#but most of me would rather die than ever let that see the light of day

[analyticalangelsheart]

sometimes i think about the fact that like multiple times now ive tried to write some kind of poetry in the tags of a post and it literally always cuts out the gay part

[fiendishfables]

Can I please request dom! Lucifer eating you out? I just know that man is very talented with his tongue

a/n: say less, really; short and sweet lovin' from Luci

warnings: nsfw, eating out, cursing, dom dom Luci

words: 676

additional notes: Thank you all so much for 110+ followers! It means the world to me that you guys enjoy my writing so much!

"Luxury of the King."

Dom! Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

The white, silk sheets beneath you rustled softly. Gentle puffs of air left your lips, saliva coating their plush surface in a light layer. The familiar black dots began aligning along the edges of your vision. Chest rising and falling with erratic patterns; a light sheen of sweat adorning your brow, seeping lightly into your hairline. You felt and looked like the epitome of an absolute wreck.

And it was all because of the man who's head was currently buried between your legs.

Despite your clear state of overstimulation, he was a relentless predator. Well, his forked tongue, rather. It worked against and inside you, like you would be the last thing it ever got to taste. Flicking against you, tasting all of the sweet nectar you had to provide for him. He was determined to eat you dry.

"I-I'm sorry, darling. You just taste s-so...fuck...so damn good."

His mouth continued its assault against you, making sure to take his time and devour you all in the same set of actions.

If he could just stay in between your legs all hours of the day, oh how he could die a happy man. No worries or strife, just you splayed out for him, presenting yourself as a canvas for his tongue to travel. He gulped at the thought.

You truly were the best luxury a king like himself could have.

Lucifer knew he didn't deserve you. He always asked himself how he got so damn lucky with happening upon you, but he never got too curious upon questioning, nor greedy when it came to your services. This was enough to take him all the way to Heaven and back. What more could he possibly ask for, other than your lovely company?

He noticed how your hips were now beginning to move more, as if trying to get away from his relentless tongue. Just the thought of your sweet taste being abandoned from his warm, forked muscle made his pupils slit and eyes narrow. In response, he placed a gentle yet authoritative hand on your lower tummy, pushing your trembling hips downwards to the mattress; that's where they were to stay until he was done with you. You were a gift from Heaven he was sure, and Hell be damned if he didn't savor it. Just thinking that seemed like madness. Lucifer wanted to taste everything you had to offer him. Every. Single. Thing.

"Stay still. Don't you dare try to move away from me." He growled, voice dropping much lower than its normal octave, causing you to flinch in surprise. His head had come up and out from between your legs, almost enticing a whine from your throat at the loss of stimulation, yet a sigh of relief at the same time for the smidgen of a break you were currently being blessed with.

The sudden change in his attitude was a bit of a surprise, but you'd be lying if you said it wasn't hot as hell. The puppy dog side of your boyfriend was what you were most used to, so seeing him act this way instead was a very nice change of pace. You could never be scared of him; your safe word was always at your disposal if you felt he was being too demanding or rough, and he knew it too. So unless you used it, he would continue with his advances.

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes and offered the best nod you could manage with the state you were in, letting your head fall back to its original position on the fluffed pillows, lungs grasping for any sort of air they could muster up.

He gave a low nod back, a sly smile gracing his lips as he licked around them in order to clear off the remnants of your juices that he had yet a chance to devour like the other servings he managed to obtain.

"Good..." He said with a pointy smirk, before lowering his head once again to get right back to work.

[nameless-pirate]

Ace: fluff headcanons

Summary: just some fluff headcanons for my sweetheart, Ace. Tags: fluff! Notes: This fluff is so sweet, it could become one of Big Mom's generals. Just saying. Also, it was my very first request!

Fluff relationship headcanons

When you first met Ace, you thought you two would be like fireworks: carefully ignited, shot to the stars, burn brightly, and end suddenly. But as you two settled into your relationship, you found that this love was warm, ever-lasting, and unyielding.

Ace loves cuddling with you. If you lay in bed, he'd put your leg over him or his over you and snuggle his face into your neck.

He spends a lot of time observing you. Watching you do something you love calms down his restless mind. Sometimes he’ll just fall asleep but if you move, he immediately wakes up.

He's your comfort person. Whether you're doing nothing together or two separate things next to each other, his company brings you peace.

Can't tell jokes to save his life, but will do anything to make you laugh, like make stupid faces or create funny shapes with his fire power.

Often hugs you from behind. If you’re smaller than him, then he’ll put his head on your head or your arm. If you’re taller, he’ll nuzzle his head between your shoulder blades.

He tells you stories from his childhood and talks a lot about Luffy. He often repeats himself, but you never complain because that’s exactly why you fell in love with him in the first place—Ace cares so deeply and he admires those he loves. You never want to see that light in his eyes dim. Sometimes you even encourage him, “Ace, what was that story you told me about Luffy? The one with a tiger?”.

If you repeat your stories, you’ll also never know. “I might’ve told you this already…”, you’ll start, but Ace only smiles and pushes you to tell it again.

You spend your casual date nights gazing at the stars and talking. Sometimes Ace will use his power to picture what you’re telling him. You’re always amazed by how your stories look dressed in his fire.

Ace is touchy! He always has his hand on your knee, thigh, or arm. When you walk, it’s either holding hands or embraced.

When you’re too warm because of his power and ask him to move away for a bit, he pouts. He can’t help his high body temperature and he just wants to stay close.

Ace admires you. That’s how he loves—with admiration.

If it’s a special date, he’ll take you away to an island for a few days. Sometimes he’ll have activities planned, and sometimes he just wants to rest with you without anybody around.

If you’re trying something new that he already knows how to do, he’d tease you a little bit. But the moment he sees you’re getting frustrated, he will help.

Wanna go swimming? No problem. Ace will take his little sailing boat and make circles around you.

One of the most intimate moments you share is the bath time. Whenever he’s exhausted or after a battle, you help clean him. You’ll wash his hair. You massage him as you put on the soap on his body. You don’t talk much then—the tenderness is in the touches and his whispers of “thank you”.

He can risk his life for you but he’d rather die than let you do the same for him. He wants you to live more than anything.

If you’re feeling sad and lying in bed, he’d lay down next to you, caress your face, and stroke your hair. If you feel bad about yourself, he’ll tell you a story from your relationship—how you looked when you first kissed, how he felt, how there was this one night when the moon hit you just right and he couldn’t believe his luck, how he saw you fighting and he couldn’t tell whether he felt admiration, fear, or both, and how good you are at doing what you love. It’s always so detailed and his compliments are never about just one thing; he pays attention.

Loves to put his head in your lap and have you stroke his hair.

You’re each other’s best friends. You can just drink tea or hot chocolate and talk for hours. You have definitely built a pillow fort together. There were a few nights you went out drinking and dancing till the sun came up. There’s a secret language only you two know how to speak, and you birthed it through endless conversations, short but fiery fights, and gentleness only your hearts know the beating of.

[ayochae]

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐔𝐩| 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞

Synopsis: you damage the school bully's car, and now you have to repay her the way she likes.

Pairing: bully! aeri x student! fem reader

Genre: pretty rough smut ig

Themes: exhibitionism, biting, hair pulling, lots of cussing, name-calling, phone sex, fingering, cunnilingus, rough handling, and straight-up humiliation.

T/W: please read before continuing!! dubcon, heavy degrading, and bullying mentioned!

WC: 2.4k

a/n: the themes in this are on the darker side so please be aware before reading! disclaimer this is pure FICTION and not meant to be taken seriously! if you or anyone you know are in a similar situation please reach out and seek help (.づ◡﹏◡)づ. also if this is well received I might make a pt 2 to this :3

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

It was the end of the school day, and you were glad to be going home. You were sick of enduring long days of studying and listening to boring lectures, often forgetting to pay attention. You made your way out with the crowd, finding your bike chained exactly as you left it this morning. It was never fun having to ride home, especially in the summer when the humidity was an absolute killer, often leaving you hot and bothered. 

You mounted your bike; it was a sunny afternoon, and the sun's rays were ricocheting off windows and car mirrors, blinding you at times. In an attempt to shield the light from your eyes, your arm was outstretched in front of your face. Consequently, it blocks the majority of your vision. Not the most favourable of conditions for someone riding through a crowded school car park. It would be the worst way to end your day if you were to crash right now. 

And of course, as soon as that thought crosses your mind, it all comes to fruition.

In a split second, your ass meets the rugged concrete. That's the only indication you need to know you’ve just crashed. You struggle to find your footing, shaken up from the event that just occurred. Your eyes hesitantly glaze over your surroundings, seeing that your bike has managed to dent a student's parked car. One look at the licence plate, and your heart sank. You couldn't have hit anyone else's car; of course, you just had to hit Aeri Uchinaga’s. 

“Fuck fuck fuck!” you yell out in pure frustration, both hands on top of your head. Your outburst garners some attention; students watch as you cuss to your heart's content.

"Yo, that’s Aeri’s car she’s just fucked up…” a group of boys said amongst themselves. 

“I would think about running if I were you,” the boys laughed. 

“Who should think about running?” A shiver ran down your spine. That voice was the one thing you didn’t want to hear right now. You turned around and locked eyes with the brunette, her menacing features staring your way. Aeri made her way towards you, anxiety pulsing through your veins and leaving your heart racing. She pushed past you like you were nothing, eyeing her car up and down, assessing the damage. 

“Aeri I’m so sorry. Please give me a chance. I’ll pay you bac-” You started to get out an apology before she firmly shut you up. 

“Shut up, bitch,” she cut you off, venom in her tone as she spoke. At this point, people started to crowd around, everyone here to watch you meet your demise. You knew exactly what happened to people who did wrong by Aeri, so let’s just say you were pretty confident you were going to die today.

“Do you know how much that car costs?” She questioned, arms crossed along her chest as she stared daggers in your direction. 

“Um,” your voice wavered.

“More than you’d ever fucking know,” she cuts you off again, clearly not interested in anything you have to say. At this point, you accepted the fact that she was going to beat the ever-living shit out of you. But you were surprised when her fist didn’t meet your face; rather, it gripped your wrist with excessive force. She squeezed you tightly as she dragged you through the crowd. Students had their phones out to record as she pulled you through the swarm of bodies, dragging you back into the school’s main building. She wasted no time finding an empty classroom at the end of the hall, pushing you in, and slamming the door behind her. 

"Strip,” she demanded as you stared at her, dumbfounded at her sudden request. 

"Sorry, I’m not quite following...” you said, hoping that you must’ve misheard. 

“Are you dumb?” her head cocked to the side, glaring at you. 

“I can easily take you back out there and give the people what they want y/n” she added, walking towards you, feeling your breath hitch. You stood there, frozen in place, not knowing what to do. Your mind was racing with all the possibilities; there was no way you got out of this unscathed. 

“I know you heard me slut, take your fucking clothes off” she spat, grabbing you firmly by the collar, pushing you hard against the desks behind you. Your body aching from the sudden contact, shaking you back to reality. 

And so you complied, the only thing you were able to do at that moment. Shaky hands travel to your blouse buttons, slowly unbuttoning as Aeri watches. Your pace angered her, growling in frustration as both of her hands grabbed either side of your shirt, ripping it open. The sound of buttons dropping to the floor as a pair of lips connect roughly with yours. Her weight pressed against you as warm hands travelled up your sides, finding your breasts. You quickly pull away from the kiss. A whimper escapes your mouth as her hands squeeze your cladded breasts firmly, discarding your shirt to the floor in the process.

"Aeri, I have to get home” was the only thing you could let out as she continued to fondle you. Not letting your excuses slide, she grabbed you by the shoulders and flipped you around, bending you over the desk. Your face meets the surface hard and fast, letting out a groan from the immediate pain.

“Keep talking, and this is going to get a lot harder for you, sweetheart” she leant over to whisper in your ear, the pet name causing you to moan ever so slightly. She quickly worked on your skirt, pulling it down so you were in nothing but your undergarments. 

"Aeri please, we’re going to get caught,” you muttered, scared shitless to be found like this. 

"Tch, you can’t even follow a simple rule; you really are a dumb slut, aren’t you?” She scoffs, feeling her harsh gaze in the back of your head. 

“I think you're already forgetting that you owe me, y/n” she points out, her hands swiftly unclasping your bra as she speaks. 

“So how about you be a good little slut and listen?” She mocks, tightly gripping you by the hair, pulling you up to face her. Your eyes meet hers, feeling the heartbeat in between your legs. A wave of pain hits your senses as her hand slaps your ass so hard that it's sure to leave a mark. You whimper at the contact, your hips jolting from the sudden force. 

Her hands travel to your waistband, pulling your panties down to your ankles. She gets on her knees and rubs your wet folds from behind, coating her fingers with your slick. You moan from her touch, loving how it felt to have her play with your now-swollen cunt. Her slender fingers tease your entrance as you shake underneath her. Her hands grab your ass as she plunges her face into your pussy, eating you out from behind. Feeling her warm tongue roam along your folds, sucking and licking where she pleased. She planted long, warm stripes with her tongue, nudging your clit as she went. The repetitive action had you senselessly jutting your hips, begging for more friction. 

“Does my little bitch like that?” Aeri hummed, her face still buried in your dripping cunt. 

“Y-yes” you choked out, struggling to form your words amongst the pleasure. She continued teasing your clit, earning shaky moans from you in response. Giggling to herself when you got too loud. You could feel the knot form in the pit of your stomach, gripping the table in desperate support. You were getting close, letting profanities mindlessly slip from your mouth, feeling Aeri smile against your pussy in response.

And that’s when you felt her stop. 

She pulled away, smiling as she licked her slick-covered lips. Wiping the excess on the back of her hand. You shudder from the loss of contact, missing the way her tongue felt. 

“You thought I was gonna let you come that easily?” she teased, flipping you over so you would face her. She locked eyes with you and shook her head with a sarcastic pout on her lips. Trying to get a rise out of you. You knew she was an absolute bitch, but this just took it to a whole new level. 

“Suck,” she said while holding the same fingers she pleasured you with in front of your mouth. Her other hand firmly gripped your jaw, inciting you to open your mouth for her. And so you obliged. You took her fingers, sucking on them eagerly, tasting yourself in the process. Hands wrapped gingerly around hers as you continued to make work of your tongue. Her eyes locked with yours, her mouth sporting a shit-eating grin. 

“You like the way you taste, baby?” She cooed mockingly, an eyebrow raised as she watched you suck on her digits. She pulls her fingers out of your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva connecting your lips to her coated fingertips. Lustful eyes watch the lewd scene unfold in front of you. 

She replaces her fingers with her lips, kissing you firmly again, giving you a complete taste of your release. Your arms are propping you up as she pushes her weight against yours, towering over you in the process. Her hand travelled back down between your thighs, rubbing your dripping cunt, teasing your entrance as she went. Her other hand gripped your inner thigh, keeping your legs open to allow her more room to work. 

You pulled away from the kiss. A breathy moan left your lips as you felt two fingers inserted inside. Your mouth is now ajar from the sudden penetration. Amusement spread across her features as she began pumping her fingers in and out of you, watching you twitch and whine under her. 

"F-fuck,” you groaned, throwing your head back, feeling waves of pleasure wash over you. Aeri took this opportunity to attack your neck, biting down hard on the soft flesh. Yelping as teeth dug into your neck, pain shooting down your shoulder as she sucked and bit persistently. Her fingers were still at work, filthy sounds filling the room as she fucked you with more force. Plunging her fingers knuckle deep inside your cunt, feeling you clench tight around her.

“That’s so fucking good,” you whine, feeling her smile as she continued leaving angry marks on your neck. Her thumb drew circles on your clit as she fucked you senseless. The desk banged against the wall as her fingers thrust in and out of your sopping pussy, the sounds sure to be heard by others. Your hips shamelessly buck at the tempo of her thrusts, getting closer and closer to your release. 

Until the sound of a ringing phone brought you back down to reality. 

You recognised that ringtone as your own, your eyes searching for the whereabouts of your device. Remembering that you left it in your skirt pocket, watching it vibrate on the floor beneath you. Without missing a beat, Aeri bends down and pulls it out with her unoccupied hand, the other still hard at work inside of you. 

“Nawww mummy’s calling,” Aeri teased, your heart dropping as you watched her handle your phone. 

“Aeri please don't answer that,” you beg, watching her thumb hover over the pick-up button. But of course, it was no use trying to persuade the likes of Aeri Uchinaga, because whatever she wants, she gets. And in this moment, she desperately wanted to ruin your life. 

You helplessly watched her answer the call, immediately putting you on speaker for your mother to hear. Your mother didn’t care for greetings; rather, she demanded your whereabouts and why you weren’t home yet. Your heart raced; it simply wouldn’t do you any favours being truthful at this moment, honesty is sure to get you killed. Lies began to spill from your mouth, hoping it was enough to get her off your case, but Aeri was having none of that. 

Her fingers managed to find a quicker pace, the desk hammering against the wall as she rocked you harder against her digits. Moans slipping out uncontrollably, your hand flying up in an attempt to muffle your sounds. Aeri glared in your direction, unimpressed with your endeavour to foil her plans. She placed the phone above you on the window sill, freeing her hand to trap both of yours, stopping you from muffling your sounds. 

Her fingers curled, hitting that sweet spot, making you squeal in delight. Your mother was sure to hear everything. Your face was heating up, embarrassed but impossibly turned on at the same time. Unfortunately, your mother wasn’t stupid; she was very much aware of what you were doing right now, and she hated everything about it. 

“Y/n get your ass home right this instance!” her voice echoed in anger. Aeri reached up, ending the phone call in one swift motion. You felt hot tears stream down your face, Aeri laughing at your current state, finding joy in breaking you like this. 

“Fuck you,” you let out, hating how powerless you were in this moment. Aeri just continued pushing her fingers deeper inside you, hitting all the right spots as she went. You were unable to choke back the moans, letting the lewd sounds fall out in a flurry. She was fucking your brains out, all frustration and anger dissipated as she curled her fingers inside you. The moans became more frequent and higher-pitched, throwing all self-respect out the window as you whined her name. 

"Mmffh, Aeri please…” you bit down on your lip, your eyebrows furrowed as you felt the knot begin to untie in the pit of your stomach. Her thumb pressing down on your clit and the final curl of her fingers were all you needed to start seeing stars. You shook violently as you came crashing down, her fingers moving inside you at a slow and steady pace, letting you ride it out. 

She removes her hand from your dripping folds and shoves her fingers inside your mouth, swirling them as you taste your sweet release. Her dark eyes locked with yours, her shameless grin not once faltering. You made sure to suck her fingers clean, maintaining eye contact as you release her slender digits. Her hand travels to your jaw, tracing your lips as she eyes you up and down. 

“Get on your knees and make that pretty mouth of yours useful.” 

[dipperscavern]

THE BET - JON SNOW

pairing: jon snow x gn!reader, 4.2k words

synopsis: you’ve made a bet with jon snow — now begs the question, who will come out on top?

authors note: i heard the call for jon snow content, and this idea came to me in the middle of the night wearing dobby the elfs tea cozy. enjoy! <3 [ @eldrith ]

jon snow never considered himself a betting man.

he never considered himself a blushing one, either — or a swooning one. until he met you.

you bring out the best in him, it’s true. but you also (somehow) bring to light his playful side, the one he thought he left behind in winterfell; along with the games he, robb, and theon used to play, the peace of the godswood, the smell of the kitchens wafting through the corridors (stick them with the pointy end).

he had left it all at winterfell on purpose. he needed to shed jon, shed the princely stark-ness he’d grown up with (though he’d never consider himself a real one), and replace it with the black he adorned on his shoulders. ever since he knelt before the weirwood, swearing vows in the sight of the old gods, he was no longer boy — but man. and with that, he left the boyish attributes, replacing them by those of men. warriors. or, at least, he’d like to believe.

partaking in bets was one of the most boyish things he could do, but truly, he could not chide himself for it if he tried. it involves you — it involves making you smile. and that, he will never register as a thing needing scolding, even if it’s only internally.

it was painfully obvious to you and jon the way samwell tarly looked at gilly, daughter of the devil. you would know, it’s how you and jon spend your time looking at one another. sam is head over heels for gilly, always helping her to the best of his abilities, advocating for her, looking at her as if she hung the stars and the moon… yes, samwell tarly was smitten.

you and jon both knew gilly was taken with sam. gilly knew she was taken with sam. the only one who didn’t know gilly was taken with sam, was sam himself.

you and jon are rather protective over sam and gilly both, so while you’d kill and die for them, you’ve left their feelings to be sorted out themselves. of course, you give advice when asked, and perhaps give one a nudge in the right direction on occasion, but is it really meddling if it’s for a good cause?

the true reason sam had kept his feelings to himself so far, was an extremely sweet one. he didn’t want gilly to think he was just using her, or didn’t genuinely care for her. he didn’t want her to be able to look at him and see her father. well, that, and he was shy — but that was one of the things you and jon liked about sam. it somehow made him sweeter.

either way, even with his profound saint-like mindset, you could tell sam was getting closer to telling gilly how he really felt. you saw the way he would open his mouth to say something, how gilly would give him her full attention, then how he’d shrink back down, letting his nerves get the best of him.

sam only grew more frustrated as time went on (never with gilly, only himself). when asked, sam would stumble out something like-

“Gilly — oh, right, she’s um — she’s great...” with a defeated look in his eye, leaving before you could ask further.

staring at her (more than usual), never being able to fully concentrate when she was near. he’d always start to approach her, then let his nerves steer him in the other direction. gilly was now all sam could think about, it being the only topic of conversation jon could coax out of him. sure, it began to drive jon fairly mad, but it was better than the grumbling silence you’d endured at the start of his romantic-turmoil. samwell tarly was nearing the edge of insanity, and you & jon could both tell it wouldn’t be long yet. so, naturally, you’d made a bet.

“You know, I think Sam’s really gonna do it.”

your voice cut through the silence as you and jon cleaned up the mess hall. right now, you were looking out a window, watching sam and gilly have a conversation. sam was fidgeting, the way he always does when he’s nervous.

“You must not know him very well, then.” jon says. you turn to give jon an exasperated look, barely concealing the roll of your eyes. he looks up at you, and you see the upward quirk of his lips that tells you he finds this — the joint disagreeing — truly enjoying.

“I mean it,” you say, touching your tongue to the roof of your mouth, turning back to resume observing them. as gilly and sam share a smile, a noise akin to one you’d make seeing a small puppy rises from the back of your throat, voice softening. “Awh— Jon, look at them.”

this does the trick of grabbing jon’s attention, and he stops his table-scrubbing to come join you at the window. he shakes his head, exhaling through his nose. “It’ll never happen,” he says.

“Gods, Snow,” the use of his surname in place of your usual (honey-dripping) ‘jon’ has his head snapping to you. “I didn’t take you for faithless.”

the chuckle jon lets slip has shivers crawling up your spine. you choose to ignore it. “I only mean,” he says, re-wetting his scrub brush. “that Sam is one to take it slow.” you turn to give him a look that has him backtracking.

“Slower than he has been,” he clarifies. he looks to you, and takes your lack of response as acceptance, moving to resume his table-scrubbing. you resume as well, and a few seconds pass before you stop, looking at jon with newfound defiance.

“No— your absence of faith does not deter me,” you say, pointing an accusing finger at jon. he bites back his smile at how cute you look in your retaliation. “Sam’s going to do it, I know this.”

jon takes the bait, setting down his scrub brush, leaning both hands against the table. “Alright, and I know he won’t.”

you scoff at his stubbornness. “He’ll approach her by the next moon’s turn.” you don’t give sam much time, the next moons turn being only a week away. you don’t give it any thought.

jon raises his brows. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then you win.” you say, lightly shrugging. “Aye, I would. What would I get in return?” he asks, unrelenting. you search for something worthy to offer, but come up short. he fills in the gaps for you.

“Whatever I want?”

you nod. you usually wouldn’t put such a promise in a man of the nights watches hands, most being criminals & rapists, but it’s not just anyone you’re trusting. it’s jon. he’s safe.

“You’re on, Snow.” you say, returning to your table-scrubbing without further word than that. jon ignores the butterflies in his stomach, and attempts to scrub them away on the hard wood of the worn-out oak table.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

over the next week, you’re starting to become faithless; it seems the gods have abandoned you.

you thought his frustration would boil over, giving him the confidence he needed to confess, but yet again, samwell tarly has exceeded expectations in the department of pining.

jon silently relishes in his oncoming victory, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so — prone to smiling. whenever he sees you, he bites the inside of his cheek (or his tongue), in every effort to conceal the massive grin that threatens to erupt on his face. this only makes you grumble, and edds told you if you don’t stop rolling your eyes so much they’ll get stuck like that.

sam has peeled away from everything entirely, it seems. keeping his head down, only speaking when spoken to, always looking like he has something on his mind. he’s like this with everyone, jon, gilly, and you included. the nights watch is feeling the absence of their usual beam of light, and edds proclaimed if you, jon, and gilly aren’t being spoken to, then they all should keep an eye out for wildlings flying over the wall until further notice.

now, when you and jon see each other, it’s more silent than ever. you know if he opens his mouth it’ll be boasting proclamations of onset victory, and you can’t say if that happens you won’t put your hands on him. he seems to know this too, smart enough to keep to himself and not press your buttons. somehow this only frustrates you more. maybe if jon was more insufferable, you’d have a harder time loving him.

even with your own romantic dilemma, the main thing on your mind is sam, and the stupid bet you shouldn’t have made in the first place. you’ve tried leaving sam alone, forgetting about it entirely, praying, and even giving him a nudge in the right direction. making sure jon wasn’t near, then asking about his day, and after, about gilly — but iif you ask about gilly, you get the same record on repeat.

“What? Oh, Gilly, yeah… yeah she’s great. Working with Maester Aemon ‘nd… she’s great, really.” he’d say, fiddling with his hands, gaze trapped on the floor (or, if gilly was in the vicinity, on her).

your gaze would soften, but even you aren’t enough this time. “Sam, look, maybe you should—“

“Oh— I’ve got to go, I’m late for my meeting with Jon. Bye.. bye then!” he’d call, walking quickly in the other direction (not toward jon’s chambers), and as he walks away, you could almost see victory leaving with him.

by the end of the week, you and sam are in the same boat emotionally. jon thinks if you scrub the tables any harder you’ll break the wood, and this time, he doesn’t refrain from mentioning it.

“Careful.”

he means it in (half) good faith, but you glare at him all the same. and you see the shift in his tongue that means he’s biting down on it to stop his smile from appearing. you roll your eyes, and the image of edds face appears in your head as you do so.

you scrub angrily for the next few minutes, until you can’t bear it anymore.

“I can’t believe it. I actually can’t believe it, Jon.”

he glances up at you, a raise of his brows appearing as he speaks. “Who’s faithless now?”

“Don’t. You and I both know he was near to burst a week ago.” you say, crossing your arms and looking out the same window you did the night a bet was made.

jon makes a noise of disagreement, but (intelligently) doesn’t press any further.

“I just don’t get it. How can — how can you be so,” you look for the right wording, emotion punctuating your sentences. “so in love with someone without telling them?”

jon momentarily stops scrubbing, entire body pausing at your words. luckily for him, you’re too caught up with sam to notice. jon gets it.

“He doesn’t want to ruin what they have.” he says, and if you weren’t so frustrated, you’d pick up on the tone that says he isn’t just talking about sam and gilly. you come to sit at the bench of the table hes working on, and jon notices the color of your eyes bathed in the light exuding from the window.

“Right, but—“ you sigh, trying to string your thoughts together. “but they could have more. Isn’t it worth the risk, than to spend your time only being that? Always dancing on the edge of more?”

the sincerity jon can see in your eyes only makes his heart race, but it also makes him reflect on your relationship. jon’s in love with you, that much is easy to pinpoint, but do you love him? would you allow his tainted hands to sully you, if given the opportunity? jon’s gaze flickers to your lips, and returns back to your eyes.

though quick, in the silence, you notice it. you take pity, leaning back to allow jon his personal space (that you hadn’t even registered invading) back. he only wishes you’d return, even closer this time.

but he doesn’t say that. among all the things unspoken…

“Sam doesn’t think it worth the risk.” he decides, and he can see the gears turning in your head. he returns to light scrubbing to give you time to string your thoughts together. you don’t like speaking without correlation (the first thing jon learned about you).

a few seconds pass before you speak, and your voice is quieter than its usual volume. “Do you think it worth the risk?”

jon’s silence only prompts you to make the question clearer. “If you had the opportunity, would you risk it?”

would he? would he speak your name, of the devotion he harbors for you? he could take the risk, but what’s the rush? jon’s never considered his time with you limited. he shrugs.

“It depends,” he says. “On the person.. how long I have. Some are content where they stand.”

you nod, but he can tell that’s not the answer you were looking for. “I think so,” he adds as an afterthought. you seem content with it, and brush his knuckles in passing as you return to your own table. it makes his heart jump.

jon would think it accidental if he didn’t know you so well.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

you think you could smell jon’s amusement from anywhere you stand in castle black.

the moon turns tonight, and sam seems no closer now than he was a week ago. the jest is on you for putting faith in the confidence of cowards.

you’re perfectly content to avoid jon for the entirety of the day, and even worse, he seems content to let you. you meet each others eyes in passing, and while your gaze is defeated, his is only cloaked with half-amused sympathy (accompanied by that smile he adorns only when he’s with you). if you looked closer, you don’t doubt you could find some arrogance in there, but you’re too busy being a sore loser to try. it doesn’t occur to you that jon hates not seeing you achieve, even if it’s only a bet. one that’s in his favor.

the nights watch had decided to celebrate the moons turning with drinks after supper tonight. usually, the moon isn’t any topic worthy of celebration, but things have been unusually quiet in castle black lately. as far as white walkers and wildlings go, that is. why not have a little fun?

the mess hall is warm, bustling with the combined voices of black brothers. bellies are full, and the ale in everyone’s cup allows for a lighthearted atmosphere. you’ve decided to put the bet on a back burner, a simmering problem to deal with tomorrow. you’re warm & fuzzy, looser with your tongue than usual; although you can’t help wincing whenever someone drops food or creates a new stain on the tables.

you forego avoiding jon, and not just because you naturally gravitate toward him when drinking ale. he’s more than eager to keep you by his side, not fully trusting anyone in the room with you incapacitated (maybe edd on blood moons).

much to your dismay, there’s been no sign of samwell tarly. he had vacated the premises after everyone was done supping, and before the ale had been poured. everyone noticed; of course they did. sam was alike to the glue that held much together. sure, he was cowardly, and occasionally frustrating, but sam was the voice of reason. and everyone was starting to feel the weight of his absence.

bet or not, you think after tonight you might have to seriously intervene in your friends love life. you hate to see him like this, dejected and hopeless…. maybe you have a better chance of guiding gilly than sam. in the midst of your thoughts, you glance out the window noticing the sun setting. and with it, goes any hope you had at victory.

jon’s gaze follows yours, and recognizes your defeat with you. but still, ever the gentleman, he doesn’t mention it; only allowing a small upward tug to play on his lips. you return it, momentarily leaning into jon in a silent acknowledgment, before getting roped into grenns white-walker conspiracy theory.

the hours pass easily, greatly enjoying the boisterous atmosphere, the ale making you warm & floaty. you find it harder to keep your eyes off jon as the night goes on, and you almost internally chide yourself for it; until you recognize that every time you’ve stolen a glance at jon, he’s already been looking at you.

eventually, it gets late, and you want to turn in. the only reason jon’s been here so long is you anyways, so when he says his goodbyes along with you, silently following you out, you don’t pay it any mind. your tipsy brain clouds your judgement, and you wrap a hand around his bicep, the muscle underneath making you feel fuzzy.

jon only glances down to where you meet, afraid if he looks too long, you’ll get shy and pull away. and he really, really doesn’t want you to pull away.

you walk in silence until a thought occurs to you. you decide to push aside your pride and propriety, letting instead curiosity steer your tongue.

“So, Snow,” you begin, and he hums, propping you to go on. “Since you’ve won, what’ll it be?”

it seems that the ale isn’t just affecting you, because the question makes jon smile almost too easily. you want to see more of it, so you continue.

“A handshake… the clothes off my back… my soul…” you remark, and it gets you just want you wanted — jon shakes his head, smile not leaving his face.

“Not here,” he says, and he steers you both in the direction of the wall. what jon could possibly want that would need the privacy of the wall, you’re unsure (no you aren’t).

the walk there is quiet, the only sound being the wind flapping your coats. it only makes you more aware of the warmth emanating from jon, and you both pretend you don’t lean into each other. you only remove your hand from him as you approach the box, and he puts a hand on the small of your back to usher you in front of him. if jon would do so without the added ale is a thing that you question for only a moment, as the creaking of the box signals it’s begun ascent.

now you really are curious as to what jon could want. he’s an honorable man… does he need a secret kept? a new cloak? or does he just wish for a conversation in the solaced privacy of the wall?

the ride up feels shorter than usual, but you’re not sure what to blame it on. it’s a strange feeling, your nerves on fire, yet the ale douses it to a low buzz. you partially blame jon, always forgetting yourself when he’s present. how you ever hope to confront your feelings is beyond you.

when you step out, jon offers his arm this time, and you gladly accept it. perhaps you’re not the only one who finds comfort in the action.

you begin your walk, and based on the route, you think he’s taking you both to your favorite place. a quiet indent in the wall, close enough to not be a far walk, but long enough to get away from prying eyes and listening ears. it has a small wall of ice that acts as a (sort of) guard-rail, coming to the waist — but the rest is left open, the expanse of woods beyond the wall available to be gazed upon.

the quiet is comfortable, as it always is with jon. you have much on the tip of your tongue, but give him the courtesy of speaking first.

it’s not long before you’re approaching your little sanctuary; scattered black brothers are guarding the expanse of the wall behind you, and in front of you, but none linger around this area. the thought remains in the back of your mind as you make the turn, walking into the indent, the view beyond it making your breath hitch.

you remove your hand from jon’s arm, instead splaying it across the waist-high-iced-guard-rail. it’s freezing, even under your gloved hand, yet it’s a welcome respite from the way jon sets your nerves alight, turning your skin to fire. patience is hard, yet you wait for him to speak.

“What you said,” he begins. “about taking the risk,”

you turn to look at him, but this time, he doesn’t meet your eyes. his tongue darts out to wet his lip, the way it does when he’s nervous. what could jon have to be nervous about?

“It made me think…”

whatever jon was going to say, you’re not sure you’ll ever know, because rapidly approaching footsteps have the words dying on his tongue — looking behind you both. who is running down the wall at this hour? and why?

a figure appears, out of breath and panting. sam.

“I looked for you! In the— in the mess hall, but— Grenn and Edd said you weren’t there, said you’d left,” you and jon must look as confused as you are, since when did sam run?

a grin erupts on sam’s face as he gets past his introduction. “I did it! I really did it!”

“Did what?” jon prompts, but you think he already knows.

“Gilly!” sam says, and you can feel your brows instantly un-crease themselves. “Well, I— you know, I was nervous. Didn’t want to ruin what we had or, or what she thought of me but.. I just sort of— went up to her and did it! I can’t believe she said yes…” he says, wistfully looking to the sky with a smile on his face, like he can’t believe the gods allowed it to happen, either. you wore one of your own, bathing in jon’s defeat.

sam looks at you both for a minute, then at jon, and the smile he’s wearing dies down as he realizes he’s interrupted. “Oh— oh, sorry… I’ll go now, I just—“ reality seems to hit him again, as another smile erupts on his face.

“I did it!” he says, then spins on his heel, leaving you both atop the wall.

a few moments pass, before you turn to look at jon. you both have a look of disbelief, yours mixed with a smile — and strangely enough, even in defeat, so is his.

“I’m thinking your rations for a month, the cloak you’re wearing...” you say, and jon huffs out a laugh (they come easier around you)

“What Sam did, is called blindsiding—“

“Hm,” you say, interrupting the end of his sentence. “It looks like defeat, instead. What were you going to demand, again?”

you’re only teasing, but you accidentally hit a soft spot. you see the way his smile falters, seriousness beginning its return to his face. it makes your own smile disappear.

“I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to…” you say, but once you see the expression on his face, something clicks. “What were you going to ask for, Jon?”

it seems like you’ve asked him to throw himself off the wall. he shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does.”

he begins to turn away from you, but your hand flies to his arm, halting him. he sighs in frustration. you try to catch his gaze, but he makes effort not to look at you.

“I won, and that’s what I ask.” you say, “For you to tell me what you wanted.”

you can see his internal turmoil, but that only makes you want to shrink away. what plagues jon so badly he dares not to speak it aloud? not speak of it to you?

you can tell he doesn’t want to say it, but a bet is a bet.

“You.”

your brows scrunch involuntarily. “Me?”

“I wanted to kiss you.” he says, his gaze flickering momentarily to your lips. “Want.”

your lips part in shock. not that he wants to kiss you (you’ve known. you want to kiss him) but that you’ve been able to coax him to say as much.

your gaze flicks to his lips once, twice, and you step closer — body almost flush with his. at the same time you reach up, jon leans down, and you connect your lips with his. they’re soft, warm; everything you thought they’d be when your thoughts would drift to him.

the kiss is sweet, tentative. exploring unknown territory, but also wanting — needing. you feel jon’s hand come to your waist, pulling you even closer (if possible), your body now flush against his.

eventually, the need to breathe takes over, and you both (reluctantly) pull apart. his cheeks are flushed, and you have an idea that it’s not from the cold this time. his pupils are blown, want pooling in them; but, also, something else swims in the midst. confusion.

“But— I lost,” he says, looking to you for an answer. you pretend to take mild offense, a playful roll of your eyes accompanying your words.

“You know, Jon, when someone gets kissed, they usually don’t consider it a loss.”

it seems to be the right answer, a smile tugging its way back up his lips. his response is him leaning down to kiss you again.

[bakukags]

hiii i luv your blog!! honestly the 'more then enough' fanfic had my crying lol :)) so i saw your requests were open and was wondering if you could do a bakugou x reader were y/n is bakugou's and deku's childhood friend and they have a lot of trauma bc of their dad who is an ex pro hero becoming a villian when shes in ua and bakugou has always had feelings for her and comforts her when class 1-a sees it on the news. make any changes youd like :))

the 3 things bakugou taught you (bakugou x reader)

summary: As a childhood friend of Bakugou and Deku, you had always dreamed of attending U.A. to train and become heroes together. However, everything turns upside down when Class 1-A discovers that your father, once a former Pro-Hero, has now become a Villain. In the chaos of it all, you find that Bakugou is full of surprises and that there may be more to him than what meets the eye.

pairing: bakugou x female! reader

genre: fluffy angst 

warnings: slight swearing 

word count: 4,176

a/n: thank you so much for all of your kindness and support <3 my request box is open!! please let me know if y'all would be interested in a part 2 or how I can improve my writing :)

Growing up with Bakugou Katsuki had taught you three things:

Bakugou Katsuki had a temper like a firework - explosive, loud, and colorful. 

His bark was somehow worse than his bite.

No matter how grumpy he was, you couldn’t stop smiling around him.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Bakugou grimaced, as you jogged to catch up, an extra bounce in your step. However, he slowed down slightly, allowing you to fall into step with him. 

“My dad’s coming home today.” Your grin widened. “I’m going to visit home later today to see him.” 

Your father was the pro-hero Aeris, who was known for his air-like attibutes and unique speed. You had also inherited his abilities, and his day-to-day heroism was what first motivated you to enroll into UA alongside Bakugou. Growing up, he had encouraged you to become a hero that not only helps the world, but changes the world for the better. 

“Happy are those who dream dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true.” Whenever he came home from work, he always reminded you of his life motto with a warm smile lighting up his face. “And you my dear, have the most beautiful dream. But you must also be ready to have the strength to pay the price when it comes to fruition.” 

From then on, you had resolved that you would do anything to become a hero. You father’s words had inspired you to become someone who would willingly sacrifice yourself in order to fulfill your dreams of saving the world; just like your father. As he rarely came home, you were especially elated on the days he did, today being one of those days.

Bakugou grunted in response, eyeing your chipper expression with thinly veiled annoyance. 

“Well stop it. It makes you look stupider than normal.” He grumbled, looking away from your bright smile.

“Mhmm,” You hummed noncommittally, not really listening. The walk back from class had become your guys’ unspoken routine. Ever since the two of you had moved into the dorms, Bakugou always waited after class for you to pack your bag so that the two of you could walk back together. Of course, he’d rather die than admit to you that he was waiting, often making up excuses such as finishing up an assignment or perfectly timing the speed at which he placed his books back into his bag. 

“I’ll go with you. To see your father." His tone indicated that it was a non-negotiable statement. You tilted your head, slightly confused. He had never accompanied you before. 

“I can’t have an idiot like you wandering around at night.” He clarified, clearing his throat. “You’d be too easy of a target for Villains. It’s almost like you want to get attacked.” 

You opened your mouth to point out that you were one of the top 5 students of Class 1-A and that you could handle yourself, thank you very much. However, the words died on your tongue when you caught sight of how his fingers twitched restlessly at his side, at how he was intentionally looking everywhere but at you. Many people wouldn’t pick up on it, but you knew him better than anyone. The signs were were clear - Bakugou Katsuki, of all people, was worried. For you. Your smile widened.

“If you wanted to spend more time with me Katsu, you could’ve just asked.” You teased, laughter bubbling in your voice. 

“That’s not, I don’t- stop making things up crazy woman!” He spluttered in response, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Much to Bakugou’s dismay, you continued laughing, causing you to almost miss Izuku falling into step alongside you. 

“Hey guys! Good training today, huh?” Izuku exclaimed, smiling at you. You grinned back, nodding excitedly in agreement. Your spirits were still high from your previous conversation with Bakugou. However, upon spotting the freckled boy, Bakugou’s face immediately morphed into a deep scowl. His eyebrows furrowed irritably, but he remained silent.

“Izu!” You grabbed onto his arm, just like you had growing up. “Training was amazing! Did you get a chance to see my practice match? I could hardly believe it - Shoto and I tied!” You chattered incessantly, easily falling into natural conversation with him. The three of you used to always hang out together and you found yourself suddenly missing the green-haired boy’s presence. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve hung out!” You continued. “You should join us more often - it’ll be just like old times!" 

A pink flush spread across Izuku’s cheeks, trailing down his neck.

“Of-of course, I’d love to!” Izuku stuttered, eyes glancing down at your arms that were still wrapped around his. A faint crackling popping sound, along with the smell of smoked caramel filled the air, causing the both of you to glance at Bakugou. He now had his hands curled into fists, jaw tightly clenched. 

“He’s not invited.” Bakugou spat out, eyeing the two of you murderously. Growing up with Bakugou however, made you immune to his violent tendencies. You smiled sweetly in return, letting go of Izuku in favor of placatingly rubbing Bakugou’s arm. 

“You’re always invited,” You said to Izuku before raising an eyebrow at Bakugou, daring him to argue. He hissed like a cat baring his teeth, but didn’t protest.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind!” Izuku nodded, eyes flickering between you and Bakugou hesitantly. “You guys must be pretty close now - almost inseperable huh?”

“We’re not.” Bakugou snarled at the same time you chirped “Yup!” The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you let out a laugh, shrugging nonchalantly.

“It’s funny because you guys are total… opposites.” Izuku spoke carefully, glancing at Bakugou as if he was a ticking time bomb ready to explode at any moment. The green-haired boy’s words were true - Bakugou oozed aggression and abrasiveness, while you were all cheerfulness and tact. While Bakugou burned intensely like the sun, you were constant like the moon. Just as bright, but in a different way. After the blonde boy had been kidnapped by Villains, he had refused to talk about the situation to anyone. Everyone had pestered him with countless opinions and questions - except for you. He didn’t need to speak in order for you to know how he felt or understand what he needed. You had spent your whole life learning him, and now, all you had to do was merely stay by his side as an unwavering source of support. The two of you had been attached by the hip ever since. 

“His grumpiness adds to the appeal.” You giggled. “Right?” You turned to look up at Bakugou, ready for a classic snarky remark, but your eyes met molten embers instead. Taken by surprise, you tripped, stumbling over your own foot. Two hands immediately reached out to steady you: one belonging to Izuku and the other belonging to Bakugou. The blonde boy let go of you just as quickly as he had touched you, as if your skin had scorched him. However, Izuku’s hand remained, steadying you. You shot him a grateful look. 

“Thanks.” You regained your balance with a sheepish smile. 

Bakugou’s face darkened as his gaze shifted from yours to Izuku’s hand, which still lingered on your arm. A low growl left his lips as his eyes burned holes into Izuku, who instantly let go.

“So-Sorry! I’m glad you’re okay! I mean-are you okay?” He sputtered, eyes wide.

“She’ll be fine once you leave.” Bakugou spat venomously, a vein bulging out of his forehead. Izuku chuckled uncomfortably while your gaze darted nervously between the two boys, unsettled by the sudden escalation of emotions. The air suddenly felt a little too warm, too tense. In a second Bakugou was moving, stopping only when he stood between you and Izuku, effectively separating the two of you.

“What kind of idiot can’t even get back to the dorms without falling?” Bakugou sharply retorted, nostrils flaring. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.” He stalked away, leaving you to direct an apologetic glance at Izuku before following close behind. 

“That was rude.” You glanced towards the blonde boy as you struggled to catch up to him.

“Not my fault Deku pissed me off.” He grunted in response. 

“And it’s not his fault that you have a short fuse.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

If those words had come out of anyone else, you probably would be slammed against the wall and blasted into oblivion. But you were always the exception. He growled, the sound low and dangerous.

“Not right now, sunshine.” He barked your nickname out like it was a curse, but you knew better than to take him seriously. Your words had struck a little too close to home, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He angrily slammed the door to the dorms open, uncharacteristically propping it open for you.

“Move it. I don’t have all day.” He practically yelled in your ear, causing you to wince. He at least had the decency to look back at you half-apologetically, before lowering his voice to a more suitable volume. “Well? Why aren’t you walking idiot?”

“Thanks, I think?” You shrugged, hesitantly walking through the door. “But you really got to tone it down Katsu, I me-”

The words caught in your throat. You froze, causing Bakugou to ram right into you.

“What the hell sunshine? What kind of idiot stands in the middle of the doorway?” He barked, but you didn’t respond. Your eyes were glued to the television, trained on the newscaster Miyagi who imparted the breaking headlines for today.

“Breaking news - A Pro-Hero has turned out to be a Villain? You heard it here folks, Ex Pro-Hero Aeris was found injuring several innocent children just this afternoon. It appears he has been secretly working alongside the League of Villains as an undercover agent.”

The screen cut, and suddenly, footage of a man filled the TV screen. His grin looked borderline crazed, an unknown murderous glint flooding his eyes. Two heros held him down as he struggled against them, handcuffs digging into his wrists.

Your legs gave out, and you stumbled backwards. Somebody immediately caught you, muttering something into your ear, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from the screen. All you could see was your father’s deranged expression flooding the screen. 

“No.” You whispered, eyes peeled on the TV, arms trembling. “No. This can’t be real.”

"How could you do this?” A civilian yelled at the ex Pro-hero, angry tears blurring her features. “Don’t you have a child too? A daughter?”

All eyes turned to you, the dorm falling impossibly silent. This couldn’t be happening. Your whole world was collapsing, right in front of your eyes. Your arm reached outwards in attempts to grab onto something, anything, that could ground you. A warm hand enveloped yours immediately. You latched onto it, squeezing tightly. Something deep inside of you knew that you should look tear your eyes from the screen, but you for some twisted reason, you couldn’t. You needed to know more. You needed to know why.

Your father stopped struggling, finally allowing the heros to usher him into a police car. 

“So?” Your father shrugged. His posture suddenly looked eerily calm and nonchalant, but his eyes remained dark. Frenzied, yet disturbedly content. He looked stared right into the camera. At you. “Why would I care? I never considered her to be my daughter anyways.”

Those words were all it took to send you spiraling. The walls closed in on you, trapping you, until suddenly, it was impossible to breathe. Your whole life was a lie. The person you had always looked up to in life, the person responsible for your existence, had just revealed that he never truly cared if you existed. You thought back to your childhood. He had taught you how to ride a bike, how to cook chicken marsala, how to use your powers for good. He had been your sole role model, had shaped you into the person you were today, and now he was-

Happy are those who dream dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true.

Your dad’s life motto rang in your mind unbidden, yet it no longer sounded like encouragement. It sounded like a threat. 

Are you happy? You wanted to ask him. Was the price worth it? Was betaying me, betraying the world worth it? Even though the questions screamed inside your head, you knew you didn’t want to hear their answers. A part of you knew what his response would be and hated it. 

“It’s a trick.” You whispered, still in denial. A tear tricked down your cheek; you barely felt it. Your voice grew louder, more insistent. 

“They’re lying. They have to be lying!” The words rang in the room, sharp and empty. A gust of wind rushed surrounded you as your face twisted with fury. Your classmates stared back at you, speechless. You had always been the calm and collected one, the one to rein Bakugou in whenever he exploded. But the roles had suddenly reversed, and suddenly you were the one bubbling over, about to explode. They had never seen you like this before - all seething, abrasive, aggressive. Even you had never felt this way before. 

“It’s really a shame,” Mineta was the first to speak up. “that your father is a criminal. I mean, you’d think even criminals love their daughters-”

Before anyone could even blink, you were across the room, slamming Mineta hard against the wall. 

“Say it again.” You growled dangerously, hands wrapped around his throat. A couple classmates tried to intervene, only to be blown back by a harsh gust of wind. 

“It’s a pity. You’re so pretty, but I guess even you have violent tendencies.” Mineta sneered, wheezing when you tightened your grip around his neck. “It makes sense though. Like father, like daughter. ” 

His words crawled along your skin and you instantly dropped him. He spluttered, leering as you backed away. All your life, you had been proud to be called your father’s daughter. But now, you felt nothing but a wave of shame and disgust. You looked up at your classmates. They all stared back with stiff postures and raised defenses. As if they too, thought that you would become a Villain. Blinking back tears, you did the only thing you could do. You ran.

You ran until your lungs nearly gave out, until nausea overwhelmed you. Gripping the edges of a nearby trash can, you emptied out all of the contents of today’s lunch. Your body trembled as you fell to the floor, pulling your knees in. The sound of stomping echoed in the halls, loud and harsh. Bakugou. Your stomach churned; he was the last person you wanted to see.

“Go away.” You growled, torn between wanting to be left alone and being too drained to run away. He ignored you, like he usually did, but this time it made you furious. Why couldn’t he just listen to you, just take you seriously for once? 

“I told you to go away Bakugou Katsuki!” The words were icy cold and you heard the stomping pause for a moment. All your life, even when you both got into disagreements, you had never once called him by his full name before. Yet for some reason, you couldn’t let him see you like this - embarassingly weak and pathetic. 

“What are you, my mother?” He retorted. The footsteps continued again, until he was soon towering over you. “Don’t call me that - shit’s weird.” 

“I mean it.” Your words were coated with venom. You refused to look at him. “Leave me alone.”

Bakugou ignored you again, choosing instead to take a seat next to you. 

“When have I ever listened to you?” He scoffed. “Don’t expect me to start now.” 

You didn’t reply, curling deeper into a ball instead. The two of you sat in silence for several moments. The longer you sat, the more it all sank in. Your whole life had been a sick and twisted lie - how could you even start to separate the fiction from reality? Your breathing started to grow more ragged as you spiraled further, your throat tightening. You watched as your vision grew more and more blurry, until a choked sob ripped free from your chest. Hiding your head in your knees, you finally let the tears pour down your cheeks, let your shoulders shake from the sobs. 

You felt a hand grab yours, the same hand that had wrapped around yours earlier in the dorms. Bakugou silently pulled you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in a tentative hug. Immediately you burrowed yourself into his broad chest, finding comfort in the way he held you closer to him, as if his arms could protect you from reality. 

“I don’t even know,” You murmured, breath hitching. “what to believe anymore. If he raised me to be like him, then maybe I’m-” A villain too. You swallowed the words back into your throat, but they still hung in the air, unspoken. Another sob wracked through your chest, causing Bakugou’s grip on you to tighten. You stayed like that for a while, seconds passing into minutes. As the blonde boy tentatively rubbed soothing circles into your back, you couldn’t help the incredulous laugh bubbling alongside your sobs - Bakugou being calm and soothing? Your life was definitely falling apart. 

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re obviously not a villain.” He spoke with absolute certainty, as if he was merely stating a fact, like how the sky was blue or the grass green.

“You can’t know that.” You murmured, remembering the way you had nearly strangled Mineta, the way your classmates had all stared at you afterwards. “Mineta-”

“Is taken care of.” Bakugou’s chest rumbled as he cut you off, tone menacing. “He’ll no longer have the audacity to look at you, let alone even speak to you. Neither will the others. I’ve made damn sure of it myself.”

Warmth spread throughout your stomach, rising up into your chest and onto your cheeks. You hid your flushed face further into his shirt. You opened your mouth to protest-

“Don’t even start sunshine.” Bakugou interjected, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You were upset and Mineta had a shitty attitude. If anything, he deserved it.” 

You let out a watery chuckle. Only Bakugou would justify nearly strangling someone. As if sensing your upcoming retort, he spoke again. 

“You didn’t hurt anyone. And you never will because…” He paused, eyes trained at the wall above your head. The following words sounded like they were being ripped from him against his will. “you’re one of the good ones, alright? Why else would I spend so much time with you? It’d be embarassing, ya know?”

You understood what he was trying to say. Bakugou always needed the best of the best, in every aspect. Which meant that whatever he chose to do or whoever he chose to spend time with, all of it had to be good. The best, in every sense of the word. After all, it’d be embarassing to him if it wasn’t. He’d view it as an unforgiveable slight towards his perfectionistic tendencies. 

“Thank you Katsu.” You breathed in deeply, his signature smell of ashy caramel and fresh pine filling your nose, relaxing your limbs. You weren’t quite sure how you had gotten here, how you had somehow managed to slip in between the cracks of his impossibly high standards. You certainly didn’t feel like the best and you weren’t even sure if you believed his words, but they somehow still brought you comfort. At least you knew that someone in your life was raw and real. It had always been that way with Bakugou - what you saw was what you got. 

"It’s nothing.” He huffed, but you caught a hint of a smile on his lips. Moving his hands upwards, he started playing with your hair, his touch oddly gentle. 

It wasn’t nothing, but you didn’t have the strength to argue. Instead, you silently accepted the bottle of water he was offering to you. After muttering a soft thanks, you allowed the liquid to coat your dry tongue while matching the sounds of his even breathing with your own. And as the two of you sat in comfortable silence, you felt something in the air shift. For the first time, you noticed the fluttering in your stomach; the racing of your heart. You wondered if Bakugou felt it too.

The blonde boy eyed the window, watching as the rain started to pour down, droplets splattering across the glass. The sound was soothing, melding perfectly with the melody of our matched breaths. 

“I like the rain.” You said, tilting your face slightly toward the window. 

He snorted. “Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You like everything.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s annoying.”

“Not everything.” You protested, shifting your body.

“Well, you like me.” He joked, all bravado. You stilled. One moment passed, then two. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Bakugou paused. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered. A faint crackling pop echoed in the hallway. “I only meant who wouldn’t like m-”

“I do.” The confession blurts out of your mouth before you can even think. “Like you I mean.”

Maybe your defenses were lowered because of the constant crying. Or maybe it was because of the way he was gazing at you now - like you were something precious, something so beautiful that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, even for a second. 

“Took you long enough to catch on.” He swallowed, nonchalance forced into his voice. Another pop echoed in the hall. You stifled a grin as he forcefully stuffed his sparking palms into his pockets to hide them. A moment passed before your eyes widened as you connected the dots.

“For how long?” You breathed, voice catching in your throat.

“Too long.” He said gruffly, keeping it vague. “A snail moves at a faster pace than you.”

A laugh made it’s way out of your throat. “You could’ve said something!”

“That’s lame,” He huffed. “and you know it. But since we’re already on this topic, Deku better stay the hell away from you now that-”

You kissed the edge of his lips, partly to shut him up and partly because you could. He instantly froze, a shade of red rising up his neck. 

“If you’re gonna do that.” He whispered, the sound deep and husky. “Then do it right.”

He yanked you towards him, the move rugged and harsh, pulling your mouths together. Kissing him was like a smoldering fire - hot, burning, and intense. His arms pulled you closer, and you wanted more of this, more of him. He kissed you like a starving man tasting bread for the first time, and when you pulled away, he groaned reluctantly, chest gasping for air. You caught his gaze and held it, a brief moment of understanding passing between the two of you. And for the first time, you knew that despite everything, you were going to be okay.

A smile crept it’s way onto your face, the way it always tended to whenever Bakugou was present. In your head, you found yourself unconsciously amending the list of things you had learned about Bakugou over the years: 

Bakugou Katsuki had a temper like a firework - explosive, loud, and colorful. But when the time called for it, he could also be gentle, quiet, and fiercely protective. 

Although his bark was somehow worse than his bite, when it came to you, he had no problems following through with his bite. After all, he was an excellent kisser. 

No matter how grumpy he was, you couldn’t stop smiling around him. You still weren’t quite sure why yet, but you did know one thing for certain. 

Through thick and thin, through the lies and the villains, Bakugou Katuski would always be there for you. He might be abrasive and biting. He might be aggressive and impulsive. But he was also solid and real. He was true to his word and below all those layers, he was inconceivably, irrevocably good. And of course, most importantly - he was most definitely all yours. 

[glaciernaut]

All Yours. Only Yours. (Short story)

(It took me forever to draw this because I couldn’t get the damn hands right 😭)

Shimmering blue waves crest and fall at a soothing rhythm. The distant call of Seagulls can be heard over the gentle crash of the ocean against the dock. Standing in the light of the setting sun, Shadow closes his eyes and inhales deeply, taking in the moment. An ear swivels backwards as he hears the sound of soft footsteps coming closer.

“You doing alright?”

Shadow glances to his left. It’s that irritating blue hedgehog. The one with a smile that outshines the sun, gentle green eyes as brilliant as a chaos emerald, azure fur that practically glows in the sunset, a voice like a golden melody that can speak straight to his heart, that irritating blue thorn at his side, that he would give anything for to see that smile, to hear his laugh.

“Yes. I am simply… taking a rest from the commotion”

“I get ‘cha. It gets pretty loud in there, but I’m thinking most marriage parties can get pretty loud…” Sonic said, looking back at the indoor section of the venue. “It’s pretty peaceful out here though! And that sunset view is unbeatable!”

Shadow simply nods. Taking another quick glance at his newly wedded husband. Then scanning the horizon once more.

“Man” sonic said, throwing an arm around him. “If someone had told me 6 years ago I would be married to Shadow the Hedgehog, I think I would’ve laughed so hard, I’d cough out my lungs” Sonic chuckled. Shadow simply scoffed beside him, flashing him a small smirk. He closed his eyes once more taking in the gentle ocean breeze and the warm half embrace from his partner beside him.

He felt Sonic shuffle around and mess with the plants on the gazebo above them before he heard the snapping of some leaves and branches. Sonic was looking at him with half lidded eyes, a tiny pink flower held in his lips.

Shadow rolled his eyes and smiled softly, now fully turning towards Sonic to give him his full attention.

“What are you doing? You look ridiculous”

“A flower for the good gentle sir?” Sonic said in an exaggerated childish tone, making a show of bowing deeply for extra extravagance…or silliness.

Shadow, once again rolled his eyes. “This is really what I agreed to marry?” He asked mockingly, though there was no malice in his tone, but rather a fondness and gentle kindness that only Sonic and Rouge could ever pick up on.

“Yup, and you better count yourself lucky too!” Sonic countered

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean you’ve got ‘thee’ Sonic the Hedgehog for a husband right next to you. You know how many ladies would die to be in your position right now?” Sonic asked with his signature cocky smirk.

“And how many of those ladies can beat you in a race? Did any of those girls reach the 50 mile mark on Apotos beach faster than you?”

“Ok first of all, you had a 5 second head start, second, your route didn’t get blocked by a truck, forcing you to take the long way around, and lastly! You totally used those rocket skates to throw sand at me on that last stretch!”

“Just sounds like excuses a sore loser would make”

“Alright! Thats it! C’mere you!” Sonic launched himself at Shadow, quicker than the hybrid could react, near tackling him over in a tight embrace. But years of experience keeps him firmly planted on his feet as he holds sonic by the thighs wrapped around him. Sonic nuzzles into his cheek, letting out a soft, quiet purr. “I love ya Shads” he whispers softly into an ebony ear. Shadow pulls his head back just slightly, bumping their noses together, before Sonic is met with a warm, loving gaze, that has his heart melt, the mushy leftovers singing a melody meant only for Shadow.

Shadow then meets Sonic’s lips in a soft kiss. Sonic, more than happy to return it, tilts his head slightly to deepen the kiss and gently licks Shadow’s bottom lip. A silent question, with parting lips as the response. The two melt into each other, touching, tasting, feeling. Every run of their hands across the other’s body a precious memory, every sensation of their lips, a buzzing jolt of excitement. They break apart after a few minutes, their minds hazy from the rush of emotion that never seems to settles no matter how many years they’ve spent together.

“So then…” Shadow starts slowly setting Sonic back down. “Who are these ‘ladies’ you were talking about?” he asked teasingly. Sonic, with his head still not fully back on the ground yet exhaled shakily before responding.

“No. No girls. Just you…Only you”

Shadow smiled genuinely at that. “And I, am only yours”

Sonic smiled brightly in response.

“Boys!” A cheerful voice called from across the dock. Amy quickly stepped out from the venue doors, camera in hand waving the newly weds down.

“Yo Ames!” Sonic called back.

“Aren’t you gonna come back to the party? Rouge bet Knuckles 20 bucks that he’s so drunk, he couldn’t even land on his feet if he jumped from a chair.” Amy said chuckling tiredly.

“Oh man, I can’t miss that! We’ll be right there Ames, just give us a few” Sonic assured, looking to Shadow for a nod in agreement.

“Alright then!” Amy said. But before she turned back she gazed silently, at them, and the sunset behind them. “You two look so cute in this light!” She squealed, causing the other two hedgehog to turn their faces with a small blush growing on their cheeks. Amy gingerly lifts her camera before tilting her head curiously. “May I?” She asks softly.

“You kiddin’ me? With a sunset this gorgeous, it’d be a crime not to!” Sonic laughed.

“Alright get close” Amy urged quickly. But Sonic decided to take this as an opportunity to throw himself straight over Shadow’s arms. Shadow, unprepared, startled before quickly righting himself.

“What is this about hedgehog?” He questioned. “Whaat? I can’t throw myself into my Husbands arms?” Sonic countered.

“Besides you did say I’m yours and only yours… My husband” sonic replied with a sultry smile.

Shadow’s own shy smile slowly making itself show.

“Ooh, that’s perfect! Just like that!” Amy exclaimed.

“You heard the lady!” Sonic answered. “Keep that smile shining bright shads!”

Amy readied her camera, and sonic flashed his ring at it, showing the world that he was Shadow’s . All his. Only his.

Author’s Note:

This is literally the first fanfic I’ve ever written so sorry if it’s too corny or not at a good standard.

I’ve always wanted to try writing a fanfic but my anxious thoughts would never let me. 6 months of Anti-depressants and therapy later (normalize mental health treatment. It shouldn’t be taboo to say you’re medicated or getting therapy) and I now have enough self confidence to give it a try! Let me know how I did!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Sin City | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: arguing! angst! recovering from a sexual assault (please heed this warning), light smut (MDNI!!! 18+ only), mentions of suicide, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 7341

A/N: His beautiful face I will scream and cry

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and the brothers decided to bunk somewhere between Black Rock, New York, and Bobby’s house in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Although Sam knew about your relationship with Dean, Dean still got two separate rooms for you and the brothers. For a reason you couldn’t quite place, that bothered you.

He eventually did come to your separate room, and you immediately grilled him. “Why do you keep getting us two separate motel rooms?” Dean seemed stunned. 

“I mean, it’s not a big deal, but I don’t know… are you ashamed to be with me? Like, do you not want Sam to see us sleeping together? If you are, I’d rather you just tell me—”

Dean shook his head. “No, (Y/N), why would you think that?” he said. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable staying with Sam. And… I don’t necessarily wanna have sex in the bed next to my brother,” he finished. 

“Oh, so you thought we were gonna have sex tonight?” you questioned angrily. 

“What? No! I wasn’t—”

“Because sometimes I feel like that’s all I am to you, Dean! Like I’m just one of your fucking hookups!” you shouted. 

“Why the fuck would you think that?!” he argued. “When have I ever given you that impression?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because whenever we get in the doorway of emotional vulnerability, your solution is to have sex,” you chided. “Maybe because you can’t even tell me how you feel about me. I mean, I’ve poured my heart out to you, and I feel like you’re not even letting me in a little bit!” 

“Why is now the first time you’re bringin’ any of this up?” Dean responded. “Maybe if you would’ve talked to me about this, I could’ve fixed it before you freaked the fuck out on me.”

“Because I feel like if you really cared about me, I wouldn’t have to ask you to prove it to me!” 

“I thought that’s what I was doing!” Dean argued. “I mean, (Y/N), when was the last time you saw me even look at another girl?!”

“You looked at Bela!”

“You did, too!”

You considered for a moment, and unfortunately, he was right. 

“I mean, seriously. When’s the last time I’ve stayed more than a few nights with a girl? If I didn’t give a shit, I wouldn’t be here having this conversation right now. And I told you—!” he cut himself off, seeming to feel awkward. “I told you how I felt. Not in the most direct way, but still!”

“Dean, don’t you think I might wanna actually hear you say it before you go and die on me?!”

“So that’s what this is about. About my deal?” he scoffed. 

“It’s not just about your deal, Dean,” you huffed, “it’s about the fact that I wanna know you love me before you’re gone. I wanna… I wanna be yours, Dean. And I wanna know what’s going on in your head. God, I mean, is that so much to ask for?!” Your voice became louder again. “I mean, you’re gonna die in a year, and you’re acting like you’re goin’ to fuckin’ Vegas. I know you’re fucking terrified, and you won’t talk to me about it!”

“What do you want me to say, (Y/N)?! That I regret making that fucking deal? ‘Cause I don’t,” Dean shot back, and that stung you even more. “I am scared, okay? But I’m not gonna live every day whinin’ about it, either. And I figure, you got so much goin’ on in your head, I might as well not screw you up even more with my problems.”

“You’re right, I do have a lot going on. But you’re not gonna burden me with your problems, Dean,” you responded, voice still angry, but considerably quieter. “I want all of you—” you stepped forward and cupped his face in your hands— “the good, the bad, the ugly; all of it.” Tears welled in your eyes. “I love you. I do. And… I understand if you can’t say it back. I’m not gonna lie to you, it hurts, but I can also… try to understand if you don’t wanna say it.”

Dean grabbed your wrists and pulled them away from his face. He kissed the inside of your right wrist, brought both your hands down between the two of you holding them there, and stared down at you intensely. “I do, I just—” he grimaced in frustration, “I’ve never told anybody. Ever. Not even Sam.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Ever? Not even Cassie?”

He shook his head. 

“Damn.” 

“Do you get why it’s hard now?” he asked. 

You nodded. 

“And I— I do wanna show you. I’m trying, (Y/N),” he whispered, and your heart suddenly clenched with guilt, “it’s just…” Dean trailed off, unable to find the words. “I don’t wanna hurt you after what you went through.”

“I won’t break, Dean,” you replied, voice soft. “I’m a tough cookie.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, becoming serious once more. 

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” you insisted. “I’m… on edge. I should’ve brought this up differently.”

“Can’t disagree with you there,” he commented, “but I’m sorry, too. And if it really bothers you that much, we’ll have a sleepover with Sam next time.”

You giggled, remembering the stupidity of the origin of your fight. Slightly embarrassed, you covered your eyes with your hand. 

Dean took your hand away from your eyes and wound it around his neck, leaning down to kiss you. His kisses were always incredibly passionate and often quite fierce, but this one was different. It was tender and seemed to convey everything he couldn’t say aloud. 

You were surprised when he pulled away. “Where you goin’?” you asked as he headed to the bathroom. 

Dean turned around and cocked his head at you. “To take a shower…?” 

“You’re not gonna—” you gestured to the rest of you. 

He shook his head. “I thought that was what we just fought about.” “I mean, it was, but still. Just surprised, is all,” you shrugged. 

“This may come as a shock to you, but not all men are horny animals, sweetheart,” Dean smirked. 

You rolled your eyes. “The jury’s still out on that one.”

***

Later that evening, you were tucked into Dean’s side. His skin was smooth to the touch, and you loved the shaky breaths you pulled from Dean when you’d rake your nails along his abs. 

“You gotta stop doin’ that,” he groaned.

“Hmmm, why?” you smirked. 

“ ‘Cause,” he returned, the ends of his lips pulling upward. 

“That’s not a very good reason,” you said, trailing down closer to the edge of his v-line. 

Dean gripped your wrist and pulled you flush against him. “Such a tease,” he growled against your lips. 

You kissed him with a grin and pulled away after a moment. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” You laid against him, his head nestled under your chin and resting on top of your naked breasts. You found Dean really enjoyed using them as pillows. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dean murmured. 

“Anything,” you replied. 

“What happened earlier?” You knew he was referring to what happened with Willem Dafoe in the motel room. He must have felt you tense under him when he asked. “You don’t have to answer; it’s fine—”

“No, no,” you cut him off. “I wanna tell you.”

Dean pulled away from you and adjusted himself on his pillow until the two of you were eye-level in the bed. 

“The guard,” you swallowed, “he- he held my hands behind my back. Had me on my stomach. I just… I freaked out.”

Dean looked angry, but you knew it wasn’t at you. “I swear, I’ll fuckin’ track ‘im down and kill him—”

“No, no.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. 

Dean grabbed the hand you had curled into your chest and stroked it with his thumb. “What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

“Is that why you freaked out about the sex earlier?” Dean asked. 

You nodded. 

“Jesus, (Y/N), I didn’t—”

“Dee, I know. It’s okay,” you answered, squeezing his hand. “And it’s not just that, y’know? I still want you to show me that you love me through means other than sex.”

Dean nodded.

“And I still… I still wanna have sex. We haven’t had sex in, like, four months, and it sucks for me, too. I mean, sex with you is like, the greatest thing in the fuckin’ world, but it’s just… it’s hard for me right now.”

He nodded, and then a coy grin spread across his face. “Is it really the greatest thing in the world?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you sighed dramatically, shoving him away from you and rolling to your other side. 

Dean’s arms wrapped around you, and he pressed kisses to your neck. “Hey, be nice,” he said between kisses, “or I’ll withhold the greatest thing in the world.”

You giggled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

Feeling brave, you turned your face toward him and kissed him passionately. You turned around to face him once more, and Dean rolled on top of you. He ran his hands all over your torso. He was careful to avoid your breasts, and you were grateful he was trying to respect your boundaries. 

You broke the kiss and grabbed his hand, guiding it to your right breast without breaking eye contact with him. A deep hunger filled his eyes, and he quickly leaned back down to kiss you fervently. He squeezed your breasts and kissed down your neck while you threaded your hands through his hair. When his lips reached your nipple, he looked back up at you. “Is this okay?” Dean asked.

You nodded, heat flooding you. The touch of his lips to your skin made goosebumps erupt all over you, and your back arched into him. 

Dean pulled your nipple between his teeth, teasing the bud with his tongue. You writhed underneath him, tugging at his hair, and the action only spurred him on further. 

When he moved further down your stomach, though, you began to get a bit nervous. Dean noticed your body tense, and he immediately looked up to you. “Are you okay?”

You began to cry. “I don’t know,” you admitted, bringing your hands to your face in shame. 

Dean immediately climbed off you and tried to pull your hands from your eyes. “What’s goin’ on? Talk to me.”

You looked at him with watery eyes. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.”

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to. Not till you’re ready,” he assured you, running his hand along your hip.

“Yeah, but we don’t have that much time left. I want to before you—” you cut yourself off, shutting your eyes and taking in a shuddering breath. 

“Listen, we got ten months left. We’ll work our way up to it, okay?” Dean promised. 

“But what if you lose interest in me because I’m—” you tried to think of a way to phrase your next statement— “out of commission?”

Dean shook his head, chuckling. “Sweetheart, I love sex, and I love having sex with you, but it’s not the only reason I’m into you,” he assured you. “We won’t do anything until you’re ready.”

“But I thought I was, and look what happened,” you lamented.

“Just means you weren’t ready today,” he shrugged. “And I don’t blame ya. It hasn’t been that long, and you just had that thing happen today. It’s okay, seriously.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

Dean nodded. 

“You’re not lyin’ just to make me feel better?”

He shook his head. 

“Like, absolutely positive—”

“Oh, shut up, (Y/N),” he said, pulling you into him and tucking your head into his chest. 

You giggled and relaxed against him, wrapping your small arms around his waist. He kissed the top of your head, and you matched your breathing to the rising and falling of his chest beneath yours. Within minutes, the both of you were off to sleep. 

***

Over the next few days, Bobby and Dean worked on the Colt you handed over to the older man. Their objective was to figure out a way to have it back to being able to kill demons which you knew Bobby was planning on using to figure out how to save Dean from his deal. 

You and Sam were on research duty searching for demons. 

“Think I got somethin’,” Sam announced from the messy kitchen table. 

You and the other two men looked at him expectantly. 

“Dry lightning and barometric-pressure drop,” he continued. “Plus, some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out. Might be demonic omens.”

Dean shrugged. “Or it could just be a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker.”

“Meh, but it’s our best lead since Lincoln,” you added. “Where in Ohio?”

“Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the rust belt,” Sam replied. 

Dean sighed. “There’s gotta be a demon or two in South Beach.”

“Sorry,” Sam grinned. “Maybe next time. How's it going, Bobby?”

“Slow,” the older man responded. 

“I tell you, it's a little sad seeing the Colt like that.” Dean nodded toward the deconstructed marvel of weaponry. 

“Well, the only thing it's good for now is figuring out what makes it tick,” Bobby said, not looking up from the gun. 

“So, what makes it tick?” Sam smirked. 

Bobby looked up, not amused. 

Sam held his hands up in surrender, and you giggled. 

“So, if we want to go check out these omens in Ohio,” Dean began, standing up, “you think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?”

You and Sam snickered while Bobby stared at him incredulously. 

“Well, it won't kill demons by then, but I can promise you, it'll kill you.” Bobby jokingly aimed the barrel at Dean. 

“Alright,” Dean smiled, “c’mon, we’re wastin’ daylight.”

“See ya, Bobby,” you said, grabbing your duffel bag off the seat next to you. 

You and the boys headed for the door. 

“Hey!”

The three of you turned back to face Bobby.

“You kids run into anything— anything— you call me.”

You nodded and left wordlessly. 

***

You met with a priest who, in fact, watched the man commit suicide. Something notable you learned from the priest was that the man went to church every Sunday up until about two months ago. The town had even changed; people just became “unrespectable,” in his words. Additionally, the other man who’d killed himself had changed, too. 

As you’d left the church, Sam had commented, “Two months ago, we open up the devil's gate; all of a sudden, this town turns into Margaritaville? It's no coincidence.”

Now, the three of you were heading a motel room. A shared one, at that. It made you happy to get to share the room with the boys, strangely; you guessed it just made you feel like less of an outsider and more a part of their family. 

As you opened the door, though, Dean’s voice turned you around. “Richie?”

You turned to see a man exiting the room across the hall. 

“I don’t believe it,” Dean said.

“Hey, Dean,” the man named Richie grinned, “Winchester, right?” A tall, scantily clad blonde with smudged eye makeup came up behind Richie. 

“This is my sister, uh, Cheryl,” Richie quickly explained. 

“Hey,” “Cheryl” smiled. 

Richie handed the woman some money, and Cheryl left. “Well, y’know, stepsister,” he awkwardly clarified. 

You laughed and shook your head while you plopped down onto the bed. 

“Come on in,” Dean said, leaving the door open for Richie. “This is my brother, Sam, and my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

Your heart swelled in your chest, and you were completely floored by Dean calling you his girl. The two of you had never discussed it formally, but you kind of liked how he just named it and claimed it. 

“Girlfriend, huh?” Richie teased. “You settlin’ down, Winchester?”

“No, never,” Dean replied. “She’s a hunter, too.”

“How do you two know each other?” Sam jumped in. 

“You were in school—” the older brother began.

Richie cut him off. “It was that succubus, in Canarsie right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean nodded.

“Oh, man. You should have seen the rack on this broad. Freakin' tragedy when I had to gank her,” Richie lamented, shaking his head.

“Whoa, whoa. Wait. Who killed her? If I remember, your ass was toast until I showed up,” Dean commented.

“Oh, I forgot what a comedian this guy was,” Richie scoffed, making you giggle.

“Richie, Richie, know what? I told you then, and I'll tell you again: you're not cut out for this job. You're gonna get yourself killed,” Dean said, his tone becoming serious as he spoke. 

Richie’s phone rang, and he answered it before he could respond to Dean. “Talk to me,” he said into the phone. He then whispered to Dean, “FYI, Winchester, words hurt.” He quickly finished his phone call, and you and Sam exchanged a glance while Richie did so. 

“So, you find anything in this town, anyway?” Dean asked. 

The other man shrugged. “Ah, no. I got nothin’.” He then seemed to realize Dean wasn’t referring to women. “Oh, wait a minute. You mean as in demons and whatnot?”

The older Winchester nodded as if it was obvious.

“No, I got nothing.”

Dean chuckled. “Typical. What about your sister back there?” 

“Oh, honestly? She definitely had the devil in her, but she wasn't no demon, you know what I'm saying?” Richie laughed, but became serious when he saw Dean’s deadpan reaction. “Right. Seriously. Church guy, hobby-shop guy; they were lunch meat by the time I got there. Hey, maybe they were possessed, but I can't prove it.”

Sam added, “Yeah, that's where we are, too. You know, let's just say that demons are possessing people in this town. Y’know, raising hell—”

“Yeah, but why would a demon blow his brains out?” Dean wondered aloud. 

“Well, for fun?” Richie suggested. “Y’know, he wrecks one body, moves to another. Y’know, like taking a stolen car for a joyride.”

“Anybody else left in the town that fits the profile— y’know, nice guy turned douche, still breathing?” Dean asked the shorter man. 

“There’s Trotter,” Richie noted. 

“Who’s that?” you asked. 

“Oh, she speaks! Lovely voice by the—” Richie cut himself off and cleared his throat awkwardly when Dean glared at him. “Well, he used to be head of the Rotary Club. And then, people say he turned bastard all of a sudden? Brought in the gambling, the hookers… Ah, he practically owns this whole town.”

“Know where we could find him?” Sam questioned. 

“Oh, he'll be at his bar in a few hours.”

***

Off Richie’s tip, the three of you set off for the bar he’d told you about. 

You were dressed in a mini skirt and tank top that showed off your cleavage, and opted to pair the outfit with a pair of sneakers. 

Dean had laughed when he noticed your shoes. 

“What?” you’d asked. 

“Just… you,” Dean had replied. “Wearin’ sneaks to a bar.”

“I’m not wearin’ my heels to go step in spilled beer and possible vomit,” you’d shrugged.

When you arrived at the bar, it seemed more like a club. People bustled throughout the street, most of them heading into one of the several bars or strip clubs lining the street. Some were staggering around drunkenly despite the late afternoon sun; a sight you’d usually see at three in the morning.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, I guess,” you said to yourself, taking in your surroundings. 

“I thought you said this was some boarded-up factory town,” Dean said to Sam.

“It is. At least, it’s supposed to be,” the younger brother responded, looking uncomfortable.

A girl walked past you holding a cocktail and eyeing Dean wantonly. You glared at her, but Dean honestly didn’t seem to notice her. He moved to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You smirked and wrapped your own around the small of his back. 

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let's do some research,” Dean grinned, guiding you toward the bar. 

Despite your stoic, often introverted, and guarded nature, you really did enjoy nightlife on the occasion; especially if a particular Winchester was involved. 

You were the first to step into Trotter’s bar, sliding out from under Dean’s arm to grab his hand and guide him through the crowded room. The bar was completely alive and seemed more like a club than anything. 

You turned back to see Sam looking uncomfortable and overstimulated, and Dean just smirked down at you with that trademark hard-to-read expression of his. When you turned back around, you nearly bumped into Richie. 

“Oh!” You jumped back in surprise. “Hey!”

The man was wearing an orange short-sleeved shirt halfway unbuttoned to reveal a white wife beater underneath. 

“Oh, Richie. Look at you,” Dean chuckled, shaking his hand. “Bringing satin back.”

“Oh, you like this? Try Thai silk. Canal Street,” Richie boasted. “You'd have to pay $300 for threads like these, easy. Cost to me? Fuggedaboutit.”

“How much is ‘forget about it’?” Sam chuckled.

“Ah, forget about it,” the man shrugged, clearly a little intoxicated. “That's Trotter over there. He sits there all night. Can't touch him.” He gestured to a bald, strong-looking man wearing a sharp suit. He almost reminded you of Kingpin from one of your little brother’s favorite Marvel comics. 

“So, what do we do now?” Sam asked.

“I’m thinkin’ I’ll go talk to the bartender,” you began. 

“Whoa,” Dean cut you off, “why can’t we have a little fun first?”

You deadpanned at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re here to work.”

“Yeah, but—”

You continued your deadfaced stare at him, and he conceded. 

“Fine,” Dean said. 

“May need some of your charm, too; who knows what she’s into?” you suggested, smacking Dean’s ass lightly. 

You smirked over your shoulder at him as you sauntered to the bar. You heard Richie comment, “You feel like sharin’?’ followed by a quick, “Don’t even think about it,” from Dean. 

You looked down the bar to see the priest you’d talked to from the church the latest victim died in talking to the pretty bartender. She turned away from him and to a customer further down the bar from you. 

“Father?” you asked. 

“Knew you kids would find your way here. They all do.”

“No offense, man, but what are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Like it or not, you go where your flock is,” he shrugged.

“Plus, the clergy drinks for free,” the bartender chimed in, handing the man a whiskey neat.

“True, and a certain bartender owes me a confession,” the priest jested. 

“Not in this lifetime, Father,” she replied.

“I better see your butt on Sunday,” he told her, getting up from his chair and leaving. 

“What can I get you, love?” the bartender asked you. 

You leaned up on the bar, pushing your breasts together slightly. “What’s your specialty?” you asked. 

“I make a mean hurricane,” she replied, smirking. 

“We’ll see about that,” you challenged. 

The bartender seemed intrigued by you, and she smiled flirtatiously as she went to make your drink. 

Dean came up next to you at that moment and wrapped an arm around your waist, hand landing close to your ass. “How’s it goin’?” he asked. 

“Just makin’ friends,” you shrugged, grinning. 

“Don’t get too friendly,” he warned. 

You snickered. Suddenly, something near the pool table caught your attention. 

“Hey, what are you doing?!” a man panickedly yelled.

You then noticed the man across from the panicked one was holding a gun. You nodded toward the scene. “Dean—” 

You set off toward the pair, but the man raised the gun and shot the other point-blank. The crowd immediately erupted into chaos as you sprinted over to the man who was raising the gun to his chin. 

Dean tackled the man to the ground, and Sam appeared beside you with holy water. He splashed the holy water on the man, but the man’s skin didn’t sizzle. 

“What are you doing?!” the man exclaimed. He suddenly realized what he'd done and began to writhe on the ground, crying, “He slept with my wife. That bastard slept with my wife!”

You took out your phone and called 911 while Sam and Dean kept the man in a sort of citizen’s arrest. 

When the cops did arrive, Sam seemed to get anxious again despite the bar’s emptiness. “Too many cops here. I say we roll.”

“Just be cool,” Dean encouraged. “Poor jerk. Only thing possessing him was a sixer of Pabst.”

“So, what's the deal, then? People in this town getting possessed or not?” Sam wondered aloud. 

“I don’t know,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows. “Maybe they’re influencin’ ‘em some kind of way?” “Yeah, maybe,” Sam replied. 

“You guys ready for your mug shots?” a police officer asked you and the brothers. Cued by your panicked expressions, the cop tried to soothe your worries. “The photographer's gonna be here in a few and take your picture for the local paper.”

Dean seemed relieved and feigned enthusiasm. “Be an honor, Officer. What a thrill!”

“Yep, time to go,” Sam said, standing.

“Wait a second. Wait a second,” Dean stated, looking around.

“What?’ you and Sam asked in hushed voices. 

“Where’s Richie?”

***

The next day, Dean couldn’t seem to keep his leg from bouncing under the table in his seat beside you at Trotter’s bar. He kept trying Richie’s phone number, but no response ever came. 

“You do realize there's red meat within striking distance, right?” Sam said, referencing the large hamburger sitting in front of Dean. 

“How many times I got to tell Richie he's gonna get himself in trouble?” Dean sighed. 

“Dean, he’s not your responsibility,” you assured him. 

“And you’re assuming he's missing. I mean, maybe he just bailed,” Sam added. 

“He’s a moron,” replied Dean. “I mean, he's a sweet moron, but he's not a coward. He wouldn't just bail. I got to go find him.”

“I’ll go with you,” you said. 

“You guys do that,” Sam said. “Meanwhile, I think I’m gonna trail this Trotter guy.”

“Yeah?” Dean questioned. 

“Yeah. I don't know. Something about the way he looked at me last night.

Maybe there is something going on here.”

***

You and Dean returned to your motel around midday after lunch with Sam at Trotter’s. 

“How well do you even know this guy, Dean?” you asked.

“Well, it’s like I said—” he began as you sat behind your computer screen, “he was toast until I found him. We had a few drinks after, but that was about it.”

You stared at him over the top of your computer screen. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, a love-drunk smile pulling on the ends of your lips. “You’re just sweet.”

“Shuddup,” he mumbled, looking embarrassed. 

“Seriously! You care this much about a dude you don’t even know that you’re having me track the GPS in his phone. It’s adorable,” you replied. 

He kept his head low, but you could see the smile Dean was fighting. “You’re… annoying,” he murmured. 

“Oh, really? I’m annoying?” you smirked, standing from your chair while your laptop screen began to populate with all of Richie’s previous locations over the last week based on his cell phone’s GPS signal. 

Dean caught you by the waist. “Yeah, you are,” he said. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and lazily dragged your nails up his back. He let out a few shuddering breaths. You leaned in to kiss him when a dinging sound came from your computer and forced the two of you apart. You headed back to the laptop and pointed at his last known location. You pulled an image of the coordinates up. 

“Corner of Piermont and Clinton,” you announced. 

“He did mention having plans with that bartender,” Dean said, “maybe that’s where she lives?”

You nodded. “Alright, let’s get goin’.”

You stood to leave, and Dean smacked your ass as you walked off. 

“What was that for?!” you squeaked. 

“ ‘Cause you’re a tease,” Dean smirked. “And still annoying.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and grinned. 

***

After conducting your investigation, you were charged with the task of staying behind to wait for Dean and the bartender. You hid in the shadows of the cellar with your handgun readied. 

You heard Dean’s voice suddenly coming down the stairs toward the cellar. “Looks like the maid's day off,” he commented. “Everything okay?”

You heard the woman kiss Dean, and you nearly jumped out of your hiding spot. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” the woman said. 

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Dean tsked, “Richie was a friend of mine. When I realized I could track the GPS in his cellphone, I swung by earlier. Gave him a proper burial. It's better than rotting in some skank's basement.”

You stepped out from the shadows then, and the bartender launched herself toward Dean. She was suddenly stopped by an invisible barrier. 

“Oops,” Dean smirked. He leaned down to the carpet and lifted the corner to reveal the Devil’s Trap you’d spray painted on the floor while Dean was gone. 

“Isn't that a buzz kill?” the older Winchester smirked.  “Sorry, sister, but you're going back to where you came from.”

“I don't think so,” the bartender laughed. 

You took out the book in your pocket and began to read in Latin. “Exorcizamus te, omnis—” A violent gust of wind blowing past you cut you off, and you saw the demon before you with her eyes closed as though in deep meditation. You recollected yourself and began to read again. “Exorcizamus te—”

The pages were then ripped out of the book by the breeze. The woman opened her eyes and grinned at you.

“(Y/N), look out!” Dean yelled. 

Just then, the bricks from the walls around you began to crumble inward. You dove toward the window to avoid getting hit by falling rocks. Dean rushed to you and helped you up. He turned his gaze to the demon in a glare. The demon grinned. 

“What are you laughing at, bitch? You're still trapped,” Dean growled. 

“So are you, bitch,” she sultrily said. 

“So, what, I send you back to hell, and we rot down here?” you spat. 

“Half the plan. Doubt you’ll be able to do that without your little book,” she smiled. 

“I’m sure I could figure it out,” you said. “Exorcizamus te,” you began with authority, “omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii—”

Dean suddenly gasped out in pain and began to grab at his neck. 

You immediately stopped the ritual. “What are you doing?!” you shouted, sinking to the ground with Dean, “Stop it!”

“Stop trying to ruin my fun, then. You’re good, I’ll give you that,” the demon cooed, Dean suddenly able to breathe again. “But I thought Sam was supposed to be the brains of the outfit.”

“How do you know that?” Dean questioned.

“You Winchester boys are famous. Not Lohan famous, but, y’know,” she shrugged. “And you, (Y/N)—” she hissed out your name— “are making your own way through the circles, too.”

“Well, that's flattering,” Dean commented, “I'll be sure to let Sam know when he gets here.”

“If he shows up first.”

The two of you looked to the bartender, surprised. 

“What, you thought I was flying solo?” she asked mockingly. “You shouldn't underestimate, kids, it might be the death of you.”

You glared at her. 

“You can give me hard eyes all you want,” she replied, “but the fact remains, we just have to wait and see who shows up first… the cavalry,” she smiled, “or the Indians.”

***

“Anybody ever tell you how nice your ass is, (Y/N)?” the bartender drawled from the floor behind you. You stood on top of a cask of wine attempting to get cell reception through the small window daylight streamed in from. 

“Bite me, bitch,” you replied without turning to look at her. 

“Look, why don’t you relax?” she asked you and Dean. 

“Why don't you kiss my ass?” Dean flippantly responded. 

“Why, Dean, you're a poet. I had no idea,” she deadpanned. “Look, we won't have any effect on the outcome of this. We might as well be civil.”

“Civil, huh? Killing Richie, that was— that was civil? The guy was harmless,” Dean countered. 

The demon raised an eyebrow. “That knife he pulled on me? Didn't look so harmless.”

“Ah, a knife wouldn't hurt you,” Dean replied. 

“No, but it would damage this body. And Casey has such a fine body, I wouldn't want to see it ripped.” The demon stretched out lazily on the floor, arching her back. 

“Touching,” you said, jumping down from atop the cask when your efforts proved pointless. “But don’t pretend you have a heart. We know what you did.”

“Hey, I didn't pull any triggers,” the demon possessing Casey shrugged. 

“Yeah?” Dean barked. “You did something.”

“You want to know what I did?” the demon pushed herself into a sitting position. “What I really did? I had lunch.”

“Lunch?” Dean questioned.

“Me and Trotter,” she began. “He had a cheeseburger, I had a salad, and I just pointed out the money that could be made with a few businesses that cater to harmless vice. So Trotter built it, and man, did they come. Supposedly god-fearing folk, waist-deep in booze, sex, and gambling. I barely lifted a finger.”

“That’s it?” you scoffed. 

“You don't get it. All you gotta do is nudge humans in the right direction,” Casey continued. “Some whiskey here, a hooker there, and they'll walk right into hell with big, fat smiles on their faces. Your kind is corrupt, kids. Weak. Our will's stronger. That's why we'll win.”

“And that’s how this ends?” you pushed. 

“No. That's how it begins.”

“So, demons take over,” you continued. “And you’re convinced that’ll work… how?”

“Yeah, I thought the meek shall inherit the earth,” Dean piled on. 

Casey rolled her eyes. “Oh, according to your Bible. It's only a book, Dean.”

“Not everyone would agree,” Dean replied simply. 

You stared at him strangely, and he shrugged in response. 

“Because it's god's book?” Casey pressed. “Do you believe in god, Dean? I'd be surprised if you did.”

“I don’t know,” Dean said honestly. “I'd like to.”

“Well, god’s done a bang-up job in my opinion,” you said, unable to help yourself. 

“Finally, someone who makes sense,” Casey snickered. “I like you, (Y/N).” She returned her focus to Dean. “War, genocide; it's only getting worse. I mean, this past century, you people racked up a body count that amazed even us. It's our turn, now, and we're gonna do it right this time.”

Dean heard a noise and turned his face up to the grate you’d tried getting cell service from. 

“Don't be hopeful, Dean. You're not delivered. It's only the wind,” Casey commented. 

Despite yourself, you laughed. 

Dean and Casey turned their attention toward you. 

“Whose side are you on there, sweetheart?” Dean questioned, slightly pointedly. 

“Sorry. Demon or not, she’s funny.” You cleared your throat and regained your composure. “You keep talking about this ‘endgame.’ Pretty vague. How am I supposed to even know there is one?”

“Why would I lie?” she countered. 

“Demons lie,” Dean replied. 

“Some do. Some are true believers.”

“Believers in what?” you pressed. 

Casey scoffed. “What, you think humans have an exclusive on a higher power?”

Dean looked shocked, as did you. “You have a god?” Dean asked. 

“Sure,” the demon shrugged. “His name's Lucifer.”

You deflated and crossed your arms. “You mean the devil.”

“You don’t seem impressed,” Casey noted, seeming intrigued by you. 

“ ‘Cause I’m not,” you replied. “No offense, but he doesn’t exactly put the fear of god in me.”

“Well, he should,” she told you. “Once, he was the most beautiful of all god's angels. But god demanded that he bow down before man, and when he refused, god banished him. Tell me, how do you like bowing before lesser creatures?”

“Lucifer's really real?” Dean wondered aloud. 

“Well, no one's actually seen him,” Casey explained, “but they say that he made us into what we are, and they say that he'll return.”

“Oh, gimme a break,” you said, slumping to the floor. 

“What? Is faith such a laughable concept to you?” Casey remarked. 

“Absolutely,” you said coldly. 

“Well, you’d better start believing. A lot of you humans are in for a real treat when this is all over,” she said coolly. “Dick Cheney?”

“He one of yours?” Dean asked.

“Not yet. Let's just say, he's got a parking spot reserved for him downstairs.”

Dean laughed despite himself before pausing a moment. “Hey, speaking of downstairs… What's it like down there?”

“What, Hell?”

Dean nodded. 

“That's right,” Casey smirked. “You booked a one-way ticket with that deal.”

Dean laughed in discomfort, and you eyed him sympathetically. 

“You're not gonna like it, Dean,” the demon said honestly. “And, um, judging from the trouble you've caused, I don't think you'll be getting the presidential suite. No, it's a pit of despair. Why do you think we want to come here?”

Dean looked somber, as did you. You knew better than to reach your hand out to comfort him, and you just sat against the wall with your knees tucked into your chest.

A few moments passed before Casey spoke up again. “Kind of funny, don't you think? Three of us sitting here like regular folk.”

“Yeah, it's hilarious,” Dean deadpanned, “y’know, in that… apocalyptic sort of way.”

“You're all right, Dean,” Casey said seriously.

Dean scoffed, and you flicked your eyes between your love and Casey.

“The others don't describe you that way. But, you know, you're— you're likable.”

“Well, keep how much you like ‘im to yourself, sister,” you spat. 

“Jealous, are we?” Casey mused. “Don’t worry, darlin’. He’s all yours.”

“A demon likes me,” was all Dean could think to say. “Sorry, I don't know how to respond to that.”

“You could say thanks,” she mocked. “That deal you made to save Sam; a lot of others would mock you for it, think it was weak or stupid. I don't.”

Dean paused for a moment. “It's been kind of liberating, actually. Y’know, what's the point in worrying about a future, when you don't have one?”

Your eyes saddened upon hearing that. You cast your gaze down to the floor, knowing you’d cry if you looked at Dean.

“Still, a year left. You're not scared?” Casey asked. 

“Nah.”

“Not even a little?”

“Of course not.” However, you caught the briefest bit of hesitation in his voice. 

Dean then seemed to notice your sadness. “Hey, I’m—”

“Save it,” you said, feeling brave enough to look up at him. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Didn’t mean to cause any trouble in paradise,” Casey snickered. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” you asked pointedly. 

“I’m an open book,” the demon shrugged. 

“So, the gate opened. The demon army was let out. What now, huh?” you questioned. “I'm not seeing a big master plan here.”

“Honestly, there was a plan,” she replied. “Azazel was a tyrant, but he held us all together.”

“Azazel?” you and Dean asked in unison. 

“What, you think his friends just called him ‘Yellow Eyes’? He had a name. After you did him in—” Casey nodded toward you, “it all fell apart.”

You smirked. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

The demon cut her eyes at you in challenge. 

“So, what? No chain of command?” Dean pressed.

“There was. It was Sam. Sam was supposed to be the grand pooh-bah and lead the big army, but he hasn't exactly stepped up to the plate, has he?”

“Thank god for that,” Dean breathed out. 

“Again with god,” Casey groaned. “You think this is a good thing? Now you've got chaos, a war without a front, hundreds of demons all jockeying for power, all fighting for the crown. Most of them, gunning for your brother.” She looked toward a conflicted Dean, becoming incredibly serious. “For the record, I was ready to follow Sam.”

Before you could ask anymore questions, you heard Sam call yours and Dean’s names.

“Sam?!” you and Dean called, scrambling to your feet. 

“Looks like you win,” Casey smirked. 

You weren’t too sure that you actually had. “What’s that look for—” 

Your question was cut off by a loud pounding on the door. 

“Dean!” you heard Sam calling. 

“Sam!” Dean replied. “Sammy, down here! The basement caved in!” Sam’s voice appeared at the grate you’d been trying to get cell reception through. “Guys, hold on, okay? We’re coming.”

“Who’s we?” you asked.

“I’m here with the father.”

You whipped back around to Casey who seemed almost excited. 

“Sam, be careful—” 

And then suddenly, a gunshot was heard. 

“Sam!” Dean called. 

Then, the rocks covering the entrance to the cellar began to move aside. In came the pastor, who you attempted to rush. You were thrown to the wall and fell to the ground painfully. 

When you recovered, you stood to see the priest and Casey passionately kissing outside the Devil’s Trap. 

“You two?” Dean questioned, face twisting up in disgust. 

“For centuries,” the priest nodded. “We've been to Hell and back, literally.”

“Leave ‘em be,” Casey told the pastor.

He didn’t listen to her and approached Dean, grabbing him by the throat. You tried to rush him again, but you were held to the wall by the priest’s power. 

“Don't kill him. Let's just go,” Casey begged. “Please.”

Sam appeared at that moment and shot the priest without hesitation. Lightning emitted from the priest’s wound, eyes, and chest, and he slumped to the ground. 

“Sam, wait!” Dean told him. 

But it was too late. Casey suffered the same fate as the priest. You looked to the two real human bodies on the ground and mourned a little for both of the humans behind their demonic state. 

***

“I cannot believe you ransacked Richie’s stash,” you told Dean as he rolled a joint under the cover of night sitting on the hood of the Impala. 

“Well, not like he can use it anymore,” Dean shrugged. “Besides, it’s a tribute to him.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. You took out your lighter and took the joint from your partner. While you lit up, Dean asked you a question. “What do you think? About what we did here; you think it made a difference?”

“I don’t know. Humans aren’t our job, but still,” you replied after taking a hit, “it’s kinda weird leaving knowing things may never be resolved.”

“Yeah, I mean, maybe these people do just want to really destroy themselves. Maybe it is—” Dean seemed to struggle for a moment to find the words, “a losing battle.” He took the joint back from you and took a hit. 

“Is that you or the demon chick talking?” you asked playfully, nudging your shoulder with his. Although, you knew he knew you were seriously asking him.

“Oh, it’s me,” Dean replied. “Demon’s very dead.”

“Well, had to be done, I guess,” you shrugged. “Sam was saving your life.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know, (Y/N),” Dean started, shaking his head and passing the joint back to you, “it was cold.”

“I agree,” you nodded. You took a deep breath and slowly let a cloud of smoke pass through your lips. 

“Back in Wyoming,” Dean began, “there was this moment. Yellow Eyes said something to me.”

You looked to him expectantly, taking a second hit. 

“That maybe when… Sam came back from, well, wherever, that maybe he came back different.”

“Different how?” you questioned, cocking your head to the side. 

“I don't know. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. You think— You think something's wrong with my brother?”

You considered for a moment. You knew no matter how you answered, Dean wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew for sure. You opted for attempting to provide him comfort. “No. Demons lie. I'm sure Sam's okay.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[aajjks]

mess (m)

synopsis. There’s only one way to make sure you stay. And he’s willing to do anything.

pairing: yandere oc x fem!reader.

wärnïngs. yändêrê, mäsöchïstïc tëndëncïês, öral (fém récîevïng), délüsïònál béhâvïöûr, präïsè kink, ëxplïcït smüt, ëxtrëmë yändere, MDNÏ

part one — part two.

note. please share feedback and send in asks for ezekiel, ENJOY!

You look like you want to kill him.

Ezekiel removes his hand from your wrist, and immediately falls on his knees. You are visibly fuming, the way you’re chewing on your lower lip has him quivering in fear.

Although you look so sexy at the same time to him, glaring down at him with those E/C eyes of yours, your teeth nibble on your lip,

okay not the right time, stupid!

He stops his train of thoughts and barely manages to look into your eyes, “y-yn…” you cross your arms to your chest and clench your jaw.

Oh you really want to kill him..

“P-Please don’t misunderstand!” He begs you, his voice is loud and panicky. “I don’t know why she was here!” He confesses to you.

You look around the hall, it’s empty! Why can’t you focus on him instead, all of the people are busy attending their classes.

He has to go too but no he won’t, not when you’re so quite, when you’re fuming. And he could always catch up later.

Right now his priority was only you.

He needed to fix this mess that his ex girlfriend had created.

“Who the fuck was she huh?” You spit at him, oh your eyes are turning dark, he’s in so much trouble, it excites him.

“M-My ex…” he grabs your legs before breathing in. “I-I broke up with her almost a year ago, I-I don’t know why she decided to study here!” He feels so frantic.

You have to believe him! He’s telling you the truth!

“Hmm..” you mumble something he can’t comprehend… he can’t tell what you’re thinking, you’re so good at hiding your emotions. Your eyebrows furrow all of a sudden,

He feels like he can finally breathe again.

“An ex huh..?” You seem to be in a deep thought, Ezekiel nods his head and looks at you with his grey eyes, filled with desperation.

“Let go of me.” You command him, your gaze is empty. He panics. No he can’t let you go, he has to please you, he has to make sure you don’t abandon him!

He can’t afford that, oh no he’d rather die by your hands than let you go.

“N-No please d-don’t leave me! L-Let me make it up to you yn!!! Pl-Please!” He only holds onto you tighter, “l-let me please you!”

There’s only one way to make you stay. And he would do anything to make you stay. He grabs your legs tighter, and pushes his face into them, inhaling your scent like a dog.

“You sick fuck.” You curse at him, “such a slut aren’t you?”

“Only for you..” you smirk at him, he feels his heart thump in anticipation, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

He wants you so bad.

He follows behind you like a puppy, you keep searching for the janitors closet and he’s starting to get impatient, “look there!” He points it out for you,

Oh please let’s just get in, already!

“I can see it.” You roll your eyes at him and open the door to see if anyone is in there, once you are sure, you signal the impatient guy to come in.

And he immediately complies, he doesn’t wait for your command to lock the door, and you don’t stop him either.

He turns around to look at you, staring at him with a bored look in your eyes, “come on.” You sigh, “take off my jeans.” You point your fingers to your jeans and his eyes light up.

He walks over to you, his mind feels so hazy, he can’t see but you.

“Y-Yes t-thank you yn..” he gets down on his knees, his fingers reach your zipper and he tugs at it, taking off your jeans eagerly, his eyes bulging out of the sockets as he stares at your underwear.

His fingers trace the lace, his mouth is watering as he slides it down to your legs.

He shudders as he stares at your bare cunt.

And he feels so much hunger.

“So beautiful…” As you spread your legs for him, he lets out a shaky breath. Ezekiel’s shaking, he pushes his face between your legs and takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent once again.

You smell so good.

Your thighs trap him and you feel his light stubble on your skin, he drags the tip of his tongue along your slit, his spit getting all over as he gives it a few kitten licks,

It feels so good.

It’s hard for him to take it slow, he wants to eat you out feverishly, but he wants to savour the feeling of you on his tongue.

“F-Faster, don’t fuckin tease me. I need you.” You grab his hair and pull on it harshly, his teeth graze your bud and you gasp when he bites on it gently. He quickly pushes one of his digits inside you, pumping in and out, making you squeal.

You’re dripping.

He feels so feral and attaches his mouth on your cunt once again, lapping at like a starved man, the lewd sounds of your cunt are making him feel so hot, he’s di hard, it’s painful but the way you’re tugging at his curls is so hot.

You use your other hand to push his face deeper into your pussy and he almost cried from happiness, you’re enjoying yourself.

He doesn’t waste his time to spit on it and then continue to eat you out like a feral animal, he knows that you like it rough, messy and nasty,

And who is he to deny you?

He feels so lewd, with your nectar and his drool running down his jaw, he can’t stop, your moan’s burn in his memory,

He loves those little weak whimpers coming from you.

“S-So tasty, fuckin suffocate me, y-yes please clench around my tongue, o-oh yes!” You only moan louder at his dirty words

“G-Gonna cum, puppy ‘m gonna cum…”

Oh he’s about lose the last the bit of his sanity.

He drags his tongue all over your cunt, sucking all over your thighs so his marks stay, he loves you so much, you drive him absolutely mad.

“D-Don’t stop… don’t f-fuckin stop.” You command him, you use your hand to push his face deeper into your pussy, again.

He’s in heaven.

You want his tongue to feel so deep inside you, so how can he deny you?

He tilts his head to the side and your back arches, “love you s’much, only you.” He is slurring out his sentences at this point.

“Cum… please f’me.” He begs and you let go, your hips buckle up and he squeezes it, you gush around him and he takes it all, “O-Oh puppy..”

“Y-Yes that’s it… give me all of it!”

He slurps it all up like a good boy, you have his mind shutting down, he cums on the spots too, his boxers feel so fucking heavy but it’s okay.

It’s all because of you.

You make him a mess, and he loves it.

[sanemisstalker]

no matter how much dick I get... the urge to do vile things to this man will always prevail

NSFW MINORS DNI - AFAB/GN REFFERED READER - HEAD - TOXIC MASCULINITY (Belief that a penis is needed to make a man) - Sanemi with a CANNIBALISM/DIETY kink? Idk I got a little frisky with the head talk. - He begs for help at one point. HYPER CONSENT.

NEEDY FOR HEAD - WITH SANEMI

-'I don't like it when you get- lower like that. Makes my teeth ache. I feel like you're gonna... bite it off.'

-You're a little offended by the implication. Sure you're a little weird and off putting, but fuck all, you weren't REALLY gonna bite Sanemi's cock off when it came to it.

-You sigh.

-This little fit of his had been going on for a while, now. Sure you can get head all you want, but lord forbid YOU want to GIVE. Lord forbid YOU want to SATISFY.

-'It's not funny anymore.'

-'Wasn't ever trying to be funny.' he spits in turn.

-'Then I'd like an unfunny answer.'

-'I'm being serious, damn! It feels like my balls are gonna go up when you're down there! Why don't you believe me?!'

-Sanemi had never been very explicit about his wants. Keeping your laugh to yourself was a little hard at such a question. Sanemi's face blared red in response.

-'That's it! I'm putting my cl-'

-You lept for him, pulling him back down to the bed. You forgot you had to be kind, and slow. Sanemi never really had the kind of face that begged for such things, but that was part of the problem. Sanemi never really liked to beg.

-'No! NO! I'm sorry- it's not funny, it's- Sanemi, you know how often this happens.' He stilled, more than a little tense at the accusation. 'You are- I know it's hard, but... biting it off?'

-'Y-Yes.' He'd huff. 'I- it just feels weird.'

-'Bad weird, scary we-'

-'Like I'm going to... Embarass myself weird.'

-Your silence followed, and then Sanemi turned even further away from you. He was unwilling to pull his hand from your grasp in an effective way. Instead resorting to a very feeble wiggle and slight whine.

-'Let me go.' He mumbled.

-'No way! No way-' You rush, tugging him down to the bed. You pull him against you. He seems to soften as your breasts press into his forearm. 'That doesn't sound all that bad.'

-Sanemi would rather die. The thought of him... letting go so... early. So explicitly at your will, so weak and helpless, his only call to manhood left in the fight of your biting maw-

-Part of it excited him, he figured. But he didn't figure that deep. If he did, he'd know this and that about submission, and maybe the light sense of masochism that made the concept all that more thrilling.

-Maybe it scared him a little knowing you could hurt him there if you wanted to, and maybe he got a little hard when he got scared. Maybe Sanemi missed being scared,

-When you talk him into it, he's most reluctant to see your teeth, but you let him play with the connection between his tip and your tongue. Giving him all the power to pull away when it just gets too much.

-Your tastes buds are far different from the ribbing of your pussy. They're delicate, and you have far more control over that muscle, so when you take Sanemi fully in your mouth, he's flung to the bed.

-He's seeing god, he thinks. He can almost imagine your jaw clamping down, taking it all away from him, keeping it for yourself.

-He's enthralled by how willing he is. By how bad he wants it to be all yours. How delusional he is for thinking you'd even think this way. This is simply an act of pleasure to you, but one of Divinity to him. This is God, for he, such a simple man, cannot grasp the eccentricities of religion when they are found anywhere other than the beads of spit between his base and your lips.

-He begins sobbing, almost hoping you'll make it stop. He can't feel this good, he can't know the world feels this good. How cruel to send him back to war when he's knows the sound of a song birds throat.

-He's a head pusher. He can't help it. He feels too good, he's blacking out half way through, which isn't very long. Not at all, practically convulsing on the bed.

-'Oh!- Ah--- Y/N- Oh- God- God- Ah!' And all the ooh's and aah's as he cums sobbing down your throat.

-It's enough to spill out of your lips, and find its way back to his pubes, all covered in your spit and snot. And he's breathing heavy and shaking still because god knows that cock never really gets to cum it all away- those balls can never truly be empty.

-'Oh- god- god- help- help-' He's choking, grabbing his face to brush the tears away.

-You're a little dumbfounded. You're not sure what the fuss is, but you're excited to try deep throating him for the first time. That'll probably make him die or something, he might die-

[cheeseceli]

Love wins all

Pairing: Jungkook × Gn!reader (established relationship)

Genre: fluff, comfort, late 40s au, drabble (<1k words).

Prompt: "however big, however small, let me be part of it all. You may be right, you may be wrong, but say you'll bring me along."

Warnings: Both y/n and Jungkook struggle financially, they are married.

A/n: This is a mix of the greatest showman with the notebook (although I never watched the latter) | daily click

"Jungkook, if you let me trip over another rock I swear that I-"

His laugh cut you off, not allowing you to finish your threat towards him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. We're almost there, I promise."

"You said that a few times already. I miss the light."

You heard his giggles once again. You loved that sound. It never failed to amuse how, even with all difficulties life presents, your lover always managed to find joy in the little things. Like leading you through the sidewalk when your eyes were covered. That seemed to be bringing a lot of fun to him and, although he still hasn't confessed to you where the destination is, claiming this would ruin the surprise, you trusted him enough to literally follow him blindly.

"But we're getting closer every new step, aren't we?"

"I bet people are staring weirdly at us."

"I wouldn't say that."

Now it was your turn to smile, a lighthearted laugh coming out of your lips "we've been walking down this entire road with you covering my eyes, people would be crazy if they didn't find it weird."

"I really don't think it's that weird. Don't worry about that. Instead, focus on this."

With that, Jungkook slowly took off his hands from your eyes and placed you in front of the destination.

As your eyes got used to light once again, you saw a house in front of you. It was simple: a single floor, rather small, with visible dust and some broken stairs. It seemed abandoned for a while, but it had this cozy charm. It seemed like a lovely house, one you would love to visit given the right circumstances. "Where are we?"

"At our home."

You looked at him, speechless, only to find a quite anxious yet very smiley Jungkook. His eyes shone as you looked at them. "Surprise," he nervously giggled.

"You bought this house?"

"I did. I've told you I'd give you a good life once you married me, hadn't I?" not even once he stopped looking at you, trying to understand your reaction through your glossy eyes "I mean, the house is not very big and it needs some adjustments... A lot of them, maybe. But it's ours."

You couldn't believe it. Not once in your life you would've expected this. When you married Jungkook, you never expected gold nor glory. None of you never even saw it throughout your lives, and you genuinely think that you could die without it as long as you had Jungkook's love.

When your lover told you as a wedding vow that he would do the unimaginable to give you a proper life, you knew he was true to his words. But still, him buying a goddamn house for the both of you was not in your plans. As he promised you, you couldn't have ever imagined it.

And yet, here you are: seeing the man you love the most guaranteeing a home to keep your love safe for the following years, all while looking at you like you are the most precious thing in the place, even when considering the current situation.

You really were at a loss of words, but maybe you kept quiet for too long, as now Jungkook was getting nervous. He didn't plan your silence. He didn't think you would've cried. He wished you had at least smiled a bit. But you were seriously looking at him, tears threatening to spill at any second. Did you not like it?

"I know I should've bought the house with you... It's just that I wanted to make a surprise. If you don't like it, then I can... I don't know, I can come up with something to-" you hugged him. Tighter than you have ever hugged him before, maybe just not comparing to how you embraced him when he proposed.

He then remembers that your reaction at the moment was the same back then: speechless at his will to build a future with you.

"I love it, Kook. I love the surprise. I love the house. I love you."

This time he is the one who couldn't come up with things to say. He could never get tired of hearing you say things like that. So he hugged you tighter, bringing you closer to where his heart beats, maybe in an attempt to keep you and your sweet words with him for longer.

Maybe you would never be rich. Maybe you would never wear brand clothes and live in fancy houses, with expensive cars and food. But you had a home. You had each other. And you could never think of anything else you longed for. Your life was complete, and maybe that was the rarest thing to find, yet you and him did.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: 7:44 pm

Reminder that this is all fiction, this does not represent the members in real life!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @lelewright1234

Dividers by @adornedwithlight | images 1, 2 and 3

[sugar-grigri]

What does the devil of aging want ?

Let's be synthetic for once (I'm sure I won't be able to). But this is surely the most philosophical chapter in the whole of CSM.

The whole chapter is an insult to what Pochita is. The greatest contempt that can be shown.

I'm going to ask you 3 questions, each of which calls for a philosophical answer.

Does the demon of aging really care about living?

Why does they want to be eaten by CSM?

Is Chainsaw Man really... messy?

The answer is actually in this line. Chaos.

What is chaos? I'm not going to play the expert on Greek antiquity. But I can say with certainty that the Greek chaos is in no way disorderly. Even if this may seem contradictory.

Greek chaos is not disorder, it is what exists even before the beginning. That which exists before the light itself.

Now I'm going to ask you, how can these old fogies teach Pochita a lesson ? Control chaos ? Hold the power of Pochita?

Fumiko always thought she had Denji. In itself, she got it. But the mistake she made was not only in thinking she understood Denji, but even more fundamentally in thinking she understood Chainsaw Man.

Pochita is basically chaos. Because he has the power to make disappear. He can either decide to start again, or to reappear and end. Its power allows it to precede existence.

When you were reading this chapter, did you ever wonder how many times things had disappeared and reappeared without you noticing? I'm not talking about disappearing into the collective unconscious. But to see something reappear without you even realising that you've lost it. What this chapter tells you is that Pochita's power is above all an opportunity. Everything that disappears and appears is part of his choice.

Holding a newborn baby. Having an idea. To create. They are nothing more than things whose existence we discover through our senses. The birth of a thing lies in the moment when something is brought to your attention.

What we have here is a power of creation rather than inhibition (to the Anon who asked me this question, I haven't forgotten you) . I had previously analysed the fact that Pochita explained his power by the disappearance of the hearing.

He continues to do so with the disappearance of the mouth. The second lesson Pochita gives you is that he is the beginning itself. Birth itself. Or the demon of birth.

Why would the demon of old age want to be eaten by the demon of birth? Because old age is obsessed with youth. The discussion in this chapter is your answer. Aging does not want to die. And the demon of old age is not looking for disappearance. On the contrary, what he's looking for is a rebirth.

But the demon of old age is a primal fear!!!!!! He's super strong, he's not scared of death.

Yes! But he’s terrified of being closer to an end than a beginning. That's what old age is all about.

In French, the chapter is called 'coup de vieux', which means feeling old, often because of the gap with the younger generation. This gap with the beginning of life is precisely what explains the objective of this demon.

I also don't want people talking about Denji or Pochita symbolically wanting to protect young people. This is not the case. Enough has been said to emphasise the fact that the very church that spoke of CSM as the hero of the younger generation did not resonate at all with Denji.

On the contrary, Pochita is the most.... Paternalistic of all in this chapter. You want to be young? So lose what allows you to scorn. Don't talk like an infant. Worse: keep quiet.

It’s fair to interpret all these elements as traumatic elements of Denji. I'm not here to explain each of them, I think that everyone can see through them a part of Denji's tragedy. And it's also very interesting to see analyses explaining that these are things that the reader is aware of, not Denji. (Denji fought Aki, the snowball fight was Aki's hallucination, so Denji wasn't aware of all that, for example).

But you have to take it all the way. What brought these elements to you? What are you holding in your hands? That manga called Chainsaw Man, right?

We said it here. What is born is nothing more than what is brought to our attention.

Continue to interpret everything in relation to Pochita. Denji is simply the key to understanding its mystery.

A devil carrying the weight of what precedes existence.

The trauma of birth.

[brownskinlemon]

Deal (d.f.)

pairings: dom/reader

word count: 4,061

summary: You've never experienced the big O, and a night with your best friend Dominic turns into more than you planned

warnings: smutty smut, mentions of smoking, unprotected s3x, cr3ampie, multiple orgasms, some sappy emotions

authors note: this is my first ever story, and I hope you all enjoy :)

!! do not repurpose or repost as your own for any reason on any platform without credit !!

The shuffling of feet was all that could be heard as you and your best friend Dominic paced the grocery store aisles. It was nearly midnight, the store getting ready to close soon. The munchies had taken over earlier in the night, which led you two to an hour's journey around this store, baskets full of junk food in both your hands. 

“Y/N…bro” You turned back to his mouth agape, eyes fixated on a mega-sized Ben n Jerry’s tin. He toyed with his lip between his teeth for a moment, before swinging the door open and obnoxiously tossing it into his already overflowing basket. 

You snorted quietly to yourself, quickly turning back around before you ended up staring at his pink lips for far too long for your own comfort, far too long to be considered platonic admiration.

-

The streets of Naples were empty and dim, headlights dancing across you in the passenger seat of Dominic’s car as you sped down a main road. Your eyes were glued to the moonlight dancing across the thrashing waves across the shore out of your window. 

“So beautiful” He mumbled to himself.

“ I know right?” You responded without looking at him. Your head whipped around to him, surprised to find his brown eyes already fixated on you, making your heart drop suddenly.

He coughed to himself, straightening up in his seat and turning his attention back to the road, his lips once again being caught in between his lips. Those perfect fucking lips.

With his looks he could easily have every girl in Naples on a leash, but chooses not to, you never understood why. You would like to think he had commitment issues, but it seemed to be pure disinterest in dating at all. You had been friends since middle school, and though you had been in so many friends and “relationships”, your friendship stayed the same. As close as you had been, there were lines you wouldn’t dare to cross. These lines became blurry in your mind as of late. His figure, eyes,lips, voice had all been so…enchanting recently. Staying up till late overthinking every little interaction was excruciating to say the least. You’d rather die than let him know a word of it. 

You snuck glances at him as his ring-clad fingers drummed on the steering wheel to whatever song was currently on. His apartment came into view, and he skillfully maneuvered into the parking deck. After he parked, you hopped out, grabbing the 7 bags worth of snacks you had bought earlier.

“You really think we can actually eat all this?” You huffed as you made your way down the hall to his apartment.

“ I know I can, especially that ice cream.” He nodded, a small smirk pulling lightly on his face. 

-

“Ok so out of all of them, who was the best in bed?” Dom quipped, eyes fixated on the rolling tray in front of him on the bed, hands skillfully pearling one of several blunts that night. 

You were both clad in a hoodie and pajamas, sitting on his bed. A fiery orange light danced across the dim room from a lamp, “Who Hurt You?” by Daniel Caesar playing lightly in the background.

“Hm…maybe that one soccer guy. But he did the bare minimum and didn’t even make me cum.”

“Well at least you’re able to get yourself off right? Who needs em anyway.”

“Yeah…” you trailed off quietly, eyes locked on your fiddling hands which had now become the most interesting thing in the world. You could see him stop his actions out of your peripheral vision. 

“Y/N”

“Dom”

“No way you’ve never…finished? Like ever in your 20 years?”

You sighed, eyes squeezing together. “I have not.” 

Tears begin to burn at the brim of your eyes, threatening to fall with each second of embarrassing silence that follows. Sure you had discussed…sex,all bestfriends do, but there were lines you didn’t want to cross. Dom knowing about your lack of ability to orgasm was one of those lines. 

Without looking up at him you jumped up, rushing past him to the bathroom across the hall, slamming the door behind you. You sighed deeply as you leaned on the counter, locking in on your eyes in your reflection  that were reddened, caused partially by both the weed and your now falling tears. It didn’t help that weed always made everything you felt even more intense. 

“Get it together. It’s not that serious.” You repeated like a mantra quietly until a heavy knock interrupted your thoughts. 

“Y/N come out…I didn’t mean to make you cry.” You couldn’t see him but you knew he was doing that thing where he tapped his feet when he got nervous or worried.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, pausing in the silence.

“You didn’t- I mean- you didn’t Dom. Shit’s just embarrassing.”

“There’s no point in being embarrassed. Why would I care if you’re not like a sex god or something. In fact that’s pretty normal for women to have that..blockage you know?”

You chuckled lightly to yourself, amused at the way his version of comforting you. You breathed out loudly, nodding to yourself in the mirror before swinging the door open to find Dominic leaning on the doorway, running right into his chest. 

You were taken off guard as his arms wrapped around you, your tense shoulders relaxing as you embraced him back.

“You ok?”

“Yeah..don’t rub it in.” You said muffled into his chest. 

His arms loosened around you as his tall frame loomed over you. His brown eyes bore into yours from above, rendering you silent. You watched as his eyes snuck a glance at your lips, quickly snapping back up to your eyes.

“Y/N…I-”

Before he could get a word out you moved around him, walking into his room and turning over your shoulder. 

“That blunt and ice cream won’t finish itself Dom!”

You watched him smirk to himself, shaking his head as he made his way back into his room with you 

-

After several blunts and snacks, you two found yourselves wrapped up in blankets on your second movie of the night: The Breakfast Club. 

“This movie is amazing.” You quipped up with a mouth full of ice cream, eyes not leaving the screen. You heard him hum in agreement, eyes sneaking a quick glance at him as he leaned back, shifting his hips underneath his blanket. My god, if I was on that lap I would-

“Y/N” 

“Dom” Your eyes were glued to the screen as you pretended to be completely invested in the film, and not as invested as you were intently ignoring whatever conversation he was about to start. 

“About earlier…you know I’m not good with emotional sappy conversations so..bear with me...” He trailed off, pausing the movie with the remote and forcing you to find another object in the room to fixate on.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry they didn’t..care enough to make sure you were good. I know I clown on you alot but you don’t deserve that shit.”

His hand gently made its way under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You hear me?” His eyes searched yours valiantly.

“Yes.” You breathed out, freezing at how intense his gaze fanned over your features. 

His eyes dropped to where he began to cup your hands gently in his, as your eyes followed. You two were never touchy, and the frequency of physical touch tonight was stoking the already intense fire that was stirring in you for him. 

“Fingers crossed the next man that gets the honor of touching you is caring, and gives your body the respect it deserves. Hm?” 

“Fingers crossed” you said quietly, trying to hide your breath that was now ragged from the little contact. 

You looked up at him, surprised to find his eyes already fixated on you. His teeth caught on his full bottom lip, his chest heaving silently. The lighting in the room, combined with the way his hair fell over his face made your body run warm. The sweet smell of his cologne mixed with weed filled your lungs and made you dizzy with desire from how close you were sitting.

Fuck it. 

“Dom”

“Y/N?”

You leaned over quickly, smashing your lips into his. It took him no time to connect your lips, hands snaking around your waist. A moment later, you pulled away, leaning your forehead against his, eyes filled with desire as they met his.

“What was that for?” He breathed in and out, attempting to catch his breath.

“I…I want to try it…with you.” Your voice faltered as your sentence went on.

“It? What’s it?”

“Sex.”

His eyes danced back and forth between yours searching for any doubt.

Your hands covered your face. “Its okay if you don’t we can go to bed and pretend like this never happened I just-”

You were cut off by his lips smashing into yours again, and he flipped you two over so he was hovering on top of you. His hips grinded into the heat between your legs as they wrapped around him . You whined into the kiss from the friction as he pulled back, his hand placed under your chin. 

“Are you sure you want this? With me I mean?” 

“Yes Dom. Please. I need you.” you whimpered out as you grind your hips up into his to emphasize your point.

A quiet groan fell from his lips. “If you ever…and I mean ever want to stop you tell me okay? I want you too but this is about you. I want you to feel good but I need you to let me know what you need more or less of. Deal?”

You nodded silently, eyes boring into his.

“Words Y/N.”

“Yes- I mean deal” tumbled from your lips that had already begun to darken from his kiss.

He chuckled to himself, diving back in to connect your lips again. His lips danced their way from your mouth, across your jaw, and down your neck, deciding on a particularly sensitive spot to mark. Your breath began to waiver and small whimpers caught in your throat as his mouth left marks across your neck, surely to be a sickening purple in the morning. 

“You sound even prettier than I had imagined.” He whispered near your ear, making your stomach turn in the most amazing way.

As he continued his attack on your neck, his long fingers began to toy with the hem of your hoodie, dipping his hands underneath to run his hands up your stomach. 

“May I?” He asked, referring to your hoodie that had been pushed above your stomach by now.

“You may.” You smiled shyly at him as he gently pushed your hoodie off your body, exposing your baby pink bra to him . He met you in your bareness, leaning back to pull his hoodie over his head. Your teeth bit down on your bottom lip at the sight of his chest, the sharpness of his abs that were littered with tattoos had made you clench your legs together in a fever of need.

He leaned back into you, finding his place once again between your legs as his lips kissed across your chest. 

“Arch up for me” He muttered.

You obeyed, arching your back up as he unclipped your bra with his free hand, sliding it off you gently. A gasp from your lips broke the thick silence in the room as his lips gently wrapped around your nipple, his large hand twisting your other nipple gently in his hand. Your hands rushed to loop into his unruly curls. 

He continued his descent down your abdomen, leaving open mouthed kisses on his path until he reached the waistline of your pajamas. He sat up, kissing your forehead as he massaged your hips. 

“Lift up.” He breathed out. Your hips lifted in response as he pulled down your pajamas in one swift motion. He toyed with the hem of your panties, eyes catching onto yours as you stared at him. 

“Remember our deal okay?” His eyebrows raised. 

“Okay.” You responded shakily. Although you were not a virgin, the line you were crossing was enough to leave you in shock. You had reached a point beyond return and there was something about the sheer size of the tent in his pants that did not lend to not being overcome with nervousness. 

He hooked his ring clad fingers into the loop of your panties, pulling them down gently. He sat back on his knees, admiring you completely bare to him, your body running hot from his gaze. 

“Good god you are so beautiful..” He shook his head in disbelief. You looked up at your best friend, and saw everything that love could offer in human form. It was almost comical how whipped he had you from a few touches. He slid down between your legs, flat on his stomach and wrapping his arms around your thighs. 

He peppered open mouth kisses and hickeys between your thighs, getting dangerously close to where you needed him most. He blew a cool stream of air over your clit, causing you to jolt your hips trying to chase some type of sensation, in response he pushes your hips down gently, readjusting his grip on you.

“Relax baby, I got you” He quipped before suddenly wrapping his lips around your center. A silent moan lodged in your throat at the sudden contact. He began to work over you with his tongue, humming in pleasure as your moan finally released from your chest, echoing in his small room. 

Your hands searched the bed wildly for something to hold onto, one of your hands settling deep in his curls while the other gripped tightly on his bicep. You grinded up into his grip, breath labored and laced with ongoing whimpers. Just then, Dominic pulled back from you, earning a whine of frustration from your needy lips.

“Shh…I’m gonna add a finger now, okay?” He asked gently. You nodded fervently, desperate for him to touch you. Your body tensed as his digit slid into you easily thanks to the wetness that had pooled between your legs. He thrusted gently, making your mouth fall open as he repeatedly brushed over your g-spot.

“Can you add a second?” You labored out through heavy breaths.

He silently obliged, sliding a second finger gently inside of you, earning him a gasp and a mantra of his name tumbling from your lips like a broken record. A high pitched sound that he had never heard before left your bruised lips as he returned his mouth to your clit while still pumping his fingers into you. 

Everything felt more intense, and it was making you dizzy. You felt pleasure running through your veins, making your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his bicep. Your hips jolted up and in response Dom wrapped his hands tightly around your thighs, locking you in his grip and keeping you from moving. You felt an unfamiliar coil in your stomach, and it was almost too much for you to handle.

“Dom I-I can’t” You whined out through eyes that were squeezed closed, attempting to loosen his grip on you and run from the intensity that he had built up between your legs. 

“Yes” He peppered in between kisses on your center, his fingers not letting up their pace. “You can. That’s an orgasm baby, I know you can get there for me. Breathe.” 

It was almost like your body was programmed to his words, because just then the coil in your abdomen had snapped. Your vision went white and you could hear nothing but your own pulse in your ears, you were sure you could faintly hear Dom’s voice in the distance. A surge of pure unadulterated pleasure rushed through you, paralyzing you in his grip while rendering you speechless except for the screams of his name that echoed in the tiny room.

As you came down, you slowly opened your eyes to find Dominic staring at you with the goofiest smile one could muster. He looked so innocent as if he wasn’t covered in your juices and hadn’t just performed witchcraft between your legs that were still shaking. 

“Dom, what the fuck.” You heaved out.

“I know right?” He quipped while massaging your hips. He leaned over to kiss your forehead.”Do you still wanna continue? I know that was…a lot, or at least it seemed like it was. I don’t wanna push you too far if not.” Your eyes raked over his frame, nodding enthusiastically.

Your confirmation was all it took for him to remove his pajama pants in one swift movement. He followed by slowly removing his boxers, groaning as his dick sprung free from its confines. Your mouth fell agape. You had always had a guess that he was well endowed, and yes he was, but you never thought that a dick could be..pretty?

“Don’t stare, it makes me nervous.” He mocked with a small chuckle, earning a small exhausted smile from you. He found his place between your legs, his dick rubbing lightly between your wet folds, making you both groan. His free hand dipped between your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Let me know if you want me to stop, okay? I never wanna make you feel anything other than good. Deal?”

“Deal” You nodded. He pecked your lips, dropping his head to look at where you two connected between your legs. He massaged his tip lightly between your folds, letting his tip gently slip inside, as you held your breath and his own ran shakily. Your eyes squeezed together and your hands gripped his biceps.

“Breathe, don’t go blue on me baby.” 

You tried to remember how to breathe, but all you could think about was the delicious feeling of him gently stretching you out. His thrusts stayed slow as he practiced getting deeper and deeper until your hips met each other. You arched your chest up until it met his tip as his tip began to massage deeply against your g-spot.

In no time, he had worked up to a decent pace after you gave him the okay, your body running hotter than ever as he worked into you while latching his lips onto your already decorated neck. The room felt like it was spinning in the best way, and the groans he elicited into your neck made you wanna explode. You were ripped out of your trance after he suddenly pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.

“Dom what are you-”  Your sentence was interrupted as the feeling of a cold liquid ran up your spine from base to tip. You whined at the sudden temperature change, whimpering as the cold was replaced with his warm mouth that had begun indulging in the ice cream off of your back. 

“Tasted even better off of you than I imagined.” he commented, following his words with immediately slipping back into you completely, snatching your already ragged breath out of your chest for the thousandth time that night. Your nails clawed into the sheets under you, searching for a grip to cope with the rush of pleasure that had overtaken your body. He trailed his hands up your torso and arms, stopping at your hands as he interlinked your fingers with his own, not relenting on his pace inside of you. 

The room was filled with the melody of your collective moans paired with the harsh colliding of your ass into his hips. A thin blanket of sweat covered both your bodies, and once again he had brought you to a point where you were thrashing underneath his touch.

The whispers near your ear were driving you insane, and he began snaking his hand down around you and between your legs, using the wetness there that had pooled to his advantage. His fingers were now circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. That familiar coil tightened again in your lower abdomen, leaving you biting down into the pillow and arching up into his thrusts.

“You think you can be a good girl and give me a second one?” He toyed.

All that left your mouth was a string of desperate whines. 

“I can’t hear you baby…” He trailed off, thrusting particularly deep at the end of his words, leaving your mouth agape.

“I..I can’t…too much”You forced out between moans.

“I think…” He increased his pace between your hips and rubbed deliciously fast around your clit “You can.”

Your eyes squeezed together as he relentlessly worked at the coil that had tightened beyond belief in your abdomen. His lips trailed up your ear, and soon that coil had snapped, making your legs lock and a string of incoherent moans tumble  from your lips as he brought you to your peak for the second time that night. 

“Fucking hell…” He groaned at the sight of you coming undone and the way you were relentlessly clenching down on him. He pumped a few more strokes, pushing one last time into you to a hilt until you felt his warm release pooling your insides.

He suddenly pulled out, making both of you gasp. You were flat on the bed now, eyes fluttering as you felt the bed dip and his footsteps leave the room. You looked over your shoulder, wondering where he had trailed off to with such urgency. You heard the water run in the bathroom and he returned moments later with a warm wet washcloth. 

“You think you can flip onto your back for me?” He asked as he stood above you. 

“Mhm” You begrudgingly obliged. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning you up duh” He said, shaking his head.

He spread your legs, trailing the washcloth down to your stomach and thighs. He gently brushed it over your center and beyond, earning a whine from you at the sensitivity.

“Shh I know, but you quite literally made a mess. And I hate to be that guy, but you’re gonna have to come pee baby” he cooed, earning a groan from you. He stood up, slipping on his pajamas before lifting you up and placing his oversized hoodie over you, flooding your nose with his scent. He suddenly lifted you up into his arms. You felt him walking out the room, placing you down on the toilet making your feet come in contact with the cold tile.

He leaned up against the counter, looking down at you with a big dopey smile as you waited for your center to stop pulsing so you could pee.

“You’re just gonna, stand there and watch me?” You quipped, raising your eyebrow.

“Yeah unfortunately, for you.” He fake sighed. 

A moment of comfortable silence passed before you broke it suddenly with your thoughts.

“Dom that was…I didn’t know I could…that it could feel like that.” You shook your head in disbelief before continuing. “I thought I was like..broken.”

He smiled softly before leaning over to kiss your forehead. “You did great. And you know, I’d like to think I know a few things.” You snorted in response to his cockyness. 

After you had finished and gotten cleaned up, you stumbled your way back to the bedroom with his help, flopping onto the bed.

He brought the covers over you, tucking you in and sliding up behind you to hold your frame to his chest. 

“Y/N…I love you.” He whispered, in a tone that made you understand that he wasn’t just saying that as your best friend.

“I love you too.” You hummed contently.

“I know this is probably a weird time to ask seeing as you actively have a little of me leaking out of you..but…” His voice ran shaky “Would you…and I understand if not I just wanted..for you to be my girlfriend. 

You turned in his arms, eyes searching for any sign of a joke, to no avail. “Deal.” You smirked at him, knowing he understood. 

“Deal.” He kissed you, smiling into the kiss, before you turned back into his arms. His curls tickled your neck as he feathered tender kisses down your neck before he finally settled in the pillow and fell asleep. 

[inamindfarfaraway]

I love how Paul's character in The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is defined entirely by a lack of desire, or desire defined only as 'not what I don't want'. "What Do You Want, Paul?" is a big joke about what a terrible narrative protagonist he is. But it's deeper than that. Throughout the show, even in the smallest, most insignificant phrasing, this man only ever expresses wants in these negative forms, as if he's incapable of feeling attraction in itself rather than simply avoiding what he dislikes. And only avoiding! He never says that he hates anything, either! That would give him passion, drive, perhaps the goal of actively removing that thing. No, he exclusively uses the verb hate in past tense.

He doesn't like musicals, singing, dancing or public performances. He makes this very clear, to the point that it's one of his most significant character traits. At no point does he ever talk about liking any media.

He doesn't want to do social activities.

He doesn't want to give away his money. About both this and the above, he can provide no logical explanation or moral justification. He just doesn't feel like them.

He always gets black coffee because it has "no cream, no sugar, nothing in it"; that is to say, he might not necessarily love it, merely prefer it over its sweeter or more complex alternatives.

He doesn't believe that Emma should have to sing and dance at work - he doesn't want her life to be so unfair and annoying to the both of them.

He doesn't want to obstruct the workings of his office (saying "that's the last thing I want" triggers "What Do You Want, Paul?").

He says, "I wanna go home!" when Mr Davidson is singing at him, but means that he wants to be somewhere safe and not stuck in this incredibly uncomfortable situation.

He doesn't want to die.

He specifically doesn't want to die in Clivesdale, because fuck Clivesdale.

He doesn't want to join the Hive.

He doesn't want to leave Hatchetfield, even when it's the site of an alien invasion that is his personal worst nightmare. He actually says that "All things considered, I like Hatchetfield", arguably an exception to the standard. However, he's also well aware of the town's flaws and problems. He grew up one of its poorer residents, attending the inferior, underfunded Sycamore High School where he casually admits the students "hated [themselves]" and having to watch its more respectable rival Hatchetfield High's school play. He has no strong investment in his tedious middle-class office job. He doesn't get along with some of his fellow townsfolk, like his coworker Ted and all the employees of Beanies except Emma. He awkwardly evades giving to charity and the homeless every morning on his way to work. His life is decidedly not one of utter bliss, and yet it's good enough for him in that he doesn't have the energy, ambition or imagination to want anything more. Since he's "been here [his] whole life", his affection for his hometown could be more an aversion to everywhere else or the hassle of travelling. Sticking with the devil he intimately knows.

He doesn't think badly of Emma, and says so because he doesn't want her to or believe that he does after learning that she helped make a "hated" experience of his happen.

He doesn't want to let Bill die, which is why he goes with Bill to rescue Alice. His heroism and proactiveness at the turning point of the end of Act One start to notably erode his apathy, but his phrasing reaffirms his negative motivations: "Hey, it's not like you're asking me to go see Mama Mia!", "Emma, there comes a time in every man's life when he has to draw a line in the sand. And I will never be in a fucking musical."

He doesn’t want Bill to blame himself for Alice's endangerment, stay in the area once Alice is revealed to be a vessel of the Hive or kill himself.

He doesn't want to do some light reading on the universal truth of love and the strength of the human heart.

He has no positive motivation. He breaks one of the most basic rules of being a fictional character, let alone the main character the audience is supposed to root for. He isn't just an antihero, he's an anti-protagonist. Although this could easily make him boring or unsympathetic, he manages to seem relatable. Real. Human. He captures so genuinely an ordinary person living an ordinary life suddenly trapped in a horror story. How many of us can honestly articulate "one concrete goal that motivates all [our] actions"? Even if you can, you wouldn't undergo a narratively fulfilling and thematically cohesive arc related to that desire the way a fictional character would. We're all essentially just trying to survive each day. To make or keep our lives however we define 'good enough'. We may not have a crystal clear picture of our ideal life, but I bet we all have a long list of things we don't want in it. We're all Paul. He even says, “I want what anyone wants”.

What more appropriate antagonist for this man to face, then, than a force that exists to strip people of their autonomy, their individuality, their personhood, and force them to play archetypical characters in a conventional narrative? The Hive observes that Paul is an anti-protagonist and takes offence to this. It seeks to convert him into his antithesis, the "bold" "leading man" of its musical who the audience can "sympathize with". The Infected highlight this in the opening song, in which they eagerly anticipate and prepare the audience for his entrance... and he misses his cue. He isn't following their script. Perhaps that's why the audience is able to believe in this average, unassuming antihero's potential to succeed, to defeat the Hive or at the very least escape it, despite how fraught and grim the situation becomes. The story certainly proves itself to be cruel to its characters; but Paul doesn't operate like a normal character. The Hive promises to fulfil people's desires and make them happy throughout the play. Charlotte, Bill, Hidgens and Ted's deaths are connected to, by either direct causality or thematic relevance, their respective desires for Sam's love, Alice's safety, world peace (and the glory of a musical career) and Ted's own survival. Paul is uniquely immune to this pattern of death related to a core motivation.

Until:

"I can't leave without Emma”, “a friend of mine."

"Is there a chance of something more?"

"I think so. I'd like there to be. I want there to be."

He wants Emma, her life and her happiness and maybe, just maybe, her love. He wants to love her. To spend time with her. For the first time ever, he wants more out of life, not less. He's a little bit more of a character. After the Infected reprise the "Did you hear the word?" section of the opening song, building up to his appearance, this time he does enter the theatre, coming down the aisle just as he was meant to. Right on cue. Paul is now vulnerable to the narrative - the Hive's narrative. And the Hive's control.

Still he resists, even while doubting if he was ever really happy before. Not only does he use his final words, fittingly, to declare that he doesn't like musicals, but before that he firmly refutes the Hive, and the philosophy behind it and all the pressures and temptatations it might represent: "It doesn't matter what I want." What matters is the good of the world. Emma. Love. Hope. Freedom. Integrity. Humanity, which must be wonderful if we can make sacrifices like this for all the right reasons.

Rest in peace, Paul Matthews. You were the opposite of a conventional protagonist, but a true hero.

[the-faceless-bride]

The woods, a witch, and a wolf pack. Punchline?

Summary: (paranormal Au and takes place 1874) Kyle was out later than normal. Away from his pack wasn't a good idea he knew he shouldn't have gone out late; but Johnny had set his heart on a pie tonight, and he wanted Johnny to get his wish. Staying out looking for berries revealed itself to be an awful idea as a group of hunters we in the woods. And he... wasn't fast enough. Good thing he found a house.

Warnings: Not many. blood, inaccurate monster lore, Gaz being adorable but untrusting, 141 members being worried and upset.

This is pretty short compared to what I would normally write, but I'm trying to get in the groove. I've been writing all of my fics on my phone, I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing.

Kyle cursed himself for being careless, not telling the others of his pack where he was going before sneaking off; he wanted to surprise Johnny, but had he known there were a group of hunters playing Van Helsing nearby he would've been more careful.

Now he was trying to limp away and hide with an arrow sticking from his side, it was much more painful than anything he'd felt before; and he had been roughed up bad before, but not like this. This was agony; a seething, burning pain. It traveled from his side through his ribs to his chest, from his stomach to his weakening knees.

Fuck. He didn't want to die here. In the woods, alone and in agony. That's when he smelled it. A welcoming smell, one that made him feel safe.

A house. A house that he'd never seen before, behind a hidden Rocky arch that was covered by a waterfall of vines and leaves. When did this get here? He always knew this hidden archway, but last he and his pack checked, it led to a dead end. Didn't it? Fuck. He can't remember, not when all he can hear is the pounding of his heart trying to escape his ribcage.

The door slightly ajar, he stumbled clumsily through the old wooden door; a cozy interior. A war fire, candles light all on the walls and interesting clocks, trinkets, and spices hung from the walls. The house was warm, very warm compared to the cold, sharp air outside; a soft velvet couch, a dark green covered in a flower pattern.

Kyle tossed himself down on it with a sigh and a groan. He wanted to pull the enflamed arrow from his side but didn't dare; not wanting to bleed out. 'Merow' Kyle jumped, a skinny black cat with the largest, brighest yellow eyes he'd ever seen sat on the arm of the sofa saring at him.

Kyle gave it an awkward wave, "hello," he said, just above a whisper. "Well, isn't this delightful. A pup bleeding all over my nice sofa." a voice jokes, Kyle whips his head to the voice with a growl, he didn't know who this was but he wasn't going to give them the idea he wouldn't harm them if they tried anything.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," Kyle stops his growls but still sits stiff ready for anything, "now before we start, would you like a warm drink? Coffee, tea, whiskey?" - Kyle shakes his head, "I made pancakes earlier? Fancy one? Best you'll ever taste," - he again shakes his head. "Well then, let me take a look."

Kyle slowly and hesitantly leans to you, letting you see his wound. He was confused. Most people who knew who or what he was normally would shoo him away or try to kill him.

"Don't worry, this should be a quick and easy fix."- you move to a corner, wall filled top to bottom with shelves pulling a trinket box out before taking a small flower.

"hear, eat this." - Kyle look from the flower to you then back - "I know, strange. But it will help; Wolvesbain is a pretty flower. It's probably what led you to me. The sent is pretty irresistible to pups like you," - Kyle rolled his eyes at being called a pup, but you were right; that sweet smell that lead him to this house was coming from the pretty little flower clipping that you held between your thumb and forefinger.- "wolvesbain is a helpful little flower, it can be rather helpful to you, when not mixed with poison... In fact, looking to plant this flower was the whole reason for coming here,"

Kyle hesitantly ate the flower. It wasn't as earthy and awful as he expected, though it made his mouth water, not in the good way. More of the he shoved a handful of pepper mint down his throat way.

"I'm terribly sorry for the hunters," -Kyle raise a brow at you-

"The hunters are particularly my fault. You see, when I came looking for these flowers, my reputation of a witch followed me, and they trailed behind. Wolvesbane normally only grows near the paranormal creature themselves, much like Monotropa uniflora or black roses. I needed them for my garden. However, I tried to say clear of you and your pack. Usually, the lesser the flower, the further away the pack is. However, you seemed to be nearby," - This was true, Kyle and his pack were nearby. Not very close, but close enough that he was able to run here in his time of need, not wanting to bring the hunters to his lovers - "so either you and your pack just got here, are hidden or you're a long way from home,"

Kyle sat, thinking of what this meant. You'd unintentionally brought danger to him and the ones he loved. What does this mean? Were you going to stay in these woods? If you left, would the hunters go too? Where did this house come from? You say you just got here, yet you have a garden filled with magic plants and a house that wasn't exactly small. It wasn't a small cozy cottage like his packs. It wasn't a tent you'd just set up. It looked as if it had always been here.

"Well, it should be about that time," you say as you look as an old pocket watch from your dress pocket, " I'm happy you ate that flower, I'd hate for this to have been painful for you," - Kyle tilts his head, confused - "that arrow is a hunters arrow, it's been crafted specifically to hurt you. A normal needle and thread wouldn't be able to close that wound. And this type of threat can be... painful to the paranormal creatures of the night. But with that Wolvesbane, you won't feel a thing!" You say as you stick his side with a needle.

He felt nothing.

"There. You should be good now, I'm no doctor, but I'd say I did a rather good job." You smile as you begin to clean up, putting the needle and tread away before storing the arrow away with the rest of your gunter weapons you've collected over the years. "Thank you." You jump, the first words he's said since he's been here. "Well, thank you as well," - "for what?" - "not ripping me to shreds as I walked through the door," you tease.

"Where's the mutt?"

"I'm not sure,we lost track of him"

"He probably bled out somewhere,"

"Well find him, he'd make a nice furr rug! Haha!"

They were still looking for him. While due to the flower he ate, he may not feel the pain, but that doesn't mean his body isn't affected by it. He wouldn't be able to outrun them, not a chance.

"You can stay here. You won't be able to run if they see you. Tomorrow, I'll travel halfway with you, I'll throw off your trail. Then you'll be gone before those hunters realize your long gone." As you say this, the house seems to dim. The candles along the walls begin to dim their glow.

"Come now." You say, nodding your head up the stairs. He follows right behind you, Kyle can't thank you enough. Now, the only thing he'll have to worry about is the earful he'll get from John and some whining from Johnny. He's never been so happy to hear those than right now.

"I live alone and don't get much company, so if you don't mind, you can sleep with me. I'd prefer you have something soft to rest on, especially with that bad side."

"I have no problem," he smiles at you. You certainly are strange. You climb onto your bed after taking off your over dress and shape wear sighing as you get warm under the covers. Kyle shortly following after.

He can't sleep. He's worried sick. What if his boys came out looking for him and got hurt? He hated making them worry, and he's sure they were worried sick. He felt guilty. He's pulled from his thoughts as he felt a soft touch, "they'll be ok." A soft and low whine crawls from his chest, he knows. But that fact doesn't settle his mind.

When morning comes, Kyle finds himself wrapped around you, his face buried in your hair arms and legs tangled. You smell nice. "Good morning, Pup," -you say with a sigh as you struggle to get up sleepily putting on your dress,- "morning,"

"Fancy breakfast? Or should we hurry on our way? I'm sure your pack is worried sick," - "As much as I'd love some pancakes, I think I've caused enough trouble," - "next time then?" - Kylr smiled, "next time."

Leaving the house and back into the woods was nerve-wracking for Kyle, constantly peaking over his shoulder, worried he'd find a man with a crossbow pointed at him. But you didn't seem worried at all. You seemed to know exactly where you were going; like you'd lived in this wood your whole life.

Just as you approach the babbling brook, you stop; "This is where my path ends, Kyle." You smile up at him, "it's time for you to go." - "Well, would you maybe like to stay? It's almost time for lunch, won't you stay?"- You smile, bit before you can answer, You both hear voices that have Kyle's head whipping around to see them.

"I FOUND HIM!"

Kyle smiles excitedly, "JOHNNY!" Kyle breaks into a sprint, colliding into the smaller yet muscular Scott, a pair of footsets coming quickly behind. "What the hell were you thinking?!" - "it's good to see you too, John."

"Where have you been?"

"Why didn't you say you were leaving?"

"What happened to your side?! Your shirt is drenched in blood!"

John, Simon, and Johnny all firing questions one after the other, "it's alright, I got help." - "help? From who?" - "Well, she -" while Kyle turned around to point you out, you were gone. Where did you go? "Well, whoever she was, I'm glad she helped you." - "yeah, I'll have to introduce you..." he says, his voice trailing off as he wonders where you went, and what exactly was your name? He'd forgotten to ask... infact, you had said his name just now... when had he told you his name?...

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

obsessed with the idea of seelie faerie prince gojou, as charming and as tricksy as all fae are. his snow-white hair eye catching and his azure eyes like gems pressed into his flesh

seelie prince satoru whose very birth shook faerieland as foretold by the stars red, blue and purple stars that soared through the sky the night of his birth

seelie prince satoru who is much more observant than his penchant for revels and merrymaking belies

seelie prince satoru who relishes in obnoxiously getting under the skin of the gentry of his court with his radical ideas that challenge the traditions that have been established for centuries

seelie prince satoru whose court is filled with political strife between three major families- the gojou, zenin and kamo. and it's really just his look this particular luck that he's bleeding out after a particularly harrowing attempt on his life. must have been that petty bastard naoya but in this particular moment, numb from poison and with a bloodied torso it really isn't going to do him any good trying to figure out who sent the now dead assassin after him

he won't die from this, he's been developing an immunity to poison. but even so, this is tough on his body as he sits in a misty forest waiting for the poison to wear off on his body with the scent of iron strong in the air

that's when he sees something that any faerie would consider the worst omen ー he sees you.

faeries are immortal folk. unless someone goes out of their way to kill them, they never die. it's what makes them stronger, far further creatures than humans with their insect-length lifespans

seelie prince satoru who even with his eyes, it's difficult seeing you clearly with poison muddling his senses but he sees the tell-tell white hair and gray skin and he knows you're a banshee

seelie prince satoru who chuckles humorlessly as he accepts that apparently, his luck has run out

he's sure of this as you slowly come closer and closer until he sees you much more clearly. your eyes are bloodshot, as to be expected of your kind. but your eyes might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. they're a pale lilac and your pupils are a ghostly white, shockingly light against the reds of your eyes but even that looks beautiful. he never cared particularly for the color red before but in this moment he can understand why red caps crave the color so and satoru thinks that if he is going to hear those damning cries that will seal his fate in this instant, he's glad it's you

banshees were human women that died in grief, right? that died tragedy before the grace of the gods turned them fae. death is a beautiful look on you but he wonders what you'd look if you were still colored in the shades of life that once blossomed over you like spring blooms

and so you part your lips... but rather than wail and scream, announcing to the headless riders of faerie that death is near, death is coming for gojou satoru your eyebrows knit in worry and you ask

"are you alright?" as you kneel by his side, reaching for his wounds carefully. your voice is honestly akin to hearing birdsong in the night, a juxtaposition he wasn't prepared for. "here, let me help you"

apparently the seelie prince's luck is greater still. death won't come for him yet. instead, he's become a hypocrite. an unintelligent hypocrite but he can't quite seem to make himself care in this instance when he is tended to by your cold but gentle touch and your lark-like voice drips like honey from your lips.

whether it's folk or mortal, satoru likens love to a curse that makes those around him stupid. a curse that leads to betrayals, war and frankly too much strife he desires to deal with

yet in this moment, that very curse seemed to course through his veins

stupid is as stupid does, seelie prince satoru's lips part and he asks you as if enraptured in a spell "please marry me and i'll love you more faithfully than any man, fae or otherwise"

as for you... you're simply a banshee who just happened to be in this forest when you spotted an injured elf in the distance and decided to see if he'd accept your help if he didn't outright lose his mind in fear at the sight of you. you think he might have considering the words that left his mouth

it must be the blood loss talking

unfortunately for you and much to the aggravation of suguru and kento, seelie prince satoru's most trusted advisors, satoru was very much serious and fervently keeps referring to you as his future queen when you haven't even accepted the proposal

seelie prince satoru who insists you stay in his palace, at the very least until after a revel in a few moons time he wishes to throw in your honor. as thanks for treating his injuries which are still healing, might he add. anything could happen, what if a banshee needs to herald his death and one isn't around? he would also like the time to woo you over. please? just until then

seelie prince satoru who ignores the ardent whispers that it is bad luck for a banshee to be so close the prince. that insist that death fae are like roaches. surely if one appears, there will be more banshee and dullahan that follow

seelie prince satoru who coldly states that any such insult toward the woman who saved his life will find those who said them hearing the chilling cries they so fear sooner than they'd enjoy