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thesharktanksdriver · 8 months ago

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Specs of Stardust (platonic)

I really can’t wait to get to determination! Y/n and the straw hats so instead I thought I’d post little interactions/headcanons of some of the stuff they’d do

I swear I’m working on the Roger pov it’s just this popped into my head and sometimes switching between things in writing helps with my burnout

Masterlist for the series here

Tagged: @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck @spqce-bun @coca-cola-fiend @Koifishpoond

Luffy

The best way to describe these two in a room is that Luffy does something stupid and y/n just goes with the flow following him

The rabid golden retriever and the chill black cat

The dumbass duo, rabid dumbass and chill dumbass

Once did the impossible and shared food with y/n because they gave him a dessert Sanji made (the rest of the crew thought they were mass hallucinating)

Y/n gives him cool rocks that they find, they’ve both now made it a goal to collect a rock from every place they go

Gives y/n piggyback rides 24/7

And no one else can give y/n piggyback rides cause that’s captains privilege apparently

Occasionally when going into battle he gives y/n his straw hat to keep safe

Has semi-adopted one of y/n’s crows named Aurelius which he aptly calls Steve. Aurelius does not like him nor being called Steve

Aurelius keeps pecking at him but Luffy thinks it’s showing affection

Both throw caution to the wind about their own personal safety but if the other is hurt they will pummel someone

When he accidentally ends up in the ocean y/n jumps in after to save him forgetting they’ll sink too

Y/n acts a distraction for Sanji so Luffy can raid the fridge at 3 am

When y/n sleeps in the male quarter (they do regular switches between the female and male sleeping quarters) he has y/n tell him stories to make him go to bed easier

Likes to make y/n laugh

Likes to pinch Luffy cause they think it’s funny how he’s rubber

When Luffy says something really stupid sometimes y/n likes to write it down in a journal exclusively called “Luffy quotes”

So far some of y/n favourites are “the colour orange is named after oranges”, “if I get reincarnated I wanna be a clam”, “I am rubber and you are fat, don't you dare touch my hat” and “if you hungry, eat”

Sometimes the two of them make weird animal calls to scare Ussop

Speaking of the two, unfortunately for the rest of the crew they now have to deal with Luffy’s pranks now getting worse because y/n actually helps him plan them now

Ussop still has nightmares of when he woke up covered in bird seed and was almost taken away by the flock

As does Sanji when he realizes he’s been betrayed by y/n who’s let Luffy raid the fridge once more

Sometimes y/n likes to ask him about his childhood, they find it so oddly funny that he’s the son of Dragon, grankid of Garp, became brother of Ace and was semi-adopted by shanks

They also like to hear about it cause they always worried Ace wouldn’t find good people

Luffy whines it’s unfair y/n doesn’t fully die in water like he would before being smacked on the head by either Nami or Sanji

When having to give history exposition y/n is the only one who can dumb it down so Luffy can understand and pay attention for over 2 seconds

Sometimes will proceed to forget y/n asleep on his back and jump into battle

Even when finding out y/n is immortal has still not figured out their connection with Ace or Roger

Both like to sit on the figure head of the ship and occasionally nap there

By doing this not have fell off several times only for Zoro to save them

Luffy just kinda somehow know how y/n is feeling and y/n similarly knows how Luffy is feeling

Instead of buying Luffy stuff y/n just shares whatever they get with him since they have relatively the same taste in nick knacks

Similarly Luffy kinda just shares his stuff with them in return

The Luffy and y/n stuff pile is ever growing

Luckily Nami has not yet found out about it

Ussop on the other hand has and is joining in on the stuff pile

As does chopper

No one can really distinguish who’s stuff was who’s anymore but they don’t care

They now have an entire storyline happening with different characters

Y/n has a new journal for this exclusively for lore

Both are always hungry, while Luffy is open about it y/n isn’t

Somehow though Luffy caught onto this and now demands for for the both of them

“Shishishishi tell me another one!” Your captain says excitedly rocking back and forth as you both sit on the merrys figurehead, smiling you nod thinking of what to tell him “have I told you about the time I met a samurai?”

You jolt awake with a small groan as you lift your head off of resting in the crook of Luffy’s neck, the sounds of battle now invading your ears. “Luffy did you have to get the marines attention when I was sleeping on your back?” At hearing this the boy pauses, his extended out rubber arm hitting a marine in the face sending the guy flying back “shishi sorry”. At that you can’t help but sigh, he most definitely wasn’t.

Sitting at the table you watch as Luffy lists off the entire menu to the poor waiter, the retail worker shaking in their boots as he seemingly finishes and their gaze turns to you. “Oh, I’m fine-“ before you can finish Luffy cuts you off with a blinding grin “they’ll have the same as me!” And then you see the waiter’s hope drain even more impossibly so from their eyes.

Zoro

Mihawks reluctant kids that ended up on his island and he accidentally adopted duo

Before knowing their immortal he thought that they were mihawks secret love child or something after baratie

Bribes y/n with sword lessons if they side with him against Sanji

Sometimes the two of them switch bandana’s

When he naps sometimes y/n joins him, when this happens he makes sure to take a protective hold of them just in case of turbulent waves

Other times when he naps he’ll wake up with an umbrella set up for him

Doesn’t know it’s y/n and Chopper who put flowers in his hair when he’s knocked out and assumes it’s Sanji which leads to a yelling match

Speaking of chopper, both he and y/n like to hang off of Zoro’s arms like monkey bars and zoro uses them as weights when he’s doing push ups

When he ends up lost y/n somehow has the miraculous uncanny ability to find him

But sometimes when he gets lost y/n ends up joining him for fun

Has kept y/n from unknowingly being mauled by wild animals because for some reason they either love or hate y/n

Likes to ask them about any swordsmen they’ve met on their journeys

The one who typically has to save Luffy and y/n when they end up in water

Y/n likes to joke that he and Sanji are an old divorced couple to others on the crew much to his chagrin

Zoro’s actually pretty observant of y/n due to their instinct to shrug off injuries

Y/n calls out this hypocrisy but it doesn’t change anything

He actually really ends up liking y/n’s flock when the murder of crows occasionally stop by

The one he really connects with though is one named Acantha

She likes to perch on his scabbards and seems to almost guard them when he’s not around

Y/n once fell down the stairs and he almost had a heart attack

After this he instinctively watches to make sure they don’t fall again

When y/n has nightmares and cries in their sleep he almost always ends up waking up

It keeps him up at night

The mornings after he subtly tries to keep an eye on them to see if their ok

Y/n about to fight a one off villain and being confused they ran off without them doing anything, Zoro behind them glaring with his swords out at said villain

Whenever y/n is on look out duty he typically volunteers to do it with them or take over for them

Sometimes game stares off into space he gets their attention by flicking their forehead

Has and continues to use y/n as an arm rest since chopper is too short in comparison

Has fell asleep while doing this but is always woken up by Sanji yelling at him

Will either carry y/n slung over his shoulder or tucked between his arm and side

Y/n constantly wonders how he talks with a sword in his mouth

Or how he came up with that idea in the first place

Sometimes when they end up islands y/n buys him sword themed things, like sword polish or even a small rack to display them

In return Zoro buys y/n journaling gear since he sees them sometimes writing in a small diary and also gets them things that he notices catches their eye

….100% bought y/n the journal of Uta that needs a password and when opened loudly plays a low quality version of Genesis

He regrets this decision when he’s woken up to it at 3 am

“Y/n where are we? Luffy said he’d meet us around this time in the centre of this town” the green haired swordsman says looking around at the people who were also in the same abandoned building as the two of you. They all looked weird, one was a big muscle dude, another looked like a ninja with pink hair, a samurai, a blond dude in a tracksuit and some weirdo with a forehead tattoo. “Zoro how do we always end in situations like this?” You ask.

“I’ll teach you more sword tricks if you agree with me next time Swirly brows gets in a fight with me” he says suddenly waking up from his nap as you rested tucked between his arm, for a moment there’s silence and then you nod making him give an almost vicious grin towards the kitchen of the merry.

“So wait, you thought I was mihawks kid?” You question with an eyebrows quirked up, zoro with a bit of embarrassment nods. “Well, I assumed so since he gave you that little blade of yours” he says pointing a finger to Mihawks gift currently in its scabbard “but he just gave me a sword? How does that make you think I’m his kid?”. He gives you an impressed stare, “Mihawk does not just gift anyone anything let alone a sword plus whatever else he gave you. Doesn’t help that he acted like your damn dad afterwards” and after hearing that you let out a small “oh”.

Sanji

The seafood duo, aka the 5 michelin star chef and the kid who once boiled and ate their own boots (it was not tasty but they did it)

Since Sanji was the first strawhat encountered who knew y/n previously (the others being Chopper, Brook and Jimbe) he Was the first one to know about y/n’s immortality due to his prior experience with them

So it’s safe to say that he takes that secret to heart especially when y/n says they aren’t quiet ready to reveal themself just yet

It still felt too soon and they wanted to be treated normal for a bit longer (their words not his)

So he respects that decision even if he knows Luffy and the others wouldn’t make it a big deal

If anything Luffy would probably think it’s cool and move on

But even if that’s his opinion he swears to keep that secret until their comfortable

And he does so with the upmost respect he can and even covers for y/n sometimes

Due to knowing y/n he’s also the one who worries for them the most, especially when realizing the stories they once told on that island have become more fractured in time

Even their memory of that place is much more hazy

Like a film put over a picture, changing its focus and making it blurry

So he does his best to remind y/n, adding in the details he remembers them now forgetting as they write down the stories

Bribes y/n like Zoro to help win arguments via making them any sweet or desert of their fancy

When y/n is aimlessly pacing around deck he has them help out in the kitchen quite a bit!

Typically he has them help with preparing small things but lets them help with bigger tasks once learning they have some prior kitchen experience

At a port he got y/n an apron that matched his and he had Nami embodier it with their name

Is going insane trying to figure out y/n’s preferences because they say their literally fine with anything

Has made them go through entire taste tests and still cannot figure anything out

He’s chainsmokes more than usual after yet another failed test when y/n says they don’t mind salted black liquorice

Cries and chain smokes when y/n tells him they once boiled and ate their own boots

Almost cried when they pick up on some of his French words

Calls y/n stuff like “petite étoile” and “petite lueur”

After Alabasta y/n joking calls him “Mr. Prince” from time to time

Whenever he makes stuff for Nami and Robin he also makes some for y/n

When Luffy complains about this he always says “women and children come first”

Y/n sometimes clings to his legs, he always chuckles and lets them do so unless it’s dangerous

The only one allowed to raid the kitchen for snacks other than Chopper is y/n

Both of them abuse this privilege but he can’t resist their combined puppy eyes

Once finding out through Luffy that y/n is more hungry than they say they are he now makes them bigger portions

He swears they have a similar stomach to Luffy but he can’t be mad at them

Not when they seem to starve themself rather than tell others their hungry

Due to this he now carries small snacks just in case

Wants to meet whoever “Thatch” is so they can trade recipes and have a cook off

Also to find out through him how he feeds over 1000 people cause he has 2000 stomachs due to the combined forces of Luffy and y/n

Was at first iffy about the crows until a bunch of the birds started eating the leftover scraps he couldn’t incorporate into dishes or was going bad

So he grows to like the feathered flock since they help in not wasting anything

His favourite is one named Blanche who’s an albino crow the murder adopted as their own after finding her abandoned

She reminds him of a dove and of how he too was abandoned by a previous family but found a new one

She also delivers letters back fourth from Zeff for him

He adds a little blue ribbon tied to her leg

When staying in the boys quarters y/n often times has Sanji help them in taking care of themself properly

Mostly cause y/n would just pass out on the floor or stay up till 6 pm if not

Brushes y/n’s hair if Nami or Robin doesn’t do it

Also loves to style it via y/n’s suggestion

let’s y/n borrow his clothes when seeing that Nami had to drag them to a clothing store to actually buy them something other than the clothes they wear everyday

Sanji will never admit it but sometimes he has nightmares of when they had died and on those nights silently checks to make sure their still there

Y/n will never admit to him how many times they’ve starved to death alone on their raft

Mostly for his own peace of mind and their own

Y/n likes to buy Sanji food themed stuff like magnets, dishes and keychains

Sanji meanwhile buys them candies and other odd things he’d think y/n would like, for example Hawaiian shirts and plushies

“Petite étoile! I made you something!” Sanji yelled across the deck, looking towards him you see a Soda float on a small platter. Luffy eyes it hungrily though Sanji notices and he swiftly knocks the young captain with his leg. You giggle out a “thanks Sanj” which makes the swirly browed preen in a mixture of pride and genuine happiness.

“And that’s when…..” pausing in your story you try to think back, the details of which now seemed to escape you. Sanji clears his throat, giving you a sad smile as he then adds in for you “that’s when the musician taught you piano” at that your memory jogs slightly and you smile “and ukulele”

Sitting at the table you eye the small labeled plates with different tastes and textures, all tasted good and even if it didn’t you’d still eat it. But despite that Sanji sits across from you with a defeated look on his face, cigarette sitting numbly in his mouth. “Sanji it’s on really, I’m fine with anything” at saying this his temper seems to flare ever so slightly, something that reminds you of Zeff “you have to have some preference!”. “Well I mean…I ate my boots before. Nothing can be worse than that” once more that seemed to be the wrong thing to say as the cigarette falls from his mouth as he mutters “you what?!?”

Nami

The orange blossom pair

Is one of the first to pick up on the fact y/n might be immortal due to Arlong one day talking about a human child on the sun pirates boat before one that had betrayed them

At the time Nami wrote it off though, more horrified at the fact y/n was a pirate

It brought up a lot of memories of her childhood she does not like to reminisce on

But before joining the crew and after she tends to stick nearby y/n as a big sister presence

Not hovering over their shoulder but just far enough away to watch and make sure their ok

Especially when she wasn’t initially sure if Luffy and Zoro

To be honest Nami always wanted to be a big sister, especially since she in a way wants to make up for everything Nojiko went through due to her

So she takes to caring for y/n the best she can

Especially when seeing that y/n does not to care of themself at all

She’s plain horrified at how they walk off a broken leg, haven’t had a bath in months that wasn’t in salt water, doesn’t care for their hair and leaves stuff stuck in it, along with essentially starving themself sometimes

Nami quickly makes it a goal to change that with the efforts of Sanji

She gives y/n “discounts” when she charges the crew for stuff

The discount is actually free because she’d feel too guilty in charging a child

Along with the fact that y/n spends the pocket money she gives them on gifts for everyone but themself

Speaking of which she charges said person who got a gift with an import fee because that money the gift was purchased with was technically Nami’s

The only one who does not object to this fee is Sanji

Another fee she makes is a y/n hug fee, since as y/n’s appointed big sister she thinks y/n should be compensated for being hugged by a bunch of stinky boys

Teaches y/n about Tangerines and oranges, specifically how to grow them!

Likes to peel oranges for y/n and share them together as a snack as they ramble on about a place they’ve been

In the small garden for her fruits she lets y/n plant some hibiscus plants that y/n cryptically says reminds them of a friend they miss

Is confused as fuck how y/n seems to know almost all the islands they end up on

After finding out y/n is immortal she often asks about past navigators they’ve met and some of the most interesting places they’ve been to

Has to drag y/n to take them shopping because they insist their fine with one pair of clothes

She argues otherwise and can’t help but bristle once finding out their immortal that for years they’ve worn the same thing

It reminds her too much of her childhood, of Bellemere scraping together what she could even when the villagers gave her discounts for clothes

Buys them an entire wardrobe and complains when they borrow the other crews clothes

In reality she doesn’t mind and finds it cute

Has to fashion police y/n because they have no sense of shame and will wear the most god awful combinations of clothes

When y/n sleeps in the girls quarters Nami has their bed set up to be in the middle between her and Robin

That way if a night attack happens y/n is the most safe

And that way Nami can wake them up when their having a nightmare

Carries y/n like throwing a moneybag over her shoulder, it’s partially due to reflex and cause when she has to do this it’s typically in a shit situation

Y/n sometimes sees a small pink spark over Nami’s shoulder when she gets really excited

They haven’t told her yet though

Y/n likes to show Nami the stuff they’ve collected over the years

Especially their jewelry gifted to them

Nami from the moment of meeting the flock saw money signs (lol)

The crows have now been ordered to steal stuff and they bring it to her to examine and evaluate

They also heckle the poor news birds into giving discounts or plain for free

Besides their monetary gain she genuinely likes their presence quite a bit

They not only valiantly guard her tangerines from other less behaved animals but also help her in charting islands

Her favourite is one named Axel, he’s on the older side with a scar across his eye

He not only has an eye for valuable things but also acts as a guard for both the young fledglings and Nami

Y/n likes buying Nami jewelry and navigation gear along with sharing their writing supplies with her

Nami meanwhile buys y/n clothes and some jewelry for them

Sitting beneath the tangerine tree you watch as the hibiscus you planted for Rouge sway lightly In the breeze, your gaze lingers there before Nami lightly touches your shoulder making you jolt. “Here” she offers you a peeled tangerine with a smile, you take it popping the sweat fruit into your mouth. “How much will I owe you?” You ask enjoying the sweet taste, at that she laughs “I need a tester to make sure my product is good. Just consider it free since you’re doing me a favour”. Smiling you nod, not commenting how Sanji would be the better pick for this “job”.

“I still don’t get how you’d gone so long with no other pairs of clothes” Nami mutters whilst holding up two pairs of shirts your size “which do you like? Or do you want both?”. Looking at the clothes you point to the one held up by her left hand, the Hawaiian shirt with a funky pattern. “I knew you’d pick this one” her eyes are layered in fondness even if she gives a small sigh “I’m a creature of habit….besides Mihawk gave me those pyjamas so technically I now have more than one pair”

Waking up to from nightmare your typically used to the sight of the night sky but you awake with Nami’s worried face. Shakily you sit up, “h-hey I’m ok” it’s more said for her sake rather than your own. Despite your words Nami pulls you close, silently letting you clutch onto her like a lifeline as the scent of oranges and tangerines linger as does that small spark of pink just above her shoulder.

Ussop

The story teller duo! Aka the liar and the immortal

Honestly Ussop and y/n are a little dynamic duo of scaredy cat and unfazed who’s dragging the other into a haunted house

Except the haunted house in this case is literally every dangerous situation known to man

Poor Ussop has got it cut out for him more than usual when y/n is around

Something he notices fairly quickly

But he’s too committed in looking cool in front of them and cause he sure as hell isn’t leaving them alone for more than 15 minutes cause they’ll for sure somehow traumatize someone

Another thing he picked up on lol

There’s a Recurring joke with him and y/n when y/n remembers something important at the last minute and he yells that they have the memory of a goldfish

Though y/n’s title is the straw hats storyteller, they really like listening to Ussop’s stories

Though they knows his is fake they enjoy it better that way

Because that means there’s always a happy ending

Something that not all of their stories have

Similarly, though he sometimes gets afraid when they tell their stories, Ussop really likes listening to theirs as well

Mostly for the fact that though some of them are sad their genuinely heart touching most of the time

Y/n tells their tales in a way that captivates just about everyone around them

Something Ussop really admires

Both know and acknowledge each others skills

And sometimes the two of them will collaborate together in figuring out how to make their adventures more engaging when written down

Y/n and Ussop sometimes do commentary when watching Sanji and Zoro fight

Ussop during these commentary of the fighting matches writes down his favourite insults that he and y/n then giggle about later on

Their favourite so far is when Sanji called Zoro Durian in both appearance and smell

Ussop is the one to help y/n in their “disguises”

Aka supplying the fake moustaches

In similar fashion y/n helped make him the SogeKing mask before Water 7

Ussop has y/n test out his inventions and has them teach him new hobbies

To keep from the ever looming fear away Ussop tries to keep himself busy

Something y/n is a pro at and helps him pick up some of the hobbies they’ve learned over the years

On Sundays y/n teaches him and Robin how to do Pottery

Which helps out Sanji because of the amount of broken plates due to Luffy is uncountable

Calls y/n the first mate of the Ussop pirates

He will never admit it but when he misses Ninjin, Tamanegi and Piiman he ends up lingering near y/n cause they sometimes remind him of his old “crew”

Speaking of which y/n is the only one who he talks to about how much he sometimes misses syrup village

Specifically Kaya

Along with this he also confides to them about how he wonders if his dad would be proud of him or disappointed

It doesn’t happen often but occasionally it does really weight on him

But he trusts y/n’s judgment because they’ve met Yassop, and in the fact that they understand what it’s like to miss people

When this happens y/n also confides in Ussop about the people they miss too

Even people they don’t remember

It’s actually pretty sweet especially since on those nights the two of them just talk about how they genuinely feel

Something that is kinda rare for the two

To enhance each other’s stories the two now have started doing puppet shows!

Something they have Nami and Chopper help with in making the puppets

Ussop even made a mini stage out of popsicle sticks

Y/n uses Roger’s coat as the curtain

Ussop Is terrified of the crows especially after that time y/n and Luffy covered him in birdseed and was almost flown away by the murder

Along with superstitions he’s heard about them being bad luck

But the crows love him

Like they really love him, almost as much as chopper

It’s god damn comical watching him run away in terror meanwhile these little feathered fiends are chasing after him with puppy eyes asking for love

The only crows he likes are the baby ones

The little fledglings who (unfortunately for him) find perching on his nose to be the most optimal of places

But their cute as hell so he lets it slide

For now

This then perpetuates the cycle of them growing older and him being terrified of them but them loving him

Y/n finds it funny as hell

But he eventually comes around to them when y/n has them exchange letters between him and Kaya

As well as sending gifts and flowers back to syrup without the items getting lost or rotting

sometimes y/n and Ussop swap headscarves

Y/n likes to buy Ussop random stuff for him to use in inventions

Ussop likes to buy y/n crafts that they can do together (as well as with Chopper)

“And that’s how I, captain Ussop! Defeated the unstoppable man after 3 days of fighting with my 3000 men!” At hearing that you nod enthusiastically as Chopper chimes in about how cool that was. You smile, thinking back to those 3 whole days Roger and fought Whitebeard before recruiting Oden temporarily to the crew. “What did you do afterwards?” You ask making the long nosed sniper perk up, he thinks for a moment before he continues his “tale”.

“Uhhhh Ussop” you say watching as the sniper who currently tinkered away at some new contraption break from his concentration. “Oh hey! Whats up?” It comes out casually as he turns to look at you as you give him an almost apologetic look which makes his brows furrow. Wordlessly you point to the nearby open port window. One of your crows sits there, tilting its head at him “oh no-“ before he can get another word out it lets out a squawk and other feathered little devils start flying in through the window.

“Your dad is more proud of you than I think you know” you say this with utter confidence and it makes Ussop stumble for a moment. “Really?” He asks this in a quiet tone, almost unsure before you nod and smile “it’s all he talked about when I was on the red force. So you best believe it”

Chopper

Cherry blossom duo!

Was the second member of the crew to know about y/n’s immortality due to recognizing the picture of them with Hiriluk

Something that the little reindeer kept tucked away in a small slit in his hat Kureha added to it

So it’s safe to say that he’s ecstatic, confused and freaking out

Though luckily Sanji and y/n were able to talk with him

And to be honest Chopper gets why their scared to tell the others

He’d be scared in their situation! So he keeps the secret as best he can!

Though there were definitely a few occasions he nearly slipped up lol

As the two youngest members on board both Chopper and y/n band together quite a bit

Partially because of the fact that in mental age their close and because their both just natural sweethearts

Chopper finds it funny that despite being the oldest y/n is also one of the youngest

Both are the cutest mf’s out there that Nami 100% uses to guilt others into getting discounts

Y/n and him unfortunately for her also use the puppy eyes on her to get her to peel their tangerines

Chopper thinks of y/n as a big sibling and very much heavily admires them

Y/n similarly thinks of Chopper as a little brother and admires his medical knowledge despite his age

Both have made each other bff bracelets with little sakura charms

Sometimes when chopper gets sad about Hiriluk y/n tells chopper about their experiences with him

And that he would be proud of chopper

That Kureha is proud

And that their proud of the person Hiriluk took as his own because y/n knows chopper will become the best doctor ever

Every time this happens Chopper sobs

Similarly in the moments when y/n is lost (mostly since they don’t like being overly emotional about their feelings or trauma) Chopper likes to become kinda a therapy animal and let y/n pet his fur to calm them down

Along with that chopper also tries to have them open up about how their feeling

Y/n thinks choppers blue nose looks like a blueberry so they sometimes call him that

Chopper gets super “angry” about it (not really, the only times he’s angry at y/n is when they shrug off an injury)

Speaking of which, he gets really worried for y/n and their careless tendencies

He knows their immortal but he wishes they’d care for themself to at least show him their injuries even if their small

It reminds him of Hiriluk since he had also written off his disease and pain as nothing

The parallels between the two of them really make Chopper worried about losing someone again

Like he knows y/n would come back but having to watch someone you love die is still really traumatic

And the amount of times he’s almost had a heart attack from y/n narrowly dodging death isn’t healthy

Now is it healthy for the others either lol

When in his more deer-like form he lets y/n sit on his back! He bashfully preens in pride when they call him their loyal steed

Let’s y/n decorate his horns with little do-dads and charms

His favourite is the little sakura themed ones they bought at a spring island for him

They have done the two kids on a trench coat routine before and it’s somehow worked

The funny thing is that y/n was the legs and chopper was the upper half

Both make inside jokes about the rest of the crew

Both also occasionally goad Sanji and Zoro into fights

They watch with Luffy while eating popcorn

Talks with the flock all the time! He gossips with them and they all adore him so much

He doesn’t have a favourite and loves all of them

Especially since they all try and bring him herbs or steal him medical supplies from islands the crew dock on

The crows love to dote on him, even calling him one of their flock just like the others on the crew

It makes him happy since he gets a bit of animal companionship that he never got and the fact that the flock accepts anyone no matter their looks

He’s scared to tell the birds about how his birth family kicked him out since he knows they’ll try to get revenge

Y/n likes that through chopper that they can now understand their crows

Something in which makes the crows absolutely ecstatic about and Chopper has to regal their constant pleas for attention and to let y/n know that their adored

He tends to their little injuries and puts little bandaids on their wounds

They like to perch on his antlers and he gets supper bashful when they call him their favourite crew member beside y/n

Chopper finds it funny they call y/n their god?

It’s weird but he just assumes that cause the crows explained to him how several generations back y/n had nursed to health their injured ancestors

While y/n stays in the men’s quarter Chopper and y/n set up a little sleepover tent

Both typically fall asleep in the tent and Sanji or Zoro have to put them in their proper beds rather than sleeping on the floor

While sleepy y/n sometimes thinks chopper is a stuffed animal

Both cling to one another when tired (it’s adorable)

Y/n likes to buy Chopper Sakura themed things or medicinal herbs and books that they’d think he’d like

Chopper on the other hands buys y/n things they can do together or with the crew like puzzles or little crafts

“Ahhh!!! What happened to your arm?!?!” The young reindeer doctor practically screams as his widened eyes look at your bloody and bruised arm that’s also bent the wrong way. The rest of the crew whom you’d been trying to hide it from look to you, whoops. “Uhhhh….it was an accident?” You say this and before you can blink your being dragged to choppers medical bay, darn, you’d sneak past them next time

Sitting down on the flooring of the merry you thread your fingers through choppers soft fur. Your breathing still heavy and shaky as your mind comes down from focusing on bad memories. It takes a few minutes sitting there focusing on the sensation of his fur but eventually you find yourself of sound mind again. Tears staining your cheeks as you mumble a thanks to the doctor who nods. “A doctor has to look out for his patients in health and mind” is what he says making you smile ever so slightly.

“Hey chopper what did Rosemary tell you?” You asked looking quizzically at the Crow perched on his antlers, he looks up to bird listening as she squawks again. “She said that big crow, big lizards and Yama missed you? Who’s that?” He translates then giving you a curious look, you think for a moment then coming up with an answer “oh…she means king and the others”. He nods at the answer before then asking “who’s king? Wait! Do you know royalty?!?”

Robin

History duo, ones is a literal archeologist and the other is the ancient ass artifact

After chopper she’s the third person to know of y/n’s immortality due to watching them die with crocodile

While working with crocodile she didn’t talk to y/n directly too much but did try and look out for them in the shadows

She’s also been praying that y/n wouldn’t end up in Alabasta nor that crocodile would find them again lol

But that didn’t exactly go as planned

Once joining the crew y/n is one of the few to trust Robin partially due to their prior knowledge of her and experience with her

Both feel extreme sympathy for one another, especially once realizing they were both children hunted down by the government

Robin like with Chopper uses her abilities to tickle y/n

Robin cannot count the amount of times her ability has saved y/n without them knowing

Before Brook joined y/n would ask Robin to use her power to make arms and lift y/n up to see stuff lol

Sometimes with the sprouted arms y/n likes to play rock paper scissors with them which makes Robin laugh

Y/n eventually has Robin help in writing in their journal to remember things since they trust her perspective more than their own

Because these two both know Poneglyph’s the two gossip via notes to one another in the language

Robin when reading history books and finds something about y/n shows it to them

It’s now an inside joke between the two of them

They also make it an activity to skim through accounts of things and try to find y/n

What sad though is that in some accounts where it’s clearly y/n mentioned y/n can’t actually remember it

And for awhile y/n just gets kinda quiet and excuses themself

She does not mentioned their reddened eyes when she sees them again

But just offers them a hug

In a certain way, Robin kinda projects what she wish she had as a kid into y/n as a form of self healing

Especially after Enies lobby

She wants to be there for them

Care for them in a way she wished others had cared for her

And it’s with this that Robin becomes a mother figure to y/n

She’d tender and caring to y/n in a way that just kinda makes them instinctively cling to her presence

Her warm hugs and floral scent remind y/n distantly of their mom (or they think it does)

They know Robin isn’t her (no one can be) but Robin’s care and general warmth towards them just makes y/n really happy

Hugs galore

As well as Robin helping Nami take care of y/n since they have no self care at all

Y/n constantly steals Robin’s cowboy hat (when she had it )

Like in pre-timeskip one piece Robin calls y/n by their title of “storyteller” but also refers to them by nicknames as well

Robin loves the crows so much, she has each of them memorized by name

As well as their preferences

Her favourite though is one named Hesta, she’s a quiet one of the flock and likes watch Robin read

May or may not use her devil fruit to pet all the crows

Ussop may have freaked out when seeing the entire murder on the ship with Robin’s hands sprouted from the deck everywhere

When she has mini dates with Franky y/n dressed up as a server with a fake moustache

They also have a fake French accent because they took inspiration from Sanji

Both her and Franky have to hold back laughing cause y/n gets really into it

Y/n likes buying Robin history stuff and letting her borrow their journals to read

Robin meanwhile likes to buy y/n things she sees interested them while on an adventure

(She may or may not have stolen a few things whoops)

“Hey Robin can you help me-“ before you can finish what you’re saying the historian finds herself at your side, already helping in tying your shoelaces. She smiles, “for all the skills you’d picked up over the years I’m surprised you hadn’t learned to tie them yet” it comes out as a giggle with makes you smile bashfully “I know how tie sailor knots and stuff but I don’t think they work for boots”

“Y/n, do you want to help me write some the poneglyph’s? I want to look them over later and put what we have in order” Robin asks making you pause from tracing the forgotten language with your hands. You nod, then pulling out your journal and opening up a new page. “Sounds good to me. Should I include me and Roger’s messages?” At hearing that she nods, a curious smile on her face. “Of course.”

“What happened to you was never right, you deserved better than what the world gave you” hearing this makes her go still as the still sleeping Nami tosses and turns in her sleep. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you either. Neither of us did” when she says this you see tears glisten in moonlight as does she with your starry eyes.

Franky

Suuuuuperrrrrr Star duo!

Like a few others of the straw hats he actually met y/n in his childhood

Specifically because of the Roger pirates when they had stopped in water 7 with Oden

So it’s safe to say after everything in water 7 and Enies lobby he definitely knows y/n is immortal

Though after Franky beat up Ussop y/n kinda takes a little while to warm up to him again at

But Y/n comes around quick on Franky when seeing him help try and save Robin

And after he joins the crew y/n becomes his obligatory little helper!

Since y/n likes to be constantly doing stuff Franky has them help him do repairs on the ship and check for anything that needs to be fixed

He says he can’t fit in a lot of the smaller crevices (which he technically can’t) but normally he’d just use some invention of his

But y/n doesn’t need to know that, not when they get excited in helping

Franky 100% teaches y/n to do poses with him

Nami is half tempted to strangle him for this when y/n did the “suupppeerr” pose after a battle

Unfortunately for her dumbass number 2 (aka Luffy) joins in and then Ussop as well

Y/n in the morning likes to help style Franky’s hair, he wonder’s who Vivi is and why his hair colour reminds them of her

Y/n is also the reason why Franky’s hair is now styled occasionally like sea creatures

His favourite is when they style it as a shark or whale

He shivers each time he looks at y/n’s “ship”

Especially when they say that she’s a fine sea-craft (she not)

He just nods along

Back when he was a kid he was also equally appalled back then about it and had offered to make it better

But just like back then y/n refuse

And somehow that dinky thing always seems to end back up at the ship even when in a storm it ends up lost at sea

Y/n sits on his arm all the time, especially when he is in a muscle man pose

They think it’s funny

He thinks it’s funny when steal his sunglasses

The two of them have single-handedly increased the amount of Hawaiian shirts owned by the straw hats by about 70%

Sometimes when he misses the Franky family he talks to y/n about how they deal with leaving people they love

And y/n always talk about how they kinda deal with it

But it’s always hard

They miss a lot of people

Some of which they don’t remember but know they instinctively miss

It definitely helps him

But it also highlights to Franky just how lonely they are

Because he joined later on he hasn’t seen or heard y/n talk about some of their experiences

He’s maybe heard some from iceberg or the other straw hats but they were always vague

It’s sad to him, especially since their short friendship with him had honestly made him feel less alone in the harder segments of his life

But knowing just how many people they had said goodbye to and would say goodbye to, the years afloat on that thing they call a ship by themself

Yeah, it really weighs on him

Because he gets it

Y/n is the only one for sure who knows that Robin and Franky eventually get together (frobin for real y’all)

They don’t tell anyone cause they just kinda assumed everyone already knew and forgot it was a secret lol

Despite this though, they accidentally cover for Robin and Franky when they go out on small dates

Y/n is somehow Franky’s ultimate wingman (wingperson?)

They suggest to him things they know Robin like or would like

The two of them like to paint a pair of stars on each of Franky’s inventions

A blue 5 pointed on for Franky and a smaller 4 pointed gold one for y/n

Y/n Is the only one on the crew besides Luffy to use the Franky fridge to store stuff

Specifically the snacks the other crew members give them through the day

Franky ends up building some birdhouses on the ship for crows who stay the night along with prosthetic limbs for birds who lost legs or even their wings

He doesn’t have a particular bird he prefers over the rest

He thinks all of them are SUUPPEERRRR

They seem to like his golden chain and shiny metal nose

Much to his amusement

Sometimes a chosen bird will be allowed to wear his sunglasses and it becomes the super bird of the day

This bird for that day gets to hang around on his head and gets a invention made for them

Y/n likes to buy Franky cool gadgets they find along with anything that has blue stars

Franky doesn’t buy y/n stuff but instead makes them things, typically little do-dads or even some puzzles to keep them preoccupied

“Hey Franky, do you need some help there?” You asked watching the blue haired shipwright peel himself away from repairing the mast of the ship. He grins, “Surre thing little helper!” He then tosses you a hammer that you luckily catch.

“What do you suggest I get Robin? I’m still debating between these two” the cyborg man questions as he holds up two different bouquets of fresh flowers. You peer between the two, examining them. “Robin would probably like the second one. Those flowers have meanings of “love” “companionship” and “appreciation” which would be the best choice. She’d like the effort behind them” you say before correcting your fake moustache and dusting off any dirt of your fake waiter uniform you stole from Sanji’s days at the baratie. “Should I have Hesta fly in and deliver them?” He adds making you respond “of course!”

Two cans of Cola clink together as you and Franky sit watching the horizon. “I can only imagine Oden’s face seeing that you’re now a pirate after saying you’d never be one, oh and Tom’s” you giggle as Franky nods “do you think they’d be happy?”. For a moment you ponder “I can’t say for sure….but I think so long as your happy they’d be”

Brook

Dead duo (lol) cause they’ve both died and come back to life (though one has done this significantly more than the other)

By the time he joins y/n being a immortal ain’t a secret anymore

Even if it was his emotional breakdown when seeing them again asking if he’s finally gone fully insane before hugging them would probably proof enough that their immortal

But anyway!!

For very obvious reasons Brook for a long while after reuniting is kinda stuck at y/n’s side

Partially because he’s still unsure if this is real and afraid he’ll wake up alone again

On that ship where only the damned souls of the sea like himself stay

Y/n seems to know this though and happily allows him to stay at their side as they hold onto his coat since he’s too tall for them to comfortably hold his hand

The annual amount of death and skeleton jokes have gone up exponentially because of the two of them alone

Both Brook and y/n cope via jokes and each other (as sad as that is)

The crew can’t help but deadpan at the amount of time the two have watched something horrific or head about it and said “same” or pointed to a skeleton and said “look it’s us!”

Brook doesn’t ask his pervert questions or jokes in front of y/n he’s too mortified to do so when he basically considered them his family

He once accidentally did and y/n asked what that meant and he wanted to curl up and die (again)

Y/n brings him milk and stuff with calcium saying he needs to build up bone density

He has yet to tell them he can’t drink it but he appreciates the gesture and gives it to Sanji instead so he can use it for recipes

Brook is the only person y/n talks to about the ways in which they’ve died

Mostly because he’s the only other person who can understand what its like

And because hearing vindication that what had happened to them was wrong kinda helps them process stuff

Because they should not have died as many as they’ve had let alone in such gruesome ways

Hearing it from Brook, someone who’d also faced the horrors of death and immortality really opens their eyes

Whenever Brook plays music y/n instinctively joins him in song

It’s just second nature to y/n at this point

Both are different versions of insane from immortality. While’s brooks is more noticeable for y/n’s it’s more subtle

Y/n likes to show Brook all the instruments and songs they learned after his death

Especially their ukulele skills much to his amusement

Neither can play Binks booze together without sobbing midway

Nor can Brook handle their stories of Laboon still waiting at reverse mountain

Nor can y/n handle hearing how Brook would see visions of them and the crew in his years of isolation

The rest of the straw hats can’t handle just how depressing that all is lol

He accidentally found y/n, Chopper and Luffy in their game and now has made a soundtrack for it

When y/n stays in the men’s quarter Brook sometimes has to check their still alive because of his fear they’ll die again

Y/n has played the xylophone on Brook’s ribcage much to Nami’s horror

Both of them pull the “as the oldest people on board” card

The two of them also call each other senior citizens and try and get discounts at places via Nami’s orders

Both always get kicked out

Y/n somehow learned the word “boner” from someone and asked Brook what that meant because he was made of bones

He wanted to die a second time 💀

He was mortified after that especially when y/n then taught that word to Luffy and chopper who joined in on asking him what it meant

Robin had to help him escape the questioning

When y/n can’t see anything they like to climb Brook to get a better view

Y/n also sometimes hides in his ribcage

The two of them share an atrocious fashion sense

The only difference is that Robin and Nami help in making sure y/n doesn’t end up in a floral shirt with polka dot shorts and sandals with socks

Brook is extremely proud of y/n’s skills that they picked up from him and his crew

The crows keep bringing Brook bones because they assume all skeletons they find somehow are parts of Brook

Y/n taught them to play the xylophone on Brook

The dead musician’s favourite crow is one named “crazy Pete” because he just picks shit up and starts whacking against the nearest surface

This making him the best xylophone player of the crows as well as the best drummer

The flock also uses his ribcage as a perch as well as his Afro in which they have built a nest in that he didn’t know about until baby birds hatched

He got to name the newborns and named some of them after his old crew

Y/n likes to buy Brook skeleton things (like those plastic Halloween skeletons lol) and music sheets for him to write new music

Brook gets y/n a bunch of weird mystical shit that y/n always ends up loving

“Yohohohoho! Are you up for a duet?” The old skeleton asks as he holds up his violin, you look up from the book you were reading a smile already stretching across your face. “Do you have to ask?” You reply back as you get up and get into position, if a skeleton could smile he would.

“Yo brook!” You yell already snickering under your voice “do you think we ought to buy some trombone’s? Or maybe some Xylobone’s?”. At that he lets out his signature laugh, “maybe, but they’d cost a Skelaton! Get it? Cause we’ve both died!” For a moment there’s a pause of silence between you both before the two of you burst out into laughter. Nami grumbles under her breath about you both being “numbskulls” before realizing her mistake, the two of you laugh even harder.

In the middle of the night you and Brook sit in the crows nest, the humming the Bink’s booze filling the silence beneath the stars. Because for now that’s enough.

Jinbe

Fisher duo! Would’ve gone with sun duo because of the sun pirates but that duo name probably fits y/n and ace more

By the time Jinbe joins everyone on the crew knows so he doesn’t need to keep the secret

Something that makes him hella realized about since he knows he’d have to jump through hoops somehow trying to explain why y/n knew him prior

Is always worried for y/n especially when realizing they already have a very small impulse control that melts away when Luffy is near

Like he is getting grey hairs as Robin and Nami emphatically pat his shoulder

Y/n loves to laze about on Jinbe, they’ll just randomly go up to him raise their arms up to be picked up and then just fall asleep or stay there

Y/n likes how warm he is along with how he’ll carry them around. Plus his more squishy and smooth textured skin on account of being a fishman is a texture that they like

Jinbe has accepted his role as a resting place for y/n

Something that now also extends to Luffy, chopper and sometimes Zoro as well

When not doing his duties on the ship he likes to listen to y/n’s recounts of things

He finds it pretty soothing as well as informative

If no one else is up to listen to y/n word vomit then Jinbe always has an ear open

His favourites are ones are those including Roger

He’d never known him, just knew about bits and pieces from Whitebeard so he’s especially interested in learning about him from someone else

Y/n sometimes like to ask him about fishman culture along with facts about mermaids as well!

Especially stuff about Joyboy

Something which makes Jinbe light up in pride

Head pats galore from this fishman once he finds out that y/n melts at that type of affection

Is the first to not question how y/n has befriended so many war criminals

Though his is curious how the hell Doflamingo ended up on that list

Speaking of which when y/n gets really scared or anxious he is quick to pick up on it

Just immediately picks up y/n leaves the situation while Luffy goes to beat up what caused the problem lol

Y/n when seeing him get odd looks gives people odd looks back

Especially when people ask where their parents were and they point to Jinbe as if it were the most obvious answer in the world

Y/n once has bitten someone who was being racist

While Jinbe was proud he was not happy with the fact they resorted to Luffy type behaviour

Definitely considers Jinbe a father figure

Something he holds in high regard especially when hearing how they think so highly about Roger

Due to Jinbe being a whale shark fishman y/n bought themself and him matching whale shark plushies

He got the smaller one while y/n got the mama

Jinbe may or may not have secretly cried about this

Because Jinbe is serious most of the time y/n has made it a sport in trying to surprise him

Like suddenly jumping from the crows nest into his arms or randomly appearing out of nowhere for hugs

Even if he’s upset with their recklessness he always ends up smiling

Much like the others he ends up as a resting spot for the crows, specifically the young ones just learning to fly

They always end up tucked into his kimono somehow but he doesn’t end up minding it much

Not when the combined forces of the baby birds and y/n give him puppy eyes

His all time favourite crow though is one named Pearl, she’s just a little sweetheart that loves to sit on his hands to be pet

To be honest he finds them all rather intriguing especially since crows typically aren’t this intelligent

Like sure typically their intelligent birds but these ones seem even moreso

it seems somehow they have increased perception?

He’s not sure as to why but leaves it as a “y/n thing”

Something that has become a trend in his will for questioning things

Don’t understand it? Probably a y/n thing so move on and accept it

Nami has been following in this mindset for awhile now

Y/n steals his robes despite them being too big

He purposely leaves them out when realizing they like to do this

Jinbe is the only one to know about y/n’s time as a slave and is the only one to know why they sometimes flinch when people touch their back

He’s also the only way who’s able to understand and comfort them when they silently stream out at the sea

At ports y/n likes to go shopping with Jinbe and though he says they don’t need to buy him anything they buy him sea themed stuff to remind him of fishman island

In similar fashion despite y/n saying that he doesn’t need to buy them anything he buys them charms for their bracelets and necklaces that represent a place they’ve been so they can keep track

“So Roger really could stand toe to toe with Whitebeard?” Jinbe asks as you nod with a smile “yeah, Roger despite having no devil fruit was extraordinarily strong and had extraordinary Haki. Plus Roger was Roger”. At hearing this explanation Jinbe nods but then inquires “what do you mean by that last part?” Which makes you lightly giggle before explaining “Roger is the only person besides maybe Luffy who would sneak onto a marine base, fist fight Garp the fist, raid the kitchen and then proceed to escape back to the Oro with the stolen food, treasure and highly classified government field he thought looked cool”

“Jinbe can I go up” you ask with your hands already reaching up to him and in position to be lifted. The fishman smiles, for an immortal you really were a kid still. He smiles. “Alright, do you also want to hear about fishman island again?” It’s not even really a question when he knows your answer but he asks either way and sees you nod. Pearl who’s perched on his shoulder makes room and finds a place between you and him.

It’s late in the night when he finds you sitting on the railing of the ship, silently looking out to sea just as you did all those years ago. He leans against the railing beside you, remembering not to touch your back at this time. “You got reminded of it again?” He asks on which he receives a full nod from you, “it was in the market, there were some propaganda posters about escaped slaves. I checked to see if I was on there, I wasn’t luckily, but it still left me feeling all flighty”. He frowns at that but nods. “Do you need me to stay with you for now?” You respond quickly without thought “yes….it burns Jinbe, my back burns again but I know the brands not there”

#determination!#platonic #one piece #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #nami x reader #robin x reader #chopper x reader #Franky x reader #I added some Frobin in there to hehehehe #brook x reader #jinbe x reader #ussop x reader

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kedsandtubesocks · 2 years ago

Text

all of this (& heaven too) - hades!Gojo

He is not what you pictured. You had a painted image in your head of a terrifying immortal, ancient and dreary, who ruled over the dead. Instead you discover the king of the underworld is young, all brilliant wide smiles, and more importantly - dangerously handsome.

You are a goddess of spring torn between two fates, that is until you meet a strange man leaning against a tree…

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

tags & warnings: 18+ only mdni, loose interpretation and altering of the hades & persephone myth, complicated/strained parental relationship (could be read as controlling/manipulative), mentions of kidnapping, brief physical assault, clingy + lovesick Gojo, slight wound licking and finger sucking, allusion to fem!oral receiving, Gojo being Gojo and offering gruesome violence as a form of love… if there is anything I missed pls let me know!!

wc: 14k

a/n: title is from the florence + the machine song of the same name. I already hate myself for wanting to write a companion piece to this from gojo’s pov… okay that’s all please enjoy, thank you for reading! Also biggest thank you to @stellamancer & @willowser who have been my best comrades in Gojo hell

When you were just a young little sapling your mother once asked you what your favorite thing about this world was.

“The great big sky!” You had told her brightly.

“The sky?” Your mother asked, amused. “Not any of the flowers? The rivers? Or the fields, my little sprout?”

“Nope!” You were adamant.

“Then why?” Your mother grinned and so you told her.

“Because it’s so big! Like there’s so much room to grow!”

Then you added. “And it’s so blue, like the sea!”

Your mother had laughed warm, vibrantly loud like the morning rays waking you up.

The sky. You always loved the sky. Even as an immortal crafted from ichor and stardust, the sky made you feel mortal in the best ways, especially now.

Now, as a fully matured celestial being, you are as old as one of the grand redwood trees you loved running alongside when you were a little.

You glance up at the sky while the wind blusters through your fields. Even with looming clouds clustering above signaling the arrival of a storm, you find reassurance there. The storm now actually feels comforting as a similar storm of unrest swirls inside of you. You stomp down from the mountain not even waiting for your mother.

That entire meeting with her, you, and the lord of the skies was pointless. Gakuganji, with his thunderous melodies and even with all his wisdom, made you curse the skies.

“We shall need to discuss terms of the arranged courting rituals soon.” You had almost choked when you heard the old god’s words. He could not be serious.

Even when you yelled confused, even when your mother sent you a sharp glare to keep quiet, Gakuganji never once acknowledged you. It was like you were not even present, just a simple wallflower ignored against the grander of other immortals. Because to them, you would always be a little sapling, your mothers offspring, nothing more.

The thunder booms ahead and you wish the rain would pour down on you. Maybe the rain would help simmer you down.

“Well now, don’t you look just as feral as a chimera?” A voice emerges,a coy playful tone you’ve never heard before.

When you snap your gaze to the side, you discover a man. Clothed in deep obsidian robes, he seems just as tall as the sycamore tree he leans against.

His hair is a startling white and -

His eyes are blindfolded.

Being so close to the sacred grounds tells you this man must be another immortal. But you had never met him before.

Then again, you had happily enjoyed staying unaware among your blooms. You wistfully ignored the problems and squabbles the others had. Even when you came of age centuries ago you did not have any desire to accompany your mother to Olympus. It was only recently that she began dragging you with her. Now you wonder if that decision has caused you to be the fool.

You glare at the mystery man. “I’m just fine, thank you.”

“Mhm, doesn’t look like it.” His taunts lightly and it makes you want to shriek.

“Wanna tell me who’s responsible?” Now his lips form into a soft grin. “I could deal with them for you.”

Even as strange as this man is, there’s some sense of comfort in his casual comment. The tension in your body, even in your face, slowly flutters away.

You sigh. “No it’s fine.”

Looking at his covered eyes, you already wonder what color they are.

Your name is called out sharp before you can ask your mystery man what his name is. Your mother’s voice snaps your spine straight. Quickly whipping around you see her scurrying to you with wide worried eyes.

“Head home, little sprout.” She urges you.

“Wait, why?”

“Head. Home.” Her words echo with the same force as the storm brewing around you.

Your mother’s magic swiftly swirls all around. She is getting ready to sweep you into the wind that helps her run along her wheat fields. You can’t help it. Your eyes fall to the mystery man. His handsome features smirk amused. You mother however stares at him as if he is an abomination from the depths of the underworld.

“Lord Gojo, good day to you.” And when she says his name, you discover this mystery man is not just from the depths of the underworld, but its ruler.

Your heart plummets fast into your stomach. The strangest concoction of emotions swirls in you. Terror and curiosity are not a desirable pair to navigate through.

Then in a wild gust, you are teleported home. You wonder if your mind might have flown out in the whirlwind because you still cannot believe it.

You just met the Lord of the underworld.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

His existence was a simple phrase of his name you were told never to utter.

Lord Gojo.

The strongest of the immortals. The rumors paint him as a mindless monster who slaughtered titans during the Great War. He was a ghastly terror. The only immortal fit to rule over the dreary underworld. You used to paint him in your mind as someone aged like Gakuganji. The lord was carved from myth, ancient and terrifying. So you imagined him more creature than man.

Yet instead he exists a smiling handsome man who appears to you now.

“M-my Lord!” You stammer out frantically.

You had been sitting by the riverside braiding another floral crown to keep your mind at ease. Then, out of the blue, like a strike of lightning, the underworld’s king appears beside you.

“Oh no,” Gojo simply waves. “Please no titles, they disgust me.”

You almost choke on your own confused inhale.

“What are you doing here?” You squawk confused, trying to ignore how rapid your heart races in your chest.

This god was painted to be a terrifying tale. You mother once even told you he would only bring chaos and misfortune to anyone who crosses his path.

Now he lounges beside you under the shade of the trees.

“I came to see if you were alright. You looked so upset before.”

His words knock you breathless. Your mind could not believe this was truly the dreaded god of the underworld. Suddenly said king gasps obnoxiously loud and you almost jump out of your skin.

“What are you making?!” He leans down to point at the flowers in your lap.

“Flower crowns, they’re for the village children nearby.”

You loved to leave them off at the edge of the fields where the children played. Whenever you catch them wearing the bright floral wreaths your heart soars .

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Gojo admires, like a loud wind chime. “Can you make one for me then!?”

You wonder if the ground has given out from under you. The man whispered to be pure power, now wears a childish frown with his lip sticking out in a full on pout.

“Please?” He pleads.

Left with no choice, your attention goes back to the flowers bunched lonely in your lap and you furiously return to braiding.

“That one better be for me!” The king of the underworld comments in a song-like tone. A quick temptation rises in you to throw the flowers in the nearby river.

“What are you even doing here?” For some reason, you blurt that out.

The words leave before you can stop yourself and your eyes widen in horror. This is it. Your mind jumps to every awful thing he could probably do to you. And he does the absolute worst.

He laughs.

It colors his cheeks lovely and you hate how it somehow intensifies his handsome features even more.

“I told you! I wanted to check up on you.” Gojo smiles toothy but swiftly the image of a grinning crocodile waiting in the water comes to mind.

“I don’t believe you.” Again, you speak out too fast. Thankfully his lips thin into an amused line.

“You’re a lot more perceptive than you look, I like that.”

His words shake your brain, a fierce little rattle that has you staring at him stunned. Your heart races to find a regular beat.

“Well,” Gojo sighs. “I did have an annoying meeting with the others. But… while I was up here I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing, petals.”

The fond playful name he bestows upon you is done so casually. Yet, it snags your breath.

Petals.

The nickname has your mind reeling until you fully process what he said. The meeting he went to was the same one your mother must have gone to earlier and is still at.

“What was it about?” You ask a bit calmer as you braid simple dandelions to pop against the forget me nots.

Silence softly settles and mixes in with the rush of the river.

“You mean…no one’s told you?”

Gojo’s voice is a soft but stunned whisper that steals your attention back to him. You now are frustrated you can’t see his eyes, can’t see the emotion in them.

“Told me what?” You frown.

The lord of the underworld stays quiet. He tilts his head towards your lap.

“The color of those flowers are lovely.” He says simply and even with a touch of awe.

Indignation rises in you, a heated over spilling boil and you snap. “What did you all discuss!?”

Then it hits you. You just flat out demanded so fiercely to the ruler of the underworld.

“I apologize-”

“No,” Blindfold or not his attention is fully directed towards you now. “Don’t apologize. You deserve to feel frustrated. Believe me I would be too.”

You exhale shakily.

“There's been more talk about your place among the others.” Gojo tells you simply. “Arranged marriage is being thrown around.”

Your heart sinks fast.

“I should have known.” You sigh as you rapidly return back to looking at your flowers. Slowly vines start to grow against your ankles. Your powers react to your emotions, and now the sensation of feeling tired manifests itself.

“Everyone thinks I’m just my mother's offspring,” you snap mainly to yourself. “Or that I’m only here to be someone’s marriage partner, but I’m not.”

The vines start to prickle against your skin. When you glance down so many have already grown across your legs.

“Who are you then? And who do you want to be?” Gojo’s words are so soft, casual and almost friendly.

The question even seems like one of your nymph companions would have asked you. Except Gojo’s directed unflinching attention almost makes you fidget.

“I…” you don’t even know how to answer. Even as you try to gather a reasonable one, the words feel chained in your throat.

You instead sigh and return to braiding.

Eventually the words come out, more of a whisper than anything.

“I’m me…that’s all. And I want to continue just being me.”

It probably made no sense, maybe even sounded awfully simplified at all to the god who watched over the dead. But the words held heavy truth in your heart.

You might not fully know who you truly are, but the choice to figure it out, to grow and simply make decisions for yourself, is all you wanted. You don’t want to be a simplified extension of your mother or a piece to use in a marriage arrangement.

After braiding in another daffodil stem, you notice the king beside you has gone quiet.

When you turn to the side you discover the god of the underworld is gone.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Something dances in the air, an unknown sensation that tingles and crawls against your skin. It feels like a warning you can’t fully describe.

When you try to press your mother about the meeting she avoids the conversation completely. It causes enough anger to rise so quickly in you that thorned roses pierce your hands. Then, one morning she arrives at your side with the heaviest expression.

“Mother, please tell me, what is happening?” You try asking as earnestly as you can.

Your mother, with her emotional turbulent eyes like a brewing storm, instead walks over to you and tenderly holds you in her arms.

“Know everything I do, I do for you.” Then she vanishes.

You swallow back a frustrated scream and instead furiously stomp away to your spot by the river stream.

Thankfully none of the tree or forest nymphs come near you. They must sense your frustration or see the prickly cacti slowly starting to sprout around you like a safely sharp fortress.

“Did you finish my flower crown, petals?”

A twinkling voice comes swift. It galvanizes your body as you scramble up fast to whip around.

There behind you, with an amused ease, stands the king of the netherworld. At the sight of him, the cacti plants bloom wild and bright buds.

“I like the color of these.” Gojo smriks nudging his face towards them.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper.

“I’m sorry, petals, don’t have much time.” Gojo frowns and then squares up firmly. It stuns you at how broad and striking he looks, a black ink stain against the picaresque forest landscape that has you captivated.

His face is somber, a true image of a composed ruler.

“The others made a decision. You’re going to be married off to another young immortal. But… your mother is coming to get you. She plans to keep you locked away. Made a whole scene about it.”

The words pierce your heart, piece your lungs and maybe your very soul as you choke on an exhale.

Blinking away tears, you stare at the king.

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice cracks.

“Because I believed you deserved to know, and that you deserved a choice.” Gojo answers but in its simplicity you find absolute comfort.

“So here are your choices…” Gojo continues and the scenarios flash a vivid picture in your head.

You can let your mother whisk you away and keep you locked by her side forever. Or you can let the lord of the sky decree all powerful and place you in a marriage with someone you don't even know.

“Or…” Gojo’s voice now dances optimistic and light.

“You can come back with me.”

The offer hits you with the force of a landslide. You sputter out nonsense, unable to process what you just heard.

Gojo decides to clarify himself.

“Come back with me.” He beams. “No one will know where you went. You’ll get to lay low for a while, maybe figure out what you want to do. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“And, best part of all? You get to enjoy as much time as you’d like with me.” Gojo sounds absolutely ecstatic at the idea.

Spending time with him and in the underworld however sounds like a terrifying punishment. Just the thought of the underworld itself draws a haunting dread. Would you be safe there? Could you even last long among the cold dreary depths?

The wind blows fluttering leaves around you. The strange sensation you sensed in the air arrives thicker and now the wind swirls like a warning. This time it urges you of your mother fast approaching with the fate tied with her.

Surprisingly, the lord of the underworld waits so patiently silent. Then, a cocky smirk twitches his lips, a silent challenge almost as if to say he might know your answer.

Your answer comes in three simple steps. Before you are even fully by his side, you blink and disappear from the surface.

In the forest, all that remains of you are the cacti now completely covered in glorious colorful blooms.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

The underworld is a crystal dream.

When you first thought of the realm of the dead your mind conjured up a dreary desolate wasteland, one filled with anguish and wailing, dark hallowed hallways lined with skeletons. Instead gem lined caverns greet you wherever you go.

A solemn gloom however faintly hangs in the air and could not be ignored. You spot multiple shades, souls of those who have passed, wandering towards the different rivers or simply fading in and out at the edge of the castle. Death did soak this land. From a distance the looming light of Tartarus solidifies that haunting realization. The blood soaked fire orb flickered a chilling reminder of the dangers this realm posed.

“How long will I be here?” You had asked.

“As long as you want.” Gojo chirped. “You can leave whenever you want. Can take all the time you need to figure out what you want to do.”

It was warm and heartfelt. However…

“There are only two rules I need you to follow.” Gojo had added ominously and shattered the warm welcome. The rules were simple.

Never go to Tartarus.

And never eat anything from this world.

Simple, but the ominous directness sparks your mind to wonder about what terrors really did lurk here. Besides those two warnings, Gojo welcomes you with grand excitement into his grand home.

That first night you arrived he practically bounced with every step as he showed you around the kingdom. You were so worried the sight of this world would scare you. Instead elation and even a tinge of appreciation blooms in you. You had never once imagined in your lifetime that you’d ever see this. A new appreciation emerges for this place that would be housing you until you figured out your path.

Gojo also introduced you to the two other immortals living within the halls of the underworld.

Shoko, the goddess of death, who with her stunning features and dreary eyes smiles so kind whenever she sees you.

Then there was Utahime, the goddess of magic, of spells and the crossroads.

“I hope you will enjoy your time here. The underworld has a special way of… revealing to us our true selves.” She had told you sagely. You enjoy browsing her vast collection of scrolls and you eagerly listen to any tales she shares with you.

Even during the times you spend with her or Shoko, the king of the underworld quickly arrives to your side like a persistent gnat.

You decide to take strolls along the charcoal sand riverside, a familiar tradition you did on the surface. Gojo accompanies you any chance he can.

He’s a curious creature and asks you a range of questions. What do you love most about the surface? What do you dream of? What color do you associate with yourself? You answer them all and then some. You tell him about the nymphs, your friends, about the days you used to grow sunflowers so big they would rival trees.

He snickers, makes playful commentary, but listens with full rapture. His attempt to know you better has you grudgingly slowing easing into his presence.

As much as you enjoy the time spent along the riverside, it doesn’t compare to your favorite place in the entire underworld.

The Elysian Fields stole your breath away the moment you first saw them. You never believed anything organic could grow in a realm meant to harness and hold the dead. Yet the fields stretched before you in wonderful waves of green, of color, of life.

It’s why you spend so much time here.

Among the grass and the trees, your mind can freely wander. Your mother must be upset. You could only imagine the pain she must be going through not knowing where you are. But frustration quickly leaks in remembering if you did return to the surface, what life could you be able to find there?

You dig your feet into the lush grass and try not to let poisonous annoyance overwhelm you.

“You look lost in thought.”

Gojo’s voice flutters in. Then his shadow falls over you. You don’t even have to glance your head up because the king of the underworld casually sits down beside you.

“Haven’t figured anything out yet huh?” He asks and you shake your head a quiet no.

“That’s okay. There’s no need to feel pressured or get upset about it. It’s a big decision, trying to figure out what path you want your life to take.”

You never expected him to be this comforting.

“Besides, it’s not often I get visitors here. So I’m enjoying your company as long as I can, petals.” A grin spreads across Gojo’s face as wide as a sunrise.

All you can do is yank up some of the grass and playfully throw it at him.

He laughs a bright snicker but you notice something very quickly. The grass never fully hits him. The slight distortion peaks your curiosity and you go to do it again.

“If this is your form of attack then I can only imagine how terrifying you’d be in battle.” Gojo teases but you pay him no mind because the grass again does nothing. It falls short from hitting him as if he’s protected by something.

Completely ignoring his comment, you ask him about the strange occurrence.

You appreciate how comfortable you’ve become here and with the god of the underworld to now ask such questions. The king’s lips twitch.

“What exactly have you heard about me?”

A strange question but one with a layered answer. Simply put, he’s the ruler of the underworld, considered the strongest of all the immortals.

When your mother had told you stories of the titan war, she never failed to mention the power the ruler of the netherworld held. And there is one image tied to him you remembered vividly.

“A helmet, I heard you wrote a helm that gave you immense power.”

The entire time here your mind has thought too much about the helm. You wondered what it looked like. What was more dangerous though was the curiosity, the desire, to see what he would look like wearing it.

Gojo’s face blooms with a toothy smile.

“It’s…not technically a helmet.”

Then the god playfully points at the blindfold across his eyes.

The grand helm has been in front of you this entire time and you didn’t even know. Of course he wore it constantly.

“That’s incredible.” You can’t help but fully admire the black cloth now. To think something as simple as this cloth was so strong to be considered a war helmet, it amazes you.

“I heard it made you invisible though. I remember asking about it!” You blurt out. That was another legend you heard about from a few of the nymphs.

“Oh? So you’ve asked about me, petals?” Gojo smirks slyly and your face heats up. Carnations rapidly blooming start to tickle your ankles and you immediately squish them.

“You know, I’ve always wondered where that rumor came from.” He hums, thoughtfully. “But no. I don’t have powers of invisibility. Instead I have something way more impressive.”

Pride swiftly leaks into his voice and flourishes more when his chest visibly puffs up. The vivid image of a colorful squawking peacock flashes in your mind and you almost snicker until Gojo raises his hand up.

“Hold your hand out for me please.” His voice drops lower and the tone jolts your heart. You wearily lift your hand up.

Gojo presses his hand against yours. Your heart beats faster, rivaling a humming bird’s wings, and you wait for the impact.

It comes. However, Gojo’s hand applies no actual pressure. You don’t touch his skin or brush against his fingers. Instead only liminal space floats between. The barrier can’t be more than a hair width away yet feels as if it’s oceans wide.

“What is it?” You ask breathless and intrigued.

“Infinity.”

Gojo explains how the helm, his powers, rely on the eternal force that is infinity. Everything repeats. Everything can be continued into an unbreakable cycle, the purest form of infinity.

“And what is more infinite than death? Even universes are born and die.” He speaks with an ancient patience. But, you swear you catch an underlying sadness in his voice just out of your reach. Or maybe it is just your own sadness that you were facing as you realized the weight upon Gojo’s shoulders.

He exists as the personified infinity of death’s cycle continuing over and over again and someone must watch over it. He is unable to step free from that cycle because he is it.

“You look so sad, petals. What? Am I boring you?” Suddenly Gojo’s jovial voice shatters your thoughts.

The black cloth hiding his eyes holds more weight than it did moments before.

Then you notice none has pulled their hands away, neither your or him. No one makes an attempt to move even now. You simply sit there with the space of infinity resting solid, unwavering, against you and Gojo just out of reach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

In the underworld, monotony can creep in easily. You find even after browsing all of Lady Utahime’s interesting collection of spells and curses, you grow restless.

“If you ever get bored,” Gojo previously told you. “You’re more than welcome to join me in the throne room.”

You had only seen the throne room during the first grand tour Gojo took you on. Now you stare at the throne room’s grand doors petrified to even open them.

“Why don’t you go inside? He would enjoy your company.”

Shoko’s calm sweet voice makes you almost bolt like a skittish deer. Caught red handed and the goddess of death sleepily smiles.

“Oh no. I couldn’t!” You sputter out.

For some reason, the thought of seeing Gojo on his throne, in his role as king of the underworld flickers something hot to boil under your skin. Shoko’s curious gaze burns a hole in the side of your face.

The goddess gives you a soft nod then continues her walk down the hallway.

“You know, there’s a hidden alcove above the throne room that can be accessed from the stairs…just a thought.” Shoko muses aloud glancing over her shoulder with twinkling amused eyes. Then the goddess turns a corner and leaves you alone with her words rattling in your brain.

Were you going to watch Gojo from the shadows?

Before you could even rationalize your thoughts you move quietly up the stairs until you reach your destination.

The alcove is a type of balcony obscured by the columns towering in the throne room. The view from high up grants you a wonderful sight of the entire room composed of marble and crystal. Instead of the imposing grand ruler you imagined sitting regally composed on his throne, the white haired god is sprawled half lying across the large throne. For some reason you’re reminded of a lounging lethargic cat and you bite your cheek from laughing.

Gojo stays reclining for some time. Eventually he does pull a scroll out from beside his throne and glances it over. At first you thought he appeared bored. But now as he sighs and flops to the other side of the throne childishly, you now think -

He looks lonely.

Even among the walls gleaming of the riches soaked in this realm, this incredibly boisterous immortal seems lonely. You even notice a hollow air rests in the room and reminds you of a day in winter when the earth seems frozen.

Then a giggle comes.

You wonder if maybe you misheard it. That is until a child quickly peeks from behind a column. The little girl pops out a bit more before returning to hiding.

Very quickly she scurries to a column closer to the throne.

Your eyes flicker to Gojo who continues overlooking the scroll on his lap.

The girl begins to tip toe closer and closer to the throne. You now wonder how the king will react. She seems gleeful, unafraid of him. Especially as she approaches with the proudest toothy grin on her sweet face.

Then Gojo whips around to her.

“GOT YOU!” He shrieks proudly and even points at her accusingly. She jumps like a scared little rabbit until she hunches over laughing. Her joy fills the throne room with so much warmth you find yourself smiling at the interaction.

“I got closer this time!” The girl stomps pouting and her face puffs up adorably.

“You did! I have to give you credit for that Rika.” Gojo addresses the girl with a delighted friendliness.

“I’ll get you next time!” The girl, Rika, announces sternly as her face furrows determined.

“I believe you.” Gojo nods and you even believe him.

The girl narrows her eyes harder at the king but then she quickly giggles.

“Why don’t you go back and play in the fields, Rika? It's much nicer than playing around here in this boring place. Trust me I don’t even enjoy being here sometimes.”

They both share a giggle and Rika beams up at him so kindly.

A molten smile draws over Gojo’s face and your heart melts. Softness, gentless, looks wonderful, beautiful even, on his handsome features.

“Alright you little pest, head back to the fields you go.” He playfully shoo’s Rika away with a dismissive wave and she sticks her tongue out at him.

Turning on her heels, you watch Rika slowly fade into the air. A sadness settles over you knowing this young girl passed away so young. But, it comforts you seeing how joyous and bubbly she is even in the afterlife.

Then, it slowly dawns on you.

The lord of the underworld is not the terrifying monster whispered to be. He is a silly terror, a bit eccentric, but a kind man.

Your eyes glaze over staring at nothing in particular and you decide to leave as well.

As you rise from your little secret perch a shadow looms across you. Glancing up, the lord of the underworld towers grins down disgustingly victorious.

“Well now, aren’t you just the sneakiest little weed I’ve ever seen!”

His comment pulls an indignant shriek out of you as you scramble up. Your face is on fire and you storm away in fast rapid stomps.

Gojo follows fast behind laughing so loud it bounces off the walls and echoes among the throne room.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧��ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Days come when tears sting your eyes thinking about the surface. You do miss your mother.

You miss the feeling of the sun on your face, the breeze of autumn fluttering in for the change of the season. You can’t even remember how many days have passed since your arrival in the underworld.

But even thinking about returning to the surface terrifies you stiff. It makes your stomach turn because you know your answer to what lies above.

You don’t want to be in an arranged marriage and you don’t want to be locked to your mother’s side. There was no middle way, or other option between these two.

You stay in your room for a few days, wiping away the tears.

Eventually out of your clouded haze a soft knock arrives at your door.

Gojo waits on the other side. You don’t like how effortlessly your heart jumps seeing his tall stature leaning against the door, a striking ink stain with his black robes. His lips are a small but sad crooked grin.

“Can I show you something?”

You wordlessly nod and follow his lead. He doesn’t press you about your sudden cloistering. He doesn’t try filling the space with talk. You’re grateful in the silence that he understands.

Through different corridors of the castle this area feels unfamiliar and a spark of curiosity flickers in you. Then Gojo stops.

There in the shade of the hallways, a secluded large square open area is before your eyes. The area seems out of place carved out from the marble and gem walkways

“What is it?” You feel a bit foolish asking.

Gojo grins wide beside you. “Why don’t you go and find out?”

You give him an incredulous and worried look. This could be a playful trick. Utahime had warned you how notorious the lord of the underworld was at playing surprise tricks which included hiding behind corners to scare anyone passing by.

“I promise, you’ll like it.” Gojo however reassures you with a gentle earnestness. So with a sigh you walk and step into the patch.

Beneath you is actual soil. It’s soft, smells of comfort and you can’t help it, a watery laugh escapes you. How long has it been since you felt the earth above?

Even since you visited the Elysian Fields, you discovered an ominous truth about your favorite spot.

“Nothing can grow there.” Utahime told you sadly. “While everything is lush and beautiful and cannot die. However, nothing can grow as well.”

But you remembered the carnations. You knew they bloomed when you were there and you revealed that to Utahime.

Her lovely face scrunched up in wise thought and her eyes became distant.

“Unfortunately it could have just been a simple fluke. The Elysian Fields are meant to be a place of peace. Maybe it was trying to comfort you as well… let you feel some sort of semblance of the surface world.”

The thought was comforting but also carried an ocean abyss of sadness. Understanding nothing could grow here in this world made sense.

But now you sat on solid soil, true soil from above.

You scramble to your knees and can’t help but dig your hands through it. The cushiony familiar texture, the smell that has been with you since you were a sapling. Tears threaten to cloud your vision.

Turning around, Gojo is there leaning against the hallway’s frame and beaming bright like a marigold.

“How?!” You ask breathlessly, unable to still process this.

“I have my ways.” Gojo coyly replies. More questions only rise in you but you quietly set them aside.

“Utahime said nothing could grow here.”

“Hm…that is true. But, why not give it a try?” Curiosity oozes out of him.

So you decide, why not. With your hands in the soil you inhale and the magic in your veins flickers to life.

You clutch the dirt tight in your grasp as if trying to hang on to this last sense of who you are.

Out of the earth. a small green sprout suddenly peeks out.

Absolute excitement and giddiness unfolds in you like a wild hurricane. You can’t help but snap your face back to Gojo in pure joy.

A wide open and even a bit proud smile illuminates his handsome face.

“Well look at you, petals! Nice work. Although I was expecting a tree or something, that little thing is nice I guess!”

You playfully throw a handful of dirt at him. It’s childish but it’s the only way you can fight the fondness growing in you, a festering weed you don’t know if you want to eradicate.

Gojo breaks out in amused cackles. His cheeks puff up and you can almost sense the amusement in his covered eyes.

“I’ll let you enjoy.” He pushes off the hallway frame and is about to turn around when you quickly call to him

“Wait.”

He freezes and glances over his shoulder.

You have to ask. “Why did you do this?”

Now the god of the underworld fully turns his attention back to you.

“Do what?”

You sigh exhausted at his innocently coy reply.

“Why did you do this? Give me this plot of land?”

Gojo’s lips, which you have been alarmingly thinking about more, turn into an eased crooked smile.

“It’s a gift. You’re my guest here and my friend. So why not?” He replies anticlimactic, even shrugs.

The answer is not satisfying and it slightly irritates you. But you’re still grateful. You might not know the true reason why he did this and might not ever know. But Gojo still did this for you all the same.

So gathering that gratitude you smile at him, a true earnest one.

“Whatever the reason is…Thank you, Gojo.”

This is the first time you say his name. Just the taste of it in your mouth leaves a strange tingle.

The ruler of the underworld’s face. It drops so fast that you barely catch it. But it was there. A look of pure surprise, confusion and something else you can not pinpoint. But all of that quickly vanished only to be replaced by a smile radiating artificiality. Then Gojo vanishes.

In this new space, you exhale against the new weight building in your chest. Leaves then begin tickling your hands and you glance down at your new blooms.

Pure confusion strikes because this is actually a brand new bloom.

You’ve never seen this flower before.

Delicate cotton white star-like flowers greet you and you’re afraid to even touch them. So many of them cluster around each other in rather tall stalks. They remind you of lilies in their shape but are smaller and have a fragility to their thin petals.

You stare at the blooms slowly filling out the area around you until you are completely surrounded.

Horror strikes you fast.

The cloudy white petals match the white hair of the lord of the underworld.

Unknown to you, as you sit frozen among your new flowers, wheat fields decay above on the surface.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

As much of a king and ruler he is, boredom plagues Gojo most of the time. It doesn’t surprise you one bit.

He pesters you constantly in your garden now. Currently you threaten to grow Venus fly traps large enough to eat him.

“You know, I’d actually be interested to see that.” He muses light and you hate that the thought of creating such a thing has you curious as well.

Gojo and you exchange a glance. Soon enough a large Venus fly trap stands around the same height as the god.

“It’s huge!” He cries impressively and pride flutters through your chest.

Then the underworld's king sticks his whole head inside the opening mouth of the Venus flytrap and waves his hands with the brightest expression.

You scream in panic and Gojo cackles beyond entertained. He thankfully removes his head. It’s perfect timing as the plant’s prickly mouth snaps itself shut.

You are horrified but Gojo just continues to laugh.

He opens the plant’s mouth and starts moving it. Changing his voice to a high pitched tone, he begins talking as if he’s the plant itself in some sort of bizarre performance.

“I beg your garden?!” He shrieks in an absurd voice.

It’s ridiculous, unbelievable and you can’t help it. You burst into wild giggles that shake your body. You have laughed more in his company than you can even remember. You’re having true fun with him in a way that you can’t even remember experiencing with your old companions.

You remember previously noticing how lonely the god of death looked and it only made you wonder how you’ve also tasted loneliness. Always stuck to your mother’s side, living in her shadow, it grew lonely there.

“Don’t laugh at me! Just wanna have fun, be-leaf me!” Gojo continues in that shrill tone.

Now here you are laughing in pure fun at his antics.

Gojo quickly drops the performance and immediately asks you to make a lotus as small as a clover. It’s tricky but when the flower unfurls a tiny lovely blossom in the palm of your hand, Gojo cheers.

Then you start thinking of jacaranda trees the size of bonsai. With a furrowed concentration you form a beautiful miniature tree. The lovely violet blooms even so small color the area exquisitely.

“You’re incredible.” He breathes out the words and they almost sound in awe.

You try not to get flustered but it is hard with his attention so intently focused on you. Instead you wave your hand out. Playfully a bunch of cherry blossoms nearby rapidly swirl in a whirlwind of petals all around him

Gojo shouts an amused ecstatic cheer, flinging his hands up among the petals. You snicker even more.

It becomes a game. Gojo offers new plant ideas or to grow vegetation he never knew existed. His face genuinely scrunches up at the odd smelling plants you call forth and you snicker pleased at his reactions.

Eventually you take a seat and start to make a few flower crowns. One particularly is for the young girl you saw in the throne room, Rika, and who you’ve caught now a few times peeking at you from around the palace columns.

No surprise but the lord of the underworld takes a seat right by your side.

“A flower crown huh… You know, you never made the one I asked for when we first met.” He comments with the worst pout.

Of course he remembers that. You had even forgotten about that meeting by the riverbank.

You scan around looking for something to use until you spot the perfect crown.

Reaching to a nearby shrub, you break off a bare small twig. You regally place it on top of Gojo’s head.

“Aw!” His deflated reaction, seeing this powerful god with a simple twig on his head, has you snickering. Then you realize Gojo stopped his infinity barrier for you to place it on him.

You don’t even want to linger on that thought. So violently shoving it away, you continue braiding the flowers. You concentrate hard, even scrunch your face as you weave in lily stems.

A delicate but soft crawling sensation suddenly dances across your leg. The culprit is a branch from a leatherleaf fern Gojo has plucked. You wiggle away in a panic.

He again drags the delicate green leaves to playfully tickle you and try squirming away from him as much as you can. An urge to even hiss at him rises.

“What?! Are you ticklish, petals!?” Gojo beams with excitement.

“No, you’re just annoying!” You reply sharply trying to stay calm.

The king however is patient and stubborn. Instead of relenting he wiggles the fern’s large leaves firmer across your arms then to your shoulder where it meets your neck.

You squeal, laughing so unattractive as you wiggle away with all your might to flee from his playful torment. You can’t even chide him to stop, too caught up in the wild infectious giddiness taking over.

Your body buckles under the ministrations very slowly until your back rests on the solid soil ground. Your eyes snap open.

There, the god of the underworld leans over you.

Gojo is handsome. You knew that from the first moment you saw him. But now you take in how wide his shoulders are, how celestially white his hair glows, and how compromising, as well as dangerous, this position is.

Your mind had started drifting more and more towards deeply temptatious thoughts of him. Thinking of how your hands would grasp his broad shoulders, wondering how his body without any barriers would feel pressed over you.

A dizzying fire licks through your veins. Gojo finally stops his tickling bombardment and now stares down at you. Even without seeing his eyes they pierce you with a hypnotic pull.

A moment passes or maybe a millennial has. Time ticks by too molten to process.

You want him. You hate how badly you want this infuriating man. You hate thinking about how easy it would be to lean up and kiss him. As tempting as that idea is, how much it consumes you, you remember a heavy truth. If your lips leaned up to kiss him you would only find infinity.

Before anything else can be said or done you rapidly spring up from the soil like a new bud. You say nothing. Neither does Gojo. Quickly you return to braiding your poor discarded flower crown. He remains quiet long enough you wonder if maybe he left your side quietly.

Until the ground shifts besides you as Gojo moves to stand.

“Don’t let the plants eat you, petals. You wouldn’t make good fertilizer.”

You can’t even find a quick retort to shoot back at him.

When you reach for a few roses to add their lovely color to the floral wreath, you wince. A sharp prickling sensation stabs your fingers.

Drawing your hand back you see your golden blood, the ichor of an immortal, dripping down your fingers.

Suddenly an image flashes wild and frantic in your mind.

Gojo appearing before you suddenly. He inspects your wounded hand. Instead of applying a wrap or even allowing you to heal with time as all immortals can, he delicately places your bleeding fingers into his mouth. He sucks on them gently and fierce. His tongue swipes against your wound, against the blood. He moans, loud, debauched, and it mixes with the wet slurps. He sucks and sucks without any desire to stop. His tongue fondly runs up again along your fingers. The pressure of his mouth, the warmth of it, letting yourself bravely trace his teeth, then feeling him playfully bite your skin…

You scramble out of your thoughts as a slick liquid heat pools between your legs. Grabbing your flower crown, you storm off to your room praying to flee from the god of the underworld haunting you.

But you know it is hard, almost impossible, to outrun and hide from a god.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

“I have to leave for a few days.” Gojo explains as he sits besides you in the garden.

The garden has now become a lush oasis for you. Various ferns happily grow to one side. A few fruit trees already take root and grow steadily. So many flowers sprinkle beautiful clusters of colors all across the space.

Of course your new white flowers continue to bloom patiently and delicately. Wherever you turn, so many seem to pop up. It's to the point even Gojo made a comment upon seeing the new florals.

“Oh? These look new.” You ignored his curious comment.

Now you ask about his trip with the same curiosity.

“Leaving? What for?”

A pause comes.

“Unfortunately there’s been a recent increase in the amount of newcomers arriving in our realm.”

You don’t miss the way your heart jumps hearing him say “our realm.” The main issue at hand however has you concerned.

“Do you think it’s a sudden war? Or a natural catastrophe?” Your heart twists thinking about either terrible possibility.

“Don’t know. That’s why I’m heading up to figure it out.” Gojo sighs.

You nod understandingly and sympathetically to Gojo. Even with his eyes covered, his gaze seems to stare somewhere far away. Then he quickly averts his attention to the budding trees you’re tending to.

“This one seems to be doing great here.” Gojo notes curiously. He leans closer to you, a pressure softly pushing against you. Any giddiness of having him so close is quieted by the truth that it’s infinity against you.

“It is.” You agree happily. “Pomegranate trees are resilient. They just need the right soil and can bloom with much worry. They even can handle different types of pests.”

Gojo hums a curious thing.

“Sounds a little familiar, don’t you think?” He comments but his voice is deep, low. Hearing his tone this way sparks a dangerous desire to life and it drags its claws down your spine.

“Familiar how?” You hesitantly ask.

Something gentle, barely with the lightest of pressures, runs across the back of your hand. You think it might be his fingertips. Your body reacts, galvanized in a frenzy. But when you whip your head to the side, the king is gone.

As you sit alone in your garden, you almost scream.

When the time comes to bid Gojo farewell, you now wonder how you’ll handle truly being alone without him.

“Don’t miss me too much, petals.” He teases and you roll your eyes.

“Please, I’m going to enjoy having this place all to myself.” You scoff.

Gojo grins like a cat that’s caught a canary and then, he leaves without another word.

In his absence you find, at first, you do enjoy the peaceful solitude. But that gets old quickly because stars above you do end up missing him.

You didn’t realize how much your existence here has now become so entrenched with Gojo’s. You miss the strolls you and him take. You miss his questions about the new blossoms growing. You even miss the way he playfully throws figs at you at dinner while you sit not eating a single bite. It has become not just a friendship with the underworld’s god but a true deep bond with him.

“Can you stop with the wistful sighing please?” Utahime sternly asks as you lounge in her study.

“I’m not wistfully sighing!” You stammer out embarassed.

“Uh huh.” She does not seem convinced but also does not press the subject further. The goddess of magic instead stays completely focused on her piles of scrolls scattering her area.

The underworld seemed to be slowly constricting around itself. A tension tightened the air. Everyone, even Shoko, seemed scarce and occupied. Whatever was occurring above on the surface was greatly impacting this world.

You decide to leave Utahime to her devices and slip away quietly.

Now you wander the edge of the royal grounds. Your eyes scan the realm stretching out before you. There, like a lantern among the darkness, the fluttering flickering red light of Tartarus shines unwavering.

It is the last place that you have yet explored.

You remember Gojo’s rule, his warning about not going to it

However, a small twinkle inside you even feels as if it’s being drawn there by a soft gentle pull.

You could just walk and see it from the outside, not even enter its gates. No harm would come from just inspecting the grand prison from a closer distance right?

Before you can stop yourself your feet guide you across the river’s path to the other side.

The atmosphere distorts into something sinister like the way the air hollows out before a terrifying storm.

Soon the crystalized rocks become jagged spikes. A smell of sulfur fills your senses and a wave of heat begins to tickle your skin. Soon the glowing red is now a vibrant bleeding sun before your eyes.

You dare not step any closer.

Terror slowly claws over your body. This is as close as you will get and will ever get. You turn around to walk back.

“…Little flower…” a soft raspy voice sends a horrifying chill up your back.

Your head snaps to the side. A creature unravels from the bottom of a rock and stares up at you with tree branches like eyes.

A cursed soul.

Something now besides the creature wiggles from the ground. It morphs and shifts from a clay like structure to take the shape of man. He reminds you of a patch quilt and his body screams that he too is another cursed soul.

“You are far away from home, little goddess.” The curse coos.

You can’t even speak as fear chokes your throat.

Move, you have to move! Something inside you screams. It sounds almost like Gojo.

Before you can move, hands, or maybe branches of some sorts, suddenly snap around your legs and yank you back. A scream escapes you or maybe you believe you hear a scream.

Everything happens fast. Your body is dragged and pulled closer to the prison. Laughter cackles sinisterly all around you and you thrash as much as you can. Tears clog your eyes. You wonder if this is it, if this will be how your end greets you. You swat at anything you can reach, but the panic is rising more and more.

Then a blinding heat sears under your palms.

You can’t help it, your eyes squeeze shut and your hands feel as if they have exploded.

Then the pressure is gone from across your body. Your eyes, water soaked with tears,

Your eyes open and you find you are free. No more decayed limbs and branches on your body.

You scramble up as best as you can. Your legs however give out from the amount of wounds sliced across you. You try to heal as quickly as you can but being around such sinister evil for so long has drained you.

Suddenly something rushes besides you and you are too late to react. The patchwork creature jumps on you. With a gleeful monstrous smile he morphs into like a cage claw against your body and has you in his grasp.

You scream but you can’t even hear it over the horrifying laughter. You thrash, try to free yourself again, but your body grows too exhausted to even move. Your vision begins blurring.

Then another scream of anguish comes but you can’t even process what or who it is.

Your body is released. You pitch forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Then someone catches you.

“Petals.” Gojo’s voice rings panicked in your ears. You wonder if he is a figment of your imagination. Before you can even focus, your vision gives out and you fade into oblivion.

The next thing you know, you wake up in the comfort of the softest sheets and a place that is not your quarters.

When you come into consciousness and see the grandness of the room, the dark shade of the walls, you piece together quickly this is Gojo’s bedchamber.

A new type of panic grips your heart and you scramble up.

“Careful, careful!” Suddenly the man himself reprimands you in a quick panic. Gojo sits up from his chair beside the bed. Whatever emotion lies in your eyes freezes him from approaching you.

“What happened?” You ask in a small whisper. You wonder if it was all a nightmare, a terror fueled fever dream.

“I found you in Tartarus.” Gojo replies. This is the first time his voice has sounded this upset. His face darts away from you.

“What were you thinking? What were you even doing there?” His voice is sharp as a blade’s edge and it cuts you swiftly.

Your reason now sounds so childish.

There have been multiple times when you rolled your eyes at Gojo’s antics. You believed him to be a fool, a childish king who has not grown up, a result of being alone for so long here in this realm. But now you wonder if you are the foolish one.

You croak out an apology that rips your heart open. Squeezing your eyes shut you try to stop the tears from coming but it’s no use.

“I just…I just wanted to see. It was…it was something you wouldn’t understand. I’m sorry.” You apologize again. A poisonous frustration and anger at yourself for being so foolish fills you. If you had only listened.

Suddenly a hand rests gently on top of yours. No barrier, no infinity. Just Gojo’s soft larger hand enfolding yours. It’s warmer than you expected.

Gojo does not yell, doesn’t even say anything else. He simply sits besides you staring so concerned but understandingly. You squeeze his hand and more tears form rivers down your face.

The underworld’s king stays by your side the entire time.

Right before you fall asleep, still in the king’s bedchamber, you swear the most delicate and tender touch runs across your face.

Once you are healed Gojo, holding your hand, takes you back to Tartarus.

“I should have showed this place before.” He explains quietly. “I could have only imagined your curiosity.”

You try to focus on his voice but it is hard when you try to process what lies before you.

“Wait…Are you sure we’re at Tartarus?”

“Uh…yes?” Gojo replies a bit confused but you are more confused than he is. Because there is no possible way this could be the same place.

The same burning furious fiery glow is now a simple flicker of a flame like a dwindling candle. All the rocks and sharp spikes have been crushed and leveled into debris cluttering the whole area. The air even holds a haunting stillness. This reminds you of a forest after a fire, a quiet entombment that spoke of a tremendous fury. Did he do this?

You realize as much as you want to know, you want to leave even more.

A squeeze of your hand is all you have to say before Gojo squeezes back. In a blink you and him are back at the palace’s main atrium. But a quest stands there waiting.

“Ijichi!” Gojo cries bright and happily.

Your eyes go wide.

The messenger of the gods. You had seen him in passing and even then you found him to be an uptight god. Now his face is hardened and upset. His keen eyes spot you and his mouth drops.

Ijichi cries your name and something inside you falls.

“What brings you here Ijichi?” Gojo asks with a twinkling curiosity.

“You know exactly why I’m here Gojo!” The messenger snaps and a part of you wants to shrink away. But, another piece of you knows you can’t run anymore.

You know why the messenger is here.

“I need to speak with you.” Ijichi urges with pleading eyes staring so intensely at you.

Reality weighs you down. You have to address this. You cannot keep hiding anymore.

So you let go of Gojo’s hand and you and Ijichi move to a private room.

You sit down ready to hear about your mother, about the urgency that you need to return to the surface world and face your fate.

But what comes to you instead plummets your entire soul. With a gentle but stern kindness tells you all that is happening.

Horror, dread, and all of their friends, fill your body.

The surface world is dying. Famine plagued the fields. Livestock is suffering. People are suffering.

All because of your actions.

Ijichi, bless him, is not accusatory, does not shame you or put blame.

“You need to return home with me. I’m sorry.” The messenger urges but sympathy seeps out.

You don’t hesitate to nod yes as tears come in tidal waves.

There is not much to take with you. You say farewell to your garden, to the beautiful palace, to Utahime and Shoko who both hug you incredibly tight.

But when you go to say goodbye to the lord of this world, he is nowhere to be found.

You do not have to search long. He sits in his study. This the most you’ve ever seen him actually use it and look so dashingly studious, regal, at work. He completely ignores your entrance and does not even spare you a glance.

“I’m leaving.” You announce. He stays silent.

You swallow hard and compose yourself.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here for as long as I have. You’ve been a wonderful host.”

A wonderful friend. A wonderful companion, and maybe something even more wonderful, so fond and dangerous, you dare not speak its name.

He stays quiet and you are about to walk out of the door when suddenly Gojo’s hand grabs yours in a rapid grip. Your heart trips over a skipped beat from feeling his true hand clutching yours.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He argues.

“I have to go back. I have to face this.” You urge even though your voice wavers waterlogged.

“You don’t have to. We can figure this out.”

He does not want you to go.

You even accept you don’t want to either. Not just because you fear the truth awaiting you, but because you’ve become terribly attached to this place, attached to him.

At first you wanted to laugh it off as simply being stuck here and left with no choice but to just tolerate the god of the underworld. Instead you found you sought Gojo on your own more and more. You wanted to know him, not as a ruler of the eternal realm of death but as the man you learned hates pickled radish and loves any type of sweet treat.

You swallow hard and shake your head.

“I can’t keep running away.” You even surprise yourself at how firm, how solid and unwavering, your voice resonates.

Gojo’s hand releases yours. The air brews tense and thick. Then the god of the underworld lifts his blindfold up.

Your heart stops.

Beautiful ocean blue eyes stare at you. Of course his eyes would be luminous pools.

You can’t speak, don’t know what to say.

“Satoru…” he instead speaks first. “That's my true and first name... Thought you should know it before you leave.”

The gift he is presenting to you is immense. No mortals know the true name of your kind. Even you are addressed by a secondary name so tightly tied with your mothers.

Now he is giving you this pure full piece of himself. His eyes, his name, his heart, all are pieces you tenderly lock away in your heart. They hold more precious value than any of the gems buried in this land.

Before you can even reply Gojo leans forward.

With the most delicate of pressure, he kisses your forehead. Your eyes water but now for another emotion too grand to process while you drown in its waves.

He whispers out and says your name, your pure true name. He’s never said it before.

Then he disappears.

You swallow back a deep sob and return back to the atrium.

Gojo is nowhere to be seen even when you head to the stairs that lead back to the surface.

Before you leave, Utahime gives you one final hug then discreetly slips something into your hand. It’s a simple cloth with a sigil on it. You had seen her work on these types of spells many times and knew they all had various uses.

“Should you ever need us again or want to return, just use this.” She whispers low in your ear.

You clutch it tight, like a lifeline. When you go to give one final glance back to the underworld, the king is missing. You can’t find him anywhere and heartache clogs your throat. So you turn your back to the darkness and step into the light of the surface.

The smell of the air hits you first. The crisp scent of the dying leaves arrives in the brisk breeze. A barren earth stretches out before you and you walk into the desolation to meet your fate.

The sky above is a clouded muted gray.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Your mother is furious, absolutely in a rage that would rival a tsunami. But thankfully with your return the earth flourishes overnight as if by a miracle. The lush green should be a comfort to you. The smell of the sunlight should elevate your spirit warm but instead you ache for the soft glow of the gemstone walls.

“You have two choices.” She tells you sternly. “Either marry the immortal chosen for you or stay here with me.”

You stay quiet and she snaps out your name, a part of you wants to laugh because it sounds like a curse.

“Answer me!” Your mother demands and you break.

“I dont want neither!” You cry back. “Can’t you see?! The reason I ran away to the actual place of death is because I cannot pick either! Because I don’t want to!”

“Could you truly be so selfish?!” Your mother accuses you with a seething venom.

Selfish. Were you being selfish?

You once discussed this with Gojo because you had wondered many times if you were simply being a selfish brat running away from your problems.

“I don’t think so.” He shrugged. “Isn’t it selfish of you mother to want to keep you beside her forever? Besides, if you are being selfish then who cares. Nobody realizes it’s actually okay to be somewhat selfish every once in a while, especially when you’re deciding what direction your life is going to take.”

His voice becomes a soothing balm to your frustration.

So you bare your soul and heart before your mother. You could never be happy being forced to wed another. Nor would you ever be satisfied staying stitched to your mother’s side. You need your freedom. You wanted and deserved to have your own choice away from those options.

Her eyes flicker a kaleidoscope of emotions. She thankfully lets you speak the entire time without interruptions. When you are done, she gently walks forward and embraces you. You squeeze her tight.

“I’m sorry, my little sprout.” She comforts you.

You exhale, relieved.

“That damn monster of the underworld,” she says with a steady anger. “He filled your brain with nonsense.”

She pulls away and your face falls in horror.

“Don’t worry. I already plan to discuss with Gakuganji a meaningful punishment for him.”

You cry out a plea to her. But she simply smiles and pats your cheek.

“You won’t have to worry about him or anything else ever again.” She affirms confidently

Your frustrated scream falls on an empty room as she leaves in the breeze of the wheat fields. Emotions bubble up in you so wildly that your head begins to throb.

The panic clouds your vision. What will happen to Gojo? Why couldn’t your mother listen to you? Then an idea quietly emerges among the chaos.

You remember the slip of cloth tucked away in the private corner of your chambers.

Before your mother could come back, before you can even fully think, you race to grab it. You trace your finger along the intricate ink and then close your eyes.

When you open them, you are in the underworld, back in your garden.

It is as lush and beautiful as the day you left it except now the trees have grown in beautifully. Their shady leaves flourish against the marble and crystal. Your eyes land on the lone tree standing so firmly among the others.

The pomegranate tree flowers happily in full bloom filled with a fruitful harvest.

You remember the discussion you had with Gojo over these trees. You spoke of how resilient they were, and he quietly offered how familiar that sounded. The beautiful reddish violet fruit you now pluck so effortlessly from the branches you recognize is you.

You grew and flourished, gained a new sense of yourself. You carved out an existence here and bloomed into a new life.

You act fast. With all your strength you smack the fruit against the bark of the tree. Thankfully it cracks open to reveal the glistening seeds inside.

A conversation you had with Gojo has been playing in your mind since you returned to the surface.

“Why can’t I eat anything here?” You asked the first time you joined him for dinner.

“As tempting as these cakes are,” he grins, taking a large bite out of the sugary sweet.

“Eating anything from here means…you’re pretty much stuck here forever, petals. And I don’t think a pretty bud yourself could handle that now could you?”

Those words echo more than ever as the pomegranate seeds stain your fingers.

You could handle it. In fact you want to embrace it. A life here, with Gojo. You knew the consequences awaiting you. A part of you even screams to stop.

But you instead scoop out a handful of seeds and swallow them swiftly.

Their juicy delightful nectar fills your mouth. If this is being selfish, you think it has never tasted sweeter. You wait thinking there would be a reaction to doing this, to stealing yourself to this world. The only thing that comes is someone breathing out your name.

You snap your face to the side. There Gojo stands completely frozen.

His blindfold is missing. The ruler of the underworld now stares at you with his bare wide cerulean eyes that rival a field of bluebonnets.

“Petals…” Confliction strangles his voice and his eyes flicker to the pomegranate in your hand.

“What are you doing here? What did you do?” You don’t think you have ever heard him sound this confused and panicked.

“Satoru.”

His name, it’s all you can say. It’s a prayer so beautiful you never want to stop saying it.

You blink and the king vanishes. Then he is before you. His hand clutches your face firm and he swoops down to kiss you.

You can’t help but whimper as your breath gets stolen from your lungs. You clutch onto the god tighter, desperate to get as close to him as you can.

Under your touch infinity disappears.

Satoru’s tongue slips effortlessly into your mouth and explores with a chaotic mess. You taste the same desperation he has mirroring your own.

He lifts you up effortlessly with one hand and it makes you squeak. Then, the two of you are whisked away.

When you arrive in his chambers a frantic edge is set ablaze as Satoru presses you against the cool wall of his room. He effortlessly grinds against you and another whimper leaves you to get caught against his lips.

You are drunk on the taste of him. You don’t even care how loud you pant because you are too afraid this moment could end at any moment.

Satoru starts to kiss the corner of your lips. He quirky nips sharp bites against your skin and your eyes close in bliss.

He kisses across your cheek, down your neck, alternating between kissing and softly biting.

Then cool air tickles your bare kiss soaked neck and your eyes wearily open.

Satoru is now on his knees.

His hands reverently run against your delicate robes. A meditative but possessive gleam darkens his eyes making them look like deep trenches.

He kisses your exposed thigh and you tug at his soft white hair. His rich cobalt eyes now flicker up to you.

You sigh out his name with a slight whine as you miss his lips against yours.

“Shh...” he urges softly as he bites at your skin again harder. Your hips rise on their own accord. He chuckles deep and thick.

“Let me worship you.” He whispers with reverence with eyes drenched in delicious lust. It’s the last thing he says before his tongue suddenly licks an intent path up your thigh straight to your sex and you see stars.

Eventually he carries you to his grand bed where you now lie against him.

Love drunk in the afterglow you can’t stop giggling at how Satoru continues to kiss any inch of your body.

“You really are the terror of the underworld.” You snicker playfully.

“Oh of course. Can’t let you forget my reputation.” He beams proud as he kisses your fingertips once again.

His chest is solid and warm under you as you rest against him. His heart beats like a beautiful strong drum you can rest your ear against and hear now. Instead you slide up higher to burrow your face against his neck. All of this is intoxicating and a gift you cherish.

But even in the afterglow, the weight of this union settles over a grim cloud.

“My mother is going to set the world on fire.” You mutter soft and pained.

“No,” Satoru kisses the top of your head. “The old geezer upstairs won’t let her.”

A comforting in his own Gojo way and you snort amused for a moment. Against his warm solid neck Satoru only draws you closer to him. The two of you stay in bed for what feels like a millennia but still not enough.

You are about to slide out of the bed when the god of the underworld whines grabbing you back like a child refusing to let go of their favorite toy.

“I need to get ready.” You softly say as you run your fingers through his cloud white hair.

“No.” He pouts. “You’re stuck here with me forever now, petals.”

That is true.

“I am, but you know I can’t avoid this.”

As you go to slip on the new beautiful robe that of course Satoru had ready for you, he blurts out-

“Marry me.”

Your knees almost give out.

You screech out a confused noise and whip your attention back to him.

“Are you serious!?”

“As serious are you were when you banged that poor pomegranate against a tree!” He fires back.

In a blink Satoru is suddenly holding you in one of his arms while the other cradles your face in his hands.

“Marry me.” He repeats again but this time his voice leans sincerity. “Let me annoy you for the rest of eternity by your side as your husband.”

You don’t hesitate. You pull his face towards you and kiss him desperate. The poor robe you slipped on is hastily yanked off and you are returned back to the cooling bed sheets.

“You know,” Satoru muses playfully as you rest again tangled up in his arms. “I never heard you say an official yes or no.”

You lift your head up and give him an incredulous glare.

“You can’t be serious, Satoru.”

“You’re right.” He softly beams down to you. “The amount of times I heard you screaming ‘Yes Satoru! Yes my love!’ was the best answer.”

You grab the nearest discarded pillow and smack him with it. It fully collides against his too gorgeous face and he laughs at the collision. The tables turn when he swiftly snags the pillow from your hands and playfully retaliates. Your laughter and his bounce together so brightly in the room. It fills you with enough strength to finally face whatever fate awaits you.

Your beloved headache of a fiancé reassures you with one soft kiss to your shoulder.

Before you can even step out of the palace, the surface world’s entrance cracks open. From the shadows you see your mother and then beside her is the god of the skies himself.

“Oh ho! Well now…this is going to be fun!” Satoru cackles with excitement.

“Hey, my darling soon to be wife,” he turns to ask you. Even with his eyes covered again you know glee shines in them. “You want the old man’s head on a platter as an early wedding gift?!”

You almost choke on air. Of course you’re not the only one outraged at what he said.

Your mothers voice cracks the air with destructive anger

“You’re engaged to this monster?!” Her eyes are blistering fires threatening to scorch you where you stand. You reply a solid yes without hesitation.

“Aw! I didn’t realize you liked me so much already, my dear mother in law!” Satoru coos. Your mother flat out ignores him as do you.

“This is prosperous! Outrageous!” The lord of the skies, Gakuganji, thunders in an outrage rivaling your mothers.

“She ate food from this world, and is so bound here.” Shoko explains with a steadied ease.

“There is now way you will survive here any longer!” She seethes at you. “You are not meant for this world!”

“Actually…” Suddenly the poised voice of the goddess of magic herself flutters into the room. With a steeled conviction, Utahime steps forward. She explains how she has been watching you ever since your arrival and noticed changes happening.

“Growth, new life has emerged here. We have all witnessed it. On top of that, I think being here has unlocked new abilities I don’t think we even thought were possible.”

Powers?

“When you momentarily stopped those curses from Tartarus.” Gojo explains patiently as if he read your mind. Faintly you hear the horrified voice of your mother screaming Tartarus?!

“I did that?” You ask stunned.

“Yup, you did.” Satoru beams, prouder than ever.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Gakuganji demands.

“It means she can survive here. If anything it maybe even suggests she might have even been destined to be here.” Utahime replies steady.

Destined to be here.

You think of the words she once told you, about how the underworld revealed truths about one’s self.

“Even with that possibility, you stay here and there will be no peace.” Gakuganji urges.

You know the suffering that could come. Your mother is a stubborn creature who would never relent.

For some reason, you think of the bleeding heart flower. You think of their stems and how distinctly the flower seems to be two parts blended together beautifully. Some of the petals even have to curl open for it to grow. So you decide to split your existence in half.

“For half the year I will be here, in the underworld with my husband.” The word rolls effortlessly off your tongue and it feels right, feels as if you have always said it. “And the other half will be on the surface. Equal time to each place.”

Gakuganji hums a moment to consider.

“You cannot allow this!” Your mother pleads to the grand elder god.

“No one can undo what has been done. The fruit has been eaten and she’s tied to this world.” Shoko clarifies simply.

Satoru hums a playfully amused noise that makes you want to smack him upside the head. Instead you ask for the room to speak with your mother. Now it’s just you and her, as it has been for so many centuries. Except a canyon now stretches between you and her. She waits on the other side of it a vengeful fury.

“Did you do this to spite me?” Your mother asks pained. Exhaling exhausted, you shake your head.

“I did this because it’s my choice, and because I love him.” You tell her with a patience that even surprises you.

“And that’s all I’ve wanted. Not to choose between what you wanted me to pick but instead make my own decision.”

“You…you cannot love the lord of the underworld.” She croaks with so many emotions tangled in her voice.

Your lips tug as if Satoru himself pinches your cheeks into a smile.

“I’m sorry, but I can and I do.” Might be one of the hardest tasks you ever faced, but you would do it for all of infinity.

Your mothers eyes scan over your face. The emotions in them seem endless, a bottomless well that you can’t even swim in.

“You’ve grown, my little sprout.” Her voice wistfully comments. The two of you simply stare at each other.

After that she barely looks at you even after the others return.

The decision is made rather simply compared to the riotous calamity that preceded it. Six months with your mother and six months here. But of course, your mother declares your time on the surface begins now. Gakuganji agrees and your spirit pops.

Any moment of celebration, any hope of wanting to enjoy being here, decomposes in your chest. You gather yourself as best as you can.

“Can I at least say goodbye to my husband?” You ask.

“You are not even married yet.” Gakuganji sneers.

“We aren’t. But you could wed us right now and change that if you’d like, old man!” Satoru offers. The old god’s face crumbles up so disgusted you have to hold back a laugh.

Thankfully you’re allowed a moment of solitude with Satoru in his chambers. You embrace his tall frame and he holds you tight.

“My offer still stands. Just say the word and I’ll throw the old man in the one of rivers.”

“Satoru please.” You sigh.

“What?! All I am saying is there is still time, I could easily throw him in. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.”

A small snicker does leave you as you shake your head no.

“Fine.” Your soon to be husband sighs disappointed.

“So much for an engagement announcement.” Gojo teases trying to soothe the moment with humor but a question about your sudden engagement has been weighing on your mind. You need to ask him before you leave.

Holding Satoru’s hand you gently lead him to the beautiful carved out window nook. When he sits completely flush besides you, you reach over to draw his blindfold away.

His eyes are oceans you never wish to leave. But you will have to. Every six months you will be away from this man who has burrowed a hole in your heart and made it his home.

“Why do you want to marry me?” You ask.

His eyes scrunch up slightly curious but also as if he doesn’t understand your question.

“Because you’re my other half.”

That’s beautiful, but it’s not enough. You’re thankful Satoru senses that’s not the answer you wanted and he sighs dreamily.

“That first time I saw you, do you remember?” He begins.

At Olympus, that seems like centuries ago now.

“You had so many petals and leaves stuck in your hair. Yet, your face was so angry…like you could’ve ripped apart the mountain in half.” He explains fondly. “Now I have no doubt you could if you smack a fruit against it.”

“Hey,” you playfully laugh but it’s watery, soaked in disbelieving love.

“But you were incredible, this hilarious creature of both fury and flowers. I had never seen someone so beautiful.” Satoru adds

His hands now have moved to encompass yours.

“Do you think we’re rushing into this?” You question.

“Do you think we are?” He mirrors it back to you.

A piece of you agreed this is rushed. But then the ache inside of you already dreading leaving this man speaks louder than your doubt.

“Look,” he speaks first. “My life has been the same for so long. Like I got stuck in my own infinity and then you came stomping in… ”

Satoru’s cerulean eyes fiercely flicker up to you and he stares unwavering.

“I’d tear apart the skies for you.” He says simply “You make my life brighter. You and your scrunched up annoyed face you always give me. Your laugh. The way you talk to all your planets like they can speak back-“

“Plants respond better to hearing voices.” you croak interrupting him.

“It helps them grow faster, yes I know.” He finishes for you so cheekily and your heart is about to float out of your body.

“So you really want to marry me?”

Satoru rolls his eyes at your question.

“Petals, I wanted to marry you the moment you threatened to shove me in the River Styx during one of our morning strolls.”

You bark a watery laugh. “Don’t tempt me. I’d still do it.”

The god of the underworld suddenly breathes out your name.

Tenderly Satoru leans forward and kisses you. You don’t care that your mother is waiting for you. You simply want to enjoy this slice of eternity for as long as you can.

“I love you.” You whisper the words, a holy sigh, against his lips.

“That’s nice.” He muses. He’s lucky no throw cushions are nearby or else you would have smacked him.

It dawns on you that this is the closest to a wedding you will get until you return. So you pull away from his lips and vow yourself to him.

You vow to always roll your eyes and snap at him when he says something ridiculous. You vow to always now take the biggest bite out of his confectioneries even if he complains. You vow to be by his side until the cosmos collapses and even beyond that. But mainly, you vow-

“That you never feel lonely for too long ever again, Satoru.”

His eyes go wide, shimmering almost in awe. The king rushes forward and kisses you with a dizzying passion.

“We would make terrible marriage officiants.” He mutters against your lips.

“Who cares.” You scoff.

“Hm seems I’m rubbing off on you in many other ways, petals.”

You chide him for being crude and he snickers, your ridiculous husband.

“What a cute new queen you are.”

Queen. By marriage, by love, you are a queen now.

“Your crown is going to be a twig, like the one you placed on me that one time.” Satoru grins playfully.

“As long as you match with me.”

He laughs so freely and it’s beautiful.

The thought of being a ruler, a monarch, for some reason does not scare you. You thought it would. Instead it only comforts you knowing the king who would be beside you is Satoru.

This joyous bubble however deflates as you return to your mother. This would be it. This is your goodbye until six months from now. But even among the heartbreak, a wave of reassurance washes over you. Because it is just six months. Compared to a lifetime without Satoru, six months is a simple breeze.

Once again you bid goodbye to Utahime, to Shoko, both embrace you tighter than ever. After all, you are one of their own now. And your husband, your poor Satoru, now wears the most obnoxious teary face that makes you want to flat out walk away from him.

But of course you embrace and kiss your king softly.

“You better not kill my garden.” You warn against his tender lips.

“No promises.” He smiles.

As you’re about to start your journey, Satoru wails dramatically.

“One last kiss to remember me by!” Then making a horrendous kissing-like sound, he rushes to your side. You effortlessly hold your hand out to stop his face from reaching you. He weeps horrified while Shoko and Utahime kneel over laughing in unison.

You’re amused at his antics but among the hilarity, Satoru leans into your palm. Gently he tilts his face and leaves a soft kiss on the palm of your hand.

It grants you tremendous strength to start your journey.

As you reach the edge of the stairs, so close you can almost taste the sunlight, you turn around. The last time you did this, Satoru was nowhere to be found. Now he stands at the very edge of the bottom of the walkway.

A moment passes. It is just you and him staring at each other. You’re tempted to run back to him one final time. But you can’t. You inhale a deep resolve and Gojo looks on proudly as he nods.

“I’ll see you soon, petals.” His voice is low but you hear it, clear as day, even from the top step. You nod back, not trusting your own voice to reply.

His words give you the push to reach the surface.

The morning breeze tenderly greets you first. Your legs feel like they can give out from all the emotions rushing through your body. So you look down to focus on where you step.

There among the lush green grass your white underworld flowers already sprout below you. Your lips twitch trying to hold back a tearful laugh.

Glancing up you see the grandest blue sky stretching far and wide.

You’ve always loved the sky.

Except now your breath hitches at the sight.

Because the color above is the same captured and crystallized in your husband’s eyes.

In the endless blue you find a new reassurance about the growth waiting for you in this new life. You also think of Satoru waiting for you as well. With the open sky now a welcoming blessing, you walk confidently into this new life.

With every step you leave behind delicate cloud-white underworld flowers blooming beautifully among the grass.

#I’m so nervous and petrified about posting this but knowing like me & three other angels will read this is all that matters #anyway I hate Gojo and here I am writing a 14k epic for him LMAOO peak clown behavior HONK HONK 🤡#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #Gojo x reader #Gojo 🩵

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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter 6 - All The Noise

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: May the trials and tribulations of Sam Winchester putting up with some grade A bullshit begin.

Chapter title from Gold, Guns, Girls by Metric

Word Count: 16.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You ask for Dean's help on a hunt, and he leaves immediately. Sam has to go too. Usual warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, big angst, fluff, monster of the week.

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Read on A03!

Sam wouldn’t shut his big mouth about Her.

Dean was getting sick of it.

He knew that She was cool. He knew that She was smart, and funny, and a good hunter. He knew that they could use Her help all the time, because She probably would’ve gotten that stupid crazy girl in the painting immediately. She would’ve ganked the shtriga without blinking. They’d spend half the time doing the research, because She’d take one look at the Mordecai house and say This is a tulpa, De. none of those are related cultic symbols, but that one means blah blah blah, and Dean would stop paying attention because she looked almost inhumanly attractive when she got all freakin’ bossy and smart, and Her voice was like anesthetic to his thought process.

But She didn’t want to stay with them. She still picked up Dean’s calls, acted like everything was normal, and Dean would feel a fucking lesion in his chest every time she’d ask how he was doing. He’d taste blood as he bit down a shout of fucking shit, Princess, because my brother’s going crazy, my dad’s hunting a demon, and my-

No. She wasn’t Dean’s anything. He understood that. She was made of stardust, and She’d fallen onto Dean by pure chance. He had no right to keep Her, and no right to demand more than just her voice in a phone.

Sam didn’t seem to get that, though. And no matter what Dean said, he wouldn’t just freaking drop it.

“What are these?”

Dean had frowned, glancing up at Sam to see the little bitch standing at the foot of Dean’s bed, his hands in Dean’s bag, holding-

Fuck.

He had vaulted over the motel couch, snatching the flash and jacket from Sam’s hands and shoving them back to the bottom of the bag.

“They’re my things.” Dean had snapped, slapping Sam’s hand as he’d reached down to grab them again. “Hand’s off, buster.”

Sam had rolled his eyes. “Buster? Really? Are you a low-grade 1920s gangster?”

“First of all, I’d be the fucking kingpin, Sammy, and you know it. Second, stop going through my bag, or I’ll break your hand.”

“No, you won’t.” Sam had shrugged, and Dean didn’t appreciate how his threats weren’t being taken seriously. “And that was not your stuff, Dean.

“Yeah, it was-“

“Do you wear women’s jackets?”

Sam had given Dean a pointed look, and Dean had scowled.

“Shut up.”

“Whose jacket is it? I mean, you never keep the stuff girls leave with you, and you don’t really know any women-“

“I know women-“

“Dude, you know one woman, and-“ Sam had cut himself off, his mouth slightly open. “Dean…”

“What.”

Sam had made the sympathetic puppy-eyes, and Dean should’ve punched him right there. Would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

Because Sam said Her name with a painfully gentle voice, and Dean felt something clench in his chest. “That’s her jacket, isn’t it.”

Dean hadn’t been able to think of a good lie, so he’d just let out and unconvincing scoff, grabbed his bag, and stomped back to the couch.

“It is.” Sam had trailed after him, saying Her name again, and he needed to stop fucking doing that. It always made something in Dean bright and hot, and it was annoying. “Why do you have her jacket-“

“She left it with me a while ago.” Dean had muttered, and Sam had given him a disbelieving look.

“How long is a while?”

Dean refused to dignify that with an answer, only turning on the shitty motel box TV.

Sam had moved to block it, his arms cross as he frowned down at Dean on the couch.

“What about the flask?”

“That’s mine.”

Sam had given him a disbelieving look. “I’ve never seen it.”

“So? It’s not like I see all your shit-“

“You do, actually. We live on top of each other, and I never hide things. That shit,” Sam had pointed to the bag, his brows raised. “Was hidden.”

“Shut up.”

“Was that her flask?”

Dean had scowled, and that was apparently an answer for Sam, who had let out a long sigh and given Dean an exasperated look.

“Just for the record, I don’t think it’s weird that you have her stuff. It’s sketchy that you’re hiding it-“

“I am not hiding it-“

“Yeah, you are.” Sam had braced his hands on his hips, a small frown on his face. “Were you hiding it from Dad?”

Looking back, Dean should’ve figured out that silence was not an effective method of getting Sam to shut up. All it seemed to do was fuel him.

“You really haven’t told him anything about her, have you?” Sam’s voice had almost been awestruck. “Dude, I don’t think Dad would be that against you having a girlfriend-“

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Dean had snapped. “And you know what Dad found on her. He’d be right not want me around her.”

“But you want to be around her, Dean.”

Dean had scowled. He did. He felt fucking alive around Her, felt seen, and he’d never been happier to be an idiotic, easily manipulated dumbass when it meant he was in Her orbit.

And that didn’t matter.

“Drop it, Sam.”

Sam still hadn’t dropped it. He’d give Dean an odd look, dropped down to sit on the coffee table, and kept pushing. “Have you ever thought that maybe, if Dad got a chance to talk to her, he’d realize she’s not what we thought she was?“

“Doesn’t matter. And Dad has enough to worry about.”

“But I don’t think she’s something to worry about. I mean, if she got you to come around I’m sure that Dad-“

“Sam-“

“You obviously like her, Dean!” Sam had run a hand over his face, his voice rising to a half-shout. “Even if it’s just as a friend, you like her!”

Dean had let out a long, low groan. Sam didn’t get it. Nobody but Dean seemed to understand that She was awesome, but she was still a liar. Dean could never feel anything but golden around Her, but then she’d always walk away and he’d be left hollow. Because She was still too good to stay with him. She was too good for anything, and Dean hated her for it.

He hated that Dad was right, that She wasn’t made for this life, and she’d move on when she got that rush she was chasing.

He hates that, no matter how hard he tried, he’d want to be Her rush. To share Her smiles and jokes and light, to ensure that She didn’t crash too fast when everything fell down.

“It doesn’t matter if I like her,” Dean had muttered. “She’s not in this shit like we are, Sammy. She’ll move on in a year-“

Sam had shaken his head. “That’s what Dad told you five years ago-“

“And he was just wrong about the timeframe. She’s not sticking around. So fucking drop it,” Dean had narrowed his eyes in a final warning. “Before I hit you.”

He’d thought Sam had gotten it then. He’d been wrong. Because over the next few weeks, every time Dean left the bar with a woman on his arm, Sam would give him a strange look and spend the next day talking about Her. And Dean didn’t fucking need to hear it.

He was living it. He was the one who had to miss Her, not Sam. Sam seemed entranced by Her, but the way everyone but Dad was. The way everyone who saw her knew that they were in Her presence, not the other way around. She spoke with an authority, and looked like She��d fallen from the sky, and moved like the world had been made for Her. Even when she threw a punch it was like she was dancing, and when She screamed it seemed to move the earth itself.

Dad was strong enough to resist it, because Dad was the toughest, smartest son of a bitch Dean knew. And Dean couldn’t blame Sam for thinking about Her, because she was meant to be thought about.

But nobody thought about Her like Dean did. Dean was weak and empty and She looked at him like he was something, so he missed Her. He was the one who couldn’t do anything but trail after Her, the one who always wanted to close the space between them and take Her hand. The one who was being cast in Her light, absorbing it and letting it linger around his body when She was gone. Who was always suffocating in the smell of fruit, who couldn’t ever find eyes as blinding as Her’s, who kept hoping he’d kiss someone else and they’d erase the phantom feeling of Her skin on his mouth.

Night after night and town after town passed in long, blended months, and Dean couldn’t find a woman he wanted to touch like he wanted to touch Her.

He wanted to hold Her hand. He wanted to grab Her by the waist and press her against to his chest. To lay his body over Her’s, make Her giggle and press her face against his neck, and demand to know how She was doing this. Why She’d laugh and tease and smile at Dean, just to tell him She didn’t want to stick around. Why he was the one who had to be haunted by Her, why She couldn’t just let Dean actually hate Her. Let him pull himself together and force his will to be as strong as Dad’s.

Dean was addicted to a drug he’d never even fucking taken. He dreamt of a woman he had no right or desire to dream about. He washed the blood off his skin after every hunt, found another meaningless body in every backroad bar, and cursed himself every night when he fell onto the mattress and She wasn’t at his side.

But he’d asked Her to be there, and She’d said no. She didn’t want this life in a way that counted, and Dean couldn’t blame Her, or hate Her, or even stop picking up the fucking phone when She called.

Because the phone rang on his nightstand, he saw Her number on the small, fuzzy display, and he shot up, answering before he could think better.

“Dean?”

She needed to stop saying his name like that. Like She wanted to say it, and it was more than just a word, when She didn’t want Dean.

“Hey,” he muttered Her name, glancing at the sleeping lump of Sam in his own bed. “What’s up?”

“Are you busy?”

“Yeah, we’re talking.”

“No, I-” She let out a long sigh, and Dean could almost see the pout of Her lips. “I meant are you busy with a hunt?”

Dean frowned, because She sounded tired. Heavy. “You good, Princess?””

“Yeah.”

Lie. Dean could hear it. He could picture Her looking at him with a wide explosion and giving him a small smile, standing too tall and fidgeting with Her rings and holding Dean’s gaze as She fucking lied.

And that was Her voice after long hunts, or gruesome deaths. The voice She used after one of her weird episodes. It always made Dean uneasy, made his heart and lungs itch.

And She was not good.

Dean moved into the bathroom, locked the door behind him, and said Her name with a frown. “What’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on-“

“Why’d you call, then?”

She sighed. “Maybe I just wanted to talk, Winchester. Not everything has to be wrong for us to talk.”

“Uh huh.” Dean didn’t believe Her. Nobody ever just wanted to talk to him. “Where are you.”

“Colorado?”

“Sammy and I are in Virginia, sweetheart, and it’s 5am. With the time difference-“

“Maybe I just can’t sleep, Dean.” She snapped, and that sounded like the truth. It didn’t make Dean feel any less sick “And if you don’t want to talk, we don’t have to-“

“No, that’s not-“ Dean sighed, rubbing his brow. “Can you just tell me what’s happening? We can talk after, but I’m not saying a damn word until you stop freaking me out.”

There was a moment of static silence, and something like iron dropped on Dean’s shoulders. He’d fucked it up. He’d never really had Her but he’d pushed too hard and stepped out of line, and she was going to hang up the phone and Dean would be alone-

“Can you please just tell me if and Sam are in the middle of a hunt?”

He let out a long breath. “No, we just finished one up, in New York. Creepy fucking painting. Sammy got laid.”

She let out a soft laugh, and something warm grew in Dean’s gut. “And how many people have you told?”

“Just you,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall. “And the cashier at the gas station, and the motel cleaning lady. I’m proud of him, sue me.”

She hummed. “Does Sam know you’re telling people?”

“Yeah, he was right next to me-“ Dean cut himself off. “You’re trying to change the subject.”

“No, I’m just-“

Dean grunted Her name. “I’m serious, whatever’s going on-“

“It’s not-” Her long sigh hummed through the speaker. “It’s really nothing, Dean. I’m okay.”

She kept saying that, and Dean knew She wasn’t, and it felt like it was snapping along his spine and festering in his gut.

And he couldn’t let it go.

“You know, you owe me one.”

He could hear the small frown in Her voice. “I owe-“

“A question, Princess. I’ve got one up on you.”

“Dean, we haven’t done that in a year-“

“And I’m bringing it back. I owed you, but you just asked me how many people I’ve told about Sam. I’m up, sweetheart. What’s going on.”

It was flawed logic. They’d asked each other a million questions, and answered all of them, and Dean had long lost track of it. But it was his in. His chance. And She could probably talk her way out of it easily, but he couldn’t let Her go-

“I need help. Please.”

Her voice was a whisper through the phone, and Dean’s grip on the phone became painful.

“You’re in Colorado?”

“Yeah, um, outside of Lakewood-“

Dean nodded, bracing his hands on the bathroom sink and frowning at his reflection. If Lakewood was where he thought, he could get there in a day. He’d have to leave now though, and not stop for anything but gas.

“What do you need?”

“I- I’ve got everything, it’s not even that big a case-“

“What is it?”

“Kelpie. And I can handle it myself, Dean, you don’t need to-“

“You just said you needed help.” Dean snapped Her name. He didn’t understand why the hell She was pushing back. This what She was asking, Dean always did what she asked, and She wasn’t going to have to speed halfway across the country because she didn’t know how to not go to her. “I’ve got nothing going on, and if you need help-“

“I- It’s complicated-“

Dean rolled his eyes. “Hypocrite.”

“I am not-“

“Yeah, you are. Send me the address, Princess, we’ll be there by Friday, we can gank the, uh, the what?”

She sighed. “Kelpie. Scottish water monster, I think there’s one nesting in the pool-“

“In the pool?”

“Modern times, Deano.”

“Whatever, just,” Dean ran a hand over his face, frowning at the bathroom door. “I’ll have Sammy text you an update. Don’t move until we get there.”

He could hear Her scowl through the phone. “I’ll move as much as I want, Winchester-“

“Yeah, I know you will, just- Be careful.” He paused, letting out a slow breath. “Please.”

“I always am.” There was a long moment of silence, Dean unable to figure out how to move his body and hang up the phone, and then- “You really don’t need to, Dean. I can figure it out.”

Dean drew his lips into a tight line. “You need help?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Then we’ll be there. I’ll see you soon.”

He managed to hand up, because he didn’t want to listen to Her protest. To try and walk back that She wanted hishelp.

It ached in his chest that She regretted asking him. That She didn’t actually want him there.

He was going anyway.

Dean almost didn’t bring Sam. He stared at his brother in bed, rolling and grunting in his sleep, and didn’t want to wake him up. He’d told Her he’d take Sam, but he didn’t need to. Dean could go and have Her to himself. He could laugh and joke with Her like nothing was complicated, and forget about this whole fucked up mess. He wouldn’t have to deal with Sam’s pointed looks and questions about Her and how Dean felt. He wouldn’t have to remind Sam over and over that She was just like that—kind and magnetic and bright—for everyone, not only Dean. That it didn’t matter what She did and didn’t tell him, or what the hell those episodes were, or why Dean never told Dad about Her. None of it mattered, because they didn’t matter.

She mattered. She had people and a future outside of the mud. Dean was just Dean, and he didn’t matter enough to matter with Her. She could see that. And Dean wasn’t going to test Her willingness to be near him, to ask him for things.

And that was the worst danger to brining Sam. She and Sam seemed to get along. Sam liked Her. She and Sam fit well together, because they were both weird little nerds. And if She and Sam became friends, that would be another thing that tugged Dean back to Her side. Another reason for Her to fit against him, another reason to grin at and care about Her.

Then Sam rolled over in bed, blinking up at Dean with a frown, and he was screwed.

“Dean, it’s like,” Sam leaned over to frown at the blinking motel clock. “Five in the morning. Why the hell are you up?”

“Get packed, Sammy.” Dean picked Sam’s bag up off the floor and tossed it onto the mattress. “We’re going in fifteen.”

“Fiftee- What?”

“We’re going-“

“Yeah, I heard you. Where are we going at five in the morning?”

Dean grabbed his own phone, tossing it Sam without a word as he went to pack his own bag.

“Golden, Colorado?” Sam looked up at him with a frown. “What’s in Colorado?”

Dean grunted Her name, and Sam’s eyes widened.

“Shit, is she-“

“She’s fine.” Dean snapped. “Needs some extra hands for a hunt.”

Sam repeated Her name, his tone disbelieving. “Needs some extra hands?”

“Yep. I’m gonna go start the car-“

“Dean, what the hell are we hunting that she needs a hand?”

“Kelpie.” He muttered, walking towards the door. “You’re gonna need to return the motel keys-“

Sam grabbed his arm, stopping Dean in his tracks. “A kelpie?”

“That’s what she said. C’mon, dude, move your ass-“

“How do you hunt a kelpie?”

“You can ask,” Dean yanked his arm from Sam’s grip, snapping Her name. “When we get there. Let’s fucking go.”

Sam gave him an odd look, but nodded, and they were out of Virginia before the sun broke the sky. Sam, for once, seemed to know what was good for him, and wasn’t pressing about why Dean was wired and edged the longer the drive crept on. Didn’t taunt him about running to Her side with barely a question, didn’t push on why She’d asked for help at all.

Because Sam was right. One weird and rare monster shouldn’t throw Her. Hell, it should be right up Her alley.

But She’d sounded so damn tired over the phone. She’d said please.

Dean wasn’t a vic, or witness, or random bartender. She never said please to Dean. Not in a real, nervous, pleading way. Where She acted like she actually needed his permission. Needed him.

So Dean was already flying through Missouri, so there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d turn back now. Not when She needed him. When She’d chosen to call Dean, and he’d picked up, and he could help.

He would help. Whatever the hell was going on with Her, Dean would do what he did best and have Her back.

It didn’t matter if Sam was up his ass all weekend. It didn’t matter that She’d sounded reluctant for him to actually come. All that mattered was that he’d be there, for Her.

In Golden, Colorado, pulling up the long, dirt road of the address She’d sent, parking in front of a house.

A huge house.

Something started to twist in Dean’s gut. This was the kind of house rich people lived it. Well-designed, surrounded by open land, so big he could probably park Baby in the living room. The kind of house She belonged in, the kind of house Dean only stepped foot in for pest control, before returning to the road.

The kind of house Her family might live in.

“Dean.” Sam was scanning over the well-trimmed bushes and cars, something close to worry written over his face. “That looks like a house.”

“I know, Sammy, I got eyes-“

“What kind of house had a parking lot?”

Dean’s brow furrowed, and he scanned over the rest of the area. Mowed grass, parking spots with little metal signs, a white picket fence and a painted-

“Country club.” He muttered, dropping his head to the wheel. “We’re at a freakin’ country club.”

“Oh.” Sam nodded. “Yeah. That makes more sense.”

It did make more sense. She wouldn’t lie to Dean about Her family for years, then ask him to drive for days straight to meet them. Dean would probably never get to meet them. One day the thrill would run out, and She’d just stop picking up the phone. She’d return to a house like this one, would live an Apple Pie life with someone just as untouchable as she was, and Dean would be a memory.

Not today, but someday.

Today She was waiting for them on the curb of the sidewalk, and looked up to great Dean with a wide smile.

“Dean!” She pushed herself to Her feet, saying his name the same way She always did. It was going to kill him. “You’re here!”

“Said I would be.” He shot Her a grin, glancing over his shoulder to keep an eye on Sam, sorting through Baby’s trunk. “You might wanna tell Sammy-“

Dean cut himself off with a low grunt, because She was hugging him. Tight. Her arms wrapped around his torso, fitting perfectly. Her face smushed against his chest, Her hair near his nose, and fuck she still smelled like strange fruit and Dean still couldn’t figure out what the hell it was-

She was gone too fast. Dean had to curl his fists to not lunge forward and grab Her. To not pull Her back into him, because goddamnit She’d felt right there, and Dean had no right to want Her there, but he did and She shouldn’t go-

“Thank you.” She mumbled, rolling slightly on Her feet. “I could’ve handled it, I swear-“

Dean sighed Her name, frowning slightly. “I-“

“But I’m glad you’re here.” She gave him a small smile, and Dean’s whole body seemed to have a chemical reaction to it.

The world was sharper, and colors were brighter, and something to the right of his heart was golden and pounding against his ribs because She was looking at Dean, so he was real. This was, at least for now, real. She wasn’t a dream, because She’d hugged Dean and he’d felt the press of Her body. She was glad he was here. She wanted him here. Where he could help Her, and he’d be repaid by just being allowed to be around Her. Allowed to look at Her.

She didn’t look good.

She looked beautiful—She always look beautiful, in an indescribable and ethereal way—but She also looked exhausted. Her eyes were still brilliant, but there was something dulled beneath them. Her hair was still shiny, but it was messy. Unkempt. Her skin looked soft, and but Her clothing was dirty, and there were no rings on Her fingers. The skin around her nails red and raw.

She’d been picking at them.

Something was really wrong.

“Kelpie, huh?” Dean raised his brows. He couldn’t just ask, just demand She tell him what was wrong. That never worked. “How’d you find this one?”

“Paper clippings. The news goes crazy when they think rich people are being targeted for something. Four drownings were bound to capture some attention.” She raised up onto Her toes, frowning over Dean’s shoulder. “Is Sam okay?”

Dean shrugged. “He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine. So the kelpie’s targeting these golf douchebags?”

“No, it’s targeting the people in its immediate vicinity.”

“What-“

“Anyone at the club. There were actually six drownings. Two were staff members, they didn’t make the paper. Sam!”

Sam called Her name back, and Dean turned to find his brother’s face split into a wide, easy grin as he hauled their hunting bag across the parking lot. “Hey!”

“Hi!” She returned Sam’s smile, nodding to the bag as he set it down. “What’s that for?”

“The hunt.” Sam crouched down, hunching over the bag as he unzipped it. “I didn’t get a chance to research kelpie’s on the drive, so we’ve got some of everything. Salt, holy water, bullets, uh, I can find you a knife-“

She hummed, leaning over Sam’s shoulder. “Do you have silver?”

Sam glanced up at Her. “Silver bullets?”

She nodded, and Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, we should. Why?”

“That’s all you’ll need.” She glanced around the lot—mostly empty expect for them and a handful of old people—and Her brow furrowed. “We should go inside. Uh, Sam, you can grab the silver, but I don’t think-“

“Bag goes back in the car.” He nodded, rising back to his feet. “I’ll meet you guys in there.”

Sam wandered back to the Impala, and Dean didn’t even have time to look back to Her before she was grabbing the sleeve of his jacket, tugging him inside.

“Shit-“ Dean steadied his pace, staying one step behind Her. “Princess, I don’t think we can just walk inside-“

“Of course we can.” She waved him off, pushing through the doors. “You can go anywhere as long as you act like you belong there.”

Dean frowned. He did not look like he belonged here. He was wearing slightly torn jeans and a leather jacket that might still have blood on it. His hands were awkwardly in his pockets, and he hadn’t slept in a little over a day, and anyone with eyes could tell he was an imposter. An invader, trailing in Her wake like a feral street dog.

But She did belong here. She carried herself with purpose, and held Her chin high, and when they walked past the entrance desk She gave the receptionist a sweet smile, and nobody stopped her. Dean got an odd look, but She was still holding onto him, so he was allowed in.

He was a little worried about Sammy, walking in with matted hair and a bunch of bullets in his jacket.

It would probably be fine. She was here, and She knew what the hell she was doing all the damn time, so it would be fine.

“Do you want a drink?”

Dean blinked at Her, letting her guide him down into a chair. “A drink?”

“Yeah, they’re free.” She pointed to an empty glass, resting on a side-table next to her own chair. “I’ve had like, seven cokes.”

He snorted. “That’s too many cokes, sweetheart-“

“Fuck off, Winchester. I’ve seen you eat three pies in one night.”

“I earned those pies-“

“And I earned these cokes. So, shut up.”

She raised Her brows in a silent challenge, and Dean chuckled, raising his palms up.

“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced back to the empty glass. “They really free?”

She nodded—Her smile wide and a little intoxicating—and Dean leapt out of his seat, half running to the sleek bar to order the fanciest, more expensive and stupid whiskey they had.

By the time Sam joined them—Dean had been right, She vouched for Sam and he walk right past the desk—Dean had added a large basket of pretty terrible fries and a ribeye steak to their table, and was inhaling them like he’d been stranded in the desert for a hundred years.

“Holy shit, dude.” Sam laughed, dropping into the final empty chair. “This is why I said we should take an hour and eat.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but She blinked, leaning forwards in her seat.

“You guys stopped, right?“ She looked between them with a pretty, pouting frown. “On the drive here?”

“Nope.” Sam shook his head. “Not even when I really had to pee-“

“Sam.” Dean grunted, a little bit of fry falling onto the plate. “Shut your mouth.“

It was too late. She was sitting up a little taller, glaring at Dean with Her arms crossed over her chest.

Her tits looked great like that.

“Dean.”

He gave Her his best innocent look. “Yeah, Princess?”

“How long was the drive?”

“I dunno, I left right after you called-“

“Sam?”

“Twenty-two hours.” Sam said, looking a little too thrilled with how Dean was about to be flayed alive. “Dean drank fifteen coffees.”

“Fucking- Dean!”

“Sammy’s being a dramatic little bitch.” Dean shot Sam a glower. “And I’m gonna fucking kill you- shit-“

Dean winced as She kicked his shin, Her whole expression a little violent. It was kinda hot.

“You need to go sleep-“

“Nah-“

“Winchester.” She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You either sleep, or I cut you off from the free food.”

Dean scoffed. “You can’t cut me off-“

“It’s my fake account, Deano. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Dean looked between Her and his steak with a pout, his voice becoming mournful. “C’mon, sweetheart, it’s free food-“

“And it’ll keep being free, as long as you go fucking sleep-“

“How about this.” Sam raised his hands, saying Her name as hell of a lot nicer than he ever said Dean. “You tell us what the case is, and what you need us for, so we,” he gestured between himself and Dean. “Can know what we’re in for. Then Dean and I will go to a motel, get some sleep, and we’ll regroup tomorrow. Deal?”

She let out a low, adorable huff, but nodded, and Dean rolled his eyes and grunted an agreement.

“Great.” Sam turned to Her, leaning forward in his seat. “What’s the deal with the kelpie?”

“There’s really not much,” She shrugged, still mostly glaring at Dean. “It’s living in the pool, kills about two people a week, and I can’t find it during the day to kill it.“

Dean frowned. “Have you checked the pool at night?”

“Yeah, but it’s in the filtration system, and I’d have to break the whole water pump to get into it.”

“’S why don’t you do that?” Dean wiped his mouth of a little steak juice, and She gave him an unreadable look.

“Because that would flood the supply room, and give the kelpie an advantage in the fight. It’s a last resort, because we should be able to get it during the daytime.”

“Kelpie’s are shape-shifters, though, right?” Sam looked around the room, his face drawn in concern. “It could be anyone here.”

She nodded. “Technically, yeah, but we’ll be able to identify it. It’ll have water weeds in its hair, so we’re probably looking for someone with a hat, and it should have a piece of iron jewelry.”

Sam raised his brows. “Iron?”

“It’s bridle. If you take it off, it’ll revert back to its normal form. We can start looking tomorrow, but,” She turned back to Dean, raising Her chin slightly. “You’re going to rest first.”

Dean was ready to protest, to push on the fact that this sounded like it could be quick—like they could gank this asshole in an afternoon, then spend several days eating free food and just hanging out together—but Sam was a freaking traitor and stood up, making Her promises that they’d get some rest and get going tomorrow morning.

They found a motel room only a few doors down from Her’s, and Dean had to bite down the demand that they all stay together. It would save money, and time, and he’d be able to figure out what the hell was up with Her faster. Because he got that stupid sleep, Sam passed him a coffee in the morning with an amused grin, and they started to look for this pool-dwelling son of a bitch, but something was still wrong.

She was off. When they saw Her the next morning, She didn’t look like she’d rested. The entire time they were making a game plan—gathered around one of the country club’s fancy tables, She and Sam talking as Dean stuffed his face with some pretty freaking awesome scrambled eggs and bacon—She kept glancing around them, beautiful features bloodless and her hand rubbing on her palm. When they actually started the hunt, Sam had barely said the words split up when Her hand shot out and grabbed Dean’s elbow.

“Dean and I can go together,” She said, and Dean was pretty sure She was going to break his arm. “In case I need something shot.”

Sam nodded, moving on, but Dean just stared at Her. She never needed something shot. She only ever scoffed and rolled Her eyes when Dean suggested she’d need a gun, whenever he insisted on walking ahead of her because he was better armed. And he’d never once heard Her request that they not split up.

Something was really fucking wrong. Something She wouldn’t tell Dean about. Her eyes kept wandering around every room they walked through, and She was far too rigid every moment, and Dean wished She’d just tell him what to do. Just show him what was wrong, so he could take care of it for Her. That was what he’d come to do, and now he was stuck in some sort of fucked up limbo between needing to help Her and never wanting this to end.

Because Dean was a selfish douchebag, and his worry was only barely outweighed by how good it felt for Her to be this close all the time. The hunt started to stretch into days, and She was barely leaving Dean’s side. He and Sam would wake up, and She’d already be waiting outside their door. She’d curl up in the Impala backseat as they drove to the country club—Her eyes always drooping slightly, and Dean’s gut always rolling with a rotting, taut worry—and She’d let Dean help her out of the car. They’d spend the day trying to talk to the staff and patrons, countless polo wearing, hair-gelled, manicured douchebags would try to hit on Her, and she’d barely even look at them.

She seemed to be only looking at Dean.

Only at Dean, and only around every room, like the furniture might come to life and attack Her.

And he was fucking confused.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?” Dean watched Her carefully—beautiful, exhausted, scanning around the dining hall with a tight expression—and took a large bite of his sandwich.

“I’m okay,” She mumbled. Lie. “Why is Sam taking so fucking long. We agreed to meet at noon-“

“He’s probably just gettin’ hit on by grandma’s again.” Dean shrugged, crumbs falling out his mouth as he spoke. “Or maybe he finally got somethin’.”

She hummed, but Her shoulders were still too tight, her brows drawn together. She wasn’t eating that much. She seemed to mostly be drinking coffee and chewing gum, and it was just another reason to be worried about Her. He’d started to get extra food, placing it in Her path to try and bait Her into eating it. Even now Dean was pushing his food half across the table for her to take, but She was barely even looking at it.

“Maybe we should go find him- Sam!”

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Sam sat down, leaning back in the chair with a sigh. “The old lady with the beetle broach was trying to talk to me again.”

Dean laughed, nudging Her foot under the table. “See, Princess, I told you-“

“Shut up.” She muttered, running a hand through Her hair as she frowned at Sam. “You good?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. Little hungry-“

“Go grab some food, Sammy.” Dean nodded to the bar, taking another bite. “’S free.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam frowned, glancing at Dean’s plate. “Dude, that’s like your third meal of the day.”

“Fourth.” She corrected, giving Dean a pointed look. “He made us stop for fries earlier.”

Dean swallowed, shooting Her a smirk. “You ate some of them too, sweetheart.”

“I ate like, two-“

“Hold on.” Sam raised his hand, looking between them with a frown. “You let her eat your food?”

Dean shot Sam a glare, because if he took this where Dean knew he was trying to, he’d get his ass beat. “There were a lotta fries, Sammy. And it’s free, I got another basket right now-“

“But you never- fuck-“

Sam leaned down—rubbing his shin where he’d be kicked—and Dean raised his voice, holding Sam’s annoyed gaze with a glare. “Stop wasting time, dude. You find anything?”

“No, nothing.” Sam gave him another odd look, but got the fucking message, and moved on. “How about you guys? Did the golf team pan out?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, nothin’ but a bunch of assholes in boat shoes tellin’ us fuckin’ shit-“

“Dean.” She shot him a glare, holding a cloth napkin across the table. “Chew with your mouth closed.”

He rolled his eyes but took the napkin. “Bossy-“

“Dean-“

He raised his hands in mock surrender, and let Her take over. He’d probably have gotten stabbed if he didn’t, and She was always hot when she thought aloud.

“He’s right, we don’t have anything.” She let out a long breath, rubbing Her thumb over her palm. “No hints, no suspicious activity, and everyone’s clean. There hasn’t even been a murder since you guys got here-“

“Could the kelpie have left?” Sam asked, and She shook her head.

“No, especially not in a place without any other bodies of water. Something’s… I don’t know. This is weird.”

Dean agreed. This was weird. And as She and Sam started to talk about new plans and ideas, Dean knew something was really, really wrong.

She was the starting to be the one who trailed after Dean. They only separated at night, when he and Sam would go to their room, and She’d go to hers. He knew She’d asked him—just Dean, no one else—to help, and that she didn’t seem to be looking anywhere but him, but he also knew She still wasn’t telling the truth. Still wasn’t telling Dean what the hell was up with Her, wasn’t explaining what was making Her so freaking jumpy, all while clinging to Dean like he was a lifeline. Everything about this was strange.

Because it wasn’t just Her, acting as if Dean going out of Her sight was the worst thing in the world. It was this whole damn case. Dean had to watch Her get hit on by countless, undeserving assholes, and every time one would move a little too close to Her, the wind seemed to blow them back. He’d thought he was just seeing things the first two times it happened—the stress of the case and his worry for Her getting to his head—but then one son of a bitch placed his hand on Her arm, something started to strangle Dean in his chest, and the trust-fund dickhead stumbled back.

Dean hadn’t moved. She’d just been standing there with an unreadable expression, hugging Her body so tight Dean was worried she’d bruise herself. And Dean was certain he was losing his mind.

But then it happened again. And again. Strange things building up and up on top of each other, none of them making any damn sense. Random people would brush against Her in the hall, she’d side-step into Dean, and he could swear the whole building would creak. They’d chase something that seemed like a lead but ended up being a dead end, and something would fall off a shelf. Every time She spoke to someone that wasn’t Sam or Dean, Her eyes would narrow and she’d rub her palm like she was trying to wipe the scar off Her body. Sometimes Dean could swear the pavement was cracking under Her, and the water of the pool would always crash up at Her feet, and the flowers in the garden would lean towards Her as they walked through the grounds. She and Dean would turn a corner, bump over each other until Dean steadied them both—one hand around Her waist and another braced on the wall—and the hallway lights would spark.

And they still had nothing. And the deaths had stopped.

Which only made Dean more confused. Because things were weird, but She never mentioned all the strange shit Dean was seeing, and this case was boring. It wasn’t something that should be making Her—sexy as hell, smart-mouthed, impossibly fucking confident Her—look like She was the one being hunted.

And there hadn’t been another murder, or any leads, or a hint to anything at all.

They were on day four, and Sam had been smart enough not to push about Her and Dean being more than hunting partners, but he was still pressuring Dean about checking on Her. Sam had noticed things were odd too. Every night, when they’d separate from Her until dawn, Sam would press about if She was good. If She’d been having any episodes, if She’d mentioned anything odd, if Dean wanted to push a little harder to ensure they could wrap this up quicker.

And Dean caved. He felt like he was winding tighter and tighter with every passing day that She remained hollow and on edge, and he agreed with Sam. For Her, they had to wrap this up now.

Dean said Her name carefully that morning, watching Her in the rearview mirror. “It’s last resort time.”

She shook Her head, and Dean knew that if he turned around, she’d be picking at her fingers. “No, we can give it another day-“

“We’ve given it four other days. We’re doing this now.”

“Dean-“

“Nope. You asked for our help, Princess, and this is us helping. You and I are gonna go into the pump room, Sammy’s gonna keep the staff away from us, and we’re wrapping this shit up. Got it?” Dean shot Her his best stern glower in the mirror, and She swallowed. And flushed.

He tried not to think about it too much. How She was letting him do this for her. How She was almost pressed to Dean’s back as they snuck into the staff only area, and how She was touching him. Holding his arm like She wasn’t sure he was real. Fully listening to Dean for maybe the first time since they’d met.

It was jarring. And kept doing funny things to his lower stomach, when She’d wrap a hand around Dean’s bicep, and he’d get to lead her through the darkened hallways. She trusted him. She wanted him here.

For this, She actually seemed to want Dean.

And he wouldn’t let Her regret that. He’d prove himself here, and maybe She’d fucking listen to him more. Maybe he could get Her to keep holding him. Maybe he could even convince Her to let him hold Her. In the dark, on every hunt, in broad daylight where nobody would ever try and touch Her again because Dean would be hanging around Her shoulders-

He needed to pull himself the fuck together. These were pointless, impossible fantasies that were distracting him from the hunt, distracting him from actually keeping Her safe, from doing his damn job. Just as Dad had warned.

Dean couldn’t afford to disappoint Her and Dad. He needed to wrap this case up now.

“Ready?” He whispered when they reached the pump room, glancing over his shoulder to see Her eyes wide, her grip on his arm becoming bruising.

“Ready.” Her voice was a breath. Dean didn’t believe Her.

He said Her name slowly, scanning over Her too open features. “I can still have Sammy do this with me, and you can do the distraction-“

“No!” Her voice was almost a shout, almost frantic. “I’ve got this, De. I’m just tired.”

She was tired—Dean could see it all over Her gorgeous face—but there was more. There’d been more, this whole week. And Dean had never learned how to just let it go.

“I’m serious, I can even do it myself-“

“Fuck off, Winchester.” She snapped, and Dean felt odd relief through his body. “You’d never let me do this alone.”

“That’s cause you wouldn’t bring a gun, Princess. I got silver bullets and some food in me, I can kick this things ass easy-“

“And I’ve got coffee and a knife.” She pointed Her knife at Dean’s frown, and fuck, that shouldn’t turn him on as much as it did. But She looked more like Her again—a hot, annoying pain in Dean’s ass—and that was the knife he’d given Her. Comfortable in Her hand, like Dean always wanted to be.

He needed to pull it the fuck together.

“Fine.” He let out a long, slow breath, glancing down the hall behind Her. “Ready?”

“Born it.” She muttered, and at least Her blinding, impossibly secure confidence was back. Even if Dean would see that give-away wrinkle in Her brow. Even if She was leaning into Dean’s body in a way that set him ablaze. “Let’s go.”

Dean nodded, raised his gun in a defensive position, and slammed his shoulder into the door with all the force in his body.

The room was dark. Pitch black and strangely silent, something wet pooling around Dean’s ankles, and he almost doubled over at the first breath. It smelled horrible. Like rotten fish and trash and sulfur and chlorine-

“Holy shit,” She muttered from behind him, sounding just as choked on the air as Dean felt. “Dean, light-“

“On it.” He fumbled in his jacket, pulling out the flashlight She’d shoved into his hands as they’d walked down the stairwell.

The moment he switched it on, he wished he’d kept it off.

A young, dark-haired man was slumping against the already broken tank, and his body way fucking mauled. Chest ripped open and mouth unhinged in a permanent scream, eyes clouded and staring into nothing for the rest of time. It seemed like he’d started to decay—clumps of hair missing and skin sagging off his body—and adding that with the smell, Dean guessed the poor son of a bitch had been down here for days.

“Goddamnit.” He muttered, scanning around the rest of the room. The water was red with blood and the tank looked like it had been bashed in, but there weren’t any other signs of danger. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

He glanced over his shoulder, and She wasn’t looking at him. Or around the room. Her attention seemed trapped on the man on the floor, Her every breath so shallow and rapid Dean was a bit worried She’d pass out.

Dean said Her name, his voice low and cautious, and She just shook her head.

“No.” She whispered, and she was starting to cave in. Curling into Herself as all the color seemed to drain from the world, and Dean watched Her shake her head, repeating the word once more. “No, that’s- no-“

Dean said Her name again, reaching out an arm to hold Her upright, and she flinched away.

He could swear the water filling the room was starting to turn at Her feet.

“Fuck, no. No, I can’t, fuck-“

“Princess, you’re starting to freak me- hey-“

She started to walk in unsteady steps to the body, dropping to Her knees in the water with only another shake of her head. “No, it’s- I’m not-“

Dean snapped Her name, his voice rising to a shout as She didn’t even look at him. Her hands only rested on the neck of the corpse, pulling down the collar of his ripped and tattered shirt. Dean heard a choked, distressed sound, and when he came up behind Her there was a thin, gray chain glinting around the man’s neck.

She ripped it off, and the body started to transform. Limbs growing longer and thinner—almost bone-like—and skin turning green. Hair started to grow down the man’s neck, his eyes peeling and stretching to the side of his head, his hands fisting and becoming rock solid and hoofed-

Those were hooves. Those were fucking hooves. That was a fucking horse.

That was the kelpie. Still with its chest carved apart and bleeding, still rotting and glassy-eyed, but now in its true form.

Dean hadn’t thrown up on a hunt for a long, long time. He was pretty damn close to losing his lunch now.

But then he glanced at Her, and the whole world narrowed down. She was panicking, scratching at her throat and scrambling backwards—slipping in the blood-stained water and hyperventilating with glassy eyes—and She needed him.

Dean didn’t care that the hunt was suddenly and strangely over. He didn’t care about who or what had killed the Kelpie, or cleaning up a horse from a basement, or how the water was definitely starting to swirl and crash like an ocean at his feet. He cared about Her. About how She was falling apart, and Dean could help. She’d wanted him here for Her, to help, and that’s exactly what he’d do.

He ran to Her side, ignored Her weak and strangled protests as he hauled Her up in his arms, and carried her out of the pump room, away from the body.

He didn’t bother to look anywhere but Her and the immediately steps ahead of him as he carried Her away. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and Her face buried in the crook of Dean’s neck as her breathing didn’t steady, but slowed. They were both covered in the reek of blood and chlorine, and when he lowered Her onto the curb of the parking lot, she seemed to just collapse. Hugging Her knees to her chest and clawing at her face, muttering low words Dean couldn’t make out.

He could swear he heard his name, somewhere in this impossible, confusing mess. But it didn’t really matter, because there were tears flowing down Her cheeks, and Dean needed to take care of this. Take care of Her.

Just make this better, somehow, because every weak noise that left Her mouth seemed to be a poisoned stab into his intestine.

He didn’t know how to do this. She was fucking crying, and he’d only ever dealt with this for Sam. And She wasn’t six years old. Dean couldn’t promise Her ice cream and TV, or tell Her about how he was afraid of the dark sometimes too. He didn’t think She’d be that comforted knowing Dad would always protect them.

He knew She wouldn’t give a shit that Dean would always be there to keep Her safe, even if that was truer than he’d ever say aloud.

But he had to do something, so he knelt at Her side and raised slow, careful hands to frame her face. He wiped away her tears, and his thumb moved on what might be becoming instinct, stroking a slow, firm line down Her nose.

The tight furrow in Her brow vanished. Her breathing started to find a long, slow rhythm. And when Her eyes blinked open they were glossy and a little red, but still brilliant.

Her hands shot to his chest, and for an infinite, painful moment Dean thought She was going to push him away. That he’d be sent stumbling down to his ass, and She’d shout that he didn’t need to coddle or touch Her. That he should be going to Sammy and focusing on the hunt, because she could take care of herself and Dean should’ve stayed on the target, no matter who fell in his path. Even if it was Her, and she was the most important thing he’d ever been allowed to be close to.

But She didn’t shove him. Her fingers curled in his shirt, she leaned a little further forward, and Dean was pretty sure that if the sky fell, he wouldn’t be able to do anything but remain like a statue or suit of armor at her side.

“I-“ She swallowed, Her eyes wide and open on his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, Dean, I’m sorry-“

She fell silent as Dean squeezed his hands on Her face, a frown pulling at his lips. “What the hell are you sorry for.”

“I- I can’t- I don’t- I’m sorry-“

Her voice started to grow pleading, and She was leaning forward like Dean needed to breathe in Her words to get them.

Once again, he didn’t know what the hell was going on.

Dean grunted Her name, shaking his head. “It’s good, Princess. I’ll clean it up, Sammy’ll figure out what killed it, and you’ll go rest until we’ve got something.”

She gave him an odd look, shaking Her head again. “Oh. Um, I can help-“

“You can get some sleep.” He made his voice firm and commanding again, holding her gaze as he spoke. “You need to lie down, Princess.”

“But-“

“You called us for help. This is us helping. If we see you on the grounds before we get back, I’m driving you back to the motel and sitting on you until you sleep.”

She let out a long breath, Her voice becoming a little sharper. “You suck.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean fished around in his pockets, pulling out his keys. “I’m driving you back, and then you’re getting some sleep.”

He expected Her to protest. To push back and say that she could help with clean-up. That She’d just freaked out a little—even if Dean had seen it, and that was one of the worst episodes She’d ever had—and She was more than capable of at least researching with Sam.

Dean needed to stop trying to predict what She’d do. He was bad at it.

“Okay.” She nodded, and went without a fight.

She let Dean pull Her to her feet, and curled into the passenger’s seat of the Impala as Dean drove her back to the motel. He called Sammy as they pulled out of the country club lot, keeping his voice low and his words simple—Sam needed to get a good look at the body in the basement, keep everyone away from it until Dean got back—as She remained silent at his side.

“Is she okay?” Sam asked, and Dean sighed.

“We’re alright. Hold down the fort, Sammy, and I’ll be back soon.”

Dean hung up, because he didn’t need Sam to push this right now. He’d explain more later. Explain how he still felt sick, long after leaving the basement, because She wasn’t okay. She was staring at Her hands and picking at her skin, and Dean was really fucking worried.

It wasn’t his place to worry. It was barely his place to take care of Her at all.

But that didn’t stop him for helping Her out of the car, half-carrying her into his motel room, and moving her into his bed. From muttering that this way, when he and Sam got back, they wouldn’t have to wake Her up to check on her. From putting a glass of water on the nightstand, and saying he wouldn’t move until she drank it.

Dean wasn’t sure how the hell water was supposed to help. He knew that Sammy was always telling him to drink more, and it was supposed to be healthy, so he’d have Her drink some. He’d kiss Her brow before he left—because he was weak and bendable, and She was like a flame he would follow until it turned him to ash—and he’d wait until she lay down before walking back to the Impala, and driving back to the country club.

For the rest of the afternoon, She kept spinning around his head. He kept replaying how She’d been so silent. Heavy silence that lodged itself in his throat and rotted in his gut, reminding Dean that something was wrong. That something had been wrong. That, even as he explained everything to Sam—almost everything, leaving out how She’d cried, how she’d leaned into Dean’s touch and gripped onto his shirt like him walking away would be the worst thing in the world—there was something scratching at Dean’s skull that he shouldn’t have left.

She might have needed him, might still need him, might want him there.

She didn’t. She wouldn’t. Dean had helped, and that had been Her orders, so he’d done his job. With the kelpie dead, She probably wouldn’t want to stick around, because who would.

And that was the worst fear. That She might just be gone when he returned. That he’d open the door to his motel room, and the bed would be empty. That he’d knock on Her door, and she’d be gone. That Her car would be missing from the lot, and Her number would be dead, and Dean had stepped out of line by helping her too much—by showing too many cards, holding Her face and kissing Her brow—and She’d left forever, because everyone always did.

Sam got out of the club first. He came up with a complex lie involving gas leaks and bugs that kept everyone out of the basement and the pool—the water filtration bursts apparently proving to be a problem—and muttered to Dean that he was going to stop at the library to start working out what the hell could rip a kelpie to shreds like that. Dean nodded, grumbled that he could use some freakin’ hands with this mess, and Sam had just shrugged and told Dean to call when he needed a ride back.

Dean was not a fan of this plan. For one, he was now cleaning up a disguising corpse alone. Two, whatever the hell had gotten the kelpie might still be wandering around, and Dean wasn’t looking to get ripped to shreds. And finally, worst of all, Sammy was getting his grimy nerd hands on Baby.

But the plan made sense. The motel wasn’t far, they had done a sweep of the ground and patrons for anything immediately suspicious, and Sam knew the day he scratched the Impala would be the same day he died, but Dean still didn’t like this.

What if She lost it again. Sam didn’t know how to calm Her down. Dean didn’t want Sam to calm Her down. He’d probably be better at it—Sam was great at soft words and emotional bullshit—but Dean wanted to be the one who did it. Whose shirt she clung to. Whose hands wiped Her tears, and who carried her away from danger.

Dean wanted to do that. He was a hollow, greedy ass, so he wanted to be the one She held in the dark, for comfort or more.

And he wouldn’t be that. She still didn’t trust him enough to tell him what the hell had actually been going on all week, and what the fuck was up with Her family, or why She always lied about such weird shit.

He’d have to live with it. Even as it left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Even as he hated himself for allowing it to get to this. For being so fucking weak that he’d fall this far down.

But he’d fall further. Because when he finished up in the basement, walked up to the parking lot to call Sam for pick up, he spotted a lone car still in the lot.

Her car. The dark blue, four-wheel drive She’d been using for this hunt. Dean wasn’t sure where the hell She got all these cars—he didn’t really want to find out, because that would just be another reason to hate Her that he couldn’t hold onto—but that was Her car.

When he scanned around the silent yards and walkways, there wasn’t a soul but his. Only the dead of night making long shadows and odd shapes on the building wall, only crickets and soft wind, only the pool lights still glowing through the fence.

There She was.

She was glowing. Literally freaking glowing. Blue and white light shifting over Her features, every shadow cast on her face made the right places sharper and softer, and the golden light of the overhead lamps giving the impression of a halo.

Dean felt like he shouldn’t be looking.

It felt like he was invading something, watching a piece of beauty that no one person should be allowed to witness. She couldn’t be human, not when She looked like that. When the whole world seemed to be bending to make Her more beautiful. The colors around Her seemed brighter to compliment her. The wind drifted around and though Her hair like a movie. The shifting water reflected onto Her skin, giving the impression of a strange water spirit or fallen star, resting for only a moment at the edge of the pool.

For a brief moment Dean was frozen. Watching the water move, watching Her like she was a secret he’d really like to keep.

Then Her eyes drifted up and met his, she smiled, and Dean was pretty sure that time stopped. That they were the only ones left in the universe.

It didn’t matter why She was here and not Sam. It didn’t matter why She wasn’t doing as he’d told her and resting. It didn’t matter how blood was caked and dried and itching on Dean’s hands, staining the fence as he crawled over it to join Her.

He’d just wash it off in the water.

“Sam was eating really loud.” She said, looking up at Dean as he dropped to Her side. “And I needed some air, so volunteered to pick you up.”

“Huh.” Dean scanned Her over. Still impossibly beautiful. Still tired. “And he let you?”

“He’s not my boss, Winchester, I don’t need permission-“

Dean raised his brows, and She sighed.

“He lost rock, paper, scissors.”

“There it is.” Dean chuckled, glancing back to the lot. “Where’s my car?”

“Back at the motel.” She shrugged. “I never learned stick.”

He could teach Her stick. His hand would touch Her’s. It would cover Her’s and Dean would guide her movements, and she’d smile and he’d maybe find an excuse to touch Her thighs, or trail his fingers over Her lips-

“Are we in the clear?” Her voice was soft, but it still grabbed Dean’s attention. He blinked at Her—feet dragging small circles in the pool, head slightly bowed to watch the water—and frowned.

“In the-“

“The kelpie.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Dean held his hands up, displaying the blood under his nails. “Wrapped the son on a bitch up and burned him in the furnace.” He made a face. “What kinda country club has a furnace.”

She let out a soft laugh. “One that was built in the 1900s.”

“How would you know-“

“It says established 1923 on the sign, Deano.”

“Oh, c’mon, how am I supposed to tell-“

“It’s a pretty easy thing to spot.” She gave him another small smile, and he was going to explode. “And it’s either just an old building, or,” Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. “That’s not the first body that’s been burnt in the furnace.”

Dean laughed. “You think they’re running a front for boat shoes and shorts?”

“I think they just murder people for fun. That’s why there were so freaked out about the kelpie deaths.”

Dean gave Her an amused look, raising his brows, and She grinned, leaning closer as she continued.

“Unsanctioned. No one filled for the murder permit.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “That’s so fucking dumb-“

“You’re laughing.”

“Yeah, cause it’s dumb.”

She scoffed. “Like you could do better-“

“Oh, I could, Princess. My bet is that the furnace was for orgies.”

“What?”

“Furnace for orgies.” He smirked at Her, wiggling his brows as he leaned closer. “Shit gets so wild with these assholes that they have to burn the evidence, because there ain’t enough condoms in the world to just clean it up after.”

She wrinkled Her nose. “De, do you know how much jizz they’d have to be producing for a trash can not to work?”

He winked. “You know I do, sweetheart- Son of a bitch!”

She’d pushed him into the goddamn pool. When Dean wiped the water from his eyes, She was still sitting on the side, a wide grin of challenge on Her face. Her body so close to his, and She looked so fucking beautiful, and everything about Her goddamn blinding. Dean really could fall further. He could crash all the way down.

And he could take Her with him.

She opened Her mouth, and any words turned into a yelp as Dean grabbed Her wrist and pulled her down over him.

“Dean!“

He laughed, watching Her brush wet hair from her eyes, swimming over to hang off of the wall. “You gotta be able to eat what you dish out, Princess-“

Dean choked on chlorine, as She splashed water right into his mouth, Her annoyance seeming to have vanished into thin fucking air.

And this was too simple. Too easy to feel like nothing mattered but Her and Dean in the dead of night, screaming at each other like children and laughing like their lives were nothing more that this moment.

Nothing really felt real but this. But Her, trying to possibly drown Dean and squeaking when he pushed Her away, looking more and more like something that couldn’t have been born on earth. Mascara was running down Her cheeks, her face flushed and hair clinging to Her neck, but She might be the best thing Dean had ever seen. And when they finally got out of the water—Dean finding some towel in the pool supply office, wrapping two around her shoulders and one around his own—and silence began to stretch on, he was certain she was a siren, or witch, or something made to loosen his tongue and say things he shouldn’t.

Because She asked if he was tired. Just asked it like it was a normal question, and she wasn’t looking for any specific answer, watching Dean with bright, soft eyes, and it broke a dam that always caged over his throat.

“I’m fucking exhausted.” He muttered, dropping his head into his hands, and She was silent.

In the brief second, something started to wrap around Dean’s chest. Vile and toxic and sneering up his spine that he’d fucked it. That She didn’t actually care that Dean was tired, because Dean was supposed to be tired. He was supposed to keep moving and fighting and-

“Do you, um,” She swallowed, and when Dean looked over She was staring at her own hands, picking at the skin around her nails. “You wanna talk about it?”

Dean frowned. He wasn’t the one who had the big fucking freak out. He didn’t need to talk about anything.

But then his mouth opened, and he was telling Her everything. The words fell out of him like a flood his didn’t know how to stop, didn’t know how to contain when She just listened with wide eyes and a gentle expression. She was dangerous. Dean couldn’t move away from Her gravity, couldn’t shut his mouth and keep down things he needed to keep down.

He told Her about Sammy’s weird visions and nightmares. He told Her about Dad in Chicago, and going back to Kansas, and his fight with Sam about tracking Dad down. And She listened. Silent, leaning forward with an open expression and eyes Dean would like to stay trapped against his forever. The only blatant reaction was at the end, as he told Her about the reapers, and something impossible to understand flashed over Her face.

“You almost died?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point-“

“The point?” She repeated, shaking Her head in what might be disbelief. “I don’t care what the point was, Dean, you almost fucking died-“

He frowned. That really wasn’t such a big deal. “Well, I obviously made it out alright-“

“Would you have told me?”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“If Sam’s idea hadn’t worked, and you were still going to die in a few months, would you have told me?”

He said Her name, slowly, because he wasn’t sure what the hell was happening. “I dunno, I wasn’t thinking about it that much.”

That was a lie. Before Sam had found that preacher and his bitch of a wife, Dean had stared at his phone and thought about calling Her nearly every second. It would’ve been the time to demand some answers. To do some kind of sick, selfish test to see if She would stick around for Dean, when he needed Her. When he needed someone who was complicated, but not Sam let’s-get-all-hung-up-on-Dad-and-hunting complicated. She was complicated because Dean always wanted Her there, against all reason.

It was the exact reason he hadn’t called. She didn’t want him there. And Dean was pretty sure his heart would’ve just given out there if he’d called, told Her he was dying, and She hadn’t given a shit.

She seemed like She gave a shit now, though. She was glowering at Dean and hugging Her body, and Dean would’ve thought he’d stabbed Her.

“Would you have asked Sam to call me?” She asked, and Her voice was small again. It made Dean’s gut stretch and ache. “After?”

“Probably, yeah. But it doesn’t really matter-“

“It matters.” She muttered, and Dean blinked. “I- I would’ve spent months wondering where you were, what happened, and you’d be fucking dead-“

“I’m not dead.” He snapped, something spiking and irritated creeping over his skin, twisting his words in his throat. “And it’s not like you were sticking around in the first place, Princess.”

She blinked. “What?”

Dean rolled his eyes, every word bitter and hot on his tongue. “You didn’t want to stick with us. You don’t get to have fucking updates on everything we do.”

“This isn’t an update, Dean, it’s you dying-“

“Yeah? And would you give a fuck if I did?”

She recoiled, and Dean hadn’t seen that expression on Her face in a while. She wasn’t wounded, or nervous, or apologetic. She looked like a cornered animal. Every word spitting and laced with a silent, tight fury that burned like a hot poker in Dean’s chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She hissed. “Of course I’d care if you died, you’re my partner-“

“Only when you think it’s convenient.” Dean spat right back, everything winding up tight and vaulting out of him without control. “You don’t want to stick around for the rough shit, sweetheart? You don’t get to go all goddamn righteous on me, because this is the goddamn job. People die all the time.”

“You wouldn’t have had to die! I could’ve helped-“

Dean huffed a dry laugh. “You wanted to help, you could’ve been there.”

She shook Her head, her words becoming slower. Sounding more measured as she curled further into Her body. “I told you, it’s complicated-“

“It’s not,” he sneered Her name, and She flinched, and Dean hated that he still wanted to reach out at sooth Her. She didn’t want him. She didn’t get to act like She gave a shit when Dean was just her toy.

He loathed that he liked being Her toy. He loathed that She always knew the right thing to say to make him follow Her further down. He loathed that She hadn’t been lying when she said she cared, but She also didn’t want to stick around. To lay in the mud with Dean, until they both drowned in it.

He fucking despised that he still didn’t know how to really hate Her.

But he did know how to keep hurting Her. How to keep fighting, even as every word made him sick, because everything was spewing out of him like lava, and he was tired, and he never knew how to just fucking stay in line.

“I drop fucking everything when you call. I drive across the goddamn country whenever you ask me to-“

“I do the same for you-“

“No, you don’t!” Dean was shouting. It was making something to the left of his heart cower. “It’s not the fucking same! I’ve got shit to lose, I’ve got things to do and people to look out for, but I still always go for you!”

Her lips curled as She sat a little higher—Her back straight and chin raised—and Dean’s blood went cold. She wasn’t cowering anymore. And She looked furious.

“Do you seriously think,” Her voice was low. Quiet. Venomous in Dean’s brain. “That I don’t have shit to lose? That I’m here for fun?”

“Aren’t you?” He needed to stop. He couldn’t. “You fucking chose this, Princess.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Her voice echoed around the grounds, leaving scars on Dean’s ribs. “You keep- you keep fucking telling me that I don’t get this life, that I’m not in the exact same situation you are-“

“Because you’re not! I fucking know you’re not! I’m fucking stuck here, Dad’s stuck here, hell, even Sammy can’t get out, but you can just fucking leave whenever the hell you want! You can just crawl home when you get sick of it, got back to your rich fucking family and pretend this never even happened!”

Dean realized what he said too late. He could almost see the words sink into Her skin, she her eyes narrow as something strange and hostile and bloody flashed over Her face.

“How the fuck do you know about my family, Dean.” She hissed, and Dean let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“Dad. He figured you out immediately.”

She blinked at him. “Immediately?”

“On the moroi hunt.” He muttered. “And you could’ve fucking told me. But you kept never did. You kept lying to me, Princess. And that’s the shit you do when you don’t trust someone, don’t want them around-“

“You lie to Sam!” She shouted. “Sam lies to you! Why am I any different, just because I’m not a Winchester-“

“Yes! Sam and I are lying to protect each other-“

“Who says I’m not lying to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” Dean scoffed. “I’m the one who always saves your ass! You’re the one who freaks the fuck out, who would be dead if I wasn’t there! You’d be long fucking dead if it wasn’t for me, sweetheart. You’re just a spoiled fucking brat chasing a high,” Dean spat Her name, and toxics rooted deeper into his body. “So don’t fucking act like you give a shit about me.”

“I’m a spoiled brat?” Her laugh was loud, and cold, and set a chill over Dean’s bones. “You don’t have a fucking clue about my life, about my family-“

“I know that-“

“No!” She shot up, walking a few paces from Dean and shaking her head almost frantically. “You don’t have a single fucking idea, you don’t know what they are, you-“ She ran a hand over her face, leaving scratch marks on her skin. “They’d make the worst monsters your dad’s killed look like fucking bunnies.”

He let out a dry, hollow laugh. “Whatever. You couldn’t even kill a bunny without crying and panicking. Maybe they’re just fucking people, and you just don’t like that they don’t do whatever the hell you say. That you can’t control them.”

He wanted to take it back. The words had barely left his mouth and he wanted to take them back. He didn’t know where they’d come from, why the hell he’d said them, what the fuck was wrong with him. Because She didn’t look alive. Her jaw was clenched, hands curled into fists, so still Dean would think She’d be turned to marble, the only sign that She’d heard him the ragged sound of her breath. The wind was cold in Dean’s wet hair and biting at his ears, the night loud and creaking around him, but he could only look at Her.

She didn’t look broken. She looked faded. Colorless. Silent as she just stared at him, and Dean started to beat himself black and blue in his chest.

She didn’t insult him, or scream, or fight. She threw her keys at his face, didn’t look to see if he caught them, and just walked away. Vanished into the grounds, swallowed by the dark. Leaving Dean alone, like he deserved. He was a fucking monster. He’d done that. He’d shut Her down. He’d done what he’d sworn not to do and broken this. Taken the one good, easy thing and fucking bashed its brains in on the pavement. He could’ve never said anything. He could’ve kept pushing down the questions, kept moving in Her orbit until she cast him away, and he drowned himself in fruit perfume that didn’t smell quite like her, and beer she’d have never drank.

But he’d opened his mouth, and now he was alone. He’d pushed Her to leave, to wander into the darkness, when there-

Fuck.

Something had killed the kelpie. Something that might still be out there. Where She was. Without any weapons, without Dean there to protect Her.

And that something might be close, because everywhere Dean looked things were wrong. The trees were bend away from him, towards where She’d vanished. The water was crashing up on the deck with the howl of the wind, there were cracks on the pavement that hadn’t been there before, and nothing was good.

She was in danger.

And it was Dean’s fucking fault.

—————————

You can’t be here. You can’t be anywhere right now, not as it all becomes too much. Far too much.

You never should’ve called Dean. You never should’ve let the lonely, cold exhaustion and fear and pain erode at your will until you caved in the White, and reached for Dean. You should’ve called Bobby. You could’ve told Bobby about the demons, told him you didn’t know what to do, and he’d have told you to come home.

You should’ve gone home.

You should’ve done anything but fucking call Dean.

But it’s been long. Long and dark and lonely for months, and you’d missed him, and you’d wanted to see his stupid, handsome face just to let the world fall back into harmony for a few days. You’d wanted to feel like you weren’t the burden, the sickness, the problem. You’d just needed to not be alone. You’d been sick of being too much and nothing at all in all the worst moments, and you couldn’t stop worrying about Dean anyway, so you’d called.

If you were smarter—if you could ever actually know something and care about it—you would’ve dealt with this yourself. This was your Darkness. This was your problem. The demons weren’t hunting Sam and Dean. They had enough problems without dealing with yours.

Dean was right. He’d been such a fucking dick, but he’d been right.

You can’t do anything. You can’t help anyone. You wouldn’t be dead without Dean, and he really didn’t know anything about your family or past, but you weren’t in control. You weren’t worth sticking around for, weren’t worth putting up with. You kept caving and crashing and losing control, and nobody should ever be around you.

Not before.

And especially not now.

The past months have been hell. Literal hell, let out to roam the earth and always tracking and hunting you. The plaguelike feeling of horror was always scraping at your head and hands, darker than the Darkness and making the White whine and riot with distress. It was wrong. Plain fucking wrong.

And it followed you everywhere. Every town you stopped in had a demon. Sometimes they’d just watch you on the street, and you only know they were there because you could feel that pitch fucking blackness. Sometimes—if you reigned in the Darkness with a bite of your hand or blood-drawing scratch on your skin—you’d be able to see them. Glinting and rolling and black in the body of someone as they passed you, faces painted and twisted like a lingering nightmare taken form.

But there were others now, too. Strange ones. Worse ones.

The first one had been only a week after the onryo hunt. You’d been hunting a werewolf in Washington, sitting alone in your motel room and scrubbing your skin raw as the Darkness sat at the top of your throat. You’d missed Dean. You’d wanted to call him, to take the risk and just join them. When they found John, you could run. Maybe you’d finally find a time to tell Dean that there was something wrong with you. Maybe you’d have figured out a way to make him stay for good this time.

And the next day—when you hadn’t called, but had been so fucking close to it—a strange woman had started to asking you questions about things you wanted. About how she could give you anything, but you’d have to barter with a different type of currency.

You’d honed the darkness—squinting and ignoring the pain that had gnawed at your organs—and she’d been red on the inside. Seeping and flowing like blood around her vessel, her darkness a little stickier, a little less violently chaotic.

You don’t know how, but you’d trapped her. You’d gotten the jump and pinned her down, your hands moving of their own accord to draw a symbol you didn’t understand on her brow, and the demon inside had sunken a little further down.

“Aren’t you a quick one.” She’d mused, scanning you over with a smirk. “It’s going to be so much fun once we have you. Once we get to see what makes you tick.”

She been the first crossroads demon. She’d taunted and mocked you until everything was too big, the Darkness rocketed out of your body and crushed her down into nothing, and you were left sitting on top of a terrified, very normal woman.

The yellow demon was still there. Still the same asshole, still only watching like the black ones, but he felt like ash, clogging around your throat and making the world gray. He wouldn’t try to hide from you like the others. He’d smile at you, following you around on a case and seeming to turn to thin air whenever you tried to confront him.

And then he’d up and vanished. Fully disappeared. And in his wake had come the nightmare. The fucking blight.

Green demons. Rock-like and solid and violent. Rioting around inside their vessels, barreling through the world and finding you wherever you went.

It started in a bar. You’d been in the bathroom, a sweet old woman had come up next to you, and she’d attacked you with the force of a tank. With hands around your throat and a knife that seemed to be aimed near your heart. You’d kicked her off and let the darkness strangle her like all the others.

But they’d kept coming. And you don’t know what to do. You don’t know where to hide. You didn’t know where to go. In all the months since that first one, you’ve been home once. Bobby had tried to get you to stop, to just rest and figure out what the hell was going on, and you’d said no.

And now you’re afraid all the time. You’re never not in pain anymore, and the Darkness has only grown more malignant as you push it down almost every waking second. It’s why you’d called Dean. He always made it better, just by being there. Everything would bend and turn to silver, and fear wouldn’t seem real because Dean was there. The pain would be worse when it came, but it would come less.

All you’d wanted was to be in pain a little less.

But Dean had been right. You’d just wanted him for you. He had enough of his own stuff going on, and he wasn’t yours to be angry about. He wasn’t yours at all.

That didn’t stop you from hating him. Knowing Dean wasn’t yours wasn’t nearly enough to stop the white-hot and boiling fury that he’d fucking left you. That he’d known about your family and never just asked you, that he’d looked at you and seen everything and acted like he could stick around, when he’d probably just been waiting. Waiting to see the part of you that wasn’t quite human burst out. Waiting for you to say what you were first, so he could…

You don’t know what he would’ve done. You just know that he’d known, and he’d left, and he’d lied, and you’d probably never see him again. He’d been noticing the episodes. He’d know you weren’t worth trying to fix anything with, because everything would always shatter around you.

All those fractures in you were bursting again. Lodging deeper, searing along your guts and in the cavity of your chest. Dean wouldn’t stick around after this. You hated him for that.

You hated yourself more for wanting him to stay. Hated that, if he grabbed your face between his hands and apologized, you’d forgive him. You shouldn’t. But he’d plunged deep into your body, carved himself along your ribs, and you just didn’t want to be in pain anymore.

You don’t know how long you wander. You don’t know where you’re going. You only know you don’t want to hurt anyone until the Darkness—howling and stretching through the whole world around you, making rocks crumble to dust when you pass them and brush part to clear your path—falls back down into your body.

When it does, you make it back to the motel. The Impala isn’t in the parking lot.

You’re not surprised. It still makes the White ache and whine.

You’ll have to go in the morning. The kelpie had been a message. You’re sure of it. It had been a demon—probably one of the green ones—telling you that you can keep running, keep fighting, keep hiding, but they’ll find you. They always find you. You’re like a beacon. A lighthouse splitting through the dark that seems to draw ships towards you rather than helping them coast away. And it’s not safe here.

It’s not safe anywhere.

But you’ll get through this. You always do.

You don’t sleep that night. You sit in the corner of your motel room with your knife clutched in your hands, watching the doors and windows with stinging, heavy eyes.

And still, if Dean knocked on the door and told you he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant it and he was an idiot, you would’ve fallen into his arms with a sob, putting a trust in him that you shouldn’t have, feeling a comfort you didn’t deserve.

But when there is a slam on the door, it’s not Dean. You peek out the blinders to see a beady eyed, red-faced cop standing outside, his expression painting with something hateful.

And you can feel it. The blood and disease and sense of worse. Everything around you is worse, and the Darkness is spreading not because you’re on edge and unable to control yourself, but because the fear in your body is justified. Because you draw blood biting on your inner cheek, narrow your eyes, and something foul and green was bursting inside of the cop.

You could sneak out the back. The Winchester’s are gone, and likely won’t come back, so if you ran to your car and booked it down the road, you could get away without any destruction-

Shit.

You’d given your car keys to Dean. You’d been overwhelmed and everything had been too much—feeling how the water was disgusted and trapped in the pool, how the trees were aching from the country club’s rough trimming, and the wind felt lost and alone—so you’d thrown your keys at Dean because even their weight in your pocket had felt like a blade on your skin. And you couldn’t have stayed there, but you hadn’t wanted to leave him stranded.

And now you were fucked.

You’re going to have to fight. You’re going to have to drag yourself together with bruises and bites and try to kill this thing without destroying the motel. The green demons are harder to kill—harder to shred apart with the Darkness, harder to aim at and not catch the rest of the world in the crossfire—but you’ll manage. You’ve done it a few times before, and been left wracked with pain and sickness for days after, but survived.

You don’t need Dean Winchester.

You can do this.

You open the door with a sickly-sweet smile, your knife hidden behind your back, and raise your brows at the demon. “Can I help you, sir.”

The demon scans over you with a flat expression, and says your full name in an empty voice. “You’re gonna need to come with me.”

“Can I ask why?” You take a measured pace back, forcing your tone and expression to remain flat and bored. “No offense, officer, but unless you have a reason-“

“You’ve been turned in for theft.” The demon drawls, moving closer. You’re going to break your jaw. “I gotta warrant for your arrest.”

You raise your chin, still not moving. “Let me see it.”

The demon gives you a dry look, shaking his head. “Darlin’, we don’t have to do this. You know what I am. I know what you are. We all do.”

“You know what I am?” You ask the question before you can think about it, and the demon smirks.

“We’ve been lookin’ for you for a long, long time.” He drawls your name, taking another step forward. ”C’mon, let’s just fuckin’ spill some blood so we can all go home.” He pauses, letting out a loud, cold laugh. “Well, I’ll go home. You’ll be comin’ with me.”

“I think,” you raise your knife, standing a little taller. “You should walk away. If you know what I am, you should’ve heard what I did to all your friends.”

The demon’s eyes narrow, you brace yourself, and an engine revs in the parking lot.

Sam and Dean didn’t leave. They’re climbing out of the Impala, and they look like shit. Both covered in dirt, both with bags under their eyes, Sam looking mostly relieved and Dean looking like he’s going to strangle you.

A small, glowing and colorful part of you is consumed with joy that Dean’s here. That he didn’t leave, and that he cares enough to roar your name and stomp across the small yard until he’s at your side.

The rest of you is still bleeding from where he’d twisted his obvious hatred for you into your body.

All of you is starting to collapse and panic, because he can’t be here. He’s in danger. You’re putting him in danger, and you’re fucked, and Dean needs to leave now but if you shove him away you know he won’t ever come back-

“Where the fuck have you been?!” Dean stops beside the cop, his attention and wrath so fixed on you that you’re not sure he notices you situation. “We’ve been looking all fucking night, we thought you’d gone and gotten yourself killed! That when we found you, you’d be ripped up like that damn kelpie-“

“Dean.“ Sam comes up to join you, eyeing the cop wearily, and Dean ignores him.

“No matter how pissed off you were that was fucking stupid, we know something else is out there, we know what it does, and we don’t have a goddamn clue what it is, so if it had found you alone you would’ve been fucked-“

“Dean.” Sam raises his voice. It doesn’t work.

“I mean, are you actually that fucking stupid?! Were you trying to prove a fucked-up point? Trying to find the monster first so you could gank it and rub it in my face, trying to get a rise out of me by giving me a goddamn heart attack-“

“Dean!” Sam steps between you, his tone firm and hushed. “Calm the hell down, you need stop talking-“

“I don’t need to do shit, Sam! What I need are some goddamn answers why little miss independent over there is trying to get herself fucking killed-“

“I wouldn’t worry about your little bitch, Dean Winchester.” The demon sneers, and there’s a brief moment of silence as Dean realizes what’s happening.

“The fuck did you just say?” You can’t see Dean over Sam’s massive body, but you can hear the cold fury in his voice. Imagine how he’s moved into a tense, battle ready stance.

Sam groans, running a hand over his face. “Dude, that’s a police officer. We’re, shit, we’re so screwed-“

The demon chuckled, shooting you a look Sam and Dean can’t see, his eyes flashing green just for you. Just in a silent promise of more blood and death and horror.

And this is suddenly about more than you. It’s about Sam and Dean, and keeping them safe even if they never want to speak to you again.

“I think it’s best if all’a’ya’ll come with me.” The demon drawls, and Sam tense, taking a side-side back to frown at the officer.

It sounds like he’s arguing. You can’t really hear it over the ringing in your ears—twisting in your ear drums as you try to get a goddamn hold and keep it together—but you don’t really need to. You need to get Dean’s attention. You need to stare at him until he looks at you, to push down how it feels like there’s a corrosion along fractured pieces in your body as he ignores you.

He won’t look at you. He’s furious and hates you and won’t look at you-

You’re about to take the risk and hiss his name when his eyes lock onto yours. There’s something sharp and wounded inside of them, and now is not the time to care about that. You can deal with how the White wants to walk over to him and hold him against you later, when he leaves for good and you have to teach yourself how to hate him again.

But for now, all you can do is blink at him. Two firm times, praying he’ll catch on.

He frowns. One blink.

You repeat your movement, tilting your head slightly to the demon, and it’s like your fight never happened. Dean’s face twists in a wrath that’s for you, not at you, and he slams his fist into the demon’s jaw without hesitation.

There’s a stumble in time, a brief moment where everything freezes and it’s only the demon’s shout of pain, Dean’s rage on his face, and Sam’s look of pure confusion.

Then the rush begins. You’re moving on blind instinct, and it’s stronger than usual. It might be Dean, or the demon, or both. You can’t really see anything but lights and shadows and colors until it’s over. The demon is green, a neon and toxic shade of it that’s made of everything savage and torrid in the world, and Sam’s still strange—he’s always strange, always in an odd time and just a shade off of the color he should be—and you’re made of vast and searing Silver. Contained and in harmony with something golden you’re pretty sure is Dean.

And the Gold is the realest thing you’ve ever see. You can almost taste is, almost feel it pull you, hear it call you. You know how to move with it, around it, in rhythm with it, more than you’ve ever known anything.

It flares and rampages when something twists into your gut. The color that’s Sam starts to chant something—you don’t remember telling them it’s a demon, but they seem to have figured it out—the green begins to bellow, and when it all falls back to earth, you’re dizzy.

Clutching the blade in your stomach, the metal leaving blisters right under your skin.

Iron.

Fuck.

You hear Dean shout your name again, and it’s just Dean now. No strange, magnetic gold. Only pretty, furious eyes looking at you.

“Sam, get the-“

“Going.” You see Sam move away, heading back in the direction of their room, and just a second later Dean’s face moves into your vision.

He looks pale. Worried. His face is firmly set and unreadable, but you think that’s just what he does when he’s concerned. Even his voice is steady, but tight, and his hands on your body feel restrained. Like he’s trying not to make it worse with just his hands.

“Keep the knife in,” he snaps, covering your hand where you’re clutching the blade. “And stay awake.”

You shake your head, wincing from only that movement. This is going to be more than just a stab wound. You can feel the iron dull and pushing on the Darkness, and it’s making this all the pain that always lives in your body become more. Your brain feels fogged and clouded, and you don’t trust your own hands or body to aim the Darkness how it needs to be used. You can’t figure out anything that will fix this, because you can’t think outside of pain. Horrible, consuming and tearing pain.

“I need to, fuck-“

“Stop talking.” He grunts, glancing over his shoulder to where Sam disappeared. “I’m gonna pick you up, move you to our room-“

“No, Dean, wait-“

“Listen, you wanna fight, we can tear each other to goddamn pieces. But only-“

“Shut up, Dean, I don’t wanna fight, I- Goddamit-“

His grip on your body tightens, and his face starting to get a little blurred. “Stop fucking moving, Princess, you’re gonna make it worse-“

“It’s already worse.” You mutter under your breath. “Dean, I, I need to go home-“

“Shit-“ He mutters, before raising his voice to a shout. “Sam, she’s fucking losing it-“

You roll your eyes, letting out a low hiss of pain. “I’m not losing it, dumbass, you need to get me to- fuck- he’s gonna kill me-“

That gets Dean’s full attention, his words sharp as his gaze shoots back to yours. “Who the hell is gonna try and kill you-“

“Bobby.” You mumble, and there are strange, darkly colored spots clouding your vision. “You- Fuck, you need to call him, tell him I’m coming-”

“Bobby?” Dean repeats, and you wince. Bobby’s definitely going to kill you. “Bobby who? Not Bobby-“

“Singer.” It’s hard to keep talking. You don’t feel that all that good. “Use my phone, he always picks up for me.”

“For you?!” Dean says your name, his voice like thunder in your ears. “How the hell does Bobby know you?! How the hell do you know Bobby-“

“He raised me,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

Dean says something. You don’t hear it.

You’ll be alright. Dean’s shouting in the distance, and he probably hates you, but he’s not leaving you to bleed into the dirt and turn to ash. He sounds worried, and furious, and kind of like the ocean. Loud. Strong. Certain.

Everything is a little fuzzy and blurred, but there are also strong hands holding you, and they don’t feel wrong on your body. You’re in so much pain, but you’re completely yourself.

Safe, right here, with Dean.

End Note: Poor Dean is about to spend a whole chapter in an existential crisis. Sorry my king it's for the growth.

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

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