pavement below your feet cracked and the grass overgrown. There’s a strong, golden haze cast over everything—lit from the sun, suspended right above the horizon and never moving—and people who mill about like ghosts. Their bodies tensed and eyes heavy. 

You don’t bother to try and talk to them.

You’re looking for Dean. 

This is the type of dream you would have about him. The type of dream you’ve always had, that has only grown sharper over the years. Where everything is golden, and your mind is making up any excuse for him to be near you. This scenario seems to be an apocalypse. 

If you believed in interpreting dreams, you’d think that your mind was trying to tell you something about how you feel like the world is ending because you’re not home.

The more likely case is that you’re simply stressed about the apocalypse.

And Dean. You can’t find him. You poke your head into buildings and down alleys, and there’s a very strange Cas that stares right through you, and a small, bearded man who’s eyes feel like they’re following you–even though you know better—but no-

There he is. 

The whole world feels like it’s glowing. He’s sprinting up towards you with a wild expression, and it’s not real, but that doesn’t stop the small sound from leaving your throat. 

He always looks so real. And when he crashes into you, his hands find you the same way Real Dean’s would. Grabbing your face between his hands and quickly scanning over you for injury, pressing you right up to his chest like there’s ever a chance you’d try to run away. 

And this is the part that makes you certain it’s a dream.

Dean kisses you like he’s about to die. Like you’re about to die. Like more than the universe will crumble if he doesn’t kiss you, and hook his arm around your waist to pull you just a little bit closer. And you can’t feel it—not really, when it’s all in your head—but you can still melt into him. Curl your fingers on his shirt and open your mouth for Dean to take more.

It would be nice if he could take all of you. Pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, then take you out of the dream into the real world. And you’d wake up with the Real Dean asleep at your side, his arm thrown over your waist in his sleep. 

You could pretend like you never left. You could pretend you’re allowed to take things from him, and climb over him, waking him up with soft kisses over his face and a smile when he blinks up at you. 

For now you’ll settle for this. For this Dean hauling you fully up into his arms with barely a grunt, and burying his face in the crook of your neck when you pull apart.

The whole world smells like a phantom of cinnamon. 

If you die, right here in your own mind, there would certainly be worse ways to go.

“You’re okay.” Dean mutters against your skin, a hand combing through your hair, and it sounds more like he’s trying to convince yourself. “Son of a bitch, Princess, I kept saying shit about you missing, and you are, and- Fuck-“

You lean back, just enough to see Dean’s eyes a little glossy. You don’t know how he deals with you crying all the time.

Just the sight is making you feel like your heart is being crushed into millions of pieces that you can’t figure out how to offer him, to patch up the pain. 

Instead you just wrapped your arms fully around his neck, drop your face onto his shoulder, and stay wherever he wants to move you. 

“I miss you.” He mutters. “Miss you so freakin’ much. Everything’s a mess, and Cas said he couldn’t find you, the angels are fucking douchebags, and I- I need you here, baby. Can’t do this if you’re not here.”

Baby. 

You know I love you, baby.

You swallow, turning your head to press a light kiss to his neck. You’ve always wanted to do that. 

He makes a small sound, and that’s going to haunt you louder than ‘baby’ is.

“I miss you too.” You whisper, and Dean sighs.

“You wouldn’t happened to know where you are, sweetheart?”

“Nope.” 

“Shit. Worth a shot. Stranger things.”

You hum, propping your chin up to scan around the ruined camp around you. “Do you know where we are?”

“Uh-“ He sighs, holding you a little tighter. “Just a nightmare, about the end."

"The-"

"End of the world. If Lucifer wins."

“Oh.” Your fingers are digging into his skin. It’s a good thing he can’t feel it. “That… fucking sucks.”

Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, it does. Whole thing really fucking sucks. Lose Sam and Bobby, Cas' fine, but human, and you- you're-“

He cuts himself off, and you lean back to scan over him with a frown. “De-“

You let out a soft yelp as you're crushed back against his body, his grip tight enough to suffocate you, like he's trying to mold himself to you until it's impossible to tear you away.

It's already impossible for someone to tear you away. Even when Dean's not with you, he's there. Removing him would be like trying to take your shadow. Just simply fucking impossible. 

"It's fine, now." Dean presses his face into the side of your head, his breathing is deep, as if he's trying to inhale you. "You're here."

You flush. It's fine. Dean's fine.

Right now, it's all fine, because you're here.

"I- I miss you, De. A lot."

"I know, Princess. I-"

"You don't." You shake your head, grabbing his face between your hands and running over every deep line and small scar. It's all still Golden. And in here, it's yours. "You- I miss you so much. I want to come home, and I miss you, and I- I said all the way down but I don't want to go there if it's not with you- and-"

Dean mutters your name, tracing his thumb down the bridge of your nose until you're leaning into his touch, your voice evening out once more.

"I wanna come home." Your voice is almost a childish whine, and Dean's lips twitch slightly.

"I do know, baby. I promise I- I'd give goddamn anything just to know where you are." He sighs, his thumb dropping down to trace over your lips, and you think you'd be happy melting into the depth of him and never bothering to climb back out.

"Dean- I-"

"I know." He mutters, pressing his thumb on your lower lip, and you can only sit in him and pray to absolutely nothing that this, somehow, could become real. Tangible. 

Permanent.

He’s kissing you again. Slower, carefully, as if you might shatter or dissipate if he’s not careful.

You really wish you could feel it. 

And then the Sky starts to split open, and it’s all gone.

Someone’s saying your name, and it’s not Dean. 

You’re still not home. Not in a bed, but in a seat, that’s made of leather and sticking your skin, just like the glass near your face. You’d be bothered by it, but there’s still too much of your mind trying to grab the idea of Dean kissing you, being happy you’re there, missing you half as much as you miss him, and you don’t want to move.

The voice is close to your ear now. Round and oddly accented- 

Eileen.

“We’re at the place.” She’s saying, and you appreciate that she’s not trying to jostle you awake. That could have ended poorly for everyone. “If you want to get home, you should probably get up.”

That’s the right thing to say. Your eyes shoot open, and you push yourself off where you’d slump on the door.

“You fell asleep fast.” Eileen offers as you rub your face, watching you with the same amusement from before. “Seemed like you could use it. But we’re here.”

“Where’s-“

“They have a big, important, secret library.” She nods out the window, and you follow the direction to see-

It’s not a castle. You’ve never seen a castle, but you’re pretty sure that’s too small to be a castle. But it’s got all the fancy architecture and surrounding gardens and a fucking iron fence to keep people out—that’s going to be annoying—and the scream of I think I’m more important than you are all over it.

“Secret.” You repeat, your tone dry, and Eileen shrugs.

“They think it is. It’s where they keep artifacts they gather on their travels.” 

“You mean steal, don’t you.” 

She nods, and you let out a heavy sigh, dropping your voice under your breath.

“Fucking- It’s not fun when it’s real.”

“Wha-“

“Movie I like that’s not great with morals. Don’t worry about it.” You reach into your jacket, shifting around the flask and pulling out your knife. “Is it warded?”

“Against what?”

“Uh…” You. “Witches?”

“I think so.” She says, watching you as you take a few, long breaths, trying to test where the Silver is in your body.

It’s not set to explode, but it’s also not entirely down. There’s a slight edge to it, that’s bumping up against the Spiderweb and making it ripple and throw light all over your body.

Something might be off with this. Something will go wrong, even if Eileen doesn’t intended it to.

You’ll get through it.

You have to. 

“Are you a witch?”

You sigh, and shake your head. “Sort of. I’m made of the things witches use.”

You won’t tell her the name. If you tell her the name, she might look into it more, and the Sky is beating above you. It won’t like that.

Half-truths. 

Only the pastel blue on your fingers—running with you wherever you go and never trying to do anything will help—will know full truths. Jo might be the only non-angel or demon who understands just what you could do, with the Silver. She’s the only one who knows you’re a virgin, too. Who knows just how much you love Dean.

She’s the only one who really knows you love Dean. You all but broke that last rule and told her. 

And she’s the only one who will ever know. 

Because she’s the only one who gets the whole truth, forever, all the time. 

But she made you promise you’d be okay. And okay means talking to people that aren’t the sky, demons and archangels come to taunt you, and Dean. 

So you tell Eileen the half-truth, and it doesn’t itch on your tongue. She doesn’t react too much, either. You think she knows it’s not everything, but just like about Dean, she doesn’t push it.

“Do you want help in there?”

You pause, the Silver rolling once more, and shake your head. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“No problem. I’ll try that funeral thing, too. Might work.”

“Will work.” You correct, spinning your knife in your hands. “Trust me.”

Eileen gives you another amused look. “Alright, crazy. Heist safe.”

“I will.” You offer her a smile in return, and it’s not full, but it’s not strained either. “If you’re ever in the states, call my dad. His number should be in your phone. Say you’re looking for Sam, then tell him you’re looking for me. He’ll pass it on.”

Bobby and Dean wouldn’t. They’d snap that they’ve never heard that name in their life, then hang up the phone. 

Sam will. 

Eileen nods, and neither of you are all that interested in long goodbyes. She seems like a practical person, and you’re really fucking sick of goodbyes all together. Given your luck and odd habit of meeting people then never being able to avoid them, you’ll see her again.

And now, you have a job to do. 

The Silver is starting to build. You hop the fence—biting on the inside of your cheek as blister form on your skin from the iron—and get into the library without a hitch, but the Silver still builds. Nothing is happening as you wander down the hallways, but the Silver just keeps building.

Maybe it’s because this is too easy. Because you’re just walking inside, and there’s nothing and no one stopping you. 

There should be someone stopping you. Ketch and his people don’t seem like the lax security types, and Davis was better, but he did seem to love his lore.

You’d think there’d a least be a guard, but there’s no one.

Not even a librarian. 

And the blur kicks in.

If you were smarter, you’d turn around and run. Damn it and pray to Cas now, them get the fuck out of here. The Silver is already winding too tight, and you might tear through more than the building when it snaps.

But you’ve come this far. And you’re not smarter.

It doesn’t help that you know they’re here. The Blade and the Book. They’re calling you forward, reminding you that they’re made for you. Made for the Magdalene to have, as a gift. Promised to you, just as you’re promised to Him. Take them, because they’re yours. 

The Silver is glowing. Starting to fall out of you without destruction—until you’re the wisdom of all the books on the shelves and the grief of the spaces between the Sun and the earth, and very, very far away, something perfect and Golden and your more than anything else—all while continuing to wind up inside of you. It feels a little like being a galaxy, consumed in the black hole but still everywhere. Still everything.

You still can’t figure out what’s wrong. There’s not a bloodstain on the floor or a dent on the wall, no alarms or cries for help making it through the blur.

Only the Book and the Blade, calling you forward.

And it’s in a glass case, when you stumble into the room. 

Just the Blade. 

They might be separated, and you’re not stupid enough to leave the Blade until you find the Book. You only pause to read the small placard they’ve added, noting that it’s a witch-blade that causes insanity, marked with Latin, Hebrew, Arabic, and Enochian. 

They know about Enochian. 

That’s going to have to be a problem for later.

Right now you’re scanning over the rest of the placard, lingering on how most of the Blade has been translated, save for one word, that they’ve reprinted on the metal.

Magdalene. 

They think it means either whore or bride, which is a fascinating dual stance to have. 

Not the time. 

You glance around, and rip a curtain down from the wall to wrap around your knuckles, and—before you can think twice—slam your knuckles into the glass.

Nothing slices your hand open. No one screams at you for destruction of property. 

Something is really fucking wrong, and you need to move.

But it happens in a flash. 

You grab the Blade—it still fits perfectly in your hand, it still belongs to you—and just like the first time, you’re lost.

It’s quicker this time. The moment where you’re everything from the hope of the soil, buried under the too fancy building to the blinding fury of the loneliest stars, wishing for something to orbit around them.

And then you crash back down, and you feel it. 

Shadows, creeping towards you before curling away. 

Fuck.

“Finally.” A voice sighs from behind you, and your grip on the Blade tightens. “I’ve been waiting forever. Almost thought I missed you, but nope.” It laughs, and your skin crawls. “That’s a fun little trick you’ve got there. Well, fun for me. For you I’d bet it’s a bit of a problem.”

You turn, and there he is.

The Red. Slammed and violent inside his vessel of some poor asshole that’s already gone.  

Grinning at you like you’re all he’s ever wanted to see. 

“I knew you’d come for that.” He nods to the Blade in your hand. “Even took care of the whole building for you. And don’t make that face.” He rolls his eyes, dismissing you with a hand. “There were like, only forty people in here. And most of them were boring, and mundane, and really? Kind of stupid. Seven of the men were rapists! So you’re welcome.”

You swallow, and still don’t speak. Just like with the Blue, the Silver is being frustratingly uncooperative. Growing up before shrinking down again, like it can’t decide if it should attack the Red.

The Red is vile, but it’s not here to hurt you. The Silver doesn’t seem to believe it’s here to hurt you. Which is fucking insane, because this is-

“Do I need to introduce myself? That song says I do. But you,” it frowns at you, tilting its head. “You should know. Do you know?”

You nod, dragging your voice from your chest. “Lucifer.”

“There we go!” He claps his hands together, his grin growing. “I’d offer you a prize, but y’know. For you, it would be pointless.”

You don’t know. Before you can ask, he’s moving on.

“Here’s the deal, doll. Can I call you doll?”

“N-“

“Well I’m going to. It’ll grow on you, trust me.”

“I-“

“Shh.” Lucifer hold a thousand fingers up to his lips, shaking his head. “You don’t get to tell me what to do yet. And I’ve had no one to talk to for so long. Listen, or I track down that new friend of yours and stab her just like the Angel stabbed that sweet girl that followed you like a fucking puppy. Got it?”

The Silver still doesn’t react. All you can do is nod, and swallow your vomit when Lucifer grins.

“Okay. Like I was trying to say, here’s the deal. You and me?” He gestures between your bodies, raising his brows. “We should be friends. And I know, being friends with Satan, spooky. But if you help me, I help you.”

You open your mouth, and he shakes his head.

“No, I know what you’re thinking. How could I help you. Well, doll.” His mouth pulls into a wide, horrible grin, and he has teeth. Sticking out of him and his wings like horns, tinted with red like he’d been eating himself.

It’s fucking disgusting. And he just keeps talking.

“All I’d ask for you to help me get little Sammy Winchester to say yes to me playing puppet with him, and that’s it.”

“I-“ You blink at him. “What?”

Lucifer sighs. “There’s a whole game being played here, doll, you don’t have to understand it. What’s important is that you know I will not hurt you. Michael’s a little pussy, if he wins he’s going to lock you up to keep you safe. All wrapped up and ready, a perfect, sweet present. But I’ll let you roam however you want! I’ll free you from all the stupid fucking plans! You can stay with me, just to fuck with him, or I- I’ll even make you a deal! That’s a classic, right? Deal with the Devil? That’s what killed Dean, too, it’s artful-“

The Silver flashes. Quick, spurred by the Spiderweb, whipping out until glass shatters, and Lucifer cuts himself off with an amused look.

“Alright. Touchy about Dean, got it. Hey,” he grins at you again. “Good thing that’s the deal, right? Heaven wins with Dean, he’s gone. And Mikey is way too much of Daddy’s boy to try and touch you. If I win,” he spreads his arms in a wide gesture, grin widening. “I’ll let you keep Dean around, as a pet! All you have to do is get Sam to say yes-“

“Sam won’t listen to me.” You whisper, because it’s all you can fucking think to say, but Lucifer just shakes his head. 

“Wrong. Oh, that’s- It’s actually kind of sad, how wrong you are-“

“I’m-“

“I’m sure Gabe told you, but Sammy adores you. You made him hold on so long.” Lucifer pouts at you, and the Silver rushes through you, right under the surface, making no effort to break out. “I mean, if Heaven hadn’t been such dicks, and you’d toughed it out, Sammy might have stopped drinking demon blood all together. You made him like Ruby less. Want to be around Dean more.” Lucifer laughs, and every time is worse than the last. “You know, out of everyone, you shook him the most. He didn’t want to disappoint you, maybe even more than his strong big brother. You chose to stick with them. You never treated him like less because of what he was, and he’s only ever seen the best things in you. How happy you make Dean, how you’ll talk to him about anything, how you always saw right through John’s lies and big man shit. If you said it was a good idea, he’d do it. Dean trained him well. You’re never wrong.”

But you’re always wrong. You so fucking wrong, all the time.

You’re not sure you’re breathing, and if you aren’t, you’re only being kept awake by the Silver. 

You need to go home.

“I-“

“No!” Lucifer cuts you off with a tsk. “Don’t answer now! Take some time and think about it, because you and me together? We could do great work. But if I were you, I’d make a choice fast. Before it’s too late for the Dean part of our deal to go through.”

“The-“ You’re choking on the Silver. It’s trying to burst out of your throat, or your fingers, or your back. You can’t even really tell. “What do you-“

“Nothing.” Lucifer shrugs, taking a step back, his expression on your unreadable. Tense. “But I can’t control all my demons. Just like Heaven couldn’t control all their angels, and Dean? He’s prime hunting meet right now-“

That’s it. 

That’s what the Silver explodes for.

And just before it does, you realize what the expression on Lucifer’s face is. 

Fear. 

Real, pure fear.

But then he’s gone, and the Silver doesn’t care. It just wants something to hurt. Something to change. 

And it’s not coming back down. Not fully. So you still can’t really think. Whatever you’ve turned the library into, whatever awful beauty you’ve created, you can’t really see it, either. It’s all just fucking Silver.

You have to run. 

Home.

To Dean.

——————

“I’m not goin’ crazy! There’s some weird fuckin’ shit happening here, Rufus!”

Dean frowned, Bobby’s voice echoing up the stairs of the house. The paint on the walls was different—a darker color, a little more chipped—and the carpet was brand-new. 

He remembered when Bobby got that new carpet. Dad had dropped them off, Sammy had liked how soft it was, and Dad had mocked Bobby for his new girly obsession with interior design. Bobby had waved it off then, and only scowled when Dean asked if he had a new girlfriend, because Dad said men only did stuff like that for their girlfriends.

Now, Dean could know he’d been an idiot. Dad probably never would’ve done stuff like that for a girlfriend, Sammy had been right—the carpet was soft—and Bobby had done it for Her. Because someone would have to be insane to not try to make everything as nice as possible, for Her.

Even in a dream, Dean couldn’t stop missing Her. And Dean would bet a lot this was a dream, because Bobby wasn’t in any position to buy a new carpet right now, out in the waking world. 

Son of a bitch, She was going to be pissed about that. 

“Bobby, you’re sayin’ the plate exploded-“

“Yeah, I am!” Bobby sounded like he was arguing with someone. It was probably Rufus. “I’m sayin’ I didn’t sleep, got pissed she didn’t do the dishes-“

“Got pissed-“

“Yelled, Rufus. I fuckin’ yelled, and I know that wasn’t right, so save it. Went to walk it off and get her somethin’ to apologize, but when I got back the dishes were broken.”

There was a loud sigh, and Dean started slowly down the hall. Whatever fight was happening, he kind of wanted to see it.

“Don’t gimme that face, asshole-“

“You’re bein’ paranoid, Bob. Maybe she just smashed the dishes-“

“No. You ain’t listenin’. She broke all of them. Even the ones in the cabinets she can’t reach. It was like they’d just burst on freakin’ the spot.”

Dean turned to the top of stairs, and froze.

There She was. 

It was a smaller version of Her, with hair in complex braids and little fingers, grabbing at the bannisters of the staircase. She was wearing a dress, and fuzzy socks, and Dean was pretty sure that if Dad had dropped them here all those years ago and She hadn’t hidden, he still would’ve crashed down into Her. Still would’ve worshipped the ground She walked on. He might have gone insane about it, trailing after Her like the shadow he was. Back when he couldn’t even properly shoot or fight yet, and she could probably still have made the tides bend to Her will. 

Then She turned and looked at him, and whatever fight Bobby and Rufus were having wasn’t important anymore.

It was all just Her.

It was always just Her.

She waved him over, and Dean obeyed without a thought. Scrambling down the steps until he was pressed right at Her side, crowding all Her space because in here, he was allowed to. He didn’t have to worry about failing Her or pushing Her away. He could just wrap his arms around Her and kiss all over her neck, before resting his chin on the top of Her head. He was punishing no one but himself, with how She giggled in his ear and held his arms against Her. 

And God, it was the best torture there could ever be. It made Dean feel like he was being ripped in half and fused back together all at once. Made him feel useful, when She leaned back into him with a hum, then like the lowest piece of shit in the mud when it hit him again that this wasn’t real, and he was making Her something she might not want to be. 

Sammy called it lucid dreaming. 

“What’s lucid mean,” he murmured Her name in her ear, She twisted to smile at him, and he might as well have been hit by a damn truck.

“In full control of your own actions or thoughts.” She said, still peering through the banister at what was probably the kitchen. “Like when you sign a will, you have to be lucid.”

Dean nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Her in his arms. He was a little worried that if he let go of Her, and all the light in Her body, She’d turn into nothing, and Dean would wake up in the dark. Alone.

So he held on tight, and buried his face in the crook of Her neck. Even in his dreams he could smell that fucking fruit. It was becoming a little like an anesthetic.

“What happenin’ out there?”

She hummed, a hand moving up to comb through Dean’s hair as She spoke, and he held Her a little tighter. “This is when Bobby started to figure out I wasn’t just a little crazy. He’s going to fight with Rufus for ten more minutes, then I’m going to have an episode because I think he’s going to kick me out.”

Dean froze. “He doesn’t-“

“No. Never.” She sighed, leaning Her head against his. “He calms me down, makes me hot chocolate, and tells me that we’re going to figure it out. Tomorrow he’s going to take me to a Psychic friend of Rufus’, and I’m going to- Uh-“ She swallowed, Her grip on Dean tightening as Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She loses all her senses. Literally. I think she lives in a facility in Chicago now, because she can’t hear, or smell, or feel anything but pressure-“

“Hey.” Dean let his lips ghost over her neck, and she let out a soft, breathy sound that was going to make his hard rule of ‘no sex in dreams, because She was still his best friend, and he had to respect that’ real fucking difficult to follow. “I get it. Don’t hurt yourself.”

She laughed softy. “Don’t tell me what to do, Winchester.”

“Sorry, Princess.” He leaned back, pressing a kiss to Her cheek and trying not to feel too proud when She giggled. “Can’t boss me around all the time.”

“Try me-“

“I’d love to.” He smirked, carefully grabbing Her chin to tip it back. “You have no idea how much I’d love to boss you around for once, baby.”

Flush. Hitched breath. Parted lip.

He was the luckiest son of a bitch alive, just to even know Her. To have seen Her enough to have her memorized, even if it wasn’t in every way he wanted. Hair tangled, but still glossy. Eyes brighter than the fucking universe, skin smooth against Dean’s. 

But he paused. There was a cut on Her lower lip, and a few visible bruises on Her face, and while Her features had been growing gaunt in his head—a lot of tension in his body seemed to exist from the worry that she wasn’t eating or sleeping, lately—She’d looked like this.

“What’s-“

“Nothing.” He grunted. Just a dream. She wasn’t actually hurt. He was pretty sure She wasn’t actually hurt. And he wanted to think about Her, here. In this dream, where She wanted him. 

“Dean-“

“I just miss you, sweetheart. Never gonna stop missing you.” He brushed a little hair from Her face, and Her face split into a wide grin.

“You miss me?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Course I freakin’ miss you, you know that-“

“How much?”

“More than fuckin’ oxygen-“

“But you have oxygen right now-“

Dean moved his hand lightly to Her neck, keeping her gaze fixed on him, and She let out a soft squeak that was going to drive him insane. “Princess?”

“De?” She whispered, bright eyes doing that flutter thing that always made Dean’s cock twitch, and he groaned.

“I miss you more than anything, baby.” He lowered his mouth to ghost over Her’s, and this was pushing it right to the line. “You’re never gonna be able to understand how much I fuckin’ miss you, but I do. I’d rip out my heart, if it made you come back to me.”

She swallowed and nodded, almost fully melted into Dean’s body, and it didn’t matter what Heaven offered him to take Michael in. Nothing could ever be better than this. 

And then something shook the world, and it was all gone.

“Dean, wake up, dude-“

“Fuck off.” He rolled over, moving the pillow to block over his ears. He didn’t want to hear Sammy right now. He just wanted to pass out and go back to Her siren voice, haunting him just as it always had.

“C’mon, Chuck texted me-“

“Don’t care. Let the angels have him, Sammy, what’s the asshole ever done for us anyway.”

Sam sighed from somewhere off to the side. “He did help me escape Lilith. And I know you don’t mean that, Dean.”

“You don’t-“

“I miss her too,” Sam’s voice had dropped to being impossibly soft, and Dean’s gut started to twist. “And we’ll find her. But we have to keep going, Dean.”

No, they didn’t.

They needed to be looking for Her. She’d said she was going to pray to Cas, but Cas said it never came through. She was fucking missing, again, and when Dean tried to call Her it just went to fucking voicemail. He didn’t give a shit about Chuck and his life-or-death situation. 

He just wanted his fucking girl home, so he could snap at Her about being insane and then hold Her until everything in the world was finally okay again.

“Dean. We gotta go.”

Dean let out a long, slow groan, and forced himself up. The morning was so fucking bright. And not Her bright, guiding Dean down, down, down and making the pit feel like it was full. Painful bright, that made him squint and rub his eyes.

Sam was, annoyingly, right. 

With all the angels running around, if Chuck was in danger, that was going to be a problem.

But that didn’t stop Dean from scowling and stewing into, for the entirety of the ride. Wasn’t like he had anything else to do. 

The trail on Her was all but dead. When She hadn’t appeared with Cas, after the last phone call, Dean had called for him instead. Just to check.

Then, it had been just to check.

“Dean, you know I am busy looking for-“

“God, yeah, I know.” Dean had been white knuckling his guns as he cleaned them, scowling at the air, and Cas had paused.

“Something is troubling you.” He’d said Her name slowly, and Dean might have almost broken his jaw. “I have told you, Raphael was likely just trying to provoke you-“

“Well, it fuckin’ worked.” It had. After they’d summoned the feathered asshole, Raphael had hummed that She’d make a good motivator, when it came down to it. Dean had almost shot him, and only managed not to because of Cas physically stopping him. But that wasn’t the goddamn point. “Cas, she-“

“I am not going to betray her trust and-“

“No, it’s-“ Dean had run a hand over his face, shaking his head. “She said she’d call you, man. I asked her to come back, and she said she’d call you.”

Cas had blinked, a small frown of his face, and Dean had felt something to the right of his heart clench.

Cas hadn’t needed to confirm it with words. Dean had understood. 

She was missing. 

Fucking again. 

And Cas couldn’t find Her. It had been damn near a week, and they hadn’t heard one word. When Dean pushed him, Cas said he’d lost the scent—whatever the hell that meant—so how She couldn’t be tracked unless she wanted to be.

But She wasn’t avoiding them. She’d promised She’d come back home, that She wasn’t running. That She’d return to Dean, and everything could be okay again, so She wasn’t running. 

Dean was pretty sure She wasn’t running. He hadn’t done anything to drive Her away that he could think of. He’d been just as careful with Her as always, and She’d been calling him, and She’d- She’d fucking promised. Pinky promised. Dean owed Her a dance, and She wasn’t running from him anymore, and they’d said all the way down. She had to come back to him. That was how this was supposed to work. 

And if She was missing, it couldn’t be anything good. Lucifer was out and running around. Heaven clearly knew things about Her they weren’t sharing.

She was in danger. They needed to be looking for Her, not saving Chuck. He had a whole douchebag archangel to do that.

The only thing that kept Dean from turning the car around was Sammy. He needed a win, and saving Chuck would be one.

And Dean was a little worried Sammy was blaming himself. For Her being gone. 

“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean had muttered a few days ago, frowning at his burger in the diner booth. “I just got a bad feeling. I can’t stop thinking about her-“

“Which is,” Sam had raised his brows. “Different than normal?”

“Shut up, bitch. I’m being serious. Last time she went MIA like this I found her with a fuckin’ stab wound on the Mexican border-“

“Dean, I- I know.” Sam had sighed, a strange shadow crossing over his face. “But you told her everything, didn’t you. Maybe she- I mean- If she knows-“

Dean had frowned. “Knows what?”

“Lucifer. And me. How- That she was right.” Sam had bowed his head, his voice dropping. “About Ruby.”

“She knew she was right about Ruby-“

“Yeah, but- I don’t know. Never mind.”

In the moment, Dean had spiraled. Moved around thoughts of maybe She didn’t want to come home. To deal with their shit, with the burden that just being near Dean brought. Why would She let Dean, of all fucking people, even stay in Her orbit when he’d failed Her, and Jo, and Sam. 

Because he had. He hadn’t fought harder to keep Her next to him, and now She was missing.

He hadn’t been faster with Jo. Pushed harder for how he didn’t like the plan, gotten away from the demons to trade himself in her place. Jo was gone gone. If Anna had taken Dean instead, the angels would just pull him right back up. They needed him. But Dean had failed, and how he’d lost Her and the closest thing he’d had to a sister. 

And Sammy. 

He’d failed Sammy.

He hadn’t saved him from Ruby’s clutches. Hadn’t gotten him to listen. The only victory Dean could claim was not letting the kid wander off on his own after the cage opened, and even that was failing. 

Because he’d missed what Sam meant, in the diner. How She might not come back, because of Sam.

It was an insane thought. She never ran because Sam pushed Her away. Sam had only ever been loyal to Her, keeping her secret and going with Her plans, and treating Her well, even when She and Dean were fighting. Just like She’d always treated Sammy well, when he and Dean were fighting. 

Dean was the common factor there. The one who fucked up, and lost Her.

And he lay awake at night about it. When he was afraid to close his eyes, because it didn’t matter if he had a nightmare or dream, the worst thing in the world would be not dreaming of Her. Not waking up with the smell of Her fruit still lingering in the air and his hand bruised from Her phantom touch. There was always a chance that this night would be the night She wasn’t there.

So he’d stare at the ceiling, and try and work out where he’d gone wrong. But he could never fucking find it. Whenever he thought of when She’d vanished before, Dean could pin a reason to it. Dean left first. Dad drove Her away. Dean drove Her away. Dad used Azazel to drive Her away. Dean’s death drove Her away. 

But Dad was dead, and couldn’t touch Her anymore.

And Dean had been so fucking careful with Her. Tried to hold Her right and be Her shadow, even when holding Her meant through the phone—choking on the lump in his throat when he listened to Her cry, but never hanging up—and being Her shadow meant waiting for Her to return. 

He’d gotten up in the dead of night, two days after the phone call. Shuffled into the kitchen just for water, and gotten a heart attack when Bobby grunted his name from the doorway.

“Son of a bitch-“

“Stop being a dramatic baby.” Bobby had rolled his eyes, glaring at Dean from his wheelchair. “It’s my house, ya idjit. I’m gonna be in it.”

“It’s 2 in the damn morning-“

“And we’re both up. So stick it.” Bobby had paused, giving Dean an odd look. “I’m guessin’ it ain’t thirst keeping you up.”

In a way, it was. 

Dean wasn’t stupid enough to say that, though.

He’d sighed, leaning against the counter, and taken the risk. He’d needed to talk about it with someone.  

Bobby might be the only person who really understood. 

“I miss her.” He’d muttered, his voice already going hoarse, staring at the water in his glass. “Shit, Bobby, I- I miss her so much. And I keep thinking about how she might be on the floor somewhere, and I won’t be able to get to her.”

Bobby had sighed, and rolled further into the kitchen. Until he was right in front of Dean. “I know. I do. And I- Fucking hell, I miss her too. House is always too big without her, and you two dumbasses aren’t half as funny as she is. But, he’d reached up, grabbing Dean’s forearm until he looked up from the glass. “Listen to me, Dean. Since she was fourteen, there have been months at a time where she don’t come home. Where I get a phone call a week and then she’s showin’ up covered in blood with another stolen car for me to scrap. But she always shows up. Always comes home.”

Dean had shaken his head. “But-“

“I know you wanna look for her. And if you think you can find ‘er, trust your gut and go. But wherever she is, don’t think she’s not tryin’ to get back.” Bobby’s voice had dropped, and in the dim light of the kitchen, Dean could’ve fucking sworn he saw something like pain all over Bobby’s face. “She’s a fighter more than a runner, when she’s pushed to it. And if she wants to come back, I don’t think God himself would do well standin’ in her way."

Dean could agree with that. 

And he tried to replay it, whenever he wanted to jump out of the car and rip up the world until he found Her.

She always came back. 

And She’d promised, so She would.

She had to. 

“There was an Earthquake in France.” Sam said, jerking Dean’s attention back from his thoughts. “9.5. Bobby thinks it’s another omen.”

Dean grunted, glaring out at the road. “Omen for what, this time? Just more freakin’ death?”

Sam shrugged. “Don’t know yet. There’s still damage assessment happening, and the press is saying that the earthquake might have been a result of something else.”

“Something like what? Lucifer?”

“Still don’t know, Dean-“

“Then why are we talking about it?”

Dean could feel Sam’s flat look. “Because we need to be paying attention to his stuff. And you brooding isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I’m not brooding-“

“Yeah, you are.” Sam said Her name, and Dean was going to strangle him. “She’d say it’s brooding.”

“Shut up.”

“Dean-“

“No. Shut up, and listen to the music.”

Sam sighed, and listened. Dean wouldn’t strangle him. He was trying to help, even if he was being a little fucking bitch about it.

But Dean was going to strangle someone. 

Chuck wasn’t in danger. He was using those stupid books to throw a costume party that exploited their lives, and not even the good parts. Fucking Becky—Chuck’s messenger girl, the one that was obsessed with Sammy—had tricked them into coming here, and now they were losing valuable time to look for Her-

“Dude, you gotta relax.” Sam muttered, scanning around the room of nerds, and Dean scowled.

“This is fuckin’ stupid, we should just go-“

“It’s not gonna help her, Dean-“

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes, I do.” Sam gave him a firm look. “If Cas finds her, he’ll call us, and if she ends up back at Bobby’s he’ll make sure she’s fine-“

“Who are you talking about?” Becky appeared between them, looking back and forth with wide eyes. “Is it Anna? Are you looking for Anna?”

Dean shouldn’t hit a girl. His fist still curled to punch this chick’s face in.

It was good Sam answered first. “It’s not Anna. Anna’s dead.”

Becky frowned. “No, she’s not-“

“How the hell do you even know about Anna?” Dean snapped, and Becky just shrugged.

“Chuck told me. And she’s not dead, she escaped Castiel and Uriel-“

“Then she turned around and sided with heaven again.” Sam muttered. “Anna might not be dead in Chuck’s version, but she’s dead in our lives."

“In your- Are things different than in the books?” Becky’s eyes widened, and Dean gave Sam a flat look.

“Nice going, dumbass.”

Sam sighed. “She’d probably find out anyway, Dean-“

“Well, she did, because you fuckin’ told her-“

“Wow.” Becky was looking between them, shaking her head. “You guys swear a lot more than in the books.”

Dean scowled. “There’s a lot more to swear about in real life, lady.”

“Like the mysterious she that you lost?” Becky was smiling again. Punching her was quickly becoming a very real option. “Is it Lisa? Bela? No, Bela’s dead too. Jo?” Dean felt his chest ache and twist, and he must have visibly tensed, because Becky’s smile widened. “Oh my gosh, it’s Jo, isn’t it! Did you go back to Jo, Dean-“

“Jo’s dead too.” Sam grunted. “Anna killed her.”

Dean got a very firm don’t shoot the crazy lady look. He rolled his eyes, and moved his hand off his gun. 

“But- Anna killed Jo? Then who killed Anna? Was it Dean?” Her voice dropped to a whisper as a few more idiots dressed in leather jackets and open button ups moved past them. Dean wasn’t allowed to shoot her. “Did Dean kill her in revenge- Murdering one lover in the name of another-“

“One lover?” Dean spat, and Sam let out a long sigh. “What the fuck are you talking about-“

“You and Jo had a thing.” Becky stood her ground, although her voice was suddenly a lot smaller. Good. “And- And Chuck said you slept with Anna-“

“With Anna-“

“Dean.” Sam grabbed his shoulder, shaking his head. “Not worth it. It’s- It’s probably better nobody knows.”

Dean scoffed. “That’s pretty fucking easy for you to say, Sammy-“

“It is.” Sam held his gaze, keeping his words steady, even though fucking Becky was still listening. “If she was in the books, her family could find them. Chuck might not have used last names, but- I don’t know, dude, they could connect the dots and track her down. She’s safer not being a part of this, Dean, and you know it.”

Sam was right. God fucking damnit, that was a good point. And if She had been in the books, all of Dean’s thought about Her would be available to the public. There would be people dressed up with glossy hair and jackets and knives, trying to imitate her bright eyes and siren voice, like a crude, faded knockoff of one of those fancy statues in museums. It was bad enough to look around the room and see all the reminders of the worst parts of Dean’s life—there were three yellow-eyes, and Dean wanted to march over and rip out their stupid contacts—so he didn’t need people fucking up the best part. 

He already had to put up with Becky.

He really wished he was allowed to shoot her.

“Is there… a secret person?” Becky pried in a hushed whisper as some guy with a clipboard rambled into the microphone. “Who’s not in the books? Who Dean’s sleeping with instead of Anna and Jo?”

“Yes.”

“Sam-“

The bitch just shrugged, smirking slightly as Becky turned to Dean. 

“You have a girlfriend?” 

Dean ignored her, and shot Sam a very firm I am going to murder you later look.

Sam didn’t seem as worried about it as he should be.

Becky still wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

And Chuck was taking Q&As. But as much as Sammy was right, a lot of the questions were pretty fucking simply answered by Her.

Everything was better with Her.

A guy dressed as Bobby asked why Sam didn’t explore witchcraft as an option to save Dean. Chuck shot Dean a nervous look, and mumbled that Sam had been too stressed to think of everything. 

Becky gasped, moving herself right into Dean’s view. “Did your secret girlfriend do the witchcraft? Did you not die in real life-“

“No, uh,” Sam swallowed, his voice dropping slightly. “He died.”

“Oh no.” Becky gave Sam a sympathetic look—not Dean, which was pretty fucking rude, cause Sammy hadn’t died—and placed a hand on his chest. “That must have been so hard for you, Sam.”

“Yeah, uh,” Sam coughed. “It was rough. Think it was worse on-“

“Sam.” Dean grunted, shooting him a firm glare, and Sam nodded.

“Right. Sorry.”

It continued all afternoon. Through the Q&A—someone asked if Dean would ever settle down with Lisa, and Sam had to shove Dean outside to walk it off—and their conversation with Chuck. Becky kept fucking pushing about it, and Chuck didn’t seem all that happy about the situation either.

“I- I didn’t include her for a reason, Becky.” Chuck gave Dean another nervous glance, and Dean just narrowed his eyes. “There’s a lot of complicated things going on, and I don’t fully understand them, so I wanted to just focus on making the books enjoyable-“

“And I’ve enjoyed them! But I want to know everything, Chuck, please.” Becky pouted again, and all Dean wasn’t sure how the expression could look mind-blowingly perfect on Her, and constipated on Becky. “Haven’t I earned it-“

“No.” Dean grunted, and Becky rolled her eyes. 

“You just want to keep your secret girlfriend all to yourself-“

“Girlfriend?” Chuck cut in, gaping slightly at Dean. “I- I didn’t know you guys were dating-“

“We’re- It’s complicated-“

“No, it’s not.” Sam rolled his eyes. “They’ve made out. Twice.” 

Dean scowled, and he should punch Sammy right in the jaw—what the fuck happened to better as a secret—but before he could, the words fell right out of his mouth. “Three times.”

“Three- When did the third time happen?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Why didn’t you tell me-“

“Because of this,” Dean gestured to the shocked faces of Chuck and Becky, and Sam sighed.

“Yeah, but- Alright. That’s fair.”

There was a second of silence, and Becky broke it with a cough. 

“Is she pretty?”

Sam snorted. “She’s way out of Dean’s league, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She was. Son of a bitch, She was out of everyone’s league. She was playing a wholly different game, and it was made of being the brightest thing in to every exist. Playing in Her league would probably mean killing God or something.

And She’d still been kissing Dean. 

Chuck gave Dean an odd look. “But she- likes him?”

Dean opened his mouth to snap something—he wasn’t sure what, but it would be made of didn’t matter, because Dean was the only one who got to be Her shadow and he’d rather jump headfirst into Hell than be anything else—but Sam laughed first.

“You have no idea-“

Dean stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m going for a walk.”

He wasn’t telling anyone in particular. And a walk meant going outside and pacing around the lawn, glaring at the dirt under his feet and breathing slowly until he wanted to kill someone less. 

Sam was such a fucking shit. Dean was going to put hot sauce in his underwear again, or shave half his head in his sleep, or throw him off a cliff. 

But it was less the snitching, that was fueling the fury in his body. 

It was the ache. Missing Her. Just fucking wishing She was here, because if She told Sammy to shut up, he’d listen. He never teased Her about anything. And if She was here, Sam wouldn’t try to stop Her from killing Becky. She’s spin Her knife in her hand and give Becky a firm glare when she got to close to Sammy, and the bitch would back the hell off, Dean could even put a hand on Her lower back and she might lean into him, smiling up at him as they traded whispered jokes about how fucking stupid this whole thing was. 

She wouldn’t put up with it. Any of it. At the end of the day She was Bobby’s daughter, so She didn’t put up with any of this fucking bullshit.

And maybe when Chuck asked if She liked Dean, he’d get to watch Her flush, and her breath hitch with parted lips, and he’d get to know. That She felt some of it. That She would still give Dean those pretty, fluttering eyes when he teased Her. That there was a chance—if he grabbed Her chin and smirked down at Her like he’d done in so many dreams—that She’d whisper his name, and Dean would get to kiss Her in front of everyone. And they could all know that Dean was Her shadow. That there was no one who would touch Her or protect Her like he could.

Fuck, he missed Her. 

And it didn’t matter how much he called for Her in his head—looking up at the sky like it might take his plea for her, and throw it across the universe—nobody was listening. 

Then something to the right of Dean’s heart pounded. Strained. Echoed around his rib cage in a way that way borderline painful, growing and growing and growing as it only got worse. All the world was Technicolor, and air was shifting into that sticky warmth that came before a storm, and Dean could fucking swear he could smell Her on the rushing wind, could see the sparkling glass in the pavement growing brighter and all the flowers on the edge of the forest start to bloom in seconds. 

Something was coming. Dean knew something was coming. And he should run back inside and tell Sammy, but his legs wouldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. Every single fiber of his being was keeping him rooted in place, like he was anchored there by that pain in his chest, and then-

He almost fell to his knees.

She was there. 

Here. 

In front of Dean, blinking at him with slightly glazed eyes and silver pupils, but here.

It wasn’t a trick, or a replica. Dean should probably be more vigilant of that, but he knew. Nothing else made the world look like this. Made every color brighter and every edge sharper. Nothing could ever duplicate the sheer beauty of Her, as if all the stars and waterfalls and gardens and storms and fireplaces had been shoved in one woman.

It was all Her. 

Dean whispered Her name, and she just stared at him. 

Not speaking to him. Not moving for him. But not moving away, either. Just looking at him as Her hair seemed to float around Her face, and when Dean took a slow step forward—the pain in his chest easing slightly as he moved to Her, and it was the only place he could ever think to go—She didn’t flinch. 

Her pupils were still sheer silver, and Dean felt a little like he was looking at something he shouldn’t be. It should be hurting his eyes, how bright She was.

But it was more like looking at a lighthouse, or the North Star. There was nothing to do but follow it.

Nowhere to go but home.

Dean reach out a hand to touch Her, to trace over Her face and She was real. Soft and warm under his fingers. Leaning into his touch. 

And the silver in Her eyes flared, when he tried to move away. Her hand darted up to hold Dean against Her, lip parting as she shook her head. 

“Princess, are you-“ 

She took an unsteady step forward, until She was pressed right into Dean’s chest. Fingers tracing over his face so gently as he just stared at Her, and looked perfect, but still a little gaunt, and there were bags under Her eyes, and she still wasn’t speaking-

Dean muttered Her name, catching her hand in his, and Her eyes fluttered as she looked up to him. .

“It’s okay.” He whispered, squeezing Her hand three times, over and over and she leaned a little further forward. “I’ve got you, but- Shit- Wait-“

The beauty of the world was only growing brighter, as Her eyes grew glossier. More and more silver.

Dean moved his hands to hold Her face—there were not visible injuries, but it was only a small comfort—and did the one thing he’d only ever done right.

Calmed Her down. Running his thumb over the bridge of Her nose and mutters low words about how he was here, and She was fine, holding Her until she came back down to him.

“You’re gonna be okay,” He muttered Her name, keeping his gaze fixed on Her’s, even as Her eyes fluttered closed. “I’m here. I’ve got you. All the way down, Princess. Come back down for me.” His voice was a rasp. He didn’t try to fight it. “Please come back down.”

She let out a shaky breath, and when She blinked Her eyes open, her pupils were blown out and glazed, but black. 

She was back. She could see him. And slightly swollen lips parted as She scanned over his face, Her voice barely a breath when she spoke. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, offering a small smile. “It’s me. I’ve got you, Princess.”

“Are- Are you-“

“I’m okay.”

She made a sound like a whimper, and suddenly Her face was buried in into him, Her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

She was shaking as another choked sound was muffled against his chest. 

Dean felt like he was being split in half by lighting. Like he’d stepped into the middle of an electric storm, and everything was moving too fast and too slow all at once. She smelled like fruit and fit so well against him, and She wasn’t vanishing, but She was sobbing, and it was making Dean’s heart split and fracture.

But he just kept holding Her, combing his finger through Her shiny hair, right up until the sounds stopped, and Her breaths became even. 

She’d passed out.

Good.

He could just carry Her home. 

Dean hooked his arms under Her knees and hauled Her up his chest, glancing around the yard one last time to check that this really was just it. That he’d asked Her to come home and She had, without demons or angels on Her tail. 

And it would be so easy to miss it. To mistake the way the air seemed to be shimmering as a trick of the light, or decided that the way the flowers and moss seemed to be bursting out of the trees was just a natural phenomenon. Yet there was no mistaking how—growing out the walls on the inn, like an odd limb—there were branches hanging with iridescent apples that glowed. 

But it was all Her. 

No trap.

Just Her, fit perfectly into Dean’s arms, and knocked the hell out. 

Dean said Her name as he turned back to the inn. Just to make sure She really was down. She didn’t even shift or stir, and he sighed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Her head. 

She moved further into him at that. But Her eyes barely even fluttered, and Her grip didn’t tighten. She just squirmed until Dean could feel how fucking warm She was—too warm, bordering on a fever with the way sweat was clinging to Her brow—and keep his cheek pressed to Her’s as he marched back inside.

“You’re gonna be alright, baby.” He muttered, turning to let his lips ghost over Her skin. “You’re home. It’s gonna be okay.”

She didn’t so much as hum.

And She was still so fucking warm. 

The smart thing to do would be put Her in the car, then go find Sammy and tell him what was going on. But every time Dean so much as shifted Her, She’d make that whimpering sound, and something to the right of his heart would ache. It would be easier to just show Sam. Easier to just keep holding Her, because she wanted him to, and Dean couldn’t deny Her anything if he tried. 

“Dean!” Sam called from behind him, somewhere in another freakin’ hallway. “Look, dude, I think there might be a case here, and I’m sorry for teasing you about-“

Dean turned, and Sam’s voice trailed off as he said Her name, his eyes growing almost comically wide.

“I- You-“ Sammy’s eyes were fixed on Her sleeping form in Dean’s arms, his voice almost a whisper. “How?”

“Don’t know.” Dean grunted, and Sam’s eyes shot back up to him.

“What do you mean, you don’t know-“

“I mean I was standing outside, thinking, and then she was fuckin’ there-“

“Thinking about what-“

“That’s not important-“

“It seems pretty important, Dean! People don’t just fucking teleport-“

“Shut up.” Dean hissed through his teeth, and Sam snapped his mouth shut as She twisted slightly in Dean’s arms, settling down after a few, long moments.

“Fuck.” Sam whispered, looking back to Her, sleeping peacefully once more. “That’s- Are we sure it’s not a trap-“

“Yes.” He grunted. “And if you wanna hear the truth, I don’t really give a fuck if it is.”

Sam let out a long breath, then nodded slowly. “I’ll stay and take care of this. Probably just a salt and burn, and with all the fake us’s around here, one of them has to end up being useful.”

“Thanks.” Dean started his walk back to the car, and Sam quickly fell into pace. “I can have Bobby send someone-“

“I think Bobby’s gonna be occupied, dude.”

Dean huffed a dry laugh, glancing back down, because even though he could feel Her, he still had to check She was real. “Yeah, I’d bet that too.”

“You gonna call him?”

“I’ll do it on the road.” Dean ducked through the door as Sam held it open, giving a short nod. “Text him if you need something, though, I-“

“I know. I-“ Sam took a deep breath, and Dean glanced at him with a frown. His face was turned down, his eyes still fixed on Her. A little like he was trying to will Her to wake up.

Dean understood the feeling.

His keys were in his jacket, and he couldn’t hold Her and get the car started. Passing Her into Sam’s arms felt a little like his heart was trying to move out of his chest to go with Her, but he’d survive. He’d managed this long not touching Her at all. Managed longer. And She didn’t fold into Sam the same way She had with Dean, but she didn’t wake up or fight it.

And Dean didn’t miss the way Sammy’s shoulders relaxed, when he realized She wasn’t going to try and push him away. 

“I’ll call you when I’m back,” Dean muttered, unlocking the Impala as Sam swayed Her slightly, like he was cradling a baby. 

She’d be pissed about that, if Dean told Her. She’d pout and scowl and mutter that She wasn’t a fucking baby.

Dean just found it kind of adorable. Like some weird, twisted image of a kid singing their parent a messy lullaby. 

“Okay.” Sammy nodded, still swaying Her as Dean opened the door. “If I’m done before then I’ll call around and see who’s nearby-“

“Sam!” Becky’s shrill voice echoed through the parking lot, and Dean really wished Sam had let him shoot her. “Oh my gosh, Chuck told me that you think there’s a real case, did you find- Who is that?”

Dean didn’t fucking appreciate the venom is Becky’s voice. The lady was lucky to even be in Her presence.

“It’s- Uh-“ Sam looked to Dean with almost a desperation, and Dean sighed, reaching out to take Her back.

She fit right back into him. 

The real struggle might be getting Her into the car. 

“Sam, you have to tell me if you’re with someone else-“

“I- Why?”

“Because it’s not fair-“

“To who?” Sammy was spluttering as Dean maneuvered Her onto the bench, Her grip impressively tight for a woman who was passed out.

“To me!” Becky whined, not seeming to give a fuck that Sammy wasn’t even touching Her anymore. “It’s stringing me along, Sam, and that’s not very nice-“

“Becky?” Awesome. Chuck here too, now, and Dean still couldn’t get Her in the damn car. 

“You gotta work with me, Princess.” He muttered, drawing back up to his full height. “I can’t drive you home in my lap-“

That wasn’t actually a shit idea. Dean had done more without being pulled over-

“Becky?” Chuck was still walking over. Dean was really leaning towards the lap plan. “Oh, shit, there you are. You know, I told you that so you wouldn’t run off- Are you guys leaving?”

“No, uh-“ Sam cleared his throat. “Just Dean. He’s got some other stuff to attend to-“

“Really?” Becky scoffed. “Listen, Dean, I know you’re too cool for all this stuff, but a lot of people worked really hard-“

“No, Becky, it’s not that-“

“Then what is it- Is it that slut-“

Dean had been ignoring most of the conversation. 

That got through. 

“Hey.” He whipped around, still holding Her tight against him, and narrowed his eyes at Becky. “You talk about her like that, I put a bullet in your fucking brain, you got that?”

Becky nodded, her face a little pale, and Dean let out a breath. 

“Good. Sammy, how illegal is driving with someone in your lap?”

Sam frowned. “Are we talking normal people illegal, or us illegal?”

“Us illegal.”

“Then I’d say like, 45%-“

Chuck cut Sam off with a breath of Her name, and they both froze to find him staring, mouth open, face a little pale. “Is- Is that her?”

“Yeah.” Dean grunted, his fingers curling slightly against Her body, and Becky frowned.

“Who’s-“

“Don’t worry about it, Becky.” Chuck said, his eyes still fixed on Her, and Becky let out a dramatic huff. 

Chuck seemed done talking, though. He just kept staring as Sam helped Dean move into the car—he figured out a strategy where he rolled Her to the side once he was sat down—and Becky tried to ask more questions that were wholly ignored. It was pretty easily chalked up to how She was the only person in Sam and Dean’s lives the prophet couldn’t read. 

It was still pretty fucking creepy. 

And Chuck was still staring in the rearview mirrors, as Dean pulled the Impala away. He seemed almost in a trace, shaking his head right before they drove out of view.

Dean had bigger worried though. 

He had to get Her home. 

She remained down, the first four hours of the drive. Dean allowed himself to press a carefully kiss to Her temple every few miles—to check Her temperature, and no other selfish reasons—and Her possible fever wasn’t growing, but it wasn’t going down, either. Likely not a side effect of doing whatever the hell that had been, but probably not a sickness, either. A sickness would mean She was vomiting, shivering, coughing slightly in Her sleep, doing something else besides burning like the freaking sun. 

But She wasn’t. She was just settled against Dean, breathing without a single hitch, even when Dean fucked up and hit a bump. 

She seemed fine, visibly. On the surface, where Dean would find cuts and bruises if someone had hurt Her. 

But maybe being in that borderline catatonic state had healed Her. And someone had been hurting Her, and when She woke up, she’d start screaming and crying and scrambling away from Dean’s touch. 

He could deal with the first two. When She screamed and cried, Dean just had to stay with Her, and sooth Her however he was allowed. But if She scrambled away, Dean didn’t know what he would do. If he had Her back, just for Her to not want him anymore. 

That was a lie. Dean knew exactly what he’d do.

He’d wait, and follow Her wherever She asked him to go. 

All the way down.

He called Bobby, around hour five. When She was staring to roll a little, readjusting Her face and wiggling closer into Dean’s side.

It took two tries. Dean should’ve used Her phone. The old fucker would’ve picked up right away.

“Dean, I’m in the middle of damn dinner, and Sam said it was just a salt and burn-“

“Bobby.” Dean muttered, glancing down at Her as he spoke. “She’s back.”

There was a long silence, and Bobby’s voice was hoarse as he said Her name. “You found her?”

“Kinda. More like she found me.” Dean let out a long breath, and She hummed slightly. “It’s- Has she ever gotten a fever? Using her thing?”

Bobby sighed through the speak. “Only for a few years, when she was real little. She used to make the floors form black mold after I cleaned ‘em, and one time the trees all started growin’ some weird glass-lookin’ fruit, then she’d get a fever. But it stopped when she started usin’ her… methods. She warm when you touch ‘er?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she’s fine. She gets cold when she’s sick. Sorta like touchin’ a dead body.”

“Alright.” Dean let out a long, slow breath, shaking that image from his head. “We’re heading back now, but Sammy stayed behind, he’s gonna work the case himself-“

“Dean-“

“Maybe send someone, just so he has extra hands-“

“Dean.” Bobby’s voice was firmer, and Dean swallowed. “Stop drivin’.”

“I-“ Dean must have misheard him. “What? I’m driving her home-“

“From Oregon, ya idjit. That’s a fuckin’ day.”

“I’ve driven longer-“

“I know, but she needs you.”

Dean swallowed. “Bobby, I-“

“Don’t play humble and stupid with me, Dean. You ain’t good at either. She needs you, and you’re already fuckin’ there. Movin’ Her around is only gonna distress her when she wakes up.”

“But-“

“No but. Trust me, I wish you could just teleport her right back to me, but ya can’t. And you ain’t been sleepin’ well, Dean. One more night without her home ain’t gonna kill me, but findin’ out your dumbass passed out at the wheel and drove off a bridge will. Rest.”

Dean opened his mouth to tell Bobby that—actually—teleporting did seem to be an option on the table, but the line clicked dead, the conversation forcibly over. 

The motel they pulled off to was nicer than Dean usually opted for. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why. The credit cards were stolen anyway, but Dad had always insisted they sleep in the cheapest place available. 

And She used to steal all those fancy cars, before Dean bought Her the Firebird. 

Dean had a feeling She did it for the same reason She always gave about all Her skincare and makeup and hair shit. Made Her feel a little more normal.

This did feel a little more normal. They had air conditioning that didn’t rattle, and a door where Dean trusted the lock, and they were sleeping in a bed that didn’t have lumps in it.

Together. 

Dean had tried to move away. Just for his own peace of mind, he’d made an effort to pry himself away, and then She’d let out that whimper and he’d given up. She’d let him know if She didn’t want him there, when She woke up. Dean didn’t doubt that for a second. But for now She let him wrap around Her—their shoes resting near the door and their jackets folded together on a chair—and kept sleeping peacefully as Dean just watched Her. 

He couldn’t sleep. Bobby had been right, he needed to, but he couldn’t. He needed to keep watching Her, in case an angel swooped down and tried to take Her away. Dean needed to keep looking to make sure She was real, and this wasn’t just an impossibly cruel dream.

And he’d been here before. Holding Her through the night and just staring at Her like a creep. But he’d never allowed himself this close. Where his chest was all but pressed against Her’s, and Her breath fanned over his neck, and their legs were tangled together under the sheets.

Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever been this close to anyone. He’d cuddled, after sex, but this felt different. Softer. She was still trying to bury Herself into him. Dean was keeping his hands over Her shirt, but he’d allowed himself to rest his face against Her hair, and breathe in the fruit until his body fully relaxed. 

She was here. Holding him. Her fever slowly dropping and Her soft, humming noises becoming more frequent as she only burrowed in closer.

Bobby had said She needed him. 

If this was being needed felt like, Dean never wanted to be anything else again. 

And when She woke up, there wasn’t any panic. Her eyes just fluttered open and landed on Dean’s, neither of them making any move to pull away. 

They didn’t speak for a long moment. There didn’t seem to be a damn point to it. Her hand reached up between their bodies to trace over Dean’s face with an impossibly light touch, and Dean just let himself fall into Her eyes. Fixed on him. Looking so fucking tired, but still bright. Always bright. There were lights from passing cars dancing through the windows, but She was brighter. More beautiful. And a few tears were rolling down her face as She met Dean’s eyes once more, features a little puffy from sleep, but no less ethereal. 

And Sammy used to be obsessed with mythology, when he was a kid. And Dad had been sure to let him know what was danger and what was fantasy, but Dean had sat next to the kid and let him explain all the different gods until he fell asleep, and Dean moved him into the bed. 

There had been a lot of gods. The biggest thing Dean remembered thinking was that, for all of history, people had spent too much time worshipping things that didn’t fucking exist.

He knew he’d been right, now. 

Because in all of human history, nobody had ever seemed to work out what the closest thing to God actually looked like.

Her. 

It was—always had been—that fucking simple.  

It was just Her.

“Dean.” She whispered, and he gave Her a small grin.

“Hey, Princess. I-“ He had to keep it together. For Her. 

But that didn’t stop his voice from dropping to a rasp.

“I missed you.”

“I-“ Her lips tightened, wobbling slightly, and Her hand was lingering against his jaw.

Dean wished he had a good reason to turn it, and kiss Her palm. 

“I missed you too.”

He nodded slowly, holding his voice as he forced the words out. He had to ask. 

He had to know.

“Are you staying?”

Her breath hitched slightly. “Do you want me to stay?”

Dean nodded, because there was nothing else to do. “All the way down.” And before he could stop himself- “Please.”

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft. “All the way down.”

And that was it. They fought and screamed about this before, but it had ended the same way every time. 

They’d both stay.

All the way down. 

She cleared Her throat, scanning over his face. “Are you hungry?”

He’d never been hungrier. He’d never craved anything like he wanted to roll Her over right here, and claim his place fully as Her shadow. As he wanted to make Her feel good, take full care of Her, show Her how much he’d missed Her with his hands and tongue and- 

“Dean?” She whispered, and he sighed.

Not now. Not when the tears were still dry on Her face, and Dean was a little afraid She’d grow wings and fly away if he didn’t give Her enough of a reason to stay here in the mud, with him.

He’d show Her later. When things were easier, and She could pass out peacefully against him, after. 

“I could eat. Saw a gas station a mile or two back.” He offered Her a small grin. “You wanna drive, Princess?”

Her smile might have been bright enough to wipe the sun out of existence. 

Dean wouldn’t care if it did. 

At least She’d still be here, at his side. 

Right where they both belonged.

End Note: Becky I hope you know that you are now in danger. Eileen you've never done anything wrong in your life ever. Princess, you need like a nap and maybe some dick.

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

Buy me a coffee!☕️

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[mehwmidklpe]

i am begging for a connor stoll x daughter of hecate reader pls pls pls i love connor sm and there is not enough if him !!!

sure you can I totally get how you feel!

I'm not sure this is even what you were looking for, so if you don't like it, I'm very sorry!

First thing you heard when you entered the dinning pavillion?

"It was so amazing, I'm telling you, Connor Stoll has much more in him than you think. Last night was so good."

Drew Tanaka.

To her siblings.

But she was looking straight at you.

And when you went to ask Connor Stoll, your friend, about it, he just shrugged and said:

"Yeah, we might've hooked up."

That was it.

"You hooked up with Drew? Drew Tanaka. You know I hate her." You spat at him.

"Yeah but, I mean, it was just one night, it's not like it meant anything." The son of Hermes defended.

"You're supposed to be my friend, Connor! How could you hook up with the one person I hate?? How would you feel if I hooked up with like, Travis?"

That sure got him.

He want pale, his eyes screamed.

"You're not gonna."

"Try me."

And just like that, you stormed off, back to Cabin 20, the Hecate cabin, your cabin.

You barged into the room, making your sister flinch. "Y/n?"

"Where's my book?"

"Your spell book?"

"No, my cookbook." You said, clearly sarcastic.

She jumped up and handed it to you. "What's got you all mad?" The girl asked.

You groaned, laying the book down on your desk, flipping trough the pages. "Stoll."

"Connor Stoll? Did he pull another prank on you?"

"Worse."

"Worse? What could be worse? He's funny, right? We both love some chaos, don't we? And you said you liked hi–"

"Lou. Ellen. Blackstone. Don't you dare finish that sentence."

Lou gulped. "Sorry."

Lou Ellen wasn't used to seeing you this mad. Whatever Connor did, it must've really pissed you off.

"You gonna put a curse on him?" She wonders.

No answer. All you did was gulp. That was enough of a confirmation for her.

"Y/n you don't have to.."

But you already made up your mind.

The next morning, when Connor woke up, he didn't think much of anything. Didn't feel different at all, too.

He just got dressed in cargo pants and another Camp Half-Blood shirt and made his way to the diving pavillion.

Halfway trough breakfast, Clarisse La Rue entered, angry at that. "Which one of you idiots replaced my weapons with Barbie dolls??" She demanded.

The only thing Connor was about to do was either try to contain his laugh and stuff more pancakes into his mouth, or blame another child just to see them being chased by Clarisse while he laughed his ass of.

Instead,

"I did."

Wait.

Why the heck did he say that??

Then, without meaning to, he turned his head to his brother Chris. "Sorry bro, I know you said not to prank your girlfriend, but I really didn't care. I also once broke her spear and blamed it on you."

No! He wasn't supposed to say that!

Chris' eyes widened. "You did WHAT??" Clarisse only seemed to grow angrier. "Oh you are so dead."

"Shit." The boy cursed before standing up and running away.

It wasn't supposed to be him!

It was supposed to be another pathetic camper!

Good thing he's the sun of Hermes then.

Makes him faster.

Meanwhile, at the table of Cabin 20, Lou turned to you. "So. Truth Spell, huh?"

You didn't say anything, just focused your gaze on your plate and ate.

Connor was spiraling.

He didn't know what was happening to him.

He just told Travis he looks nice.

NICE!

And the worst part, he meant it!

Normally he'd lie and say he looks ridiculous, just to mess with him. But for some reason he couldn't lie anymore.

Lying was his daily thing to do! Now he keeps blurting out the truth.

Grover passed by him. "Hey, I was the one who dumped pegasus poop on your bed."

Leo passed by. "I secretly admire your humor but never said anything cause I want to be the funny one."

Percy passed by. "You never thanked me for poisoning Phoebe back in the day, but whatever."

Annabeth passed by. "Did you know there's a spider under your bed right now? Travis placed it there, but don't tell him I told you."

Katie Gardener, too. "I don't like you and I hope you eat dirt. But my brother does like you. Wait, no! Oh shit."

He was screwed. Absolutely screwed.

"Connor!"

The boy turned around to see Lou Ellen from the Hecate cabin approaching him. "Oh hey Lou! Did you know I've been dreaming of becoming your brother-in-law?"

She froze. "What?"

Connor's eyes widened. "Uhm.. I don't know what's happening to me!"

"Connor!" Lou tried.

"What?!"

"You're under a truth spell!"

Connor froze. "...What?"

The girl sighed. "Y/n was angry with you. I don't know why but she was so upset she put a curse on you. She knew you spilling the truth would get you in trouble, so this was her revenge."

And for the first time in Lou's time at camp, Connor looked.. sad?

"Y/n..?"

He sounded heartbroken when he said your name.

"Yeah.. She really liked you.. I don't know what happened either." Lou told him.

Connor just blinked. "You need to break it." "I can't, I didn't cast the spell." "No, Lou, you need to!" "Dude, what do you want for me?"

"Your sister."

Connor's eyes widened and he slapped his hand over his mouth.

Lou's lips parted. "What?"

"How can the spell be broken?" He quickly asked, changing the subject.

She sighed. "Only Y/n can do that. She's the one who put it on you, she's the one to get it off you."

"So you need to go to Y/n."

"What? No! That's the last thing I'll do! I can't face Y/n now. I'm a walking truth spiller, once I see her it'll take less then a minute for me to admit that I'm in l–"

He slapped his hand over his mouth again, the rest of his sentence being heard in mumbles Lou couldn't make out to be.

Oh gods he's got problems.

Later that day, Connor saw you walking around camp, as if you were looking for something.

He sprinted away.

"Connor! Why did Annabeth throw her shoe at me?? Did you tell her about the fake spider??" Travis, who approached him, demanded.

Connor's eyes widened. "I can't talk right now, Y/n is coming over here, you've got to hide me!"

The older Stoll looked over the younger Stoll's shoulder, and indeed, you were approaching.

"Why would you need to hide from her?"

"She put a spell on me! I can't say anything but the truth!"

Travis' eyes widened. "If you can't lie.. that meanse you'll tell her the truth about Drew." He realized.

"Exactly!"

"And you'll also tell her you're in l–" "Yes! So, help your favorite brother out?"

Oh what a good brother Travis was.

"Travis, hey, have you seen Connor?"

The boy shrugged. "What? No? Where? Why? Who's Connor?" You frowned. "You're brother...? You're best friend.. The boy you're with 24/7??"

"Ohhhh. That Connor. Nope, haven't seen it, rumor has hit he moved to Asia. Bye!"

You grabbed his arm before he could leave. "Wait!" You stopped him. "If you do see him.. tell him I'm sorry?"

Travis' expression softened. "I will.. Thanks.."

The next day, it only got worse.

Connor ened up shoving Pegasus poop because he blurted out the fact he stole from Dionysus' drink collection.

"Talk to her Connor." Travis said, watching his brother grimace by the smell of Pegasus shit.

He faked a smile. "Oh sure! I'll just go over there and spill all my biggest secrets before she decides to slap me in the face and never break the spell."

His brother sighed. "Maybe.. it's about time you tell her the truth. Maybe that's what she wanted from you, that you stoppped being a coward and actually started being honest with her. Maybe that's why she chose this spell."

"No. She chose this spell because she knew it'd get me in trouble. She's smart like that. We cause trouble and we lie about it. That's you and me, Travis! The truth will kill us."

"Your truth got me a girlfriend, Connor. It's about time you let yourself have one, too."

Later that day, at night, Connor slumped down onto a bench by the fire.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that you joined him.

Of course, a bit shy considering you put a spell on him and then just came sitting down next to him.

"Hey..."

Connor gulped, his heart racing. "Is it okay if I sit here?" You proceeded to ask.

"Uhm.. No! I'd rather not talk to you rigth now."

Ugh! Well said, Stoll.

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Oh."

Connor panicked. "No! No! It's just that you made me into the most honest person on the planet.."

You looked down. "Right."

"I'm really mad at you." He blurted out.

You looked up. "You are? Connor you hooked up with Drew, the one girl I hate more than anything. And I get that you're mad for what I put you trough, but do you know how I feel?"

"That's the thing, Y/n. I never hooked up with Drew."

Shit.

"What?"

"Uh..I stole Pollux's grape juice collection!" He admitted, covering the one truth with another.

"And uhm, I replaced Cecil's toothbrush with Chris'! And I fed Clovis dirt while he slept!"

"Connor–"

"And I dance to a song called 'Chicken Tenders' when I'm alone cause I heard you and Leo playing it! And I beat Dionysus in poker and he scolded me for it! And also, I once faked an injury to stay with Will just to sit out on capture the flag because I was scared of Clarisse and I also am a part-time drug dealer but instead of dealing drugs I deal things I stole from campers, look!"

He suddenly pulled out something that odly looked like Annabeth's keychain.

"Connor–"

"And I'm so, so in love with you."

There it was.

The truth.

"I'm so sorry. I am. I payed the Aphrodite cabin to pretend I slept with Drew. Drew asked double the price. Piper wasn't happy with it at all. But I thought maybe if you'd hear that, you'd maybe.. show any sign that you didn't..like it.."

You sat there, lips parted.

"You lied to me?"

"I knew it sounds bad! But I just, I'm very much whipped for you. Cause back when Hecate didn't have a cabin, you were still in a cabin with me and you actually liked my humor and my pranks and then one day we were talking in my bunk bed and you fel asleep with your head on my shoulder and I let you sleep there and I watched you and I was like 'wow.. this is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and she's wasting her time on me'."

You blinked, again, and stared at him. "That was the night before Chris and Travis teased us. You scolded them for it. Said we were nothing more then friends."

"I lied."

"I believed you."

"I didn't know what else to do. You're to good for me!"

"I'm not Connor. The only thing I wanted was for you to be honest. If you had been.. I would've been yours."

Connor's hearted skipped a beat. "Really?" "Yes, really. I've had a thing for you, too. For a long time, actually. Why'd you think I got so mad when you said you banged Drew."

Connor bit back a smile. 'Banged'.

"If I were to bang someone, it'd be you."

You chocked on your own saliva.

"Sorry!" Connor shrieked out. "I'm just really in love with you. And now you said you feel the same i'm going crazy."

Despite his weird behavior, you couldn't help but smile.

"So you're in love with me... And I'm in love with you..."

"Can we please be boyfriend and girlfriend now??" Connor asked you, pathetic but he couldn't help it.

You bit back a smile. "Yes we can Connor."

The boy's smile widened insanely.

It stayed like that.

Two smiling idiot who sat in silent at the bonfire.

"I really wanna kiss you right now." Connor suddenly breathed out.

"I mean, we're dating now, isn't that part of it?"

You rolled your eyes, but did scoot closer to him.

His heart was racing as he leaned in.

And when your lips met, it was magical.

The son of Hermes didn't hesitate to cup your cheek, moving your hair to the side and deepening the kiss.

You let yourself melt into it, throwing all your recent into it. And gods did he like it.

You pulled away, just for a second, to speak. Your lips parted, breathing out the words. "You don't want me to break the spell?"

Connor's eyes flickered all over your face, loving the way the light of the fire had a beautiful effect on your gorgeous face.

"How about you do that tomorrow? One more night won't hurt."

Without letting you speak, his lips were back on yours.

But honestly, you didn't mind.

[curiiositycabinet]

Just finished demo 4, so here are more or less my thoughts on it:

(Spoilers below . obviously)

It was . Decent. I’ve got like positive but also mixed feelings about it . It’s a 6.5 out of 10 in my opinion

AND LOOK . I dont mean to be a negative nancy, I love love love block tales its literally one of the best things to come out of roblox . But I am cursed with being nitpicky and a critic

It definitely felt a lot less… lively, kind of? Demo 2 had the mini boss with bigfoot but then you got the mango tree out of it, demo 3 had that cool asf train ride before the manor and then the mindscape, etc. even demo 1 had a lot of substance to it

Demo 4 was . Really straightforward. It’s a bit surprising they made the village possible to completely ignore, because if memory serves me right it was meant to be like. Important? Shedletsky mentions to go in there and speak with the townsfolk, but that never really happens. Like . Wheres my fun dilly dallying sequence

The pirates were pretty funny, then we meet captain and calypso. The puzzles were actually guide nice and I genuinely did enjoy figuring them out (save for the last one lol💔)

Now . My main issue stems from not only the lack of like. Anything else to do or see in this chapter (it felt really, really short) but mostly from the ending.

It was. It was literally just Calypso’s and Captain’s ending, the player was just standing at the back scratching their ass while waiting for captain to keel over and drop the sword

I also just did not care for captain 😭 we didn’t know him long enough, and I feel really bad for saying him acting friendly and familial to us, calling us sharkbait and all, was sort of an attempt at making his character endearing so his death could be heavy hitting and makes us feel guilty for being so adamant on taking the sword

But I like. I didn’t have any reason to care for this character

Cold king is interesting as a character with all the conflicts and duty he has on his mind and how he eventually opens up to the player during the dreamscape, griefer has a fun personality and feels like a rival to us, noobador has his own thing going on with the macho thing and being protective of red and blue (cuties), kyoko feels like a buddy on our adventures what with being everywhere we are, etcetera

Captain was like. Hi i love my crew so much they are all very poor . Do you feel sad now that I’ve fallen into the bottomless lava lake after my crew was brutally killed offscreen

And the deaths of the crew didn’t hit as hard given we saw them having a mutiny at the start, which we then had to fight, and then they tried to kill us again after we solved a puzzle. When we see the crew dead, it was less “oh no these poor individuals” and more “ohhh thats probably not great for captain”

The captain previously decided that despite the fact we were literally here for the firebrand, which we said so, he was all “no you absolutely CANNOT have that firebrand” and is then surprised to see us walk over to get the sword standing right there anyway

We’re apparently meant to feel guilty over causing his death, since the swords are imbedded with evil wreck-yo-shit mind breaking powers, and his grief over his dead crew leads to him grabbing the sword and then fighting us. His fight was whatever

Then Calypso drop kicks him into the lava pool, then we fight the ancient, fight ends after calypso self heals 10 times in a row . She mourns Captain’s death, to which the player just sort of looks to her and then walks over to the sword because this is literally none of our business and we sort of leave her there

The ending felt more significant to Calypso and Captain more than anything significant to the player. We don’t really have a choice in anything that’d make us feel guilty, given we never actually HAD a choice in the first place. There’s no real consequence for your actions if you’re never able to take any anyway

It’s why I felt like, when going back to the guru, I thought the choice of “I feel guilty” felt incorrect . I don’t feel guilty. If anything it was Calypso who did the one-two on captain’s ass and banished him to the lava pit . Im just here for my sword and I would’ve gotten that damn firebrand even if these stupid pirates weren’t here

My point being . I did not care for Captain enough to feel affected by his death

Calypso is also so obviously Kyoko’s long lost sister lol . don’t get me wrong, I actually love this and can’t wait for a reunion, but it couldn’t be any more possibly on the nose after Calypso aired out her whole backstory to us despite apparently being a quiet and no-funny-business individual . Even the first syllable of their names both start with a firm “kuh” noise and they’re both mostly purple

From what I’ve seen and interpreted of Calypso, it feels like it just makes no sense for her to air out her entire past to a stranger she met not even a day ago? I don’t think I would’ve hated it as much if she seemed conflicted about telling you initially, maybe stopping herself short, before she admits it later on before the firebrand scenes

Before I sound like I hate demo four, I don’t, I genuinely did have fun. Loved the music, a lot of moments were really funny, and I even went back and helped out a few folks in different servers beat the final boss, and especially now that we FINALLY got closure to griefer and got him as a calling card. I especially love the fact he’s all plant-y now, and it’s actually pretty sweet of him to protect the player during battle as a sort of pay-back for helping save him.

(Although it did kind of suck that we don’t get to use griefer much if at all during demo 4, given Calypso will always use up a spot for a calling card)

It did feel like this demo went by really fast, not that I expected a big rpg expansion, but it did feel very straightforward and more like a transition to the next chapter than anything big

[nejackdaw]

Thinking about Celann and his ever present grief at the life he could have had, he and his wife and (he always hoped) their daughter. A life where he was a father--he'd hardly ever wanted anything more than that. So full of love he was ready to burst and needed somewhere to put it, wanted a life with his favorite girls.

Thinking about how the ever present desire haunts him no matter how deep he buried it. It keeps coming back, relentlessly, this anguish that he threw it all away. He could have had exactly what he wanted and he was stupid enough to abandon it all, and for what? Because he was upset? But then he always remembers how hollow he felt after the incident, like if you rapped him with a knuckle you'd hear he was just a shell. He forgives himself, then, remembers how wrong everything felt, and he thinks about all the time he spent desperately trying to make everything feel right again.

Remembers when he realized he was the problem, what needed to be fixed. Removed.

He abandoned the life he had and every dream he'd ever held close because he wasn't him anymore. Celann would never have killed anyone, would never have done... that. He was some other Celann, different, trying to make himself fit in the life of a man that no longer existed. And so he left.

And he has no right to ache so badly at the thought of what he gave up, no right to ache at the loss of a family (of two families, but he starts thinking that and breaks every time, so he's gotten good at simply skipping over the thought) when he was a killer--an adept one, a practiced one--that could mangle and maul and kill and do it again and again. What right does he have to still want that happy little dream?

But the dream is a ghost and it haunts him, is there every time he's out on a supply run and sees kids playing around the marketplace, sees women cradling infants and fathers carrying sons on their shoulders. (He reminds himself of the blood on his hands, is scared he might stain them with it if he reaches out to touch them.) It's there when he has a bag and his axe hanging from his hips and finds a girl crying for her mother, lost and separated, jostled by the crowd.

It's there as he calms her, kneeling on wet and gritty stone, hovering between her and the flow of the crowd so they give her space. He lifts her and holds her against his side with one arm and something in him weeps, feels something soft in him as her tiny weight settles and she starts chattering at him about the groceries she and her mother came to buy.

They weave their way through the marketplace as they help each other--she tells him where he can find what he needs, and he silently curses the nords and their height as he tries to peer over shoulders to catch a glimpse of the woman she described--and that cold weight that's usually settled in his chest, his grief and remorse, lightens with every step. She's warm through his sweater and splutters indignantly every time the ever changing wind blows her brown hair into her mouth and he laughs, quiet and warm.

They check places she's already been, in case her mother doubled back looking for her, and take detours so Celann can fumble to place newly acquired groceries in the bag beneath her, unwilling to hold her over the side with his axe and equally unwilling to put her down, awkwardly shifting her weight as she laughs at him. He's silly for buying such expensive things, she tells him, and he light heartedly tells her Skyrim is silly for not having the things he used to use in High Rock. The revelation he hasn't always lived in Skyrim excites her to no end, and the rest of the trip is a Q&A of the sort only a small child can provide.

He feels warm inside, in his chest, where usually he feels vaguely cold at best, and for a moment he's reluctant to relinquish her when they finally find her mother, guided by the sounds of panicked calls of her name. There's a fond sadness as he sets her down on the stones again, and the woman looks at him oddly for a moment before the look turns knowing, though he's sure the conclusion she reached is slightly off.

She quietly asks if her daughter reminds him of her. He stands there silently for a moment, looking down at the little girl as she rifles through the things her mother's found.

He tells her yes.

[lovecatsverymuch]

*LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER SOUND* Lois would be into that, remember they did it in the sky NO shame whatsoever and she has canonically dressed up as Wonder Woman in their "fun time"

By Stjepan Sejic

Learn even more about superhero sexual anatomy in our book Sex Lives of Superheroes.

[enhani-ki]

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki

warnings : smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

"suck my dick." "eat my ass."

you and ni-ki exchanged filthy words to each other at the same time, your voices were sharp and loud enough to turn your other coworkers heads. and even though they had long grown accustomed to your rivalry, they always still look at the two of you in shock.

it's like the office practically lived in fear whenever the two of you were around,

and it got to a point where the HR was already forced to intervene.

you both found yourselves sitting across from a visibly exhausted HR rep after a particularly heated argument during a department-wide meeting.

"l/n, nishimura... this is really out of control." they said while rubbing their temples. "you're sabotaging projects, disrupting meetings, and making the workplace hostile."

"tell her that. she started it." ni-ki pointed out.

you rolled your eyes.

"effective immediately, you're being reassigned to different departments."

and it should've ended there but somehow, despite being on separate teams, you both still found ways to make each other's lives miserable. you found loopholes and more ways to sabotage each other without making it obvious.

ni-ki took every ounce of restraint not to strangle you, and you might've run him over in the parking lot already if it weren't for security cameras around the building.

that late night, the office was already empty. you thought everyone had clocked out except for you.

you were also ready to leave, your bag is already over your shoulder but something was missing.

the important file, you knew you had just printed it.

"looking for this?"

it was the first time you saw ni-ki again. he's standing across the room, holding the folder between his fingers with a serious expression.

your stomach dropped. no fucking way.

"you're so fucking dead," he shook his head. "say goodbye to your career."

"gi-give me that!"

he held it high, stepping back when you tried to take it.

you almost had it but he made it more out of reach.

the folder has the confidential criteria of the next manager promotion, he knew you're a bad person but he didn't know that you'll just fucking cheat.

"yes, i'll give this back," he scoffed and nodded. "right to our manager."

your desperation turned to rage, that paper would literally ruin you. your eyes landed on a thick book sitting on a nearby desk, and you could've just explained and asked nicely to give it back but hell no, so you grabbed the hard thick book and threatened to swing.

ni-ki panicked, he looked around for a weapon of his own and in a split-second decision, he grabbed a cup off the desk and threw it at you...

very cold water splashed all over you and your clothes.

your jaw dropped. "you-"

"i- i didn't-"

then your foot slipped on the wet floor, ni-ki reacted fast, catching your head before you could crash to the ground but the momentum sent him stumbling too.

you groaned, his hands braced against the floor to keep himself from completely crushing you and next thing you knew, you were on the floor, your back against the cold tiles, and ni-ki was right on top of you, with his face buried on your tits.

he slowly moved, his eyes locked onto the view in front of him... your soaked blouse sticking to your skin, making your black bra and cleavage very much visible.

ni-ki cleared his throat before turning his head away from you. he was about to grab the scattered papers but you were quicker, you grabbed onto his collar, pulling him before he could escape.

"let go!"

"not a chance."

he struggled, trying to push you off but you were holding onto him so hard that the buttons of his shirt ripped, exposing his toned chest and abs.

you smirked slightly when you noticed ni-ki stopped pushing you away and his breaths became heavier.

he's still a guy after all.

your fingers roamed around his exposed chest, teasing him just to test something, to see if you could turn the tables,

you could feel his muscles tensed under your touch and ni-ki closed his eyes when you leaned close to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

the sound your lips made as they parted was too sexy so he leaned in to kiss you just to hear it again.

the kiss deepened, it became hurried, hard, aggressive, and messy.

like all his hate had nowhere else to go except right here.

ni-ki groaned against your lips, hands gripping on your waist.

you fingers slid down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin more beneath the open shirt again and before you knew it, you were helping him remove his shirt off completely, tossing it aside like it meant nothing.

"this is unbelievable." he thought, while his fingers worked hastily, unbuttoning each one from your blouse with urgency, making your heart race even more.

"you're impatient." you whispered, breathless.

"just wanna get this over with." he said before his lips crashed into yours to shut your annoying voice.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he easily lifted you, his other hand sliding down your back to remove your bra.

ni-ki watched the way your boobs bounce and spread free right in front of his eyes.

he lay you down on a nearby couch, removing your skirt and stockings so he can have you naked completely.

you arched on his touch but ni-ki grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him with no effort.

and even though you won't openly admit or say it, you knew everyone found your coworker is attractive but damn, he's this big too?

so now it made it harder to stop all this and it's been so long too since you had sex, you already forgot how it felt.

you watched ni-ki slicked himself with his own spit, barely easing what was about to come because just as you suspected, the stretch really hurts.

maybe it just the tip but it was already too much. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto.

ni-ki started moaning, his entire body tensing as he felt the way your walls squeezed around him. it's so tight, so impossibly hot too like you were already milking him for everything he had and his cock's not even fully inside yet.

"fuck," he groaned, "you're sucking me in."

yes, ni-ki hates you and even though he wanted you to suffer for everything you did to him, he would never be cruel when it came to sex. his own self-control was also hanging by a thread, yet he still moved carefully, pushing in slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of him.

your head tipped back, moaning too as you adjusted to his size, tightening more around him involuntarily.

ni-ki smiled, probably the first time he did. "there you go," he thought, watching your reaction as he rolled his hips up to meet yours, slow while keeping your legs in it's place.

you couldn't even think now already, the way he filled you up, the way his body pressed against yours, it was overwhelming. your nails raked down his back as he picked up the pace, going deeper, and deeper that you just might pass out.

and when the pain faded into pleasure, your body moved on its own, you rolled your hips until you found a good rhythm, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, to take his dick even deeper inside you.

ni-ki threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as you rode him with no mercy, your warm, soaked walls dragging over his cock at a pace that was too much. it felt like he had no control anymore, he could barely think.

"y/n, slow down-" his voice broke, desperate and strained but you ignored him, rolling your hips even more fast because then maybe you'll get to see him snap.

his whole body was trembling beneath you, muscles tensed as his breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps. he already came once, and it had already been so deep inside you but you just wouldn't stop.

"you wanted to fuck me, right?" you taunted, your thighs were shaking from how much pleasure was coursing through your overstimulated body. "then just take it."

ni-ki buckled up into you too, he's so close again, teetering on the edge, but he refused to give in to your words.

"you- you're one to talk," he rasped, "when you're so fucking soaked."

and he was right, you could feel how drenched you were, could hear how messy and filthy it sounded every time your hips met his.

the pleasure became too much again, unbearable ache building deep inside you it felt like you're going to pee anytime soon, you pulled his hair for support as your rhythm started slowing down.

ni-ki noticed even through his dazed, wrecked state before smirking again. "gonna fall apart on me?"

his hands held your hips down, forcing his cock so deep inside you that your vision blurred, a sob tore from your throat as the pressure snapped, crashing through your body so intense that you couldn't even moan.

your lips parted, body trembling uncontrollably as you came hard on his lap.

you didn't know how but somehow now, he had you on your hands and knees, chest pressing against your back as he drove into you, relentless, unforgiving.

"n-no, fuck!" you sobbed, your arms nearly giving out as he buried himself inside you again and again, ni-ki's lips trailing over your shoulder, hot and ragged.

and your pussy clenched around him again, he started losing it.

his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling it to where your back can press against his chest, his other hand gripping on your throat.

he cupped your tits, you could feel his cock twitch inside you, the thrusts of his hips turned frantic as he chased his own release.

...now the office fell silent but the reality of what just happened started creeping in slowly between the two of you.

you reached for your discarded clothes, your limbs were feeling heavy as you clumsily pulled your skirt back on. ni-ki, still catching his breath, sat up to and started buttoning his ruined shirt though half the buttons were missing, making it completely useless.

then, he held something up between his fingers.

"can i keep these?"

your head turned towards him, eyes widening when you realized he was holding your panties.

you snatched it from his grip. "are you fucking sick in the head?" you hissed, slipping them back on as quickly as possible.

he just laughed and shook his head.

maybe he's sick, after all, he just slept with the worst person he ever knew.

next day you and ni-ki sat across from each other in the office, both unusually quiet. no bickering, no scheming, everything was just... gone.

your coworkers noticed but ignored it, just enjoying while it's happening.

ni-ki exchanged awkward glances with you before quickly looking away.

your lips were still tingling from last night. you swore that your body still felt him, and every time you move in your chair, the memories just keeps on flooding back to your head. "stop... please... oh, my god."

he wasn't doing any better too, he can't stop smiling and running a hand through his hair, his knee were bouncing under the desk every time his eyes landed on you.

then he caught you alone.

you were at the copy room, trying to focus on literally anything else when suddenly, you felt him.

ni-ki pressed up behind you, my dick misses you, is what he wanted to say. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

you blushed, your fingers were curling into the edge of the machine. "p- printing, what else?" you stuttered.

"y/n..." his hands found your waist, squeezing lightly. "you don't miss it?"

you swallowed hard before turning around to face him, "keep dreaming, psycho."

liar.

the asshole ni-ki you know would never say these things and if he did, the old you would've punch his mouth and punching it once once so you'd make sure it'll bleed.

so what happened?

"remember, i still got the files."

you hushed him, "give that shit back," you whispered.

he hummed, tilting his head. "it's at my house. you can come get it."

"just bring it here!"

"like i said," he dragged the word out, stepping closer, "come get it."

you still found yourself standing outside his apartment later that night even though knew it was probably a trap.

ni-ki opened the door, leaning against it with that same smug expression like he knew you'd be here... he's wearing nothing but a loose bathrobe.

you looked down. is he naked underneath? he's this pervert? then you quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to look back up. "where is it?"

he sighed, stepping aside to let you in. "hmm, i put it somewhere over there," he murmured.

you shoved him away before he could try anything, making him chuckle.

so you started searching, bending down to check under his sofa and through the mess on his coffee table.

ni-ki stood behind you, watching. no, he was checking you out.

his tongue slipped to wet his lips, looking at your ass and if he stared any longer, he knew his dick will get hard.

you stood and stomped your foot. "just give it back!"

ni-ki sighed and fixed his hair. "okay, fine!" he said, "i already shredded it. you don't have to worry."

"how do i know you're not lying?"

he didn't answer right away. instead, he leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, legs spreading slightly as he pulled you closer between them.

"because... you fucked me so good, i destroyed every single thing i have that could ruin you."

you swallowed hard, chest rising and falling hard as you look into his eyes then you looked down, and... oh.

his cock twitched beneath the thin fabric of his robe, already straining against it, making his arousal painfully obvious.

the air grew heavier as you both watched him get harder, completely shameless.

your lips parted slightly, heat creeping up your neck, but then you shot him a glare. "can you put some damn clothes on?"

ni-ki smirked, playing with the belt of his robe. "but you came all the way here…" he said. looking at you with his needy eyes.

he didn't finish his words, you just reached forward, curling your fingers around the soft fabric, and dragged it off his shoulders, inch by inch.

your eyes followed every reveal, his sharp collarbones, the defined lines of his shoulders, the smooth, lean muscle of his chest.

his eyes were locked onto your lips, red, and swollen from the night before. that's his doing and it looked so good.

his fingers traced along your jaw, his other hand gripping your waist as he captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss. his body was already hot beneath your touch, tense, waiting for you to take control and do him however you wanted.

you knelt between his spread legs, dragging your hand over his thighs, watching the way his muscles flexed under your touch.

you wrapped your fingers around his cock first, stroking him slow, letting your palm glide smoothly over him. his cock twitched in response with a shaky breath slipping past his lips.

you leaned in and pressed a slow, wet kiss to his tip. ni-ki's grip in your hair tightened but not pulling, just holding, like he needed something to ground him.

and when your lips wrapped around him, he lost all of his sense of control. you took him deeply that your cheeks were hollowing while letting your tongue glide over every inch of his dick.

you pushed even lower, forcing him down your throat, stretching yourself around him until your throat clenched, gagging as you choked when he hit the back of your mouth,

"more, more... more..." ni-ki bit his lip.

and you let yourself struggle, deep throathing his cock that spit started pooling at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin, and all over your hands.

you heard him swore in Japanese under his breath so you can't help but chuckle, vibration sent another set of pleasure through him before you pulled away, letting his cock slip from your lips with a pop, thin strand of spit still connecting your mouth to his tip.

ni-ki's hips bucked, desperate for your mouth again but you just smirked, dragging your tongue along the side of his cock, slow and teasing, before wrapping your lips around him again... only to pull away the second he's about to cum.

"y/n- stop... that." he warned but you ignored it. instead, you just wrapped your hands around him, stroking him slow and lazy.

"you were close, right?"

"you think you're funny?" he panted.

you started sucking his dick passionately again, enough to make him think you were finally giving in but only to pull away again at the last second, lips barely brushing his tip, making him fucking ache.

his voice cracked, "you're so fucking evil-"

"you sound so desperate right now." you teased, dragging a single finger along his length, feeling how hot and hard he was in your grasp.

"you're not gonna make me cum?" ni-ki asked before pining your hands above your head, he had you completely spread out beneath him,

he's too far gone to even remember why he hated you in the first place.

and he went on you so hard that night, you couldn't even move the next day. you would fall the second you tried to stand, and the soreness between your thighs made you collapse back with a frustrated whimper.

a deep chuckle rumbled beside you, raspy from hours of groaning, moaning, and going crazy.

you glared at him weakly, when you tried again and failed, ni-ki carried you in his arms. you yelped, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you towards the bathroom.

he really did a number on you.

"think we can handle another round here?"

now he had your cheek pressed up against the cool, fogged-up glass of the shower. ni-ki's hands were everywhere, his large palms gripped the soft flesh of your tits, squeezing, pulling, and rolling your nipples between his finger, making your body arch back into him.

you just hoped that it wouldn't leave bruising prints on your skin.

you breathed hard, fogging up the mirror. ni-ki groaned against your shoulder, your fingers kept slipping against the tile for balance, wet slap echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.

"i could fuck you for days..." he declared, his teeth grazing your shoulder before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His fingers dug into your hips, pressing you harder against the glass.

the water kept shifting from icy cold to blistering hot, and it's so hard to breath, like you were both drowning.

next morning, your body ached in ways you didn't think were possible, ni-ki groaned into the pillow beside you, his arm draped over your waist, refusing to move.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably an alarm or a message about work. you glanced at the time, then at ni-ki, who peeked at you with a smile.

"we're not going in, are we?" he asked, still sleepy.

you sighed, already knowing the answer. "nope, i can't."

he grinned and rolled over, grabbing his phone to call in sick.

"i gotta go home."

he hummed, nuzzling against your neck. "mm. or you could just stay here with me."

his hand slid over your thigh.

"i'm so sleepy," you mumbled, voice muffled against the pillow.

ni-ki's fingers were already trailing down your side so you hissed.

"what?" he murmured against your shoulder, pressing a warm kiss there. "i'm just holding you."

"you're not."

sighed, eyes fluttering shut. "i need sleep."

...but he can fuck you back to sleep.

ni-ki hummed, pretending to think. he rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight.

"just five minutes." he agreed, lips brushing your ear. "if not, i'm waking you up my way."

later, just as you were drifting into actual sleep, something heavy landed on the bed, startling you both awake.

your eyes snapped open, only to be met with a pair of little eyes glaring at you.

a dog.

a small, fluffy thing that was currently growling at you like you had personally offended it.

"what the?" he muttered, scrambling back. "oh, bisco..."

"your dog?"

"that's my child."

you blinked at him. "i didn't know you we-"

"yes," he replied, reaching to ruffle the dog's fur. "i'm a single father."

you squinted at him, then at the dog, who was still very much growling at you.

"oh, come on," you huffed, sitting up. "what's your problem?"

the dog barked in response, stepping protectively over ni-ki's chest. "bisco thought you were hurting me last night."

"excuse me?"

the dog growled again, and you shot ni-ki a glare. "are you gonna stop it?"

ni-ki reached out and pulled you against him, ignoring the dog's outrage.

"bisco," he called out, "you'll get used to her."

bisco did not look convinced. "i think it can sense your evil attitude," he teased, rubbing the dog's ears.

ni-ki looked completely at ease... messy hair, lips still a little swollen from earlier, and worst of all, smiling.

like actually smiling.

you swallowed hard, your face heating up.

was this really the same guy who had spent months making your life a living hell? the same guy who stole your reports, sabotaged your presentations, and threw every possible insult your way?

the same guy you swore you'd never tolerate, let alone you expect to wake up next to?

it really doesn't feel real.

you sat there feeling like your whole world just tilted sideways and yet, here he was, laughing softly as bisco licked his face, as if he wasn't the biggest opp you have.

ni-ki looked at you, "what?"

you scoffed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over your head. "nothing..."

ni-ki only chuckled, moving closer, "tsk, don't tell me..."

and you kicked him under the blanket, smiling like an idiot.

a/n: i need to write smut better omfg, thank you @greenparties for this request. and if you're a MOA and BEOMGYU is your bias here's another coworker/enemies to lovers fic of mine: coworker || c. beomgyu x reader

masterlist: マスターリストm.list

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

rafe having no boundaries and grabbing his girlfriend's ass in front of family during a family trip

A little Rafe and Sarah being siblings

—

‘’Can you not do that here?’’ Sarah grimaced after Rafe wandered in and smacked your ass on his way to the fridge. ‘’We’re cooking. That’s gross.’’ 

You and Sarah had woken up earlier than everyone else and decided to whip some pancake batter. They were coming along nicely, slowly piling up on a plate.

Rafe rolled his eyes in response and leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘’Chill out, Sarah. I’m just saying ‘good morning’ to my girl.’’

Sarah scoffed, giving him a glare as you flipped out the pancake in the pan. ‘’Well, keep your 'good mornings' to yourself until after breakfast and when I’m not around, alright? I’ve seen and heard enough things I didn’t want to.’’ 

Your cheeks turned red and you kept your eyes on the pan, embarrassed as memories of Sarah catching you topless in their pool and all the times she heard you through the walls of Tannyhill before Rafe got his own place. You’ll never apologize to her enough. 

‘’Stop acting like a prude. I’ve heard you on the phone with that pogue you’re seeing. Ahh, John B., I wish your fingers were inside me. I’m so close, I need to—’’ 

Sarah grabbed a blueberry and threw it at her brother, her face burning hot at his mockery. If eyes could kill, Rafe would be a dead man. She looked murderous. 

Rafe smirked, unfazed by the blueberry that was thrown his way. He crossed his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his blue eyes flickered with amusement. ‘’These walls are old. Did you think I couldn’t hear you?’’ 

To avoid a Sarah vs Rafe duel from happening, you asked Rafe if he wanted chocolate chips or blueberries in his pancakes. You already knew the answer, but you needed to defuse the bomb before it would explode. 

‘’Blueberries. You know how I like my pancakes, baby,’’ he said, pushing himself off the counter and closing the distance between you and him in a few strides. 

Sarah shot a glare in his direction, her eyes narrowing, but Rafe chose to ignore her and kiss your shoulder, standing right behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back and resting his chin above your shoulder.

‘’Rafe, you’re distracting me,’’ you warned, pouring batter in the pan and adding some blueberries. 

Rafe laughed lowly, his chest rumbling against your back as his arms wrapped tighter around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear, his lips lingering on your skin for a few seconds. ‘’These look good. Think we can take the pancakes to bed after you’re done?’’ 

Breakfast in bed, away from everyone else, sounded tempting. You've had breakfast with the Camerons since you arrived, sticking to the polite routine. You missed being alone with Rafe in the morning, taking it slow and engaging in non-PG activities.  

Before you answered, Sarah cleared her throat beside you, a disapproving look on her face. Rafe thought he was subtle and sleek when he had his hand wander under your robe. 

He lifted his head and gave her a cocky grin. ''What?'' 

‘’In case you forgot, I’m still here,'' the blonde recalled, taking a few plates from the cupboards and deciding to set the table. ‘’And Wheezie and Dad and Rose are gonna come down soon.’’ 

‘’I know,'' Rafe replied, stepping back and letting you finish the pancakes. ''If you had not been here, I would have her bent over the counter already.’’ 

His words should have shocked you, but you were used to his bluntness by now. Rafe never held back, always saying exactly what was on his mind, no matter how outrageous. No matter the audience. You thought he would behave and tone it down with Wheezie in the house, but he didn’t. 

Thankfully, her young ears were not around.

You looked over your shoulder, failing at hiding the smirk that tugged at the corners of your lip.

—

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[sweetlovepascal]

die for you

pairings reader x joel miller

summary abby wants you dead instead.

tags spoilers for those who haven’t watched s2 e2, reader insert, sad, depressive, just pure sadness. mentions of death, because you will die. joel crying and begging. ellie crying too. established relationship. swearing, all that.

masterlist

the world had already fallen apart, but this day was supposed to be ordinary.

joel had gone with dina, and you were paired with ellie and jesse. a patrol like any other. except today, the cold was unforgiving and you can’t help but feel that something bad might happen.

winter had buried the abandoned buildings under thick layers of snow, turning streets into treacherous paths. frost clung to your eyelashes, burning against exposed skin. visibility was near zero, and the biting winds made it impossible to push forward.

“we need to find shelter!” jesse shouted. he pointed ahead a building as they helped him open the shutter doors urging the horses inside. you shoved past the threshold without a second thought, fingers clumsily reaching for your walkie-talkie. you roughly tore of your balaclava, ripping it free in frustration.

you breath came in sharp, steam rising in the air as you held your cold fingers to the radio.

“joel? dina? come in”

static.

you tightened your grip. “joel. dina. do you copy?”

nothing. just silence.

ellie stepped inside, shaking the frost from her coat. she glanced at your stiff posture, the way your fingers gripped the device like it might give you the answer you needed.

“any luck?” ellie asked, rubbing her hands together for warmth, and then her gaze drifted—eyes scanning the dimly lit space. marijuanas. ellie huffed a small, amused breath despite the tension.

“no.” you swallowed hard. your head was pounding.

“well… at least someone had the right idea. can’t imagine getting high in a place like this. too depressing.” you barely reacted, lost in the silence of the radio.

jesse entered behind her, his boots leaving damp streaks on the frozen floor. “what?” he asked, pulling off his gloves. the static in the radio felt heavier than the snow pressing in around you.

jesse shook her head. “they’re probably just out of range. we need to stay put. let’s wait for the storm to pass.” but you couldn’t sit still, not with joel and dina somewhere out there.

you turned to look at ellie, reading your thoughts before you could say them aloud. “i’m coming with you,” ellie said. jesse exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“fine, i’ll cover the east side” he said, grabbing his gloves and pulling them on. “if you don’t hear from me, i’m probably dead or freezing my ass off.”

the wind howled around you and ellie, cutting through your layers like knives. snow blurred the world beyond a few feet. footsteps vanished the moment they were made. as the cold pressed in around you, a terrible thought crept into your mind.

“we need to keep moving,” ellie said, her voice tight. “we won’t last long out here.” you nodded, that’s when you saw it—a shape emerging from the storm, just barely visible through the swirling snow. a cabin in the mountain. you hesitated.

“what are the odds it’s safe?” you stared at the cabin, a creeping dread curling in your stomach. “low. but better than freezing to death.” ellie shifted slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“someone’s here.” the tension in the cabin thickened as you and ellie remained pressed against the wall, weapons drawn.

another noise. footsteps. not yours nor ellie’s.

a loud, sharp gunshot echoed. your breath hitched. ellie’s gaze snapped to yours, wide and panicked. then a voice. a familiar voice, shouted in pain from the room across you.

joel.

ellie surged forward, bursting through the door without hesitation. you barely had a chance to stop her but ellie was already inside, gun raised, fury burning in her eyes.

one of them whirled around at the sudden intrusion, attacking into ellie before she could react. the force sent her crashing to the ground with a hard grunt, her revolver skidding across the wooden floor as another pair of hands pinned her down.

ellie groaned, struggling. “joel!” “fucking get off me!” abby just stood there watching paying the intruder no mind.

you sucked in a sharp breath, ducking behind just in time before anyone could spot you.

your eyes landed on him. he laid on the wooden floor. his breath uneven, his face twisted in pain as blood seeped through his pants. you felt you stomach twist as you caught sight of his busted knee.

through the haze of pain, his gaze lifted locking onto ellie. his lips parted slightly, a hoarse, breathless sound escaping him, barely loud enough to hear.

“ellie…”

“joel! joe—” ellie shouted, thrashing harder, pure desperation in her voice. her words cut off with a sharp gasp as one of them pressed her harder into the floor, tightening their hold.

joel tensed, his breathing ragged, his hands curling into fists despite his weakness. he tried to push himself forward. but his ruined knee buckled, sending fresh agony through him. his jaw clenched, his face twisting in pain, and his voice came out strained, almost broken.

“get your goddamn hands off her.”

joel now wondered where you are. he wanted to ask ellie but couldn’t risk your life. he just hoped that you are somewhere far from the cabin and far away from jackson as the place is currently being attacked.

“tourniquet his knee."

a scream ripped from his throat, raw and broken. you clenched your teeth trying not to cry. "stop!" she shouted, thrashing violently. her face slowly turning red.

joel was breathing hard now, short and sharp gasps escaping him as his head dropped back.

without hesitation, you moved fast as your gun lifted and aimed.

the shot rang out. blood splattered against the wooden walls.

one of the men dropped as chaos erupted.

joel’s eyes snapped to you the moment the shots rang out.

ellie scrambled to her feet, using the distraction to break free, throwing her elbow into the second man's face before scrambling for her revolver.

you had shot 5 out of 8.

you asked ellie is she was okay but just as you took your next step, you felt it. a cold metal pressing against your temple. your breath hitched.

“drop them” one of the guys ordered. your fingers tightened around your gun still warm in your hands.

“you…" abby muttered, almost breathless. she lunged, grabbing her rifle, yanking it into position and pointing it straight at joel.

"abby.."

"drop them," she snarled, the barrel pressed close, just inches from his head. joel barely flinched, his jaw clenched tight. ellie froze beside you, her breath sharp, her revolver still aimed.

slowly, carefully, you exhaled through your nose, lowering your arms. your guns slipping from your fingers, clattering onto the bloodstained floor. the moment they hit the ground, one of abby’s people, a woman, tackled ellie to the ground once more.

a slow, humorless laugh escaped her lips. "funny how the world works," she murmured, shaking her head.

"i thought i'd be tracking you two down forever, and here you two are walking straight into my hands." her fingers flexed against the rifle, gripping it tighter, and then her expression shifted.

her gaze flicked to joel, then back to you.

“i heard a rumor,” she murmured, almost conversational, like she was testing the words on her tongue.

“that when joel killed my father…you were there.”

ellie froze beneath the girl pinning her down, her wild glare flicking between you and abby. joel couldn't speak.

abby took a slow step forward. “you were there,” she repeated, her voice lower now, heavier, her anger burning just beneath the surface.

“you watched it happen. didn’t you?”

“you let him do it,” she hissed.

“you let him take everything from me.” “you were supposed to be family,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

"abby, please i—"you barely blinked. family. the word felt wrong coming from her.

“shut the fuck up! we were together in this world, surviving it,” she continued, her fingers flexing against the trigger now pointed to you.

“i trusted you.” her gaze locked onto yours, fury burning just beneath the surface. “and then joel took everything from me. and you— you just let it happen.” her voice broke slightly at the edges, but she swallowed it down, replacing it with something cold.

this wasn’t just revenge.

this wasn’t just about joel anymore.

this was about you now.

“i could just put a bullet in your head right now,” “but that would be too easy,” she continued. “too quick. too clean.” her fingers flexed against the trigger, but she didn’t pull it. not yet. she let out a slow breath, shaking her head as if thinking what to do with you.

“you’re gonna die painfully slow.”

joel’s breath hitched. abby’s gaze flicked to him, watching the way his jaw tightened, watching the way his panic had settled deep into his bones.

she was enjoying this.

she was feeding off his fear. and that meant you mean a whole lot of something to him.

“she doesn’t belong in this,” joel pleaded, his voice growing more desperate, thick with something heavier than pain.

“you came for me right? fine. fine. take me. just— just please let them go.” joel swallowed hard, his breath stuttering as he tried to force himself forward, as if he could shield you from abby’s aim.

“she ain’t done nothing to you,” he continued, words rushed now, his voice cracking in places, and for the first time you saw it. tears. threatening to spill, but he fought against them, his jaw tightening, his breath coming out in desperate bursts.

“just let her go,” he whispered. “please.”

“oh, joel, that’s exactly why I won’t.” his face twisted, horror settling deep in his bones.

it wasn’t supposed to end the way that it is ending. it was just supposed to be a normal patrol day. you and joel sleeping together at the end of the day in each other’s embrace, joel whispering sweet nothings into yours and yours into his.

that’s how your days went with him for the past five years since the three of you settled into jackson.

pain swallowed you whole. your body was wrecked, bruised, battered, broken.

you lay on the cold wooden floor, chest rising and falling in strained, shallow gasps. blood dripped from your mouth, staining the worn boards beneath you, pooling along the edges of your ruined body.

your swollen eyes found him. joel. his eyes locked onto yours. you saw everything. rage. fear. desperation. and worse, guilt. with a last blow from abby, the golf club broke in half. leaving abby to punch you.

you didn’t scream, you couldn’t feel any pain at this point.

“stop," joel rasped, his voice raw, strained, begging. "please—just stop." he tried to move, tried to push himself forward but his ruined knee buckled. his face twisted, his hands twitching weakly against the wooden floor, as if he could somehow reach you.

he couldn’t. he was trapped. forced to watch.

ellie was screaming raw, desperate cries, her voice breaking as she thrashed beneath, tears spilling from her eyes. you meant a lot to her.

"stop!" she sobbed. "just fucking stop!"

but abby wasn’t listening, reaching the broken golf club. she kneeled over you, hands ready to pierce through your neck. joel let out a sharp, strangled breath.

"don't," he rasped, his voice cracking, breaking, falling apart in the space between you. abby exhaled softly.

"say hello to my dad for me," abby raised her hands and paused.

“i’m sorry.” she murmured quietly. your vision swam, clouding at the edges, fading to black. “for everything.”

you try to speak, to force out a word, a plea, anything, but your throat tightens, the world tipping.

"you don’t have to do this! please!" joel's voice shakes, a mix of fear and disbelief. his eyes bloodshot.

then a sharp, sickening crack as the metal connects with your throat. the darkness creeps in, slow at first, then all at once.

you heard joel screaming your name, the sound breaking apart like glass.

"no—no—no—" ellie screamed, fighting, struggling, kicking but she was pinned, she was helpless, she was drowning in the horror of it all.

memories started flashing before your eyes.

joel.

no, this is the joel only you knew.

the joel who looked at you with eyes that softened when you caught him staring. the joel whose laughter was rare but beautiful.

your vision flickers. you see him under the soft jackson light, his hand absentmindedly tracing patterns over your knuckles as you sit beside him on the porch.

you remember the way his calloused fingers felt, rough from years of hardship, yet somehow the gentlest touch you’d ever known.

“never thought i'd have this,” he had murmured once, voice barely above a whisper. you’d turned to him, resting your head against his shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

he had always, always found a way to make you feel like you mattered.

and ellie. she had teased, nudged, given you knowing looks when Joel would brush a stray hair from your face or linger a little too long when saying goodbye.

now, you try to reach for him, desperation lacing the last flicker of strength in your limbs. your fingers twitch, stretching toward the fading memory of him. he’s sat there in front of you, looking at you like he always did like he sees you in a way no one else ever has, but you can see the pain in his eyes as he shouts your name begging you to get up.

your body fails you. the weight of it all pulls you down, down, down. your hand drops. joel’s image flickers and both joel and ellie’s voice fades. then nothing.

abby steps back, her expression unreadable, and the two men with her exchange glances. one gestures, impatient, and she nods.

they leave.

but the silence that follows is louder than any scream.

joel groans. a broken, ragged sound as he forces himself forward.

he crawled towards you.

blood pools around his knee, staining the ground beneath him, but he drags himself closer, hands trembling, breath shallow. every inch forward is agony, but still, he moves.

ellie scrambles beside him, desperation pushing her forward, hands shaking violently as she reaches for you.

joel's hand finds yours, trembling, bloodied fingers curling around yours in desperation. he grips tightly, waiting, pleading in silence. “just squeeze,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “just once. please.”

ellie chokes on a sob, her hands pressed against your chest, searching for something—anything—to hold onto. joel’s grip tightens around your lifeless hand, desperation threading through his veins like fire. his breath trembles, uneven, as he waits for any sign that you’re still here.

but there’s nothing.

no squeeze. just silence. “come on,” he whispers, voice hoarse, barely more than a breath.

“baby please...”

nothing.

ellie lets out a strangled cry but joel barely hears her.

because suddenly, he is not here—not kneeling in blood, not gripping your lifeless hand.

he is somewhere else. years ago.

sarah. his little girl.

she used to hold his hand so tight, like she was afraid he’d slip away like she’d never let go.

and then one day she did.

the last time he held her hand, she hadn’t squeezed back either.

the memory crushes him, knocks the air from his lungs, rips through him with a force so brutal it’s unbearable. the same pain. the same silence. the same unbearable emptiness.

“no,” he chokes out, shaking his head violently, his grip tightening like that alone can pull you back. “not again. not you. please—don’t do this to me. don’t—”

joel cradles you in his arms, holding you like you’re made of glass. his breaths are uneven, sharp, as he presses his forehead against yours.

"you’re okay," he whispers, but his voice cracks, betraying him.

his grip tightens around you, like he can somehow anchor you here. like he can change what’s already happened.

the reality settles in. the weight of it crushes his chest. a shuddering breath escapes his lips and then, the tears come once more.

slow at first, like he’s fighting them. like he’s trying to hold himself together for just another second. but it’s useless.

a broken sob escapes him, muffled against your shoulder. his body shakes as he clutches you closer, as if the sheer force of his grief could undo the impossible.

ellie lets out another choked cry, her fingers trembling as she reaches for you, her own tears slipping down her face.

he leans down and presses a gentle kiss against your forehead.

he is drowning in his guilt, in the unbearable weight of what he has done.

he brought you into this chaos. into his life of violence and consequence. he made you part of his story.

"this is my fault," he chokes out, "i brought you into my mess. i—i should've kept you out of it."

"why did it have to be you? why, why wasn’t it me instead?"

"i should've protected you but i just sat there and watched them taking away the most important person in my life."

he lost you.

and there’s no coming back from that.

“you made everything better,” he murmurs, his tears slip onto your skin. “even when the world was hell, you—you made it brighter.”

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” he brokenly sang.

"you make me happy... when skies are grey...you'll never know dear...how much i— love you... please don't take... my sunshine away..." he continued as he sang your favorite song. the one that he always sings before you close your eyes and sleep beside him because you couldn't sleep without him doing so.

but this time, you'll be sleeping forever.

a/n i'm sorry. made this 7am in the morning because girly woke up and chose violence. might make an alternate version of this where u live and have a happily ever after w joel. comment if u want to be tagged!

[fuddaround]

OBSESSED › paige bueckers x fem!reader

⌗ summary : paige and her secret girlfriend go to the draft together and paige doesn’t know how to keep her hands to herself.

⌗ warnings : degradation, strap, alcohol, risky, almost getting caught, car sex, strap(r!receiving), praise, quicky.

⌗ word count : 4.1k

⌗ kay’s notes : her outfits this night should go down in history books. i couldn’t tell if the first suit was brown or just dark purple so i just put brown

you step out the car and instantly feel every head turn, but there’s only one you care about.

paige is already halfway through a question with a reporter when she catches sight of you, her mouth stuttering mid-sentence like her brain just shut down.

“oh my god,” she mumbles, blinking way too slow. “what the hell are you wearing?”

you smirk, twirling slightly so the slit of your dress shows just enough leg. “a dress?”

“no, no, no. that’s not a dress. that’s a personal attack,” she mutters, dragging her eyes from your heels all the way up to your lips. “you tryna end me before i even get drafted?”

you shrug, walking up to her like you’re not hiding in plain sight, like the world doesn’t know yet that you’re hers. “you look kinda hot too, bueckers.”

“kinda?” she huffs. “i’m wearin’ a whole sparkly ass suit and you’re over here lookin’ like a sin. ma, i’m about to fail the press line.”

you glance around—cameras everywhere, reporters shuffling, but paige is locked on you like nobody else exists. her black nails clench the edge of her huge designer bag like it’s the only thing keeping her sane.

“stop lookin’ at me like that,” you tease, voice low. “you’re gonna make people suspicious.”

“then stop looking like that,” she fires back, eyes dropping again to your leg. “jesus christ. there’s a slit. there’s a thigh. i can see your damn thigh muscle. you tryna kill me?”

“it’s just skin, paige,” you say, pretending to be innocent.

she scoffs, stepping a little too close. “not when it’s your skin.”

her hand twitches like she wants to touch you so bad but knows she can’t. she’s sweating under her glittery brown blazer and you haven’t even touched her yet.

“we are not gonna make it through this night,” she whispers, leaning closer like she might kiss you right there. “i swear to god, you better not be wearin’ that to the after party.”

“why?” you blink, playing dumb. “you don’t like it?”

“i like it too much,” she mutters, licking her lips. “like, black heels? slit that high? i’m obsessed. actually, no. i’m in love.”

you giggle, but she’s dead serious. eyes dark, rings catching the flash of a camera as she moves like she might reach for your waist—then remembers where you are.

“you gotta stop,” she groans, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “i’m tryna look all professional and composed and you out here lookin’ like my walking weakness.”

you lean in so close your lips brush her ear. “good. i like you a little messy.”

“god, i can’t do this,” she breathes, stepping back like she needs distance or she’s gonna lose all control.

you pose for a few photos beside her, smiling like you’re just friends, like she didn’t just whisper the filthiest compliment under her breath.

“what was that?” you ask, biting your lip.

“i said,” she repeats, barely moving her lips, “if you keep standing that close to me i’m gonna fuck you on national tv.”

your eyes widen. “paige.”

“what? i’m not entirely serious,” she shrugs, fake-innocent. “blame the dress. and the heels. and your everything.”

she keeps sneaking glances like she’s trying to memorize the way your dress hugs your waist, the way your collarbone glows under the lights. she looks like she’s praying for self-control and losing hard.

“i’m losing it,” she murmurs, watching you laugh at something a reporter says. “i’m so losing it.”

you reach down, fix her chain that shifted sideways in the shuffle of cameras. “deep breaths, champion.”

she grins, but it’s desperate. “girl, i’m about to deep breath you against a wall.”

you gasp, eyes wide, but your body leans toward her like it wants the same thing. “you are so not slick.”

“i’m not trying to be,” she shrugs, stepping closer again. “but you gotta know… the second i can get my hands on you? it’s over.”

you smirk, brushing a finger along her ringed hand. “then let’s make this night go fast.”

she groans again, and the cameras catch her mid-eye roll, mid-thirst. she doesn’t care. not really.

not when you look like that. not when you’re hers and she can’t even touch.

you’re already at the table when she walks back in, lights dimming low as the show gets ready to start.

and then there she is—shirtless under a sparkly black blazer, skin glowing, chains resting perfectly on her chest, waves falling wild around her face.

“so?” she grins, hands in her pockets, eyes locked on you like nobody else in the room matters. “how’d i do?”

you just blink, mouth open.

because jesus, that’s your girlfriend.

“you’re insane,” you whisper, gaze dragging down her whole fit. “you look like sex.”

she laughs, but it’s low and cocky.

like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“you like it?” she asks, standing right in front of your seat now, voice teasing.

you grab her hand and pull her into the chair beside you. “shut up before i climb you in front of espn.”

“say less,” she whispers, already sliding her palm onto your thigh under the table.

you flinch, eyes darting around, but she just smirks, thumb brushing slow over your skin like it belongs there.

like it’s not a secret, but something she’s ready to scream to the world.

her confidence is unreal—chin up, legs spread, one hand on you, the other resting casual on the table like she’s not minutes away from her whole life changing.

but all she cares about is how your dress rides up when she touches you.

“how long do i have to wait before i take you home and ruin you?” she murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “seriously. give me a number.”

you try not to shiver, faking a smile for the cameras pointed your way. “depends. how long you wanna last in dallas?”

she grins big, hand gripping your thigh tighter. “forever, if you come with me.”

and then—before you can answer, before you even process—her name is called.

“in the 2025 wnba draft the dallas wings select paige bueckers, university of connecticut.” the whole room goes wild, but she doesn’t look at anyone else.

she turns straight to you.

“holy shit,” you whisper, already standing.

she hugs you like she’s never gonna let go, arms locked tight around your waist, mouth pressed close to your jaw.

“baby,” she breathes. “we did it.”

you nod, eyes glassy. “you did it, p. i’m so proud of you.”

her hands won’t leave your back. her nose brushes yours.

“i love you,” she whispers, voice shaking.

you grip her tighter. “i love you too, champion.”

she almost kisses you. she almost does it—right there, in front of god, the league, and everybody.

but she pulls back at the last second with a smirk.

“gimme that hat,” she says quick, grabbing the dallas one off the table and shoving it on your head.

she loses it.

“yo,” she laughs, eyes glued to you as she walks toward the stage. “you look better in it than i will.”

you smile, legs crossed like a tease. “i look good in your stuff. your words, baby.”

you watched as she hugs her parents and geno and you couldn’t be more proud of your girl.

she’s grinning the whole way up to the mic, all dimples and chain sparkle, but her eyes keep darting back to you like you’re the only one who matters.

and yeah, she’s giving the most heartfelt speech ever—funny, real, humble—but her fingers twitch like they still wanna be on your leg.

like she’s counting down the seconds ‘til she can get back to you and finish what she started.

she’s back at the table like she never left, dallas hat tilted low, legs wide, hand right back where it was on your thigh.

“you miss me?” she mumbles, lips barely moving.

“you were gone for like two minutes,” you whisper back, laughing.

“too long,” she says, dead serious. “felt like years.”

you roll your eyes but your heart skips anyway. she smells like camera flashes and fresh cologne and nerves that only melt when she’s next to you again.

geno’s across from you both, chatting with her mom while her dad proudly records every moment on his phone. and meanwhile, paige is sliding her pinky under the slit of your dress like she’s tryna write a love letter on your skin.

“can you not?” you hiss, glancing toward her mom.

“what?” she smirks, eyes big and fake innocent. “my hands are cold.”

you kick her lightly under the table. she grins harder.

geno clears his throat and raises an eyebrow. “everything okay over there?”

“just peachy,” paige says, squeezing your leg. “really loving everything about tonight.”

you’re fighting a laugh, trying to stay composed, but then she leans in again—voice low, sultry.

“you know i almost kissed you when i hugged you, right?” she says. “like, actually kissed you. lips. tongue. the whole thing.”

you freeze for half a second. “i would’ve died.”

“i could’ve saved you,” she shrugs. “like mouth to mouth you know.”

“definitely,” you whisper, and the look you give her makes her visibly clench her jaw.

she has to get up again—interview number twenty or whatever—but she drags her fingers down your arm the whole way out of her seat like she’s starving and you’re the only meal that matters.

and when she’s walking away, she keeps turning around. even with all the lights, all the attention, all the noise—she’s scanning the crowd until she sees you.

you lift the hat, give her a little salute.

her whole face softens. like she’s home with just a look.

“i miss you.”

when she sits back down, she sighs like she’s finally breathing again.

“they tryna talk to me about my future,” she mutters. “girl, you’re my future.”

you blink. “okay, relax.”

“no,” she says, already slipping her hand back under the table. “you don’t get it. i’ve got it planned already.”

geno raises a brow again like he knows something’s going on, but you both just sip your drinks and smile like saints.

“you think he suspects us?” you whisper.

“he’s geno. he’s known since the third practice you came to,” paige says, eyes half-lidded as her fingers trail patterns on your knee. “man caught me starin’ at your ass mid-drill.”

you choke on a laugh and she nudges your foot under the table.

you stay like that for the rest of the night—smiling for cameras, clapping for draftees, making eyes when no one’s looking.

and every time she leaves, she’s counting the seconds till she can crawl right back beside you.

hand to your thigh. lips to your ear. heart in your hands.

you’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting the tiny blue straps of your dress for the after party when you hear the door click shut behind you.

“my god,” paige says instantly, voice already hoarse. “you’re really wearing that?”

you smirk, not even turning around. “yes i am.”

she’s in the afterparty outfit—white button-down half unbuttoned, sparkly gray plaid pants low on her hips, dallas hat, silver chain sitting pretty on her collar.

but she’s looking at you like you’re dessert.

“spin,” she says, stepping closer. “like all the way around.”

you do, slow. the dress sparkles like you’re wrapped in stars, barely covering your ass, hugging every curve, back out, legs on full display.

paige groans, already adjusting herself. “yeah, i’m not gonna make it through the night.”

you bite your lip. “then don’t.”

she’s on you in seconds. presses you against the counter, hat bumping your forehead as she leans in close.

“you did that on purpose,” she whispers, hands running down your sides. “you knew what that dress would do to me.”

“uh huh,” you hum, grabbing her chain and pulling her even closer. “and it worked.”

her breath stutters. eyes drop down your chest, then lower.

“counter, now.” she mutters, pulling you up the wrist like she’s out of time.

you giggle the whole time, sitting on the bathroom counter watching her walk to lock the door.

“stay still” she commands, and you do—perch right on the edge of the counter, legs parted just enough to tease.

she drops to her knees like she’s praying. like you’re the only god she’s ever worshiped.

“lemme look at you,” she says, voice deep, running her hands over your thighs like she’s scared she’ll miss a spot.

“paige…” your voice comes out breathy. needy.

“shh, mama,” she whispers, lips brushing your inner thigh. “gonna take my time.”

her fingers push the hem of your dress up slowly. painfully slow. and when she sees what’s underneath—bare, wet, waiting—her breath catches.

“you’re so bad,” she says, kissing right above where you need her. “no panties?”

you shrug. “figured i wouldn’t need ‘em with you around.”

her tongue is spreading you open before you can even blink. slow at first—tasting, teasing, drawing shapes that make your knees shake.

you grab the counter for balance. her hands are on your thighs, holding you open like a gift, face buried like she’s starving.

“fuck,” you breathe out, head falling back.

she moans against you, like you taste better than anything she’s ever had.

“so good,” she mumbles, lips slick, tongue dragging through every drop. “you’re so fuckin’ good.”

you buck your hips, chasing her mouth. but she pulls back, grinning.

“nuh uh. i said stay still. i’m enjoying the view.”

you whine, but she dives back in—flat tongue, deep pressure, one hand trailing up to toy with your nipple through the dress.

you’re squirming now, thighs shaking. she’s relentless, moving her tongue in rhythm, then switching it up just to hear you beg.

“paige—i can’t—”

“yes you can,” she pants, voice rough. “c’mon, baby. gimme one. right here.”

she sucks your clit slow and deep, and you come undone with a hand tangled in her hair and a scream buried in your palm.

she doesn’t stop.

licks you through it, keeps sucking like it’s the only thing that matters, pulling a second orgasm right out of you with zero warning.

you collapse back, breathing heavy, thighs twitching.

paige stands, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, cocky grin already back on her face.

“still goin’ to the party?” she asks, voice raw.

you blink at her, dazed. “not if you keep lookin’ like that.”

she chuckles, fixing your dress, pecking your lips once, then again, then again.

“fix your hair, baby,” she whispers. “everyone’s gonna know you just got ruined.”

you smirk. “let ‘em.”

the party is loud, lights low, music vibrating through the walls like it’s trying to get under your skin.

paige is already tipsy, dallas hat still on slanted, cheeks flushed, drink in hand, dancing like nobody’s watching—but her eyes haven’t left you once.

“you’re my favorite thing here,” she says, slurring slightly, arm slung over your shoulders. “even better than the free sherley temples.”

you laugh, leaning into her. “i don’t believe that for a second those are your favorite.”

she cackles, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “that’s so dumb. but like hot that you know me so well.”

her fingers slide down your side, resting on your bare hip like it’s instinct.

you know you should be subtle—eyes are everywhere—but you’re buzzed too and she’s looking at you like she wants to devour you again.

“stop starin’ at me like that,” you whisper, tugging her hand off your waist.

“can’t,” she says, gripping your hand instead. “you’re too pretty for me to handle. i can’t do this.”

you roll your eyes. “you say that like you weren’t on your knees for me an hour ago.”

“shhhh,” she hisses, but she’s smiling. “don’t say that in front of everyone.”

you nudge her hat playfully. “you exposed yourself all night long.”

she leans in close, mouth brushing your jaw. “baby, i wanna bite you.”

you choke on a laugh. “you already did, psycho.”

her arms wrap around your waist tight, face buried in your neck, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“you’re the most beautiful girl ever,” she whispers. “deadass. oh and you’re mine.”

you giggle, holding her steady. “you’re so drunk.”

“i’m so in love with you,” she says louder, like that’s a defense.

geno walks by and gives you both a look. “hydrate,” he mutters, tossing paige a water bottle like he’s seen it all before.

paige holds it up like a trophy. “see? coach said i’m doing amazing.”

you steal a sip and wrap an arm around her waist, swaying with her to the beat.

she’s grinding against you slow, hands on your hips, and no one’s really paying attention—but they would if they looked close enough.

“stop,” you whisper, lips brushing her ear. “we’re in public.”

“don’t care,” she murmurs back. “you feel too good.”

her hand drifts lower. “lemme just—”

you slap it away. “paige.”

she pouts. “i miss the bathroom.”

you snort. “you’re disgusting.”

“you like me disgusting.”

you kiss her cheek. “unfortunately.”

she spins you into her chest, both hands on your ass now, dallas hat shadowing her eyes.

“tell me i’m your favorite dallas girl,” she whispers.

“you’re my only dallas girl.”

“that’s hot.”

you grab her jaw, pulling her into a slow, borderline inappropriate kiss.

paige pulls back with a cocky smirk. “oops.”

you sigh, resting your forehead to hers. “you’re not gonna survive this party, huh?”

she grins. “not a chance.”

you lose her for like ten minutes because she’s passing out shots like they’re candy and dancing with everyone.

that’s it—just ten—but it feels like an hour in a packed room full of music and flashing lights and too many hands.

you’re leaned against the bar, giggling at something the bartender said about your dress, when arms wrap tight around your waist from behind.

“what the fuck, ma” paige mutters into your neck, voice muffled and messy. “you flirting with the bartender?”

you grin, instantly leaning back into her. “no, baby. just trying to get us more drinks.”

“we already have drinks,” she says, pulling you even closer like she’s trying to merge bodies. “you’re mine. not his.”

the bartender laughs awkwardly, already sliding away. you mouth sorry over your shoulder and turn to face her.

“you good, baby?” you tease, fingers looping under her waistband.

she pouts, swaying on her feet. “i didn’t like that.”

“what, me talkin’ to someone not you for thirty seconds?”

she nods, lips brushing yours. “you’re supposed to only look at me.”

“baby,” you whisper, cupping her cheeks. “i’d marry your drunk ass tonight.”

she melts instantly, forehead pressed to yours, eyes glassy. “okay but like… actually?”

you laugh. “let’s survive this party first.”

she nods fast, gripping your hips like you’re about to disappear again. “never leave me like that. i was lookin’ for you everywhere. even checked the dj booth.”

“that’s the complete opposite direction. and you were taking shots and dancing”

“yeah,” she slurs. “i panicked.”

you wrap her up, arms around her neck. she smells like tequila and cologne and sweat and you’ve never loved her more.

“you’re so clingy when you’re drunk,” you say, kissing her jaw.

“you like it.”

you do. way too much.

she’s pulling you into the corner now, hands roaming, lips ghosting over your collarbone.

“gonna fuckin’ take you home,” she mumbles, voice all grit and heat. “can’t stop thinking about that dress. and your legs. and your mouth.”

“paige,” you warn, drunk and giggly. “people can hear.”

“let ‘em,” she shrugs, grabbing your ass. “they should know i’m the one who gets to take you home.”

you snort, fingers tangling in her hair. “jealous ass.”

“yup,” she says proudly. “jealous, drunk, and in love with the hottest girl in the whole city.”

you kiss her. messy. teeth knocking, all tongue and hunger.

when you pull back, she’s dazed. flushed. staring like she just fell in love for the first time all over again.

“let’s leave soon,” she whispers. “i need you again.”

you grin, already nodding. “we’re making it through like twenty more minutes. tops.”

you barely make it three blocks before paige’s hand is on your thigh.

not resting—gripping—tight, warm, sliding under your dress like she owns the road and you.

“pull over,” she mumbles, voice hot against your ear. “baby pull the fuck over.”

“paige,” you breathe, laughing a little. “we’re almost—”

“no,” she cuts you off, already unbuckling her belt. “can’t wait. not even a little.”

you swerve into a dark parking lot, heart racing. the second you throw it in park, she’s climbing over the console, lips crashing into yours.

“fuck,” she moans, straddling you. “been wantin’ you since the orange carpet.”

you hum into her mouth, letting her tug your dress up to your waist. “then take me.”

her fingers slide straight to your core, groaning when she feels how soaked you still are. “of course you’re already wet. such a good fuckin’ girl.”

you moan, head falling back. she takes advantage, lips attacking your neck, hands rough and urgent.

“you look so hot drivin’ like that,” she whispers, voice filthy. “little hand on the wheel, thighs out, not a thought in that pretty head.”

you whimper, hips chasing her touch. “you’re such a dick.”

“you’ll survive” she smirks, pushing two fingers in slow.

you gasp, clenching. her fingers are deep already, curling up perfectly like she’s memorized your body.

“please,” you pant, gripping her chain. “don’t stop.”

“not planning to,” she says, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your nose. “you’re mine tonight. gonna ruin you.”

you’re breathless already. squirming under her, clutching the seat like it’ll keep you grounded.

“so perfect,” she groans, fucking into you slow and deep. “always so tight for me. always so ready. you fuckin’ love this.”

you nod frantically. “i do. i love you.”

she kisses your forehead soft. “i love you too. more than anything.”

then she speeds up.

harder. deeper. her thumb finds your clit and she grins when your whole body jerks.

“you close? aww already?” she whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “c’mon, baby. cum for me.”

you fall apart in her arms, moaning her name like a prayer. she doesn’t stop.

“p-paige—”

“i know,” she breathes, kissing you hard. “i know, baby. gimme one more.”

your hips twitch, thighs shaking, but she keeps going. keeps fucking you through it, thumb still circling.

you whimper, trying to close your legs. she pins them open easy.

“nuh uh. don’t run. take it for me. be my good girl.”

you cum again with a broken sob, body going limp. she kisses every part of your face, slowing down, wiping your tears.

“you okay?” she whispers, eyes searching yours. “too much?”

you shake your head, blinking through the pleasure. “so good. just—need a second.”

she kisses your lips, your cheek, your neck. “you did so good. took it so fuckin’ good, baby.”

you’re both quiet for a second. breathing hard, arms wrapped around each other, car fogged up.

then she grins. “backseat.”

you blink. “you’re not done?”

“not even close.”

you climb over the console, falling into the backseat with a laugh. she follows, pulling her strap from her bag with a look that makes your thighs clench.

“lay down,” she says, voice low.

you do—dress bunched, legs open, eyes locked on her.

she straps it on slow. cocky. teasing.

“gonna make you scream,” she says, sliding between your thighs. “and i’m not stoppin’ ‘til you beg me.”

you bite your lip, tugging her down by the chain. “what’re you waiting for?”

she grins. “i need you so fucking bad.”

and then she sinks in.

you gasp the second she fills you.

her hips grind down slow, deep, stretching you so perfectly you see stars behind your lids.

“that’s it,” she whispers, lips ghosting your jaw. “take it, baby. take it.”

you whimper, clutching at her shirtless torso, nails dragging down her back.

her hands grip your waist tight like she’s anchoring herself to you.

“you fuckin’ love this cock,” she groans, moving rougher now. “your little pussy’s so greedy.”

“yes, fuck, paige!” you cry, thighs trembling already.

she leans down, kisses your forehead sweet, completely unhinged everywhere else.

“you’re so perfect for me. so tight. so fuckin’ pretty.”

you moan louder, back arching, legs wrapping around her.

she shifts, hitting that spot that makes you cry out her name like it’s holy.

“there it is,” she smirks, breath hot. “right fuckin’ there. you’re so easy for me.”

“don’t stop,” you pant, gripping her chain, pulling her closer. “please, don’t—don’t stop.”

she slaps your thigh once, possessive and mean. “you think i’d stop now? after you left me jealous at the bar? nah, baby. you’re gettin’ all of it.”

your legs shake as she picks up the pace.

the car is humid, windows fogged, your moans filling the space like a soundtrack.

“gonna cum,” you choke, already falling apart under her. “please, please—”

“do it,” she demands, kissing you hard. “cum on my dick, baby. right now.”

you scream, body convulsing around her.

she fucks you through it, doesn’t let up, even when you start to push at her chest.

“too much,” you whisper, teary-eyed.

“nah, you got one more,” she breathes, watching your face. “just one more. be good f’me.”

she slips a hand down, fingers playing with your clit while her strap grinds deep again.

you’re sobbing her name, body overstimulated, but she keeps praising you through it.

“look at you,” she murmurs, kissing your jaw between thrusts. “taking it like a fuckin’ dream. you’re so good. you’re mine.”

you cum again, harder than before, legs spasming around her.

she slows, finally, kissing every inch of your skin she can reach.

your chest heaves. you’re fucked out and glowing.

“okay?” she whispers, brushing your hair off your face.

you nod, barely able to speak. “yeah. yeah, baby, i’m so good.”

she smiles, eyes soft but blown. “you’re unreal.”

you giggle, tugging her down for a slow, messy kiss. “so are you.”

she holds you, forehead pressed to yours, still inside you, refusing to let go.

“i couldn’t survive without you,” she breathes, serious now.

you smile, tracing her lip with your thumb. “i know baby. i know.”

“get on me,” she says, voice low, eyes dark, still inside you.

you blink, dazed. “paige—”

“now,” she growls, grabbing your hips. “you wanna act like a brat, flirtin’ at the bar, lettin’ me get jealous? then ride me.”

your breath hitches, “can you let it go? i wasn’t even flirting.”

she shifts back in the seat shaking her head no, legs spread wide, strap slick and glistening, waiting for you.

you crawl over, thighs shaky, cunt still pulsing from the overstimulation.

she doesn’t help you down—just watches, smug, arms behind her head proving she’s ready after waiting all night.

“c’mon, baby,” she taunts, licking her lips. “show me how bad you want it. sit on it like a good girl.”

you sink down slow, whimpering when the stretch burns all over again.

she groans, gripping your waist. “fuck—look at you. you love this. your greedy little pussy lives for my cock.”

you gasp, grinding your hips once, just to feel her deeper. she slaps your ass hard.

“don’t fuckin’ move unless i say.”

your nails dig into her shoulders, needy. “please—”

“not yet,” she says, smirking. “you don’t deserve it yet.”

you’re shaking, still full, still sensitive. she kisses your collarbone, all fake sweetness.

“sit pretty,” she says, breath against your skin. “i’ll tell you when to move.”

you whimper, hips twitching instinctively. she grabs your throat—gentle but firm.

“don’t test me, baby. you know how this goes.”

your eyes roll back as she flexes her thighs under you, grinding the strap just right.

“how bad do you wanna ride me?” she whispers, kissing your cheek. “tell me.”

“so bad,” you breathe, nails dragging down her chest. “i need it, paige, i need it so bad.”

she hums, tilting her head. “then beg. fuckin’ beg for it.”

“please,” you whimper. “let me ride you. let me cum, please—i’ll be good.”

“you will be good,” she says, finally nodding. “but you don’t get to cum ‘til i say. you come before that? i’ll flip you over and start from the top.”

you nod frantically, starting to move.

slow, deep rolls of your hips, her strap hitting you perfectly, already building heat again in your belly.

“that’s it,” she groans, gripping your hips tight. “ride me. just like that.”

you’re moaning nonstop, bouncing harder now, thighs burning, sweat dripping.

“fuck, you look so good,” she mutters, eyes locked on you. “you’re such a fuckin’ dream. tits out, legs spread, so wet for me.”

you cry out, losing your rhythm. she grabs your hips, helping you grind deeper.

“look at me,” she commands, grabbing your chin. “i want those pretty eyes on mine when i ruin you.”

you nod, mouth open, panting. she’s so deep—every stroke feels like fire.

“don’t cum,” she warns again, watching your face twist. “not yet, baby. be good.”

you sob, head falling to her shoulder. she pulls your hair, drags your mouth back to hers.

“you can take it,” she pants, voice dark. “you’re strong. you’re my good girl.”

“p-paige, i can’t—”

“you can. you will. hold it.”

she snaps her hips up, thrusting hard into you. you scream.

“fuck, fuck, please—please let me—”

“not yet,” she growls, fucking up into you relentlessly. “you’re gonna listen to me.”

your whole body’s trembling now. she slaps your ass again, grinding your clit into her stomach.

“so needy,” she hisses. “so dumb when you’re full. you’re mine. say it.”

“i’m yours,” you cry. “i’m yours, i’m yours, please—”

“look at you,” she moans, biting your neck. “so fuckin’ desperate. this tight little pussy’s clenching so hard—fuck—you’re so close.”

you nod, unable to speak, tears slipping down your cheeks.

she kisses them away.

“alright,” she whispers, breath shaky. “now. cum for me, baby. fuckin’ let go.”

you explode, body going rigid, then collapsing into her chest with a broken cry.

she holds you through it, arms around you, lips on your forehead, whispering praise.

“that’s my girl,” she breathes. “you did so good. so fuckin’ good f’me.”

you can’t speak. just breathe. just shake.

“shhh,” she soothes, stroking your hair. “i got you.”

you’re still full, still twitching, still boneless against her chest.

she presses one last kiss to your temple, hand on your back.

“i wouldn’t wanna celebrate tonight any other way,” she mutters, smiling into your skin. “you make me crazy.”

[demonic0angel]

Duke: Thanks for the copy of lecture notes. I owe you one

Jazz: you can pay me back by introducing me to the guy that picked you up last Tuesday

Duke: guy?

Jazz: with the bike

Duke:

Jazz: white patch in his hair

Duke: Jason?

(… out of everyone, you chose Duke? 😭 /nm)

Part 2

Duke approached Jason like he was walking to the guillotine.

Jason raised an eyebrow. He stepped off of his bike, inspecting him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Duke sighed deeply. Then he handed him a piece of paper. Jason stared at it blankly without taking it. When Duke pushed it into his face, Jason finally snatched it and looked at the contents, which were a string of neatly written numbers. A phone number, to be exact.

“… okay. Is this your teacher’s number or something?” Jason was especially baffled. Usually, it was a combination of Dick, Alfred, or Bruce who made the phone calls to teachers. Sometimes, it was Tim, but it was never Jason.

“No. A friend of mine wanted to give you her phone number.”

Jason sneered, crinkling the paper. He was about to toss it away when Duke suddenly said, “You’ll regret that.”

Jason paused, still clenching the paper. “Pardon?”

Duke sighed. “I know I’m going to regret this, but you’ll regret it even more than me if you throw that paper away. I swear to Nightwing’s ass, she is absolutely your type. You’re making the biggest mistake of your life if you throw that away.”

“I’m pretty sure the biggest mistake of my life was dying,” Jason deadpanned.

Duke rolled his eyes. He pulled out his phone, scrolled for a moment, and then brought up his Instagram feed, where an image of a woman was sitting at a table, smiling at the camera.

She was drop dead gorgeous, enchanting enough to make the dead revive to see her one last time, lovely enough to make the clouds move to use the sun’s light as a spotlight for her, and beautiful enough to cause a world war if she even shed a single tear.

She had red hair like fire lilies, eyes like crystalline waters, looked tall, and had a sense of otherworldliness to her like she was a goddess from heaven that came to the mortal realm to grace everyone with her presence.

Jason scrubbed his eyes and looked again, eyes nearly falling from his skull. He blinked rapidly, almost wondering if this was real.

Was it humanly possible to be this good-looking?

“I know,” Duke deadpanned, sounding like he had aged 60 years in an instant. “And yes, it’s real. I see her in real life. She likes books, is super nice and helps everyone, is a huge nerd, and likes ‘bad boys with motorcycles’. Her words, which makes me want to puke.”

Jason unclenched his suddenly sweaty palms, quickly smoothed out the paper, and then clapped Duke on the shoulder. “You’ve done me a great service today,” Jason said gravely. “I won’t ever forget your help today.”

“I think I’m going to throw myself off the Clocktower,” Duke said.

“You have helped create a union of two hearts on this day. I could shine your shoes right now if you wanted.”

“Please don’t. Seeing you on your knees would make me actually lose my lunch for real.”

[pellucid-constellations]

I'd Answer

You've been gone. Azriel's been broken. Something has to change, and Azriel would do anything.

Part 2 of If You Cared to Ask

“This is for you,” Mor huffed, plopping down a small bouquet of roses onto the growing garden that seemed to have sprouted on the table. “What is that, number twelve?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t count them,” you brushed off, your gaze falling on the gifts for a fleeting moment.

Mor hummed. “Are they doing anything for you?” 

“Not particularly.” 

Your friend shuffled into the small sitting room and gracefully landed in the chair beside yours, her eyes piercing a hole in the side of your head when you refused to look up. She sighed, and then sighed again, making a show of slotting her chin in her palm and looking forlorn. 

The third sigh was your breaking point. 

You placed your book on the table and turned to Mor with your brows raised. “Yes?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she airily replied. “I was just wondering when you were going to give this up. You don’t have to forgive the guy, but at least put me out of my misery and let me tell him where you’re staying. I’m basically a delivery service at this point. He says sorry again, by the way.” 

“Oh, well in that case—” 

“More than just sorry, but I can’t remember everything he said. It was all rambly and his face was all gaunt.” Mor pressed her fingers up to cover her eyes. “I’m not even sure if he’s eating. Rhys had to stop sending him out because he almost fell out of the sky.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel bad?”

You hoped your ruse was believable because hearing that Azriel was doing so poorly did make you feel bad. Your heart lept up to your throat at the prospect of your mate falling from the sky from exhaustion. But he had had so many opportunities to make this right and you weren’t about to give up your anger so easily. 

Mor offered a sad expression that looked authentic this time. “Y/n, he loves you. He’s an idiot and the whole lot of them are mindless fools, but Azriel has never loved anything the way he loves you.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you snorted. “And he shows that love by forgetting me and then arguing when I’m clearly upset over it?” 

“I know. He told me how much of an ass he’s been. But, I promise you, I’ve known Azriel for a long time. He was just—just handling everything with Rhys poorly. He felt so so guilty when Rhys got trapped. You know that.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided Mor’s gaze. “I know.” 

The lack of vitriol in your tone had Mor perking up. “And you remember how hard he tried to get him back—how broken he was when Rhys sent out his last message. Az feels responsible for everything when it comes to his family.”

You didn’t need the reminder. The tortured way he carried himself over the past 50 years was evidence enough of the truth behind Mor’s words. And you had been there to soothe that pain, to help run the court that Rhys left behind. 

When silence persisted, Mor craned her neck to catch your gaze. “I’m not saying what he did was right, but you know he’s been in overdrive since Rhys returned. He goes off on those missions when Rhys calls, but… y/n, he only leaves without notice when his informants…” 

Mor trailed off. 

Your gaze finally flickered up. “When?” 

Mor bit her lip and winced. “He told me not to tell you this part. He said he didn’t want you to think he was making excuses.” 

“Tell me anyways.” 

“Fine. But you can’t rat me out.” Mor sighed and leaned back in the chair, still facing you. “He does go on every mission Rhys proposes, and that’s… stupid, but he tells you about those ones, I think. When he just up and leaves, it’s because—y/n, it’s because they're about you. You know there’s a slew of people that want you dead for your involvement up in Illyria. He has a team of informants with the sole purpose of listening for you name.

“He goes on Rhys’s missions because he doesn’t want his family separated again, but sometimes, it’s because he just wants to protect his mate.” 

A stone dropped past your ribs and into your stomach. “But, he never told me—” 

“You know these overgrown bats think that suffering in silence is an honorable thing to do,” Mor rolled her eyes. “They overwork themselves fighting the good fight or whatever and seem to forget that the rest of the world is still out there, facing the consequences of their actions. And… I think he just wanted you to feel safe. I think he’s been scared.” 

Something sickly climbed its way up your consciousness. You looked down at your hands as they rested in your lap. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel in six days, and each day had more anger coursing through you, building up a wall that you thought impenetrable. Because you were so angry; Azriel had disappointed you time and time again, left you feeling abandoned and alone, and then he got defensive about it as if you were the one at fault. 

Part of you always knew it was a defense of some sort, but you had thought it a defense of something nefarious. You had tossed around the idea of infidelity a few times, and that rivaled the thought of him simply falling out of love with you. 

But it was this. 

It was him hiding how hard he’d been trying to protect you—however idiotic his tactics may have been. 

“You can tell him where I am,” you murmured clenching your fingers into your palm. “And leave the door unlocked, I guess.” 

Mor had left the small apartment on the outskirts of Velaris before you finished your sentence. 

It took approximately 7 minutes for a tentative knock to sound at your door. 

Mor had left it unlocked, but there was still a knock. 

You took a glance at the pile of flowers on the table before heading to the front door. The old floorboards creaked under your feet, a reminder of the rundown apartment you had sought out after you left. It was a frantic process, searching for a place to stay; you hadn’t cared much for luxury or comfort.  

Opening the door was jarring. Azriel’s wings were half-raised as if he’d just flown down and then forgot how to control them. His face was pallid with dark smudges beneath his eyes. His hair was windswept, expected from the flight, but it looked tugged at and disheveled beyond that. 

“Hi.” 

Maybe you’d been looking him over too long because Azriel’s voice cracked at the single word. He sounded unsure, verging on afraid, and all you had done was pass over his figure with your eyes. 

You tightened your grip on the door handle. “Um, hi.” Your tone was harsher than you meant it to be. 

Azriel flinched. “I’m sorry, Mor said…” 

“No, I—Come in.” 

You stepped back and pushed the door open to accommodate his hesitant steps into your rental. Azriel stood in the middle of the space and wrung his hands as you shuffled behind him, a slight tremor showing in his fingers. You leaned back against the door with your own hands pressed at the small of your back. You watched Azriel’s lingering gaze trail over the flowers in the corner of the room. 

“You didn’t like them?” he meekly asked. 

Something inside of you hurt. 

“They were okay,” you answered. “But I didn’t want flowers.” 

Azriel nodded and his lashes fluttered shut. His hands twitched. 

“I’m sorry—for the flowers, I mean. They were a pathetic reason to send Mor to you. You wanted to be left alone.” 

“I did not want to be left alone, Azriel.” You kicked away from the door, bringing your arms across your chest for some form of protection. “I wanted you. I wanted you to care about me.”

“I do,” Azriel stressed. He took a step forward and the wood beneath his boot creaked. “I do, y/n.  I care about you more than anything—I love you.” 

“Then why couldn’t you show me? Why did it take me leaving, me getting hurt, for you to finally listen to me and see how much I’ve needed you?” 

Your chest was heaving, each word from your lips a choked gasp. Azriel took all of it and absorbed your full meaning, seeming to wince at every insinuation that he didn’t love you. His jaw quivered and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Why did you stop talking to me?” you asked, a broken rendition of your anger. “Why—Mor told me… She told me things. Things that make sense. But why does it feel like I don’t matter to you?” 

“My love,” Azriel stressed. Yearned. He rushed forward, abandoning all reservations and gathering you into his arms as tears began making headway down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t—I’m so so sorry.” His words were almost lost against your temple as he held you, each apology a whisper of a kiss against your skin. 

“You weren’t there and Devlon—he—” 

“I know, angel, I know and I’m so sorry. Had I known… Had I listened.” He pulled you back from his chest, crouching down to meet your eye and wiping tears from your cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep you safe. I thought I was doing that. I don’t know what Mor told you—” 

“She told me everything. She told me you’ve been following leads about me and taking on too much. She told me you’re scared.” 

Azriel breathed and it sounded anguished. “I am terrified. We lost Rhysand and now you are in the throes of a society that almost killed me. I—I wake up every morning and everything is good and I am so afraid to lose that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. But I almost lost you and—” 

You let out a breathy cry. “You could never lose me, Azriel.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, the wetness of his cheeks now apparent. Azriel’s hands were firm on either side of your head and his fingers laced up into your hair. 

Gods, you missed him. 

You missed him and everything hurt. 

“I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just please—please, don’t leave again. Please come home. Let me fix this.”

The want was overwhelming. It would be so easy to say yes, but it would be just as easy for nothing to change. 

“You can’t do that again, Azriel,” you stressed, shaking your head and causing your mate to draw back. Only a breath was left between you. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t—you can’t leave me in the dark. You can’t make me feel like that.”

Azriel’s head shook in desperation. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” 

“I need to know I can rely on you—trust you.” 

“You can, angel.” 

“I need to know that you love me.” 

A pained sound escaped Azriel’s throat. He licked his lips and reaffirmed his hold on your face, locking his eyes with yours in a beseeching gaze. 

“I love you more than life itself, angel. I couldn’t breathe when you were gone. I can’t believe I made you think that I don’t. You are my life. Let me show you. Please, let me show you.”

You tracked your eyes between both of his. “Okay, Azriel.” 

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

“I am safe.” 

“I love you.” 

"I know you do, Az. I know."

[misayani]

Okay, this is a bit of an odd request, but could you write a threesome between No-el, Se-Mi, and the Fem!reader? Like both No-el and Se-Mi are ganging up on the reader to fuck hard enough for her to see stars.

I don't really have a plot in mind. Maybe another contestant was flirting with the reader and they both get jealous so they corner her in the bathrooms? And the reader is more than willing to fuck them too.

Thank you so much!

NOBODY KNOWS — NO-EUL (GUARD 011) & SE-MI (PLAYER 380) 

◜ pairing ... no-eul / guard 011 & se-mi / player 380 x  fem reader

◜you knew you were fucked, as you managed to get two women jealous over you.

𔗨 author's note — came ten times writing this so i apologize if i took so long /j. lets just pretend mi-na's still alive and happy in this fic <33 (i needed this no-eul fic as much as you guys do because theres little to no fics about her and im so sad and I JUST NEED HER.) [lowercase intended]

♡ upcoming fic — se-mi + comfort 

warning: smut [threesome, fingering, oral] 

"ugh, get off meeee!" mi-na tries to wiggle you off as you cling tighter onto her arm. right now was your second game, and they had asked everyone to team up into five— your team included you and mi-na, thanos, nam-su, and se-mi who had been acting distant ever since you guys sat down waiting for your team's turn.

you were sat in between mi-na and se-mi, the latter who had been sneaking glances to the both of you without you noticing. 

"i'm scared, what if i mess up?" you unconfidently mutter to your bestfriend, who looked at you with an expression that read 'are you kidding me?'

"babe, i've seen you play gonggi ever since we were kids. and there was not a single time where you missed catching. you won't mess it up." mi-na said, grabbing your hand to reassure you.

"you've known each other since kids?" se-mi spoke up beside you, making you both turn your heads to her. your lips form into a polite smile, she finally spoke. 

"yes, we were neighbours but she actually used to bully me—" mi-na cuts you off as she rolls her eyes, "yah! don't just go and tell some nobody shit about us." she nudges you as se-mi scoffs.

"the fuck you mean nobody? if it weren't for me, she wouldn't have made it past first game." your smile drops as se-mi speaks, well it was true— if it weren't for her catching you during 'green light red light', you would've been dead by now.

"you bitch—!" mi-na started but you immediately jumped in, "it's fine. not a big deal." you shoot your bestfriend a look to calm her down. please, not now.

mi-na flips her hair and crosses her arms against her chest, turning her attention to the purple-haired man beside her, who called himself thanos. he notices her and smiles, starting a conversation with her.

you turn to look at se-mi and give her an apologetic smile, "i'm sorry about her. she acts the same for everyone, if that makes you feel better." se-mi rolls her eyes, pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek as she darts her eyes back to the contestants currently playing. 

you just pressed your lips together in a thin line at her lack of response before you turned your head back to also watch as you fiddled with your fingers anxiously.

                            ㅤ࿚࿚࿚࿚ㅤ࣭ㅤ𐙚ㅤ࣭ㅤ࿙࿙࿙࿙

 "can't it be our turn already? my ass is starting to hurt from sitting." you hear mi-na complain under her breath. you roll your eyes playfully as thanos smirks, "don't you worry babe, i'll massage it for you later." nam-su—you think that's his real name. thanos calls him nam-gyu, despite nam-su correcting him many times already until he got tired and just let it be— looks at the purple-haired guy weirdly, you couldn't blame him.

"get a fucking room"

finally, the current team playing made it to the finish line. all of you stood up, cheering the group that won. you turned to mi-na the same time she does and you both crash into a hug as if your own team had won. 

beside you, was se-mi staring at the both of you, jaw clenched and hands formed into fists. she sat back down as mi-na and you finally calm down, smiles still plastered onto your faces. the both of you sit back down and you tilt your head at mi-na, whose eyebrows are furrowed as her gaze was locked at something behind you. you follow her gaze, simply seeing a triangle masked guard. 

you look back to mi-na before you spoke, "what's wrong?" you see her blink as she snaps out of it, looking to you instead, "nothing. just felt like that guard behind us was staring."

you laugh, "you're overanalyzing everyone. what? gonna fight that guard too?" she rolls her eyes at you as she shakes her head, sighing. "whatever."

moments later, it was finally your team's turn. what mi-na said was right— you didn't mess up during playing gonggi. in fact, the each of you managed to play all the mini games smoothly and went back to the large room without any scratches.

                            ㅤ࿚࿚࿚࿚ㅤ࣭ㅤ𐙚ㅤ࣭ㅤ࿙࿙࿙࿙

it was finally bedtime, after doing the votings. you and mi-na had voted for go home, while the other three in your group voted for the opposite. you toss and turn in your bed, unable to sleep. many thoughts are racing inside your mind and you would literally kill just for them to give you a break.

suddenly, your mind wanders off, and a girl with the bold personality comes to mind. se-mi. just the thought of her makes you squirm. you had noticed the way she looked at you, the way she touched you everytime she had a chance to. 

heat rushed to your core. really? right now? you shift, removing the pillow supporting your head and placing it in between your legs instead. it's not enough, you thought. with a sigh, you hesitated before slipping yourself out of bed and drag your feet towards the door on the left side of the room.

you knock on the door softly, patiently waiting for the masked men to answer. seconds later, the hinged cover on the window swings open, revealing a triangle masked guard.

"restroom. please." you speak, before adding "my stomach really hurts." you see the guard pause for a while, before shutting the hinged cover and you sigh in defeat, preparing to walk back to bed. the door opens and you look up, the triangle masked guard standing on the side, making way for you.

"i need to go too." you flinch as you hear someone speak behind you. glancing to your back, your cheeks heat up as you see the girl you had just been fantasizing about earlier. se-mi glanced back, looking directly into your eyes. 

you snapped your head back, facing forward. with an awkward cough, you walk forward, se-mi following behind as the triangle masked guard guides you both towards the restroom.

the guard opens the door for the both of you as soon as you reach the restroom. se-mi walks past you, going inside first before you walked in next. 

the door shuts behind you just before you hear one of the bathroom stall's door slam shut. you just stand there for a moment, why was i here again? right. to get yourself off.

you felt disgust towards yourself as you made your way to the sink, turning on the faucet. you start to wash your hands as you think: but how the fuck am i supposed to do that when the woman you were thinking about is also inside this restroom and wouldn't that be so disgusting to think of someone like that an— your thoughts were cut off as you look back up to the mirror in front of you, startling as you see se-mi just meters away behind you. 

you turned the faucet off before you turned around, facing her. "you scared me." you said quietly, your chest rising up and down. she snickers before she spoke up, "scared you, huh? don't tell me you don't like me being in the same room as you, alone."

she clicks her tongue, "you think i haven't been noticing your little stares?" oh so she felt it too, the thing between us. "you're probably having dirty thoughts right now for all i know." her lips form into a smug smirk, making your knees feel like jelly.

your lips part and the restroom door suddenly swings open, making you both snap your heads to look. your eyes widen in fear as you see a triangle masked guard walk inside, locking the door behind. your head turns to look at se-mi, who didn't look as scared at all. what the fuck? you thought.

your heart started to hammer in your chest. you hear rustling as you look back to the guard. he— or she— started taking the mask off, revealing piercing eyes, before taking off the balaclava next. it revealed a woman. a rather hot woman, she had short black hair and a scar on her right cheek that was still reddish.

"s-semi..?" your voice came out shaky, as you reached for the girl beside you. you were so confused and scared, not knowing what this guard's deal was. she glanced at you, walking in front in a protective manner, before speaking to the woman you didn't know the intentions of. 

"why the hell are you here?" she bravely starts, "don't you guys have your own restrooms?" se-mi huffs at the woman. you admired se-mi for her courage to talk confidently but at the same time you're scared shitless for her. 

the woman sighs, "why the hell—? fuck—" she starts, before adding: "to join in on whatever the hell you two are doing."

"to join in on—? ah." se-mi pauses as if she read the woman's mind. "i see. you want her?" se-mi chucks her head sideways at you, as the woman glances at your confused state— eyebrows furrowed and eyes doe. you looked like a puppy, which made her want to ruin you even more. 

"wha-what?" you stuttered, fiddling with your fingers. "what do you mean? what do you mean you want me? how?" you hear se-mi chuckle as the woman in front of you crosses her arms. want me? want to kill me?? or like, sex? hopefully sex. different thoughts raced to your mind. 

"don't act dumb now sweetheart. you know exactly what i mean by it." se-mi cooes at you mockingly. 

"well.. what do you say? are you up for it..?" the woman speaks up again with her raspy voice. you bit your lip, as they both stare at you in anticipation. fuck it.

you shyly nodded as you look down at your fingers. "words." your head snaps up to look at the woman once again before saying, "fine— yes.. i'm down." 

after hearing your confirmation, the woman starts to unzip her red jumpsuit, making your legs weak. se-mi walks closer to you, "take your jacket off, baby." she softly says. you comply, before se-mi speaks up once again "shouldn't have been so close to your 'bestfriend' in front of me" 

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, dropping your jacket onto the floor. "oh. i guess we're both in here for the same reason, then." the woman speaks, your cheeks heat up as you saw her figure— she had the jumpsuit unzipped down to her waist, revealing a sports bra underneath.

se-mi snickers as she pushes your shoulder, making you fall down to your butt. "you saw that too?"

"was observing them from afar." oh.

"huh? bestfriend? you mean mi-na?" se-mi hums as she squats down to your level.

"but- but we're just friends?" you lock eyes with se-mi as the other woman walks just behind you.

"we're just friends," se-mi mocks you, "bullshit." 

the woman's also bent down to your level now and you can feel her hot breath against the back of your neck. "shirt, off." she whispers. 

you hesitantly grap the end of your shirt, you were shy to show them your body, it'll make you feel too exposed and pathetic.

the woman behind you clicks her tongue, before she takes your shirt off herself impatiently. "hesitant now? you weren't as hesitant earlier when you kept flirting with your friend." 

"won't be surprised at all if the both of you had sex before." semi continues, you were now left in your bra and tracksuit pants. "slut." 

your breath hitches as the woman behind you started kissing the side of your neck softly, while her gloved hands traveled to your covered breasts and started caressing them over the cloth. "no-eul. my name's no-eul." she whispers in between  leaving kisses on your neck.

you whimper, your hands going towards your pants to slide it down your legs. se-mi helps you and she throws it aside, exposing your soaked underwear. "you look so pretty like this. so wet for us." se-mi purrs as she presses the pads of her fingertips to your clothed cunt.

the woman— no-eul— unclasped your bra and you wiggle it off you as the cold air made your nipples hard. no-eul takes off her gloves and immediately brings them back to your boobs to grope them.

you let out a soft moan, head tipping back to kiss no-eul. she complies, taking your soft lips onto her chapped ones. the both of you make out as se-mi kept herself busy sliding down your underwear. you lifted your hips up slightly to make it easier for her, and once they were finally off, she spreads your legs as her breath hitches.

you pull away from the kiss and rest your head on no-euls shoulder while she continued to touch your chest. semi leans down and starts to leave kisses on your thighs, sometimes sucking them. 

your head shoots up to look at se-mi. "se-mi please" you plead, "please what?" she murmurs against your inner thigh. 

"please, eat me out. please."

"yeah? is that the same way you beg mi-na?" she taunts, "no, no— we don't fuck i swear! we're just friends." you cry out, your hips bucking up, desperate for any contact. 

you tilt your head back to no-eul's shoulder once again, pouting and whining, "no-eul.." the woman chuckled at you and shook her head, "you have to beg, baby." 

you look at se-mi as your lower lips tremble. you didn't even care at this point on, "please se-mi, i— i promise we're both just friends. really- i— i swear she's straight. just please, i need you." 

"give the poor girl what she wants, don't be so mean." you were grateful that no-eul spoke up, as it finally led to se-mi giving in. 

your back arches as your head falls down to no-eul's left shoulder. se-mi latched her lips onto your aching clit, swirling it with her tongue. soft gasps escape your mouth—that's very close to no-eul's ear— making her hear everything loud and clear.

"mnnnh— so good.." no-eul herself was getting wetter and wetter at your noises: soft moans and the lewd sound your wet cunt is making while se-mi hungrily makes out with it.

"fuck, baby.." you swear you just heard a low moan from no-eul, but maybe you're just tripping, considering your mind is spinning around right now out of pleasure. 

you reach for no-eul's hand, bringing it to your mouth before you started to suck on her ring and middle finger. "shit," no-eul mutters, her fingers softly thrusting in and out your mouth, "don't do this to me."

se-mi hums against your cunt, her tongue teasing your entrance before she pushes it in. many things are happening too fast right now, you could feel your orgasm growing. 

no-eul pulls her fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting them. she leans down to kiss you, making your moans muffled. your hand travels towards se-mi's hair as you push her head deeper. you couldn't think of anything that's better than this: no-eul's tongue exploring your mouth while se-mi's explores your cunt. 

"i'm going— to cum—" you say in between kisses, loud enough for se-mi to hear. you should be thankful for se-mi being nice, because she speeds up, eager to make you cum and taste you. 

and then it happens. everything waist down tightens as you release, your orgasm ripping through you. a loud moan escapes your mouth and onto no-eul's who pulled away and watched your pleasured face. se-mi laps your juices up before you feel no-eul remove herself from behind you. 

se-mi stands up and no-eul whispers something to her, nodding before she pulls her pants and underwear down and tosses them somewhere else. you lick your lips at the sight before no-eul spoke up

"on your hands and knees." holy fucking shit— se-mi places herself down as you turn around, your legs slightly wobbling while you try to support yourself using your hands. your face was met with se-mi's dripping core before she speaks "well?" 

"i- i don't know how to... um," you shyly say, not feeling confident to make someone cum.

"it'll be fine, just trust your instincts." trusting her, you lean down to close the space between you and se-mi's cunt, giving her light kitten licks. "fuck— more." she forces out. you started making '8' patterns against her clit as she lets out a breathy moan. 

your eyes widen as you moan out loudly from no-eul slamming two of her fingers inside you without any warning. "fuck—! mngggh!" se-mi didn't let you adjust as she forcefully pushes your head down to her core, making your moans muffled against her, sending vibrations to her whole body. 

tears started to well up in your eyes as no-eul's fingers pound into you. no-eul grunts behind you as her fingers works wonders inside of you, hitting the right spots, "you're so fucking tight." 

se-mi lets out a scoff, "surprising, thought you were a whore." you moan against her core, if it was possible— you grew wetter at her words. 

you start to think that you're doing a good job because of how se-mi lets out small moans. you flutter your eyes open and traveled your eyes to look at her expression, you were surprised to see her already looking at you, eyes half-lidded with lips parted and sweat dripping down her forehead as you kept making out with her cunt. 

your arch your back as you felt no-eul curl her fingers inside you. you felt another orgasm building up, this time faster due to being the second one. 

"dirty girl, letting a guard fuck you senseless like this when you should be scared of me." you hear no-euls raspy voice— shit, her voice alone is turning you on so bad, making you feel butterflies inside your stomach. 

"think you can handle one more finger baby?" no-eul cooes, as you hum against se-mi, tasting something salty— did she just cum? holy fuck did i make her cum? 

se-mi tugs your hair up and shifts herself closer to you before crashing her lips onto yours. you could differentiate the way no-eul and se-mi kiss you: no-eul kissed you soft and slow while se-mi kissed you hungrily and rough. you moan into her mouth as no-eul pushes a third finger inside you, making you closer to releasing. 

"you're taking it so well, so good."  

you pull away from the kiss and se-mi immediately latches her lips on your neck, sucking on it. 

"i'm gonna cum- i'm gonna cum," you moan out as no-eul's fingers work faster. 

your eyes roll back as your second orgasm hits you, feeling an overwhelming bliss throughout your whole body. no-eul doesn't stop but she slows down her thrusts as she lets you ride your high. soon enough, you've calmed down and the woman behind you pulls her fingers out of you, making a squelching noise.

your knees shake before they gave out, if it weren't for se-mi catching you you would've fell to the floor face first. 

"clean her up. i need to go back outside." no-eul speaks up. you can hear the faucet running so you assumed she was washing her hands. you can feel se-mi nod against you, before you turned around to look at no-eul who was zipping up her jumpsuit and tidying herself up before walking towards the door. 

she's leaving already? the thought made you sulk.

se-mi leans you against the wall as she starts to dress herself up as well. no-eul pauses, her shoulders going up and down as if she let out a sigh before you see her turn around and walk back towards you.

you just stare straight forward dumbfoundedly, before feeling a cold hand tilt your chin up as no-eul leans down to give you once last kiss. 

"i trust you to not tell a soul about this." 

her voice was gentle but firm, and it made you not want to even think about telling anyone about this— it wasn't like you're planning to anyways. no-eul walks towards the door and pauses as she sees se-mi come back with a tissue roll on hand, she gives her a nod before unlocking the restroom door; she opened it slightly at first, checking for anyone outside, and walking outside when she confirmed it was clear.

se-mi picks your underwear and pants up from the floor and shakes it off, you stand up as she hands you the toilet paper and you use that to clean your slick off. she hands you your clothes after and you wear them, disposing the used tissue paper and then washing your hands after. 

you glanced at where you dropped your jacket, frowning when you didn't see it there. se-mi clears her throat behind you, you turn off the faucet and turn around before she hands you your jacket. 

you both stare each other awkwardly. you bit your lower lip as her lips form into a smirk, "have you learned your lesson?"

you nod slowly and then you see her raise her eyebrows at you. "next time you pull the same shit, i won't be so nice." she leans in to kiss you; you reciprocate. "but it's too bad we don't have too much time using the restroom." se-mi says in between kisses as she cups your jaw

"or maybe should i just fuck you out there for everyone to see, hm?"

she smiles against your lips, "even had a fucking guard swoon over you." she murmurs. you pull away from the kiss before clearing your throat, you aren't really sure what to say right now. "cmon." se-mi intertwines her fingers with yours as she leads you towards the restroom exit, opening it before stepping outside with you following.

no-eul— well, a masked guard, but you think it's her, was standing outside patiently, nodding and leading the way back to the large room after seeing the both of you.

your mind wanders off as you walk— oh my god. i just fucked two women and one of them's a fucking guard. a quiet sigh escapes your lips as you rethink your life choices;

what the hell am i doing with my life

                         ㅤ࿚࿚࿚࿚ㅤ࣭ㅤ𐙚ㅤ࣭ㅤ࿙࿙࿙࿙

"why are you walking so weirdly? hey— walk straight for the love of god!" mi-na exclaims as she catches you from falling down, the two of you were walking towards the line of players to get your breakfast.

"the fuck does that have to do with you not walking straight?" she scoffs, "it's like you got fucked so hard you can't walk." she murmurs as your eyes widen before you nudged her.

your cheeks heat up as you remembered the things that happened last night in the bathroom. you shake your head, "it's nothing. my head just hurts."

"mi-na!"

you didn't deny it though. if only she knew, if only.

@misayani

[clockwayswrites]

Dead on MAYn Day 6

Trope | Enemies at First Sight/Scar Soulmates

Dialogue | "I would believe that you're fine, but that's a knife sticking out of your goddamn leg, so…"

cw: blood, medical care, scars

“Hey, um, are… you okay? Can I call someone? Or, like, help you get somewhere?”

“I’m fine,” Red Hood growled back at the voice from the bright edge of the alley.

“Yeah, I would believe that you're fine, but that's a knife sticking out of your goddamn leg, so…”

Hood snorted, the sound ugly through the mask. “Yeah. Hurts like a mother too.”

“I’m sure.” The figure was a broad one—broader than Hood was maybe. It seemed like they filled up the entrance to alley. It wasn’t threatening though. In fact, they seemed almost hunched in on themselves. “I’ve got my bike close. I can give you a ride to wherever you need and completely forget where I’ve been after.”

“Yeah? Good at forgetting, are you?” Hood rasped.

“I’m a college student in the middle of finals, chances are I won’t remember this at all,” they said dryly.

“If you try anything, I can still kill you,” Hood pointed out.

“No doubt of that at all!” they said, way too cheerfully. “I’ll grab my bike and be right back.”

Hood let his head thump back against the wall. He gave it an eighty:twenty that guy would come back himself. Forty:sixty that they would try something on the way. Seventy:thirty that this would come back to bite him in the ass later. But his leg fucking hurt.

He could save himself some trouble now and later if he got dropped of at Leslie’s instead of a safe house. The clinic being somewhere Red Hood would shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. It would mean a lecture, though. And possibly some heat for Leslie.

He was pretty sure the knife didn’t hit anything vital.

Hood was just pulling out the last of the bandages he’d need with the person came back. The roar of a beast of a bike was the first hint, and then their shadow blocked the alleyway for a moment before they approached.

They were pretty nondescript. Unruly Black hair, slightly scruffy beard like they jut hadn’t had time to trip it up lately. They had on a hoodie under a worn leather jacket and jeans. It was only the bright turquoise eyes that really caught Hood’s attention.

“Time for the knife to come out? Let me help with the bandages while you do the pulling,” they said, still annoyingly cheerful.

“I could kill you with the knife,” Hood pointed out, just to be ornery.

The guy just snorted. “Sure, you could, but you wouldn’t. You’re the Red Hood and I’ve not fucked with anything on your nope list. Hell, the worst thing I’ve done this month is glared at a little old abuela because she was talking so loudly on her phone on the subway. Like, okay, you’re old, you’re look one sneeze away from scattering into dust, I’m sure there’s hearing loss, but spare the rest of us, you know?”

As they chattered, they took the bandages from Hood and then squatted down. And Jesus their thighs rivaled Hood’s. They made quite a sight down there at Hood’s feet like that.

Fuck, get a hold of yourself, Hood. So it’s been a long time, but this wasn’t the time.

Hood yanked the knife out with a bit back noise. The guy’s hands were there instantly, pressing the gauze down tightly for a little bit before wrapping it under the bandage. It was crude, but Hood just needed it to last to the safe house where he could clean it up properly.

He tossed the guy a wet wipe to clean up with and then took the trash and stowed it away to burn later. Then Hood pushed himself up off the wall, ignoring the offered hand, and limped towards the entrance of the alleyway.

The bike was impressive, even Hood had to admit it. His fingers itched a little to poke and prod at the beast. It was an old school hog, or a least that’s where most of it’s bit came from, but it was clearly a custom work in progress. It actually looked like it could support both of them too.

“He’s a looker, isn’t he?” the guy asked with a proud smile. “Not done yet, of course, but I’m working on it! Oh, I’m Danny.”

“Danny,” Hood repeated with a little nod. “He/him fine?”

Danny blinked in surprise at the consideration. “Yeah, good with me. Um, right, I know you know how to ride, just signal where you want me to turn and things.”

Hood gave a little nod, waited for Danny to climb on to his bike and put his helmet on, and then carefully settled behind him. The engine roared to life with a lovely purr and then they were of.

Danny didn’t try anything.

“I knew you were going to be a fucking problem,” Hood growled as he stalked across the roof to where Danny stood bashfully, as if he hadn’t just basically put up a bat signal to summon Hood.

Two out of three wasn’t bad.

-

“I mean, I didn’t show up at your house or anything!” Danny defended. “I just—look, we just need to talk.”

Hood crossed his arms. “Talk?”

“Or I’ll talk, and you can just listen! That’s fine too!” Danny said. “Look, so after I took you where you needed to go a few weeks ago I went home, showered, and crashed hard. But then I woke up and—look, I’m sorry for this, but you’re the one who got stabbed there!”

And then Danny started undoing his pants.

Which, what? Hood was pretty sure that he wasn’t dreaming this time. He focused on imagining a red ball to check if he was lucid dreaming.

Nope, nothing.

Danny was still pulling down his jeans over his very well toned thighs. And Jesus if Jason hadn’t been having dreams before—

“See?” Danny said. “I have a fresh scar right where you’ve been stabbed! And I haven’t done anything that could have given me it.”

There was indeed a pink, freshly healing scar on Danny’s legs, right where Hood had been stabbed. But Danny couldn’t be implying that.

“That’s one scar, it doesn’t prove anything,” Jason snapped even as he stepped closer.

Scar soulmates were one of the rarer types. Jason had never even considered having one. He had always thought empathy was mostly likely for him, with his moods. No one should have the scars that he had. No one should share his marks, not even a soulmate.

“It’s just one little scar, I know.” Danny yanked his jeans back up but didn’t bother fastening them before he pulled his shirt and hoodie up instead. An ugly, surgical Y crossed his chest. “But this one’s a little more distinctive.”

Jason stumbled back from Danny, hand pressed to his own chest.

Danny just stepped forward. “You had to have wondered where that came from. People don’t just get a scar like that.”

“What?”

“It’s—I was—”

Jason shook his head. “No, that’s my scar. I died.”

Danny paused. “What?”

“I died. And then I woke up in my coffin. I had that scar. I always assumed it was an autopsy scar…” but that didn’t make any sense, did it? Why would Bruce have let an autopsy happen? It was clear how Jason had died. And that how was revealing, too revealing. Why had Jason never thought of that before? Why had he assumed? “But… it’s not, is it. It’s yours?”

Danny nodded.

Anger surged through Jason, bubbled up like the growl in the back of his throat. He stalked forward. This time, Danny took a step back.

“Who did that to you?” Jason growled. He yanked Danny’s shirt back up and pressed his gloved fingers over the scar. “Who hurt you?”

“Well, you know, the usual. Shadowy government organization intent on studying me like a lab rat,” Danny said with an awkward chuckle.

Jason was going to get more information than that. He was going to find them and end them for what they had done to Danny. He was going to—

“Hood, breathe,” Danny said. “I’m okay now. I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Jason ran his fingers over Danny’s side and the round scar there. A bullet from his Robin days. Batman had been pissed after that one. Or was it worried?

“Can we—is there somewhere we can go to talk this over? I’m not… I’m not expecting anything from you,” Danny said in a way that already sounded heartbroken, “but I feel like we should at least talk about it, right?”

“Yeah.” Jason swallowed back his nerves and every part of him that wanted to wrap Danny up in his arms and never let go. “Yeah. Come on, I have a safe house close. We can talk there. We can talk about everything.”

---

Danny, who always knew cause wow Jason has a lot of scars, patting Jason's back and very amused and flattered that Red Hood wants to go destroy the GIW for him. Maybe Danny will let him.

AN:

Jason, who thought he didn't have a soulmate and that meant something because he didn't have the normal types and he didn't get (noticeable) scars because all of Danny's big ones were as Phantom, clinging desperately to Danny like ;-;

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Ultimate Glow-Up – Part 2

Part 1

Word count: 704

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando is thrilled to reunite with his childhood best friend Y/n – until he realizes she has a boyfriend

________________________________________________________

Lando was, without a doubt, experiencing a full system malfunction.

Because Y/n—his childhood best friend, his former awkward-phase companion, the same girl who used to send him Minecraft memes at 3 AM—was giggling at something Oscar said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and Lando was standing there like a complete idiot, staring at her like she’d just walked out of a damn movie.

This was not fair.

“Earth to Lando.” Y/n waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance. “You okay? You look like you just got hit with a blue shell.”

Lando blinked. “I—yeah, no, totally fine. Just—” Just having a minor crisis because I think I might have a crush on you now, and that’s really inconvenient, actually.

He cleared his throat. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She grinned. “Yeah, well, I was in town, and I thought, ‘Hey, why not check out the Grand Prix and see if my old best friend is still driving in circles for a living?’”

Lando rolled his eyes. “Wow. You make it sound so impressive.”

“Oh, it is.” Y/n nodded, dead serious. “So impressive that I even convinced my friend to tag along. Speaking of which…”

She turned and gestured to someone behind her. Lando was too busy fighting a ridiculous smile to process what she’d said, so when he looked up and saw some ridiculously tall, broad-shouldered, objectively good-looking guy walking over—with his arm around Y/n’s waist—he almost had an aneurysm.

“Oh,” Lando blurted out. “Who’s this?”

Y/n, completely oblivious to the way Lando’s brain was short-circuiting, beamed. “This is Ethan! We met a few months ago. He’s the one who got me into F1, actually. Can you believe I never really watched it before?”

Lando could believe it, because back when they were kids, Y/n was much more interested in Redstone contraptions than racing cars. But at the moment, the only thing his brain could focus on was the fact that Ethan—this guy—was standing way too close to her.

Lando plastered on a smile. “Ethan. Right. Nice to meet you.”

Ethan, to his credit, seemed nice enough. He reached out for a handshake, and Lando shook his hand, possibly a little too hard.

“So, you two have known each other for a while?” Ethan asked.

Lando forced a laugh. “Oh yeah. Since we were kids. She used to kick my ass in every game we played.”

Y/n laughed. “Still would, if you ever picked up a controller again.”

Lando opened his mouth to say something smug in response, but then Ethan did the unthinkable.

He leaned down and kissed Y/n’s temple.

Lando’s brain completely flatlined.

Nope. No. Absolutely not.

This was a disaster. A catastrophe. A red flag moment.

Because surely—surely—Y/n wouldn’t have just shown up looking like a walking dream, obliterated Lando’s ability to form coherent thoughts, and then casually introduced him to her boyfriend. Right?

Right???

Y/n, still blissfully unaware of Lando’s inner turmoil, looked up at Ethan with an affectionate smile. “I was just telling Lando how you got me into F1.”

Ethan grinned. “Yeah, took some convincing, but once she saw a few races, she was hooked.”

Lando wanted to argue that he had been talking about F1 for years, but apparently, it had taken Ethan to get her interested? Unbelievable.

Oscar, who had been standing off to the side watching this unfold like it was a Netflix drama, finally decided to intervene. “Well, Y/n, since you’re here, you should let Lando show you around the paddock.”

Lando shot him a look that said Are you kidding me?

Oscar just smiled.

Y/n’s face lit up. “That would be amazing!” She turned to Ethan. “What do you think?”

Ethan nodded. “Go for it. I’ll grab us some drinks and meet you later.”

Lando’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, but he pushed it down. He wasn’t jealous. He refused to be jealous.

Because Y/n was his best friend. That’s all.

Even if she looked like that now.

Even if her laugh made his heart do stupid things.

Even if he kind of, sort of, really wanted to be the one kissing her temple instead.

Yeah.

Lando was so screwed.