#and the pronouns thing switches just because

[genderkoolaid]

As someone who uses all pronouns, when I say all, I mean all. It's not a matter of "I don't care what you use for me" but "It makes me actively dysphoric to only have one set of pronouns used for me."

I am multigender/genderfluid and it's very important to me that ALL of my genders are recognized. Not every nonbinary person is neutral or third-gender; many of us ARE women or men, or both, and we care about our wo/manhood just as much as any binary person does.

So when I tell people I use all pronouns, and they choose "they/them" and then never use anything else, it causes dysphoria because I'm being placed in the "neutral/other" box and every other part of my genders are ignored.

I don't hate they/them, I just don't want it to be the only thing people use. Which is why I don't tell people to use they/them, I tell them to use all pronouns interchangeably. But people have a tendency to equate "nonbinary person" with "they/them pronouns" so they just ignore the "all interchangeably" part and think "oh, cool, I'll just use they/them because that's easy."

A very similar thing happens often when I say I'm genderfluid. Even though I am specifically pointing out that I have multiple gender identities, people interpret "genderfluid" as "basically just neutral nonbinary" and never think of me as a "real" woman or man. Anything that isn't a binary man or a binary woman is put in the "neutral/other" box and forgotten about.

Essentially my point is that if someone says they use all pronouns or multiple genders or whatever else, that's NOT synonymous with neutral pronouns or gender, and people need to keep in mind that nonbinary people still have needs relating to our genders that may not be fulfilled by being degendered. If someone says "I use all pronouns," they are not saying "I use they/them pronouns." If they really don't care, then there's no harm in switching it up. If they DO care, then you SHOULD be switching it up. If you aren't sure, you can just ask. But just don't assume that everyone who uses all pronouns doesn't care about how they are gendered. Because right now, being someone with multiple pronouns who actually cares about how their pronouns are used is kind of a nightmare.

PSA: "all pronouns" does not mean they/them & consider not immediately degendering every nonbinary person you meet. our wo/manhoods matter too

[satyricplotter]

time lapse (you're always at the same place, looking the same)

pairing: tim drake x reader (kept gn, one use of they pronoun) word count: 2,804 words lol rating: gen notes: i finished writing this five minutes ago and im not gonna edit it :p i also wanted to make this WAY angstier which... i might stlll do... if i ever continue this... anyway, title from this song by miss never married but divorced three times kim taeyeon. used this map for the metro, and this map for the districts.

while working a case, tim runs into an old ex. not that he notices.

.

tim can sense the approach before the hand wraps around the back of the only other chair available. he doesn't look up —vainly hopes you're only here to grab the chair and pull it toward one of the very empty tables. who knows? maybe you just need an odd number of chairs to feel comfortable.

of course, he is not so lucky. you clear your throat, call his attention.

"hello, stranger," you say, voice wavering at the end.

he looks up, resigned to lose a few more minutes of his precious time. it's not your fault that tim's feeling so irritated right now. sleepless night after sleepless night pouring over this case have dragged him out to this café at a monstrous hour of the morning because he couldn't stand staring at the four walls of his bedroom knowing he's been getting nowhere. he's not getting anywhere here either, but at least the brew's better.

really, any other time, tim might've entertained it. straightened and smiled charmingly, gestured for you to sit, paid for a treat on top of the coffee you're carrying. you look very sweet and nervous—white-knuckling the back of the chair, smile straining but firm—which he likes. easy to unnerve, but with a spine. just his type.

not today, though.

"what is it?" he says, eyes flickering back to his computer screen. just polite enough not to get a scalding latte thrown on him. he does not need third degree burns right now. he's close enough to calling it quits and committing some murder as is.

even as the silence stretches, you don't leave. tim is not feigning disinterest—he is disinterested, he just wants you to leave, so he looks up again, eyebrow raised. you're staring at him, unreadable expression in your face. and the longer you look at him, the more something pricks at the back of his neck. an uneasy feeling washes over him.

then you grin. broad and amused. tim blinks, dumbfounded. what? he was just gearing up for those burns and now you're grinning?

"hey," you say, voice way lighter than before. maybe you take rejection super well? "can i sit here?"

of course not. tim sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose.

well, whatever. he can commend perseverance. maybe a little distraction won't hurt. he can always leave.

"sure," he says, gesturing to the chair. "just be quiet."

"you got it."

you make true with your promise. the table's big enough that you can sit across him, pull out your own laptop, and work in silence without bothering him, and as soon as you get in the groove of things, it's as though you're all alone in this café. tim's not so lucky. if you had cast a spell on him, it would not be quite as effective as your silent, unbothered presence is at distracting him. the fact that the case's not moving at all—no matter where he prowls, searches, spies—is not helping. after an hour of fruitless pondering and texting steph and duke (monitoring the switch in the patrols, more like), he gets up to grab another americano. whatever. it's cold outside.

you pay him no mind, only nodding when he asks you to watch over his stuff.

it's a little annoying, actually.

he studies you as he waits at the counter for his name to be called. that same sense of unease pokes at him, a thread waiting to be pulled to unravel… what, exactly? certainly what he is feeling now is a sense of recognition, but where has he seen you exactly? he tries to picture you in the places he frequents and fails miserably. then maybe he hasn't seen you in the flesh, but elsewhere… photos? just now he was going through the victim's family archive. again he fails to place you.

the victim is a 26 year old, white male doing a masters in arboriculture and urban forestry. he'd been working on mercey island to study the degradation of a specific type of tree around the sewage treatment plant. had taken line 1 on angelo and mysteriously wasn't on the train when it got to arena. police had determined the subject had gotten off in bolland to catch the ferry and slipped in the banks. (why would he even take the ferry? the connection with line 5 was two stations away and it would've taken him straight into newtown, a few blocks away from his apartment instead of going all the way round to rogers basin and then what? catching a cab? paying triple fare? c'mon. some of us aren't stupid.)

so the common sense explanation was they'd killed this guy to shut him up about something. the issue was what he'd found out and who had killed him for it. almost everybody in the family agreed with this. steph was of the opinion the guy had not really found anything, but he'd gotten close enough. he and barbara thought he'd managed to hide something given the general paranoia he'd exhibited in the cctv vids from his last few hours alive, but where he'd put it was far beyond him. even if he hadn't, the people who'd killed him certainly believed he had and it was a grave enough offense to warrant a rush job on this guy's murder. a visit to ivy was par for the course in flora related cases, but she'd refused to lend them a hand and so tim was drawing blanks on the hows, the whys and the where.

until you. a possible connection.

he looks at you again. his parents had been pretty important wall street brokers. your coat is tailored. your phone's seems like a recent acquisition.

maybe.

he settles down in his seat with his steaming cup and slides a raspberry croissant over to you with a smile. you stop typing, arch an eyebrow at him.

"a sorry for being rude earlier," he says, charmingly. raises his cup with a little laugh. "not a morning bird!"

you rest your chin on the palm of your hand, eyes twinkling in amusement. "is that so?"

tim nudges the pastry closer to you. "will you forgive me?"

your smile unfurls lazily and a little bit cocky as you take the croissant quite deliberately without touching him. "we shall see."

(kinda hot, honestly.

okay, focus.)

"are you an early bird?" he asks.

"mm, not quite," you say, peeling off the wrapper. tim knows it's still warm from having carried it over, but by the way it flops a little under your fingers, it must be from the last batch of yesterday's pastries. well, he would've bought you a new one if they had any.

he tries again. "so you've stayed up all night? you don't look it."

"you do," you say, popping a bite of the pastry in your mouth. a little bit of the raspberry jam sticks to your cheek. tim grabs his mug so his fingers he can't reach out to wipe it. what can he say. big fan of hygiene, him.

"big nights at work," he says, hiding a yawn behind his hand. "are you working overtime at your… job?" an embarrassed smile, well-practiced. "sorry, i don't actually know what you do."

"of course you don't," you say, simply. "i haven't told you."

tim's fingers tighten on the mug. "well, i am asking. in case it wasn't obvious."

you munch on another piece. the jam is still there. "why do you wanna know?"

right. why does he want to know? it wouldn't take that long to track you down and doxx you if he wanted to. would probably be easier. he could do it in his sleep, if that time were ever to come.

a man is dead, tim, he reminds himself. play nice.

"well, how am i supposed to pick you up after work if i don't know if you're working overtime?" he says, faux smoothly.

that shocks a laugh at out of you, and tim drinks only to hide the satisfaction of getting a hit.

"cute," you say, giving him a once over. "but i've got a boyfriend."

that's news. tim doesn't feel disappointed. not really. it's just another door shut in his face. he'll have to find another way in.

he shrugs. "that's a shame."

"well, don't play demure now," you laugh. "what are you working on? you've been staring the hell out of that screen."

tim smiles sheepishly. "do i look as stuck as i am?"

"little bit," you admit. "anything i can do to help?"

bingo.

"i can't say much," he says, "because the case is technically still ongoing, but i'm helping out the mayor's office trying to draft a proposal to improve the city's urban safety measures. coming up blank because i want people to be safe, but still be able to enjoy the city without everything being gated, you know? there's only a few pleasures in gotham, after all."

you nod, thoughtfully. "that's laudable. what are you thinking?"

"thanks. the most straightforward way—and cheapest, probably—would be to install railings, hire guards around the parks—"

"they're gonna be bought off immediately, dude."

"well, yeah. and the railings are not gonna deter anyone who's willing to gamble their life on line 1 being late. or jumping over to the beach and slipping down the bank, like that guy last week."

"slipping down… oh! you mean tony!"

tim blinks, affecting surprise. "you knew the guy?"

"yeah," you say, slipping into sorrow. tim shifts in his seat. well, of course if you knew him, you'd care. dude was dead. "we went to gcu together, got in the same study group for organic chem. he used to take the train with me every thursday, got off at the same stop and he'd walk me home. didn't talk to him much after college, but it's a shame he passed."

"must've been. he seemed young," tim says.

"he was! last i heard he was doing his masters. his poor mom's devastated."

his surprise this time is genuine. "you know his mother?"

"we didn't date, if that's what you're thinking," you rush to explain. "i used to live in chinatown back then, not so far from the banks, actually—the flooding was awful back in 2016, by the way, you should do something about that—and tony loves the sea, so he'd always take the ferry back home even though it was the long way around. i think he lived in the east end back then? but the ferry station was only like three blocks away from my apartment, and sometimes i'd make the journey over to his mom's house with him—just to see what it was like, you know? see the world through his eyes. tony loved nature. he loved it despite everything steel and concrete eating it up more and more. didn't even mind that the ferry had to pass blackgate if he got to stare at the open sea, even though i damn nearly pissed my pants every time we heard the noises—sorry, i'm talking too much, aren't i?"

"no," he croaks. clears his throat. "it's not too much."

"really? you look a little pale."

tim shakes his head. "it's fine," he says. "go on."

it is fine. he'd just forgotten. forgotten this guy was human. had friends. had family. people who missed him. who would continue to miss him even after the case was closed. forgotten what he was doing this for. not to solve a puzzle, but to give the people that he'd left behind the closure they needed. and the truth. always the truth.

"anyway, so we went a few times. we'd get off by loeb bridge and stay a few hours at his mom's house, and when it was about to get dark, he'd walk me over to grayson station and i'd take the green line back home. i sent his mom a message right after i found out—she really was distraught. the insurance company is making a right mess out of things. i hear they went to check over his apartment and apparently they left no stone unturned looking for the suicide note that was never gonna be there because when they left, it looked like they'd ransacked the place. it's disrespectful, is what it is, and just so his mum can't cash in the life insurance."

"the insurance company did that?" he asks. "are you sure someone didn't just… actually ransack the place?"

"who knows." you shrug. "but his mom said she'd left the place spotless before they came in, and i trust her. maybe you should tell the mayor about that. it can't be the first stunt those guys pull."

"no, probably not," tim says absently, tapping his fingers on the table. in fact, you've probably hit the nail on the head. it cannot be the first time they do this. he checks his watch. 07:34 AM. he can squeeze in a morning visit, why not? "listen, i gotta get going. i've got a meeting across town."

"oh, yeah, no worries." you wave him away. as he shrugs on his coat and stashes his laptop in his bag, you steal one of his pens to jot down something on a napkin. you slide it over to him. "don't be a stranger."

tim grabs it and turns it over. written on it is tony's mother's name and phone number. he knows this, because he already has them on file. he looks at you askance.

you wink at him. "help her make her case."

tim blinks, then grins. "will do!"

"it was nice to catch up with you!" you yell after him as he goes, waving. tim waves back, still grinning when he hits the asphalt.

two blocks away, stephanie pulls him into an alley. "you have the devil's luck, tim, you really do."

tim grins. "you got all that?"

"yep," she says, tapping on the comms device oracle gave her to upload the recording of the conversation to her server. "can't believe you had the comms on you."

he shrugs. "was listening on your patrol, that's all."

"ha! no one's paying you to babysit, control freak." she shakes her head. "can't believe you randomly walked into a lead when we've had no luck for days—"

"heh. what can i say? it's the—"

"—and coming from your ex of all people? dude."

"—talent of the master—what?"

"what?"

"what do you mean?"

"what do i mean by what? the lead? it's obviously the insurance company—"

"no, fuck that," he says. stephanie scowls, incensed at the nonsense and the interruption. tim doesn't care, he can't care, what does she mean? "my ex?"

"yeah? back in school—oh my god, you did not notice?" stephanie scrambles to get out her phone, furiously scrolling through her gallery, and then shoves a picture underneath tim's nose. "oh, you idiot—see?"

he sees. he sure fucking sees. right there, grinning up at him is.. you. the picture is one of an outing back in… what? junior year? it's you, and tim, and steph amidst a group of other high schoolers, absolutely demolishing the manbat special at batburger. he has his arm around you. fuck.

fuck.

"tim, tim, look at me, don't hide your face in your hands—you didn't notice you were talking to your ex?"

tim groans into his palms, slides down the grimy, disgusting wall onto the grimy, disgusting floor.

that's why you were familiar. that's why the sense of unease. that's why you were nervous—

oh, no, he'd been so rude. he'd broken up with you and then you'd tried being nice when you saw him again after all these years and he had forgotten about you.

"ha, ha!" stephanie laughs. is she recording? fuck, she's recording. tim tries to push the phone away, but she's quicker. "cass, can you believe this doofus?"

"badly done," cass says. oh, they're facetiming.

tim groans again, stands up to walk away. "i gotta—i gotta apologize— i have to—"

stephanie holds him back by the scruff of the neck, which is to say, the hood of his sweatshirt. "no can't do, mister. we've got to pay a morning call to that lovely insurance company playing whack-a-mole in our crime scenes. that's why you got the mother's number right?"

"oh, no," tim says, freezing. "was it… was it obvious i didn't know? is that— do you think — do you think that's why i got—"

"do i think the fact that you did not recognize your ex in the flesh directly influence the fact that you got the victim' mom's number instead of, you know, theirs? uh, yeah. man, you're hopeless."

"yep," cass echoes.

tim slumps back down to the floor in despair.

"man," steph cackles. "i can't wait to text jay about this."

[avifaunaa]

let me wrap my teeth around the world [ j.t. & s.s. ] [ pt.2 ]

Authors Note: I didn’t initially intend on a sequel for this, but after brainstorming ideas I did manage to come up with something that would work to cleanly put it together. I don’t think I plan to have a third part for this as of now, but if the Muse strikes, that can change. Enjoy!

Masterlist

PART ONE

Pairing: Jackie Taylor x reader x Shauna Shipman

Summary: The Wilderness has kept you alive as their pet — because that’s what you were to the Antler Queen and her most loyal Executioner -- the Wolf. You’re their bunny, their little thing that they keep around to keep Jackie sweet and Shauna from going . . . Feral. So something is bound to happen when a revolution is attempted and you’re nearly killed in the process.

—> Diverges slightly from canon — I make use of the Wilderness more explicitly here.

—> Van goes by they/them/she/her in this so don't be startled by my switch between pronouns when discussing their character.

Content Warnings: Dark, fellas, just like the last one — power dynamics, implied past non-con turned dub-con due to manipulation, implied/confirmed cannibalism [ not graphically shown, but this is Yellowjackets friends ], manipulation, gaslighting, dumbification [ r!receiving ], voyeurism, praise [ r!ands!receiving ], degradation [ r!receiving ], top!shauna, top!jackie, infighting / discontent [ again, Yellowjackets ], violence [ literally everyone receiving ], cunnilingus [ j!receiving ], breastplay [ j!receiving ], somnophilia [ r!receiving ], overstimulation / multiple orgasms [ r!receiving ], fingering [ r!receiving ], marking and biting [ r!receiving ], AFTERCARE, Jackie and Shauna literally being feral

Word Count: ~7.1k

before the queen took her crown and began her rule . . .

Lottie was firm in her conviction when the first snowfall struck that winter: food would be scarce the colder it became and the darker it grew during the days. It was easy to ignore at first — with you beginning taking some twisted comfort from Jackie and Shauna.

You took to it even after the brutality that they bestowed upon you. Jackie with her dusty warmth over throbbing bruises and sickeningly gentle assurances, while Shauna became your protector within the shadows and beyond.

They took the brunt of any attention that start to turn upon you; anger whenever a fight was borne of the unforgiving grip of starvation, frustration that Nat returned empty-handed more often and stayed out increasingly less with the onset of winter conditions, and with no progress in hunting came fear and desperation because the food stores became more and more tightly controlled by you — and by Shauna and Jackie, in essence.

It did not help that for safety — to ensure that their only source of shelter wouldn’t be burnt to splinters — there was only ever one fire going in the center of the cabin at all times. If people were brave enough, they could tend to the fires outside of the cabin between their chores.

All in all, the summer had been hopeful and an effort put in together with youthful hope of a chance of rescue.

The winter helped you all inch closer to the truth. Help wasn’t coming, and you were on your own.

Fights broke out more frequently — over food stores, chore schedules, all the way down to the pettiest of things. You wanted no part of it even if they always found a way to drag you into it.

You wish you were Nat — who mumbled excuses and shuffled awkwardly before snatching Javi by the wrist and dragging him out to teach him how to hunt, allegedly. Those days she always managed to stay out until her limbs were numb and clothes were soaked wet from snow.

You had no such way to make a brief escape — you held the key to the team’s mealtimes and their gazes followed you like vultures the second you made movement to go to the stores to check freshness and count what was left.

You had made Shauna be in charge of rationing. Both she and Jackie had found you on the verge of tears when you held out scarce amounts.

“Only enough if we want to also eat tomorrow morning. If we want to wait for nightfall instead, we can increase it,” you told the, trembling.

Jackie’s lips had pursed as she shifted her stance to run chapped fingers through your hair and send a questioning look toward Shauna.

Shauna, whose jaw was clenched as she stood in place across from the two of you. Shauna, whose eyes gleamed with challenge.

“Don’t worry, Bun,” the redhead murmured, searing hot kiss brushing along your cold cheek, “Our Shauna will handle the meals as she does butchering. You just tell us how it needs to be handed out and we will do it.”

Nat had left just a few minutes ago — she had sensed an unrest beginning and had stolen Javi quickly.

You wished you could leave, too. Even in the cold you preferred the promising silence of the forest than the hollowed out cheekbones and gnashing teeth spitting vitriol at you and everyone else.

It helped if you remembered it wasn’t ever personal. Not really. It could be debated that starvation and this . . . This feral mindset you’ve all fallen into for survival is what drives to gnashing teeth and sneered vitriol. It didn’t make it hurt less, and it didn’t make Jackie and Shauna less punishing should they focus their efforts

Shauna’s intimidating stance blocking you from becoming a target and Jackie’s smooth, mocking tone was usually enough of a deter for most but it was Britt and another girl, Gen, who were the most ready to jump into a fight and seek out weakness.

Tonight was one such night — you were huddled near the back by a window. Jackie and Shauna wanted you closer to the fire, but you had found yourself in a corner when Van made an offhand comment about how you seemed to get the closest spot more recently and that everyone deserved a turn.

Shauna’s temper was quicker to ignite these days and she had stood over Van’s form with a cold stare, lips twitching. Her fingers jaggedly bitten fingernails were dug so deep into her palms you worried she'd cut skin. There was a look in her eyes that you hoped never found you.

And then Jackie had clenched her fingers in her counterpart's plaid shirt, swiftly leashing whatever aggression Shauna had pent up. “Oh, I’m sorry,” the redhead said lightly, a deceptive tinker to her tone that you knew more than better to fall for, “but we just -- Shauna and I that is -- decided that Bun can use our fire time. We're fine with her taking it. And we earned our spot there tonight -- in fact, Shauna was up at dawn stripping the rest of that rabbit. And I -- well, breaking an icy lake for water is destroying my skin. So maybe . . . be understanding?"

“We all do work, Jackie,” Mari tried carefully from her spot in front of the crackling fire, orange glow revealing her wariness. “We so get that you and Shauna worked super hard and whatever -- but I was up too. So was Misty with Coach Ben. It's not like we all just sit here and gripe."

Most of the others wouldn't have noticed it -- but years of spending time with Jackie and reading her cues rewarded you with knowing where her emotions lied for the most part. It was the tilt of her chin and the way her free hand's knuckles brushed under her malnourished chin.

“Of course, Hun,” the redhead agreed smoothly, smiling at her in what could be considered a soothing way, but to you was more mocking, “that’s not what what I meant. But well, of course, our Bun is outside quite a bit lately — helping with keeping our stores from expiring, and now that it’s cold she also ensures they stay refrigerated. It’s such an unforgiving job.”

“She sits with deer and rabbit meat. She pokes at wrinkled berries while Shauna glares at anyone who passes them,” Van muttered from her huddled spot, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head.

Shauna drew in a breath at the same time you readied yourself to stand up and get in between them. Tai scoots closer to Van in order to elbow her roughly.

“Well can’t have everyone going in and just taking food whenever they want, can we?” Jackie cajoled as she toys with Shauna's sleeve. It was like showing her control over a vicious beast, that the leash wasn't the object keeping the beast at bay. Jackie lets the fabric slip between her fingers and gestures behind her to you. "We're all a little . . . out of spirits and aren't playing by the rules lately. Shauna's making sure our little Bun doesn't get caught in the jaws of a wolf looking for a sniff."

"We aren't wolves, weirdo. Since when are you so into metaphors?" Van retorted with a deep scowl sketched on her face. "Besides, Bunny can speak for herself. She can decide if she's fine without your attack Shauna keeping watch."

A hollow laugh left Shauna's chest as she crosses her arms. "Wow," she states, the first word since this standoff had started. "That's real fucking rich, coming from you, Van."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Something wild and mean overcame the brunette. "Then why do you attend Lottie's prayers and bleed into the snow every other day over this Wilderness bullshit?"

Van suddenly flushed red and tucked low at being so openly called out while Tai reeled away from her partner and stared at them like they'd grown a second limb.

Lottie was unbothered by the accusations and her name being thrown about. You figured that at this point she had no concern about how everyone felt about her. She simply kept moving her gaze between you, Jackie, and Shauna.

You weren't sure you liked whatever it was she was thinking so deeply over.

"Jackie," you called out, a shudder in your jaw from the cold rippling across your form, "it's okay. I'm huddled up fine back here. It really isn't--"

“Not now, sweetheart," Jackie interrupted, but she was withdrawn in her order and too engrossed in this weird pissing contest with the team.

The tension was so thick that the small lit warmth in the cabin may just spark into a forest fire. You drew yourself up to your knees and made enough racket in doing so to capture Jackie's attention rather instantly.

"Jackie . . . please?" you pleaded with added vulnerability that she was always quick to respond to. Pouting never worked on Shauna, nor did the crooning like an injured animal -- she followed her own will and came to you when she believed you needed her. But Jackie was not as hardened and started toward you.

"I'm cold and hungry," you added softly, reaching your hands out to her the closer she got, "and I don't want anyone fighting. Can't we just cuddle and let it go?"

And so the cracks peeled open like ripping apart the skin of an orange. She knelt down and encased your hands with hers as she sidled behind you to wrap around your form. "Of course, Bunny."

Shauna, however, remained glued to her position in front of both of you. Van had long backed down and was refusing to meet Tai's questioning glare and Britt was focused on warming up her tin of water, now.

"Shauna?" you asked.

The tension had lessened but a general cloud of discomfort seemed to fill the air in place of it. The team had come to learn what occurred -- or at least they suspected it -- between the three of you and while no words were exchanged about the events of that night, nor the shift in dynamics between the three of you there was a collective conclusion the team seemed to have come to. And with such a conclusion came the unspoken rule regarding it: never speak of it and never stare too long.

Not even Tai, who had been suspicious as hell when you began to rely on them like a . . . Yes, you suppose you were their pet of sorts. She kept her tongue in her cheek and bit it until it bled for a week just to not bring it up. Because she noticed the bruising on your neck — handprints and bites and how tired you were whenever you took with them to the attic for some nights.

"Shauna," Jackie pressed, chin moving against the top of your head. Her warm breath was warm against your skull and you burrowed into her deeper. "C'mon, Shipman."

Shauna did not appear as though she would obey at first based on her silent defiance, but then she backed up and sent one last withering glance toward the girls at the fire and joined you two. She was less gentle as she took to your other side, hands sliding under your layers and running her icy knuckles across your skin as if to warm them.

It sent a shiver through you and you felt the smirk rise on her face as she buries her face into your neck as you all prepare for another cold, restless night.

Nat was unsuccessful with hunting for the next five days -- even with Travis and Javi. You know the days because you scratch them into the wooden shack's wall where you spend your chore time. One scratch every morning even if you're not needed in the shack, yet. You needed to keep count, to keep some form of tether to what once was.

You also kept a scratched count of deaths: five for the five you lost when you crashed, one a little bit apart after Laura Lee failed at flying that plane out of the forest.

You made those grooves deeper than the days you counted in order to remind yourself that you are not invincible to the whims of nature -- even if Jackie and Shauna try to act like that's not the case.

For once, Shauna isn't with you in your shed as you're breaking apart tree bark and dividing it into rations with berries and extremely small amounts of dried meat. She had nothing left to butcher; and her and Jackie had left you in warmth when you awoke.

Your fingertips were reddened and raw with torn skin from collecting the bark and breaking it apart. It stung and your nose was running uncomfortably onto your lips and wetting them until you wiped it away with your sleeve.

There was a ruckus that pulled you from your duty from outside the shed. Your head snapped up when you heard raised voices from Nat and Shauna, and knew you had to go see what was going on.

A crowd had gathered around the outside fire as Nat and Travis stood in front of a lifeless, small form.

"Javi," you breathed as you moved forward and noticed the unmoving form of the younger kid. Just barely out of high school and forced to come on a trip he didn't even want to by his father's idea of bonding with his sons.

Jackie spotted you -- wide-eyed and alarmingly devastated and pushed away whoever had been closer to you and covered your shoulders with your arms. "Hey, it's -- it's okay."

"He's dead," you commented numbly. Travis's face scrunched up into a look of pure agony as he kneeled next to his brother and put his head in his lap while Nat sent you a glare. "Jackie . . ."

"I know," she murmured, "they got lost in a thick storm south of their normal usual hunting spots. He wandered west from there, and . . ." she trailed off but she needn't detail further. You had a clear picture of what happened.

"Why did Shauna yell?" you whispered, looking down at your battered shoes instead.

"It's . . ." Jackie sounded strained, "it's something Lottie suggested. She's . . . Nat started getting aggressive over it and Shauna almost got . . ."

"Shauna-like?"

Jackie snorted, her hand squeezing the arm she was holding in her embrace. "Don't let her hear you say that. But yes. Shauna-like. She thinks Lottie's idea has merit even if the things she says are full of eerie shit."

"What did Lottie suggest?" you asked hesitantly.

"She thinks . . . without the Lottie wording, she suggested we . . . eat Javi."

The idea of it was stomach churning -- but your stomach was always upset in this state of broiling constant hunger that kept you nauseous and weak.

"Jackie, we can't."

She turned her freckled face to you. Her skin was so pale, features so gaunt, that those freckles stood out more than they used to. You spent many nights unable to sleep counting them to keep your mind busy.

"I would be inclined to agree, Bun, but we're so fucking hungry. Nat is not catching anything -- there's not even signs of predators out there. What does that tell us?" She removed her arm from your shoulders and hugged herself. "Shouldn't we . . . I don't want us to starve."

"We aren't eating him," Nat snarled to Lottie and Shauna, using herself as a protective barrier in front of Travis. "He will be buried."

"We can't bury him," Tai said, "The ground is frozen solid."

"We'll burn him, then," you said, eager to escape the topic of eating one another. Jackie breathed in deeply and Shauna turned to you at a dangerously slow rate, jaw tight.

Travis let out a choked cry as he hunched over his brother and clutched his form to him.

Your heart ached for the guy, and you suddenly did not envy being in his position where he had to bury his father so early and his younger brother in circumstances that were unforeseen.

"A pyre can be built and it will . . . provide warmth once he's gone, for as long as it burns. It can be his last act of love to us," you continued carefully. "He will be freed and nothing will dig him up once winter is over."

Lottie was suddenly watching you with disturbing interest. The small fire currently lit shadowed half of her face and cast an uncomfortable feeling in your gut.

"I think a pyre burial is a fine idea," Lottie finally said, finality in her tone as she lifted a hand as if to seal the order.

Misty cleared her throat and awkwardly raised a hand, "Collect what wood we have and start cutting more, as much as possible. Fallen branches and leaves as well, and don't let them sit away from the cold. Wet leaves and branches won't light as well."

Survivalist Misty. She had become a voice of importance in-between her odd and unbelievable statements. She and Mari had a shared medical knowledge between them with their majors.

Everyone split up to delegate tasks for building a pyre on top of the fire already crackling, looking to grow it into a worthy resting place for their fallen friend.

Shauna stayed close with Lottie and you gave her a wide berth. She did not seem inherently welcoming to your presence at the moment and you weren't inclined to test the waters.

Jackie ordered you back into the cabin, claiming you were cold and needed rest.

"Wake me up before they . . . before he . . ." you found yourself unable to form full sentences, but Jackie was softened and tucked some hair behind your ear as you curled close to the fire.

"I'll make sure you're there, Bun."

You were shaken awake by a twisting in your stomach that was sharp and had you groaning out. Ripping away from a deep rest by pain was a spiraling distress that sent you reeling.

You breathed shallowly through the waves of pain as your body punished you cruelly for not properly caring for it.

"Hey." A hand was cupping your jaw. Not roughly, but nor gentle in the gesture as your neck was pried away from it's place curled to your chest and knees. Shauna's stoic features greeted you, dark eyes flitting up and down.

"Shauna," you mumbled as the pain started to ebb. "I think I'm . . . hungry."

Shauna huffed, blowing air across a loose strand of hair in her face. You'd somehow managed to amuse her as she released your cheek and said, "Sit up. I've got food."

"Issit mealtime?" you asked, unfolding your knees as you moved into a sitting position. The world twirled in light circles around you for only ten or so seconds instead of the average twenty.

"Mm." She had something in her hands as she crossed her legs and sat in front of you, knee to knee, legs touching. When your focus and awareness started coming back to you you also found she had . . . well, she seemed to carry a brightness in her eyes. A glitter you only saw when she was butchering or with Jackie and you, sometimes.

She unfurled her hands and revealed what she had held close. You looked at it -- but the smell is what hit you first. Your stomach was alerted instantly and your mouth watered. It was meat -- fresh, warm meat.

"Ohmygod," you managed to get out, trembling hands reaching forward. "Did -- did Nat finally catch something?"

Shauna struck, her hands caging yours around the meat. She jerked you closer to her before you had a chance to react and stared at you hard.

"You are never -- and I mean never -- speak up against my word again. Or Jackie's," she told you lowly, lips brushing yours so tenderly that it was almost a kiss. "You only have say when we ask for it, otherwise assume that anything we decide is in your best interest."

Your ears rang at the kick of fight or flight starting to claw its' way into your bloodstream. Shauna could sense it, sniff it out like a prized hound could smell a fox before the fox could detect the hound.

She smiled slowly. "Have I made myself clear, Bunny?"

"Yes, Shauna," you whisper, voice nothing more than a raspy whimper.

"Good girl. Now eat."

the queen sits the throne and loosens the leash of her wolf, and the wolf brings her queen the rabbit

The crown made of sticks and antlers and leaves was Jackie's newest fashion statement.

She wore it like it was the entirety of her power, when the truth was more deeply ingrained than that.

Shauna had become a close listener to Lottie's literation's about the Wilderness and by the time the long winter had started easing up, two more marks had joined Javi's and Laura Lee's on the wall.

The Wilderness chose Lottie to which It speaks through and in turn Lottie announced that Shauna would be the one who would have to carry out It's demands.

Jackie and you had been distressed but Shauna was strangely calm. She had tried to be soothing, to assure both of you, but she had eventually spoken her truth:

"If we must play a game of fair trials to ensure I can keep you two alive," she breathed, a flash of rare emotion crossing her face, "then I will hunt. I don't know how much of Lottie's shit is . . . this place is turning everyone more and more to some sort of hope. They want to do this if it means no longer starving."

Shauna had come to Lottie -- she will be the hunter, the butcher, the one who can bring brutality and death while also ensuring the life of those who the Wilderness showed mercy to.

But she asked for a condition -- demanded it in her way. Jackie was to be excluded from the cycle of hunting, and you were to be ousted as well. It was not a request nor was she afraid to make such demands in front of everyone else.

"Jackie would not have played for the Wilderness, even if you had not asked," the woman murmured to Jackie and Shauna with you listening nearby. "The Wilderness wants you -- yes, Jackie, it favors you for a role that you have already been placed in before. It demands a leader -- it shan't stand unrest and distrust. It will require you to be their ruler."

There was a stunned silence. Then, from a shaken Jackie, "What about her?"

"She will live," Lottie said simply. "The Wilderness is satisfied with what It has received in turn."

And so it seemed that was good enough for the two other women, who managed to stalk back to where you were watching with poorly hidden fear.

"You're going to be fine," Jackie promised as she grasped you in her hands like she feared just the opposite. Like you would slip from her fingers.

Shauna said no comforting words and didn't join you for bed. She sat guard all night.

Now winter had finally submitted to the forceful entrance of spring. Snow melted and the sun began to help ease the chill that remained.

Despite Jackie slipping beautifully back into the role of a leader you knew there would be a harsh slapback by some -- specifically Van and Tai.

It worsened when Nat was able to return with hunts and the Wilderness demanded less sacrifices in return for meals. It was quiet -- according to Lottie -- for a while. It was hard to tell what It wanted and Jackie did her best to reign in any attempts at fighting once spring broke and most believed that everything could return to the old dynamic.

Whatever this was . . . it would not be changing even if the hunting was over. Shauna paced around Jackie when she wasn't cutting up Nat's kills and where she once worked to keep clean during the process she made no effort. The blood and mess was only washed when she was done.

Your role . . . your role was somewhat of a jeweled whore. You wouldn't say it aloud, not if you wanted Van overhearing and reporting back to Lottie who in turn reports to Jackie and Shauna.

But where you once had the duties of caring for the stores of food, Jackie had designated to someone else. She kept you at her side frequently. If not at hers, then at Shauna's or Lottie's if not hers.

Jackie and Shauna had also taken to fucking you more than they used to. It didn't matter when, nor where. Shauna had come storming into the shed once while you were trying to find something to do.

"Shauna?" you asked, turning around and finding her breathing heavily. She looked angry, resentful.

She hadn't told you what had caused such an emergence of emotions but she had taken you so roughly against the shed that you had burns in the skin of your back that you narrowly avoided receiving an infection from.

She had left you once you had come violently against four fingers, allowing you to find footing before storming out with less rage but more fire than before.

To this day it was still one of the best orgasms of your life even if it left you with feelings of longing and pain that you could not quite place.

Currently Jackie found herself sat on a stump that had become something of a throne for herself. It was home to a large, ancient oak tree once but that was long before the crash. What remained was now used for Jackie's sacred grounds.

Lottie had her own little spot a few feet behind the throne where she kept trinkets and read the Wilderness' desires through bones and ashes of the departed. Allegedly. The bones were usually hung in the clearing from branches surrounding Jackie's "throne room".

The temperature had gone up and had offered a reprieve from the months of endless freeze that you'd all become accustomed to. Jackie had you on her knees under the shade of the trees despite your earlier plea to go lay in the sun. She scratched fingers through your hair as you rested your head against her legs.

The lot of you had regained some weight after taking on Lottie's mysterious orders. And when the wildlife began to make a return, it only seemed to get better. Lottie was convinced that the winter had been a test and their reward was a fruitful, worriless spring and summer . . . should the Yellowjackets remain obedient.

Something brushed against your lips, snapping you out of your thoughts. You found stained fingers holding out freshly picked blackberries brought by Mari as an offering.

You opened your mouth and allowed her to feed you. It was perhaps not quite ready as it looked -- it was more sour than tart despite the juiciness.

"Pretty, Bunny," Jackie hummed in approval once you'd licked her fingers clean. "Was that a tasty treat?"

"Yes, Jackie," you told her, nuzzling into her hand and seeking out her touch. "I'm glad the Wilderness provided."

"As am I, my sweet," the redhead agrees, as those fingers drifted to tilt your chin upward. "You want to go stretch in the sun, no?''

"If I can," you say carefully, meeting her gaze and knowing the consequences of not doing so. "It is rather nice out and I miss the warmth it brings."

She smiled at you and ran a wayward thumb down the outline of your facial structure, stroking mindlessly. "How can I say no?"

You grinned at her, moving to sit up but was halted by her suddenly taking you in a tighter grip. "Ah, Bun, I require something of you first."

Something lit in your lower abdomen. You suffered silently with the aftermath of many of your trysts with Jackie and Shauna and had so many "what ifs" and "what will happens" that went unspoken out of fear of their reaction . . . or their responses.

You were theirs but this was a world different from the one you had back in society. You will fall apart into thousands of unfixable pieces if they so much as blink wrong.

"You're always so willing," Jackie praised, releasing your chin and lifting her hips slightly to unzip her jeans and tug them down to her ankles with her underwear. "You know how to care for me, and you never disappoint. I must ask this of you again."

Her hand returned to you but this time found home at the back of your head, fingers carding with gentle force as you were tugged closer and closer to the heat of Jackie Taylor.

You lifted her hands and lay them on her thighs, nose brushing against a small scar she had gained after one of the games she and Shauna had played with you. She had pouted over it for weeks.

Behind the both of you, Lottie made noise from whatever it was she was working on. You didn't flinch and nor did Jackie -- Lottie was apart of the environment at this point to your two masters. Lottie chose if she wanted to leave or act as though it was apart of her duty to go on with her duties.

"Staring at it is making me shy, Bunny," the captain told you sweetly, applying pressure to the back of your head again.

"Sorry, Jackie." You didn't wait to hear her forgiveness as you began kissing your way up her thighs and licking at her outer lips. She was already considerably wet, but Jackie liked you to tease and nibble before you entered her.

Sometimes.

You grazed your teeth across sensitive skin near her clit, purposefully avoiding it in order to stimulate her as her hips thrust against you on instinct. You smiled into her skin as you moved to seek out every crevice.

"Fuck, I'm in no mood to play gentle games today, Bun. Make me come."

You kissed her clit and ran your tongue along her as your hands reached up and pressed under her shirt. She used both hands to guide your own until you were cupping her breasts and rolled them in your hands.

"Fuck, you're so --" She breathed out shakily as your tongue sought entrance inside and you bobbed your head to get movement going.

Moments like these with Jackie were something that you preferred sometimes. Shauna was rougher than her redheaded counterpart and lacked mercy at times even if her aftercare was good. Jackie never fucked you like she was on a time constraint, though. She relished and allowed you to go at your own pace usually.

"I'm going to keep you here, you know," she told you in a surprisingly steady voice even as you did her best to uplift her from her perfect poise. "On your knees and fucked stupid. Nothing to worry over -- you only have to worry 'bout your next filling."

You shuddered and squeezed her tits tighter than you intended, nails leaving indents in skin as she jerked in surprise. "Oh," she moaned, head leaning back. "Fuck, Bunny, don't -- don't stop that."

You didn't, but you did run your thumb across her right nipple and used your left hand to scratch gently along the undersides of her breast at the same exact time as her legs suddenly closed in on you like solid walls, ensuring you cannot escape.

"Jackie."

A moan was what Shauna received in reply to her approach. You didn't dare pause to look up in greeting at the approaching woman who stalked in like a wolf to her den.

You nosed her clit and though your jaw was aching already you increased your pace as Jackie let out an unhinged gasp.

You could feel the burning gaze of Shauna on your back but she approached with a speed that didn't read like she was looking to join. "Jackie, it's -- Melissa is running around with the axe. She's--"

Jackie came all over your face too quickly for you to have caught . . . that, or you were distracted by Shauna's hurried words and restless movements.

She soaked your face with her release and you helped her ride it out as her gasps echoed through the treetops to the birds.

She released your arms and lowered them, grip gentle but firm as she turned foggy eyes to Shauna and slowly got into a better position that forced you away from her before you were ready.

"What's going on?" she questioned, pulling her pants up hastily as she eyed Shauna.

Eyes darkened. "I think --"

"Jackie, get off your fairy stump and talk to us!" An enraged snarl sounds out as you saw, through the undergrowth, the approach of a wild-eyed Melissa. She had the axe in hand, clutched so tight that her fingertips turned white.

Melissa came to a stop only feet away as Lottie was coming from her own spot to join you. Her eyes landed on you and she scoffed, cheeks flushed from anger as she swung the axe over her shoulder.

"Why the fuck am I not surprised?" she spits out. "Jackie and Shauna -- our dutiful team captains who take care of us and lead us into safety and glory. And their little bitch who gets a free ride."

"Watch it, Melissa," Jackie said calmly as she leaned her elbows on her knees so that she was towering over you and folding her hands together. "Bring your qualms to me, but leave her out of it."

"She's apart of it."

"No," Shauna said darkly, "she is not. You best keep your problems to Jackie and Lottie if you want to keep your head."

Melissa's expression turned arctic and she lowered the axe and stepped closer. "Fuck you, Shauna. That day -- with Javi." She pointed the weapon in your direction, "she wanted to burn him properly and leave it at that. That's what we agreed on."

You couldn't meet Melissa's gaze for fear the shame you'd find reflected there. "Aren't you upset, Bunny?" Melissa asks, a sneer forming on her face, "That Shauna completely disregarded your fucking input -- the agreed upon decision?"

You swallowed your tongue and dug your nails into the dirt, grounding yourself steady. You remained silent and knew better than to give the answer you wished to give.

"If I recall, you ate him, too," Jackie mused as though she were talking about the weather. "In fact, you had more helpings than most."

"We were starving, you psychotic bitch," Melissa snarled, stepping ever closer which had Shauna getting up in her space to block her.

"I will put. You. Down," Shauna breathed as she lashed out quickly and went for the axe handle in Melissa's hand. The younger of the two yelped in shock and a scuffle broke out.

You startled and scattered from the log as Jackie split to the opposite end with Lottie. You met her panicked eyes over the fighting women -- but you wondered if she feared for Shauna or the aftermath.

You came to realize that the fight had inched closer to your prone form and Shauna had Melissa's wrists locked in a twisted grip. Your eyes floated down to the struggling woman's ankles and you found yourself darting forward and latching your teeth into skin.

Blood filled the spaces between your teeth as you tore at her, causing her to scream and struggle from the onslaught of pain. You didn't hear Jackie's call of warning or see the other leg curling up in the struggle, speeding toward your face.

the rabbit found her claws when the wolf fought for the queen

" . . . be a lesson that you don't spit on the kindness of the Wilderness," lectured a far-off, muffled voice. Your eyes remained closed and God your head throbbed in time with your heartbeat.

"Melissa was a warning and a reminder," a closer voice added, harder and tinged with threat. "The Wilderness has crowned me and it is because of me and Shauna -- through Lottie -- that all of you still breathe air and fill your stomachs."

There was something wet against your forehead. It felt good in contrast to the overwhelming heat that seemed to be taking over the rest of you.

"We are fair and we try to be kind," far-away Jackie continued, "but the Wilderness is angry that you almost upended the balance."

"We didn't do it . . ." a garbled protest, quick shushing.

"Do we look like we give a shit who started what?" Shauna. You whined as you shifted in place. She was harsh as she spoke but the words were quickly fading from your brain.

"JacShauna," you murmured out as the wet material was moved down to the lymphnodes around your neck. They ached upon contact with the cool fabric and you moaned out.

"They're here, Bunny," the voice of Misty Quigley assured. It sounded distorted but you knew Misty's never-ending babbling voice, "Shh . . . they went downstairs for a minute. They'll be right back."

You didn't have much of a chance to understand as the endless darkness slipped claws back into you and pulled you all the way down into the abyss.

the queen and the wolf hid their rabbit away and never let her run astray

When you woke next the overheating had left you. You were sweaty and --

-- engulfed by pleasure as an orgasm rushed through your entire body and sending you into echoed moans that the attic soaked into it's rotting wood. Your hands were already clenched around the shirt of the person above you.

"Good fucking girl," Shauna Shipman snarled darkly as she repositioned her fingers deeper inside of you as much as your body would allow. Your head dropped back and you expected to be met with a barely cushioned surface, but you looked up and saw Jackie's upside down face smiling sweetly back.

"J-jackie," you whined as you arched your back and turned your head into her lap.

"Oh, my sweet little Bunny," she murmured as she stroked your strained throat. "You're taking Shauna so well. You came twice already, you know, before you woke? It was so beautiful."

You forced Shauna closer -- mostly to ensure she went nowhere you couldn't feel her, but also because she was buried so deep in your cunt that if she left you now you weren't sure you could handle it.

"Feels good, Shauna," you whined as you started meeting her thrusts in tandem. You could start feeling the ache that came with having multiple orgasms -- and you don't even remember the last two they'd given you.

"You were so feral," Shauna whispered huskily as she left bruising shapes of her teeth in your bare skin. Some of them bled and you did not care. "It was not your fight and yet you put yourself in harm's way for me. For Jackie."

You couldn't have replied if you wanted to. But what you did do is find purchase in her done up hair. A messy bun, hair out of the way. In this light you could see something wild and exposed in her eyes that wasn't there when you saw them last.

"You're perfect for us -- our perfect little pet," she continued. You begin to feel the orgasm starting to overtake you again, cresting slowly and like a promise.

"Come for us, Bunny," Jackie cooed as she traced an outline of your jaw so lightly on your skin.

You obeyed.

After when they had helped you outside to bathe in the lake and returned you to a cleaned attic, an assortment of berries and meat waiting for you, they held you as you still recovered from everything.

"She gave you a kick that probably concussed you," Jackie told you as she fed you berries and meat by hand while Shauna worked out the soreness from your legs. "Mari and Misty were . . . they were concerned about it. You ran a fever and slept a lot."

"Normal with concussions," Shauna said plainly, watching every movement you made when eating.

"You would know, Shipman," Jackie drawls, smirk teasing the corner of her lips. Shauna actually had the decency to flush.

"Is Melissa . . .?"

Jackie smiled slowly as she held up a tender piece of steak to your lips, waiting until you were swallowing it down, "We made use of her."

IM TIRED OF THIS GRANDPA — me, after writing all day

[rebloggingfish]

𝑅𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝓍 𝒱𝒾𝓁 𝒮𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑒𝓃𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Warnings and whatnot:

-Vil uses he, she and they in this piece

-TW! Mentions of poisoning and Rook's unorthodox behaviour (the hunting and stalking people thing)

-Spoilers for Book 5 and 6!

Rook falls for Vil at first sight, enraptured by that unique beauty of theirs. He finds Vil absolutely mesmerizing, and no matter how much time they’ve spent together, the other never ceases to surprise the hunter.

This man is absolutely smitten I tell you.

Vil’s gender has never been a topic to discuss; when Vil said she would do everything in her power to be the best queen Pomefiore had ever had Rook just went with it. His “Roi de Poison” enjoyed being la reine from time to time? No problem at all.

Speaking of the Pomefiore house warden, he’s in pretty bad too. Vil trusts Rook immensely, he knows the other would catch him were he to fall (which is proved right after his overblot).

After Vil’s breakdown at the VDC their relationship strains a bit though. Deep down Vil knows they can’t nor they should attempt to control what the hunter likes; after all, it was the other’s passion for life and his unbendable honesty that captivated them in the first place. However, they still feel slightly betrayed for their actions; after all, he saw the effort and strain Vil went through for the competition.

Rook, on his part, is also hurt. He knows what the other went through while preparing for the VDC but at the end of the day, he had to vote for Neige; not doing so would go against his morals, against everything the hunter was; and he knew his queen knew that. He also knew that deep down the other would have been even more upset if Rook had voted for them because they would have seen it as a pity vote; because his beloved knew that the hunter would follow his heart whenever he went, and sometimes that meant doing things they didn’t agree on.

They get better after a while of longing glances and words hanging in the air, and after making up they’re stronger than ever.

Idia’s overblot only helps to strengthen their bond. Rook’s desperate attempts to help his “Roi du Poison” shoot an arrow through Vil’s heart; causing him to kiss fervently the other when they’re finally alone from privy eyes, leaving purple all over the hunter’s body.

Their relationship dynamic can be a bit odd or unsettling for people who aren’t used to it.

Rook absolutely loves chasing his queen, and Vil is always up for a game of cat and mouse, enjoying the hunter’s attempts at catching her and rewarding him when he finally does. It’s also safe to say that the Pomefiore’s house warden also enjoys seeing her lover “hunt down” other students, specially when she knows they’ve been causing trouble.

In return, Rook lets Vil test her new poisons on him (always with the antidote nearby) as he knows she would never harm him. He enjoys the new sensations the poisons bring and the feeling of exquisite ecstasy that fills him when his queen feeds him the antidote, always followed by a spa session to relive his body from the stress it has gone through.

Vil keeps all the letters and poems their lover has written for them, as well as the flowers he used to bring them (when they started dating Rook switched from bouquets to plant seeds or cuttings so his lover could keep the plants on their garden). In fact, half of the books on Vil’s room have their pages filled with dried flowers they have put there so they don’t go bad.

In some occasions Vil has used those dried flowers on potions, crushing them and turning them into fine powder if they have useful properties.

He never lets Rook use them though, because he knows the other would use them in one of the Science club’s experiments and blow up the laboratory for the nth time (something they’ve argued over multiple times, the other explaining that there is no joy without a bit of danger while Vil tries not to get wrinkles on his face from frowning).

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[misiahasahardname]

i found a super old drawing tablet which, naturally, ended with me drawing women all day

[feralattentionwhore]

Starting off the day by being informed that you're going out later to run some errands and to wear your shortest skirt and something cute. Listening like the obedient pet you are, getting dressed and ready only to find yourself pushed against a wall before you go out, getting kissed breathless, your neck bitten until you'd do anything to stay home. Thinking you've won when they slowly pull your underwear down, and the excitement builds only for them to say that youre not allowed to wear anything under the skirt and pull you out the door

Trying desperately to hold back the whines of disappointment that follow

Heading out, already getting desperate and they sneak their fingers up underneath your skirt. Tracing the areas of your hips that would be covered in your panties (if you had any on). Stopping before anything gets too far, briefly, not long enough for you to forget what's happening, then toying with you before you can fully recover. When you finally head home, you're practically begging already, they shush you, tell you to behave, to remember be a good toy for them

Getting home, being told to bend over their lap as they flip up my skirt and test to see how wet you are. Teasing and chuckling when they realise how desperate you are when they've barely touched you. "Aww poor little pet, so desperate already, make all the pretty noises you want I'm not done playing with you yet"

Begging for something more but they just laugh, caressing your ass and then lightly slapping it. Continuing and slowly getting harder and faster until you're a puddle of tears and desperation. Ass red and sore, practically dripping from between your thighs. Whines and pleas falling from your mouth, barely able to form any thoughts, just needing more

When they've finally got their fill, you collect your breath, only to find you're pushed to the floor. Told to be good and to open your mouth, made to suck on them (fingers, girlcock, clit??) while they talk and talk. Your head filling with praise until they're done, bending you over and finally finally touching you, taking pity on your desperation.

"look at how pathetic you are for me, your dumb little brain trying so hard to keep up when all you want is to be fucked, huh sweetheart?"

Being bent over is a relief, feeling them pushing in and all your thoughts leaving you. The only sounds escaping are a mess as you're made to cum over and over, a reward for being so patient

[ratatatastic]

no im still on maffhew calling the forsymaffhew lovechild a missile

[iamthemaestro]

another thing I wish cis people would understand is that I include she/her in my “all pronouns” so that people can use it in a fun eccentric effeminate way. not so that they have a set of pronouns they can default to because it feels most comfortable to them based on how they perceive me.

[sodacowboy]

and there it is folks

[ratgingi]

thinking abt the fact that every doctor and therapy place ive gone to around here has asked what my preferred name and pronouns were righr off the bat amd i might just cry

[drysauce]

today i realised that in english i go only by neutral pronouns i mean they thems while in polish i go by anything BUT neutral pronouns meaning i use he hims and she hers and it's kinda funny to me

[jetpuffedmarsh]

Found out my supervisor has been using the right pronouns for me. Without asking. Without even being told by another person

What if I cried

[aestheticallynotdeerlightful]

I should make a post explaining each of the areas the brothers are in I did in my “distance” post…

[pearlispunk]

How'd that get there, Mr. Miller?

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you’re sent to spend the weekend in a cabin by a lake with joel because your dad’s off to a work trip. warnings / contents: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified age gap but reader’s in her twenties, DBF JOEL, smut, unprotected piv, f masturbation, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, pet names, soft! joel, daddy kink (??), praise kink, cream pie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 2.9K

a/n: i recommend playing shades of cool by lana del rey while reading this, keep it on loop and enjoy °༄ !

“Well? You comin’?” Joel asks, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. He’s just asked you to come with him to spend the weekend in his cabin by a lake. “Your dad’s asked me to bring you anyway so I dun’ think you have a choice, kid.” He clicks his tongue, his palm placed by the edge of the table. 

Alright, what could go wrong? Joel’s your dad’s friend, they bonded over work– he’s a great guy. You’ve been in his place a few times, mainly ‘cause of barbecues and sports nights– he’s neat. He’s always there when you ask for help around the house or your car– he’s handy. So, what could go wrong?

“‘Right then, ‘ya should go pack up. We leave early, angel.” He says with a nod, finally walking out of the house. 

Curse your dad for leaving you for an entire weekend due to a work-related thing. Curse your dad for making you spend the weekend with Joel. 

Joel. 

Joel, the man that you ogle at every Sunday morning when he’s out mowing the lawn. Joel, the man who always hikes his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he worked on your car. Joel, the man that calls you any pet name and leaves you blushing and well.. wet.

Joel, the man that you fantasize about at night, when you’re three fingers in, mouth agape, and whining about how he would fill you up much, much better. 

Snap out of it. What were you thinking? The man’s around your dad’s age– hell, maybe even older. 

You hurry upstairs to your room, pulling out a travel bag big enough for an entire weekend. You settle it by packing one red gingham bikini– for swimming, of course. Two sun dresses, a tank top with matching shorts for sleeping, one loose polo for covering, and then a summer hat. Alright, you’re set.

The drive was a blur. You immediately dozed off to sleep when your head hit the pillow by the car window. 4 hours later, Joel’s voice causes you to wake up, his hand placed on your shoulder– gently nudging your senses awake. “We’re here, doll.” He lets go as you stir, a small grin playing on his lips as you yawn. 

As soon as you step into the cabin, you place your things in the guest room. “Y’know, we can switch rooms. I know that mattress is a ‘lil too old, feels weird on the back.” He leans by the doorframe, his hands making gestures that match his words. “I’m alright here, Joel.” I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. 

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.”

“Need some help around the cabin?” You hum aimlessly from inside the cabin. Just then, the front door opens, his tall frame shadowing the entrance, “‘M alright, sugar. Don’t want such a pretty girl like you doing any kind’f work.” He’s shirtless. Changed into something more comfortable when you set down your things. His chest displayed beads of sweat, his arms looked rugged, and his hair was tousled into perfect curls that almost resembled a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.

Well? Do you know any better?

The afternoon hours dragged slowly, and you were bored out of your mind. Joel was working around the cabin, breaking wood for fire and fixing a few things for his truck. He’s caught you staring a few times now, a smirk tugging on his lips whenever he did. How could you not? When he’s right there outside your window, all his glory displayed for your eyes to witness. His shorts seem unbelievably tight, seeing as how you can practically see the outline of his cock. His arms, his hands.. they were so big, big enough to have them all over your body, over your mouth as he fucks you from behind, or over your breasts as he kneads and teases your nipples. 

You backed off from the window, shaking your head as you tried to bring yourself back to reality. Sighing, you grab your bag– changing into that red gingham bikini. You let your hair down, brushing it with little care through your fingers. You reach out to the sunscreen lotion by your nightstand, applying a thin layer on your body. Think about something else, go do something else, anything else– instead of checking out your dad’s friend. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, the bikini a stark contrast to your skin. You let your hands run down your sides, your hips, your thighs, your heat. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your index finger reached in, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles. It slips in, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, whispering his name so sweetly. 

Joel. 

Need you, Joel. 

You walk back down on your bed, laying on your back as you start fingering yourself in front of the mirror. Your other hand finds its way down your body, taking care of your clit. You add another digit, your walls clenching around your fingers. 

Ah, fuck- would’ve been much better if it was you, Joel. 

Your back arches and you squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts lingering on the sight you beheld earlier. Your hips start to meet the rhythm of your fingers, your mouth whispering obscenities as you chase your release. You tear your eyes open, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your legs are spread, two fingers buried in your cunt, and a dazed-out expression. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You hear the squelch of your skin combined with your essence, and you let your head fall back. Your hips stutter up as if to grind on something, on someone. You let out a whine, burying your digits in your cunt as you lay still, letting your orgasm wash over you. You catch your breath, regaining your consciousness as you let yourself melt in the bedsheets. Your eyes instantly snap open as you swear you heard the squeak of your door. Your neck cranes towards the direction of the door, seeing as it slightly creaked to the right, you knew.

He was watching you. 

Two can play this game, you decided. You took your bikini top off, putting on just the loose white polo. You left the last two buttons as it is, not bothering to cover your peeking cleavage. Bikini top in hand, you left the room. Joel was nowhere in sight, but the front door was open– letting the afternoon sun spill into the cabin. 

You walked towards his room, the door was open, but he wasn’t there. And so, you hurriedly slipped inside, dangling your bikini top right between your fingers. You place it right by the headboard, stepping back to look at it. You nod, a smile creeping on your face as you exit the room.  

It would be funny, you imagine. Him coming to find that in his room, a silent acknowledgment that you knew. Getting the Joel Miller all flustered as he sees what you’ve left for him. 

After your little adventure, you grab your summer hat and walk outside towards the lake. You reach the end of the porch, sitting on it as you let your feet sink in the water.

About a few moments later, you decided to go back to the cabin to help yourself with some refreshments. You figured Joel was somewhere near the cabin, gathering more wood or whatnot. 

As you stepped inside, you heard muffled grunts. Your head perked up, your body slowing your steps as you approached the door to his room. 

Was he..? 

You pushed the door open, revealing Joel on the edge of the bed, his left hand stroking his cock as it leaks pre-cum. On his other hand, you can see the piece of clothing you left. The red gingham bikini top. His cock almost looks angry with the pinkish-red tip of it, and you can’t help but admire Joel’s frame. His face, contorted into a look of pure bliss. His chest, heaving laboredly with beads of sweat. His large hands, the other stroking his cock rabidly, the other clinging on to that bikini like some kind of lifeline. 

“How’d that get there, Mr. Miller?” 

Your words pry his eyes open. The grip over his cock tightening as he lets out a breathy chuckle, “How’d this-?” He holds up the piece of garment, “You really are somethin’, huh?” He stands up, tossing it aside as he backs you up against a wall. “Actin’ all innocent, like you weren’t just touching yourself and moaning my fuckin’ name.” He says the last bit in a whisper, his eyes locking with yours. “Think I don’t notice the way ‘ya look at me, angel?” He nudges the tip of his cock against your covered heat and you buck your hips up to meet it with friction. He hisses, his hands landing on your hips to make you stay in place, “You want this, baby?” He looks up at you with an earnest expression, his thumbs circling the plush of your hips as he waits for your response.

You nod, almost frantically, as you start to unbutton your garment. You’re impatient, crashing your lips on his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall under your thighs, pulling you up and carrying you. It’s an effortless task for him, picking you up like you’re all but a peach. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You tilt your head to the side, your right hand tangled with his hair, the other on his cheek as you deepen the kiss and your tongue meets his. You feel his hands grope your ass, his hips grinding his cock up your clothed heat. 

You let your garment fall off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. You pull away, resting your forehead on his as you try to catch your breath. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmurs, moving his head and latching his lips on your neck. The nickname feels so contradicting now, and though you’ve heard it so many times before, this time it just felt so… good. “So beautiful, and all for me.” He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of love bites as he sets you down on the bed. 

“Open up and show me.” Were his words as soon as you felt the soft bedsheets. You felt the rush of blood racing to your cheeks, painting you red. You squirm under his gaze, your knees touching as you look at him. 

“Now don’t get all shy on me, darlin’.” He kneels in front of you, both hands on the flesh of your thighs, urging them apart. He dips his head down, kissing your knees up to your thighs. You hesitate for a second before finally giving in, spreading your legs apart. He lets out a low whistle, fingers hooked on the sides of your bikini as he pulls it down. “She needs me,” He smirks, his fingers rubbing along your folds, “Look at that, all wet and ready for me, hm?” He looks up at you as he pushes a finger in. 

“J-Joel.” You strain.

“That ain’t my name, sweetheart.” 

“Daddy.” You sound it out, whimpering as he pushes another finger in. “‘S more like it.” He leans in, his tongue licking on your clit. He drags it out slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of properly tasting you. Two fingers from him were three from you, and right there and then you knew you were fucked.

His other hand reached up to your breasts, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it teasingly. You lay your back, arching against his mouth. Your hands reach out to his arm, holding on to it for dear life as he laps you up greedily. At the same time, he put his fingers to work, your walls clenching around his invading digits. 

“T-Think I’m gonna–” You squirm beneath him, hips bucking up to grind more of yourself against his mouth. He looks up at you, practically committing the sight to memory as he keeps the steady pace of his fingers and mouth. He encourages you, muffled grunts omitting from his mouth– causing vibrations to ripple through your cunt. This snaps something inside of you, and you finally let go. Your grip on his arm tightens, the heels of your feet digging into his back, a string of moans leaving your mouth as he slowly exits his fingers from your aching core.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, never letting your eye contact break as he brings it up to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking circles all over it. “Feel good, angel?” He asks softly, leaving kisses on your inner thigh down to your knees. You nod, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes widen in shock as he stood up, the tip of his cock leaking more of his pre-cum– still red with anger, with interest. It was twitching too, more so when he looked at the state of your gaping hole. 

“Think she can take me, sweetheart?” He asks with a rasp, leaning over you to rub the tip over your dripping cunt. You say nothing, your mind is too distracted by how good he feels just by rubbing the tip against you. “Figure that’s a yes, right, sweet girl?” He holds your chin, tipping it up to face him. 

There was something in your eyes, a tinge of desperation, perhaps. Whatever it was, it’s what caused Joel to snap his hips, pushing all of his length inside you. You hook one of your legs by his waist, your arms over his shoulders as you adjust to the girth of his cock. “Feel so f-full..” You mumble, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, “Doin’ so good f’me, angel.” He pulls his cock out til the tip is what’s left inside you before slamming it back in. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching so far up on his body that your tits press up against his chest. He groans, his hand snaking around your back for support. He keeps an unforgivable pace, the tip of his cock reaching all the spots that make you see stars. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging on his back as your cunt clamps down on his cock. “Drivin’ me crazy,” He pants against the side of your ear, “You take me so well, angel.” He praises, leaving open-mouthed kisses by your jaw. 

“Like y’were made for me.” He speeds up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with fervor. At this rate, you feel a knot tighten by the pit of your stomach, desperate for release. 

And just then, he pulls out. 

“Joel–” You start to whine, your cunt squeezing around nothing. You feel his hands by your waist, lifting you off the bed and flipping you over to your knees. Your mind had very little time to process what had happened before he slams his cock back into your needy cunt. “Shit- ah, d-daddy-” You slur on your words, lifting your ass up to meet his cock. “Mhm, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl.” He starts to move relentlessly, wanting you to break. 

“Look so pretty like this.” He moans lowly, fucking into you rapidly. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. That earns a groan from him, “Jus’ like that, angel.” He thrusts his cock, no– buries it in you, punctuating every word with the movement of his hips. 

His hands dig down on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and his hips start to stutter and go out of rhythm. Your hand continues down on your clit, combining the pleasure with his cock. He holds out, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock before he fills you with his spend.

“Come on, angel.” He coaxes you, and you swear you saw heaven flash before your eyes. You moan out his name, your head collapsing on the bed as your arms give out. “Daddy–! Fuck, fuck, fuck.. Fuck!” You feel your juices gush down to your thighs, your legs trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm.  

He leans down, latching his lips on your neck and biting down on the flesh, positively leaving a mark on it as he pushes one last thrust in you. “Fuck, look at you.” He pants, burying his cock further in, flooding your walls with thick, white ropes of cum. “Milkin’ it all out,” He squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling his cock out to reveal your stuffed pussy, a string of cum connecting you both. A gush of cum creeps its way out of your cunt, and you can feel his fingers push it back in you. 

You try to catch your breath, your mind completely fucked out as your body melts into the sheets. He lays down beside you, pulling you close til your head leans on his chest. “Such a good girl f’me, angel.” He kisses the top of your head gently, “Did so great, sweet girl.” He wraps his arms around you, his head leaning down on yours. 

Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? 

red gingham divider by @issysh3ll , yellow divider by @strangergraphics ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: this is my first ever work, so please feel free to correct me about my mistakes T w T, i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! i'm actually thinking of making a part 2 for this but i'm not so sure ab that, reblogs, notes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joeldjarin @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk

[wildwestdean]

transposition

summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made

pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)

word count: 6.3k+

warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”

“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch. 

“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-” 

“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation. 

“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you. 

It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together. 

“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients. 

“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”

“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”

He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back. 

With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t. 

You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension. 

“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands? 

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body? 

“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you. 

“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”

“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around. 

“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself. 

“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode. 

“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room. 

“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?” 

“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind. 

“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare. 

“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you. 

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on. 

Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.” 

“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat. 

Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now. 

“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling. 

“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily. 

Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time. 

“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.

Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”

“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?” 

“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be. 

“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”  

“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him. 

“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!” 

“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation. 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return. 

“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean. 

“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again. 

“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”

“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face. 

“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.” 

“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room. 

You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes. 

“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression. 

“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you. 

“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug. 

“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!” 

“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.” 

“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.” 

“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.” 

“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish. 

With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen. 

“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”

“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?” 

“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”

“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!” 

“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!” 

“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”

“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.” 

“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!” 

“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen. 

“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table. 

Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.” 

Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort. 

Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze. 

“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head. 

Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite. 

“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food. 

The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere. 

“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin. 

You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?” 

“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?” 

“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.

After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t. 

“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly. 

You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier. 

“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.

“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.” 

“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving. 

You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle. 

“You alright?” you asked tentatively. 

“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one. 

“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.” 

“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better. 

He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation. 

He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.” 

“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word. 

You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.

“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table. 

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration. 

“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”

“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.” 

“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return. 

You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.” 

Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”

“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation. 

“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.” 

You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk. 

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously. 

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.” 

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”

You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.

“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you. 

“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively. 

You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.” 

“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.” 

“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically. 

“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.” 

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.” 

“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.” 

“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.” 

“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off. 

“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.” 

“Promise?” you asked meekly. 

“I promise,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further. 

“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears. 

“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly. 

“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.

The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.

You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on. 

“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously. 

“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question. 

You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this. 

“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter. 

The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you. 

Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake. 

The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day. 

You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there. 

You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam. 

You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything. 

The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore. 

Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out. 

You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either. 

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs. 

“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat. 

Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.” 

“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?” 

“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.

“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?” 

“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”

You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave. 

“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you. 

“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards. 

“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?” 

“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.” 

Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.” 

“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”

“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words. 

“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward. 

“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response. 

“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.” 

“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.

“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.” 

You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name. 

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.” 

You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you? 

“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.” 

“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps. 

“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker. 

“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.

“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.  

“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently. 

“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly. 

It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated. 

“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.” 

“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation. 

“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?” 

“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her. 

“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly. 

“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.

It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.

“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?” 

“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around. 

“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!” 

Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room. 

“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief. 

“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar. 

You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.

“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.

“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.

“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room. 

“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by. 

“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car. 

The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him. 

If he ever decided to open the goddamn door. 

“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time. 

You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?” 

You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward. 

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly. 

“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.” 

He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.” 

“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you. 

“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.  

“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet. 

“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work. 

“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.” 

“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him. 

“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-” 

“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”

“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.

“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more. 

“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.” 

“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat. 

“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.” 

“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked. 

“We didn’t lie, we just-”

“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly. 

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?” 

“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.” 

“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?” 

“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.” 

“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess. 

You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?” 

He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?” 

“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.  

“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down. 

“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him. 

“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.  

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?” 

“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more. 

“You said-” 

“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”

“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin. 

“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”

You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low. 

“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.

As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks. 

When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips. 

You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.” 

“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”

tagging: @winharry

dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika