#coin master cheats

[sansaorgana]

— BEDROOM HYMNS

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Queen Alicent Hightower x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Your sister-in-law wishes for you to become one of her ladies-in-waiting but you become so much more. Things complicate when your husband comes to visit.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The title is from Florence + The Machine song. Alicent is a lesbian in this fic but she's also very conflicted about it. Reader is 100% bisexual. I wanted to write this fic for some time now because I have a crush on Alicent ever since Season One so yeah... Here we go... 😩😈

WARNINGS — cheating, homosexuality seen as something *wrong* (by Alicent), mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut – tiiiiny bit in the beginning)

WORD COUNT — 6,240

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BEDROOM HYMNS

You moved away from between her trembling legs after a cry of pleasure muffled by her own hand that she had covered her mouth with. Alicent’s juices were dripping down your chin when you smirked at her and looked up to meet her big brown eyes. Those soft big brown eyes that you adored more than anything. You had always adored them. So full of sadness and softness and you had never wanted anything but to make her feel better.

“Have I pleased you?” You asked while peppering her soft inner thighs with your kisses although you knew the answer already. Her husband had no idea how to please her.

The Queen only nodded and looked away. Poor Alicent – she always felt bad and guilty after the peak had already been reached. The sudden realisation of her sin was soul-crushing but the tension and desire had been too great to ignore them. She deserved the relief and you did not see anything bad about it.

“How many times do we have to do this?” You sighed and lied next to her in her bed. Your fingertips caressed her sides and your lips attached themselves to the crook of her neck, smelling all the scented oils in her hair. She was The Queen of the Realm and she was pampered like no other Lady. “There is no shame in this.”

“There is a sin,” Alicent turned her head around to finally meet your gaze. She raised her hand to nervously play with the seven-pointed star pendant on her sweaty chest.

“Why?” You bit on your lip and caressed her auburn locks out of her face.

“It is betrayal,” she frowned as if she was getting frustrated with your lack of understanding.

“It would have been if you lied with a man,” you explained and kissed her cheek before laying on your back and staring at the ceiling.

“I should find your vague idea of morality perplexing,” Alicent pointed out and you couldn’t help but chuckle at her confession.

“But you do not and thank Gods for that,” you rolled your eyes with a smirk.

A silence occurred as Alicent kept playing nervously with the pendant between her fingers and you were staring at the ceiling and counting all the cracks.

“What kind of husband is my brother?” She asked suddenly and you turned your head around to look at her again.

“A good one,” you admitted, feeling nearly guilty for that because you knew why she was asking – her husband was not good. Not to her and not to her children.

“Why are you doing this then?” Alicent asked.

It was obvious why her brother was on her mind now. He would arrive at King's Landing any day now. You couldn’t wait to see Gwayne again after a few months of being apart and you only wished he had taken your son with him but he could not. Robyn was the eldest son and he was supposed to stay in Oldtown. He had just become a squire and leaving his knight for a few long weeks would not be advised, therefore you had to go on missing your boy. Day after day as if he was a burning hole in your chest. Mothers would always miss their sons, you assumed.

“To kill the time,” you shrugged your arms, not wanting to reveal how much Alicent meant to you and for how long. “And to help you. You are my friend and I love you,” you confessed.

Alicent always loved Princess Rhaenyra more. Your father was a Master of Coin in King Viserys’ Small Council and you were growing up together – three girls running around happily. Or rather – two girls following the Princess like two overjoyed puppies. Rhaenyra was the centre of everything for you and not only because she was the Princess but also because she meant everything to Alicent. No matter how much effort you were putting into making Alicent like you more, you were destined to fail for she always was choosing Rhaenyra over you.

It made you grow bitter towards The Princess but never towards Alicent. You were blaming yourself – you had to become more and try harder perhaps and maybe then you’d earn more than just leftover crumbs of her love and friendship.

You couldn’t understand your feelings back then – why was the attraction so strong, what was making you feel so attached to the young Hightower Lady. You were the same age and yet everything she said was like a command to you. Wherever she went, you followed. Even when you felt like a burden because she so clearly would rather be left alone with Rhaenyra. But Rhaenyra never minded your presence because to her you were only a pawn on the board, an ornament, an addition of no importance. So, you often witnessed the two girls laughing together, whispering, exchanging small gestures of affection. You were only watching. Observing as your heart ached.

During The Heir's Tournament you met Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s older brother. He was young then, eager to show off his abilities and make his family proud. Perhaps he did not have his sister’s big brown eyes but he had the auburn hair you loved so much about her and he had her softness about him. You were enamoured with him in no time and when he approached the royal box to greet his sister – he caught your eye and you caught his and for that moment when your eyes met, you felt butterflies all over your body.

Ser Gwayne Hightower received your favour on that day and the sparkles of joy in your eyes while you were throwing the wreath at him were very obvious to your father and to his as well. You could not know that then but they exchanged meaningful looks for a short moment.

Even though Gwayne lost the duel with Prince Daemon Targaryen, he did not lose your affection. In fact, witnessing him nearly winning and losing only because Prince Daemon chose to play dirty – it only solidified your feelings. Ser Gwayne was a righteous man, a chivalrous knight and a brave one, too. It took lots of courage to face Prince Daemon Targaryen himself.

Gwayne was carried away with his face covered in blood and dirt while his mind was filled with thoughts of you – of losing your favour and your interest. However, you hurried to his side right after the tournament ended to make sure he was fine. And at the sight of you – he truly was fine again.

You were only ten and five but you knew already that Ser Gwayne was the only man you could see yourself being married off to. Thankfully, your father saw that, too. Two years later you were sent to Oldtown and for the whole time in between you were exchanging letters. When Alicent was married off to King Viserys shortly after his wife’s death, you still felt bitter but not as much as you could because you mostly felt excited about your own upcoming wedding.

However, the sadness and anxiety on Alicent’s face on her wedding day were a sight you would never forget.

Years and years of the happy marriage had passed and you were still in touch with your sister-in-law because of the letters you were exchanging and her son that you and Gwayne were raising in Oldtown – Prince Daeron Targaryen. But other than that, you had your own life now to live, your own duties, your own offspring and Alicent was simply not occupying your mind as much as in your adolescent years. 

You were aware of King Viserys’ health getting worse and worse as Alicent was ruling the Kingdom in his name. The burden of responsibility was heavy and her marriage was getting more and more difficult. You couldn’t say the same of your own union – you loved Gwayne and he loved you. Just like every married couple you had your misunderstandings and disagreements but you were grateful for him every day of your life and you knew well that he felt the same towards you.

It was after breakfast on one of those days that seemed to be pretty typical in the morning and then they turned out to be life-changing for a person. Without a warning and without an ominous feeling deep in one’s gut, they just happened and changed lives.

A letter came to you from Queen Alicent and you expected nothing of great importance in it so you put it below the pile of letters you had to respond to this morning. You sat by your desk and dipped the feather in the black ink as you started to perform one of your duties as Lady Hightower, helping your husband to run Oldtown in his father’s name.

Letter after letter, until finally you were left with the last one. You opened it with a small yawn, which turned into a frown after reading Alicent’s plea and request.

“What is it?” Gwayne entered your chambers this very moment but his smile dropped at the sight of your face.

You folded the letter suddenly as if it was a secret or something dirty but it only increased your husband’s curiosity as he approached the table and raised an eyebrow at you.

“What is it?” He repeated the question and you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to find the right words.

“It is from your sister,” you replied and looked up to meet his confused gaze. He knew about your friendship and for you to react this way at one of Alicent’s letters was simply unusual.

“Is he dead?” Was all Gwayne asked.

“No, Gods, no,” you shook your head and took a deep breath in. “Not yet,” you added.

“What is it then?” Gwayne lifted your chin up gently to make sure your eyes would still be on his. You swallowed a lump in your throat and finally decided to tell him what his sister had requested.

“Queen Alicent wishes for me to become one of her ladies-in-waiting,” you revealed and Gwayne’s confusion only grew. “She feels lonely in King’s Landing, she needs a friend by her side. Somebody she can trust.”

“It is out of the question,” Gwayne took the folded paper from your hands and read the letter himself, still standing above you as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers.

Your own feelings were chaotic at that moment. Something in your heart wanted to run to King’s Landing at this very moment because Alicent needed you and because you wanted to make her life easier and make her happy. You had always wanted nothing but her happiness.

But you had your own duties in Oldtown and you had your husband here and your children. You could not just leave like that, could you? Especially when Oldtown was so far away from King’s Landing.

“It is out of the question,” Gwayne said again and threw the letter on your desk. “Reply to her that your Lord Husband does not agree.”

“She is your sister,” you looked up at him, pleadingly.

“Yes and I have nothing but love for her in my heart but her request is selfish,” he clenched his jaw as he looked you up and down, visibly surprised that you were not agreeing with him on this. “Why does she want to take you away from me? You are my wife.”

“Your wife – not your property,” you reminded him.

“That is debatable,” Gwayne huffed and looked away but before you could scold him, he continued with more. “Living in a different city, different castle, so far away from me… Will you still be my wife?” He turned his head around in an attempt to try to read your emotions.

“I will forever be your wife,” you stood up and took his hand into yours before placing it on your chest where your heart was. “But she needs me, Gwayne. She’s all alone there with no one by her side.”

“Father is with her,” Gwayne interrupted you. “He always favoured Alicent.”

“You do know that being favoured by him is a burden, not a prize,” you reminded. “Please, let me go. For some time at least. Until The King dies. It should not be for long and I’ll take the girls with me,” you tried to convince him as your fingers caressed his hand on your chest. “Please,” you whispered, looking up deep into his eyes.

After a long moment of silence and hesitation, your husband nodded his head reluctantly.

A few months later, you found yourself standing in the courtyard of The Red Keep, awaiting your husband’s arrival. He had a business to deal with in The Crownlands and he wanted to spend a few days with his family, too. You were caressing the creases on your dress with your hands and your teenage daughter Margaery was fixing her younger sister’s hairdo. Little Wyllow had been missing her father the most and she couldn’t wait for his arrival. In fact, she had made you and Margaery wait there since early morning and at this point you were exhausted already but you didn’t complain since you couldn’t wait to see Gwayne again either.

Even though it also felt a little weird and awkward since your mind was being flooded with memories of his sister’s body tangled with yours underneath her royal silk sheets. Her plump lips parted and soft moans escaping them, her beautiful big brown eyes hazy and filled with tears of shame and pleasure…

You were trying to shake those thoughts and images off of your head when you were interrupted by the sound of the horses approaching the gate.

“Father!” Wyllow nearly ran straight under the horse if she was not stopped by Margaery.

Your older daughter gave you a scolding look and she was right to do so because it was your duty to watch over your children, meanwhile you were distracted by the memories of dirty acts instead.

When you watched Gwayne jumping off of the horse, your heart clenched in your chest at the sight of him and you suddenly realised why Alicent was so filled with shame and guilt because now you felt them, too.

His handsome face, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you, his auburn hair reflecting in the sun… He truly was the man you loved. You just couldn’t help the fact you loved his sister, too.

“Father!” Wyllow finally was free to run into his arms and he crouched down to hug her and kiss her forehead.

“I am so happy to see you, little bird,” Gwayne cupped his daughter’s cheeks and she giggled.

He straightened himself but Wyllow clinged to his left hand so he used his right one to caress Margaery’s face lovingly.

“You’re growing fast, my love,” he pointed out.

“I am trying my best, Lord Father,” Margaery nodded her head with a smile and then she took a step back to get out of the way and let him greet you.

“Lord Husband,” you gave him a nervous and soft smile. Gwayne tilted his head a little and your heart skipped a beat. He was a very observant man but there was nothing that would give you away, right? What could it be?

“Lady Wife,” he smiled at you and took two steps ahead to be able to kiss the palm of your hand. Whatever he had noticed, he pretended it was nothing. At least for now.

“You must be exhausted,” you pointed out. “The chambers have been already prepared for you and I’m going to tell the maids to fix you a bath.”

“Does it mean we are not sharing the same chambers during my stay here?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow at you.

Margaery cleared her throat and she took Wyllow by her free hand.

“Shall we go inside now? Let our Lady Mother greet Lord Father properly,” she dragged her protesting sister behind her.

“She is becoming a fine Lady,” you chuckled awkwardly. “I can’t help feeling that the air and water in King’s Landing are making her grow up faster. Perhaps she is spending too much time with women older than her,” you explained, clasping your hands in front of yourself as if you had no idea what to do with them. “Come with me, I am sure you want to greet your father and sister, too.”

“I do,” Gwayne followed you inside while some of the men he had taken with him were taking care of his luggage with the help of The Red Keep’s servants. “You still haven’t answered my question about the chambers,” he pointed out when you were in the staircase together.

“My darling,” you turned around abruptly, making him stop his walk. “Your chambers are close to mine, please do not get cross with me. Those past few months I have learnt to love my solitude,” you explained and Gwayne tilted his head again but he only nodded.

“Let it be then,” he only said.

With each one of your husband’s kisses and each one of his touches, each one of your reached peaks and cries of pleasure, you felt more and more purified of sin as if his body was washing away Alicent’s smell off of you. After months of not laying together, you were lost in each other for hours with caring very little about getting any sleep. You were watching the sun rise behind the window when you were too exhausted to go on as you were laying on Gwayne’s chest, drawing circles there with your fingers and his hand was playing with your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

“Have you been faithful to me?” You asked casually and you could feel his muscles tensing under you.

You had no right to ask that – but he did not know of it.

“I have,” he answered. “Of course I have.”

“And if I say that the whores count, too?” You looked up playfully.

“I have been faithful to my Lady Wife,” Gwayne shook his head and you spotted a slight irritation on his face. He did not like it when his honour was being questioned – he was a knight, after all. “Why do you ask? Have you not been faithful to me?”

A shiver went down your spine at his chilling accusation.

“How can you ask me that?” You gasped.

“You have accused me first.”

“Because you are a man,” you reminded him.

“I am. And I know what men are like,” Gwayne nodded his head. “They must all be following you around – a beautiful Lady far away from her husband is like an invitation,” he finally cracked a smile, revealing that he was only jesting.

“I do not want any man but you,” you assured him as the tension left your body because you did not have to lie about it.

“That is good to know, my love,” Gwayne kissed the top of your head. “You had me worried with your cold greeting and not letting me into your chambers.”

“Are you not in my chambers now, Lord Husband?” You teased him and placed a kiss on his chest where his heart was. “And if my greeting was cold, then I owe you an apology. I spend too much time around your sister and her husband and I keep forgetting that some marriages are happy. That mine is…” You wanted to look up to meet his gaze but you couldn’t as something inside of you was stopping you.

“That is a shame,” Gwayne only said.

“It is, darling, but you are here now to remind me.”

You were sitting in the same chambers as Alicent, embroidering side by side and even though you were using no words, you found each other’s company comforting. Your arms were brushing as you both were focused on creating beautiful patterns on the same piece of fabric to make the work faster. It was supposed to be a beautiful green blanket with embroidered little dragons. 

Princess Helaena was sitting nearby and embroidering spiders on her own piece of fabric. Her cousin, Lady Margaery Hightower was sitting next to her and teaching her younger sister the craft. It was peaceful, cosy and quiet – you loved those moments the most because it was nearly as if Alicent was your own Lady Wife and you were just enjoying the time spent together with your family, far away from all those loud and obnoxious men surrounding you everywhere. These chambers were your escape and your own queendom.

When the doors opened, everyone except for Helaena looked up with a slight irritation since the man entering this sanctuary was nothing but an intruder. Even if the man was Ser Gwayne Hightower, who was loved by every person inside the chambers.

He cleared his throat when you gave him a soft smile, your arm still brushing Alicent’s and you were sitting in a way that made sure you were facing each other. You had never thought about it before but it was quite intimate indeed. Your husband’s tilted head made you realise that he had just observed something and after a short while you understood what it was as you moved away slightly.

“Brother,” Alicent greeted him. 

“Lord Husband,” you nodded at him.

“Forgive me for interrupting. I would like to take Margaery for a walk around the gardens,” he extended his hand towards his older daughter as Wyllow looked up at him with pleading eyes. “It must be Margaery alone this time but I promise you, little bird, I am going to take you for a walk later, too. Perhaps we’ll walk to the bay and watch the ships,” he assured her and she sighed with relief.

“You can finish without my help now, I believe,” Margaery handed the fabric to her younger sister. “Do try, at least. If you face any challenges, Lady Mother or Helaena shall help you.”

Helaena looked up when her name was mentioned and she gave Wyllow a soft smile that encouraged her little cousin to keep going. When Margaery stood up and left the sofa, Wyllow moved closer to Helaena and The Princess did not seem to mind.

“Can you help me with the ladybug?” She asked and Helaena’s face lit up at that.

“Lord Father,” Margaery took Gwayne by his arm and bowed her head at you and Alicent before walking out of the chambers with her father.

“I am wondering what is the matter my Lord Husband wishes to discuss with Margaery,” you hummed to yourself.

“She is ten and five now,” Queen Alicent pointed out. “What is the only possible matter that fathers wish to discuss with their daughters at that age?”

You furrowed your brows at her words because she was right and you did not like the sound of that. It was a shame that she was right, too, and not only for your own daughter but for every woman in this Realm. 

You saw Gwayne again before dinner, on your way to the dining hall. He was walking down the stairs and you rushed to him to walk by his side. He offered you his arm and you took it.

“I have a question for you, Lord Husband,” you started, nearly aggressively and he raised his eyebrows at that fierceness.

“What is it, my love?”

“Are you planning to marry our sweet Margaery off so quickly? I do not wish for her to get wed too soon,” you told him, hoping he would understand your point of view because sadly, in the end, the decision was his to make for women had always been properties of men – once her father’s, then her husband’s.

Sometimes you wished you had become a septa.

“Not soon, no. But she is ten and five. That was the age you were in when we met,” Gwayne reminded you with a smile.

“Yes, indeed, my darling, but it was us both meeting and falling in love. That is different, you must admit,” you pursed your lips.

“I must, indeed. Do not worry, I am not willing to force anything upon our sweet daughter. I have only told her to start looking around for suitable matches… soon,” your husband explained. “I am sure King’s Landing is full of important young men.”

“I do not wish for her to get married here. This place is rotten and so are its people,” you sighed. “My greatest wish is for Margaery to marry a man from The Reach.”

“We all have wishes, my darling wife,” Gwayne’s answer was nearly mocking but he spotted your annoyance so he looked around to make sure you were not being seen before pulling you by your waist and pushing you against the wall to steal a kiss from your lips. “Gods, I missed this,” he whispered and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Gwayne!” You scolded him playfully. “I missed this, too,” you added and caressed his cheek with your fingers.

But his smile dropped and eyes became serious all of the sudden. You stayed like that in a short moment of silence before he dropped the question that turned your guts inside out:

“What is the nature of your relationship with my sister?”

You were taken aback by his question and you moved your hand away from his face before taking a deep breath in, trying to steady your heartbeat.

“Alicent is my best friend,” you looked deep into his eyes, surprised by your own courage to lie like this…

But was it a lie? She was your friend, after all.

“There is intimacy between you two that I can only wish for between us these days,” Gwayne whispered and you bit on your lower lip.

“She is my main companion for weeks now,” you tried to explain.

“Are you still planning to come back home after The King dies?” Gwayne lowered his voice even more since talking about the monarch’s death could be seen as treason.

“Y-yes, of course,” you nodded nervously.

“Why the tremble of your voice?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow.

“What are you accusing me of?” You suddenly clenched your fists, trying to take another route of getting out of this awkward situation. “Your implications are indecent. You have been accusing me of obscenities ever since you arrived here. You wound me deeply, Lord Husband,” you straightened yourself.

“You have accused me first,” Gwayne reminded you.

“Without any reproach thrown at you. I have asked out of simple curiosity,” you informed him.

“You are right, do forgive me,” he reached for your hand to place a delicate kiss upon the palm of it. You sighed, feeling extremely guilty.

“You are forgiven,” you whispered, nearly inaudibly, because it felt wrong to be the one saying those words.

In fact, at that very moment, you promised yourself to fix everything. You promised yourself to invite Gwayne to your chambers again for the night and let his touch to purify you like on the previous night. And you would go to The Sept and you would pray the sin away, you would beg for forgiveness, you would be a better wife, perhaps you would beg Alicent to let you go back to Oldtown with your husband.

Yes, that was the plan.

In the early morning you couldn’t tell that you were well-rested. Your muscles were sore after the previous two nights and your head was hazy but you still got dressed up quickly when the sun was rising and creeping inside your chambers to shine upon Gwayne’s auburn hair. You leaned in to kiss his forehead and you left him sleeping to visit The Sept and be able to go back to The Red Keep before breakfast.

You had never been a devout but you were not a savage either. You believed in Gods and now more than ever you needed redemption.

You expected to be alone there at such an early hour but no – of course not. Queen Alicent was already there, kneeling by the stone table and lighting the candles. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in. She was your greatest temptation and it was a cruel joke that the Gods had played on you to put her there at this time when you visited The Sept to pray her very own self away from your life.

Alicent looked up, surprised to see you. Her soft features were as sad as usual but at the sight of you she seemed to be a bit happier – relieved, in a way. Your heart clenched inside your chest. How could you ever want to leave her? You couldn’t. She was too dependent on you. Her happiness was and so was her sanity. Leaving her would be equal to killing her.

“I have not expected you in The Sept at such an early hour,” she commented as you kneeled next to her.

“I have not expected myself here either,” you smirked. “I came here to ask for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness? Aren’t you always the one telling me that what we do is no sin?” Alicent furrowed her brows.

“I have lied to my husband. That is a sin,” you confessed and Alicent did not say anything to this. “I… I will have to go back to Oldtown, I think… I can’t… I can’t go on like this,” you looked down and Alicent remained silent but you didn’t have to look at her to know her big brown eyes were filled with tears. “I miss my son and I miss Oldtown… King’s Landing is corrupt and I do not wish for my daughters to grow up here. I… I miss Gwayne, too. I love him, I love him, I love him…”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Sudden, harsh question made you look up to meet her teary gaze.

“I’ve been loving him ever since I saw him during the tournament. You were there, sitting by my side,” you reminded her.

“You love him because he is my brother but your life has always revolved around me,” Alicent pointed out and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You… You knew?” You only asked.

“I was blind to choose Rhaenyra because she was never for me to reach. She was The Princess and you were equal to me, so devoted. Blindly, very often. I took you for a fool and only after losing you, I realised. When you were sent to Oldtown, I suddenly understood that my only friend had left my side,” Alicent explained. “My only friend and the only person who has ever… Who has ever loved me – except for my mother.”

“Gwayne loves you, too,” you pointed out.

“Does he? He took you away from me,” Alicent’s jaw clenched and your eyes widened. She was not being rational but you knew why – she was scared of losing you again. In fact, she was determined to make you stay by her side.

“You will not let me leave, will you?” You whispered.

Alicent opened her mouth to say something but then her face softened and she stood up rapidly to walk away.

“I am sorry… I do not wish to… Act like this… I do not recognise myself,” she admitted with her voice full of shame. She raised her hands up to her mouth as she nervously bit on the soft skin around her fingernails.

You didn’t answer because you were too lost in your own thoughts. Was she right again? About you loving Gwayne only because he was her brother? You had never thought about it before. It would mean your whole marriage was a lie, an illusion – or rather a delusion.

“When I’m with him, I don’t imagine you,” you stood up as well when the realisation hit you. “But when I’m with you, he doesn’t exist to me. It’s as if there were two of me.”

“I do not understand,” Alicent shook her head. “To me, there is only you,” she confessed and laid her eyes on you.

You didn’t know what to answer. You swallowed a lump in your throat instead.

“I am flawed, poisoned…” Alicent continued. “I can only feel this way towards other women. I felt this way towards Rhaenyra until a certain moment and then… Then my whole life was about you. I have spent hours inside this Sept, trying to pray this away,” Alicent’s silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I do not have such a conflict. I can love both men and women,” you told her. “I can love you and I can love Gwayne…”

“I do not wish to share you!” Alicent interrupted you and then she hid her face in her hand as she sobbed.

“Women are not their own property. I am not the one to decide if I can be shared,” you answered diplomatically.

You felt sorry for her but you also felt sorry for Gwayne that he was being betrayed behind his back by his own wife and sister – two women he loved the most except for his daughters. He would die for you both, he would kill to protect you or to defend your honours – even though none of you had an honour anymore. He was the real victim here.

But one more look at Alicent’s sad eyes was enough to break you again. You approached her to cup her face and kiss her softly. She protested in the beginning since you were inside The Sept but you didn’t give a fuck about it anymore – you would go to Seven Hells anyway.

“I shall not leave you,” you promised her.

When you came back to your chambers, Gwayne was dressing up in front of the mirror. He raised an eyebrow at you entering the room.

“Where have you been?” He asked.

“In The Sept to pray,” you answered truthfully.

“Has my sister turned you into a devout like her already?” He chuckled.

“She has a great influence on me,” you nodded and walked up to him to kiss his cheek.

“You even smell like her,” he said and your heart skipped a beat.

“I am fond of her scented oils and she allows me to use them,” you answered.

“It feels weird when I’m fucking you, I have to admit,” Gwayne chuckled awkwardly and so did you.

“You shall fuck me more then,” you pointed out quietly.

“Even more, Lady Wife?” He shook his head with another chuckle.

“Until her scent is gone,” you explained and looked out of the window.

Gwayne did not say anything to this but his smile disappeared. From the corner of your eye you saw his reflection in the mirror and you realised that he had finally understood what was going on behind his back.

After a while, which felt like forever, he cleared his throat:

“It is a putrid place indeed.”

“You must take me far away from here,” you turned around to grab his arm and your heart broke when you felt him flinch a little. “You must save my soul and take me home,” you pleaded despite the promise you had given to Alicent earlier but that promise had not been given sober. You had been intoxicated with her.

“You must come back home yourself, my love,” Gwayne smiled sadly at you and caressed your hair gently, “for I do not wish to force anything upon you. You are always kind enough to remind me that you are not my property, aren't you? And I agree,” he nodded, “this decision is for you to make.”

And you didn’t know what to say or do because there was no decision that felt right and no decision that didn’t feel wrong either. Gwayne was your duty and your sacrifice and Alicent was a self-indulgent sin but you loved them both so much that you cursed the whole Hightower bloodline for existing because your life would be so much easier without them.

You knew what Gwayne was expecting of you – he expected you to choose your duty because – just like his sister – he was all about honour and decency. But you didn’t want your husband to feel as if you were choosing him only because of your marriage vows – you wanted him to know that you cared for him, too, even though he wouldn’t believe you now.

But there was only one choice for you anyway, wasn’t it? You couldn’t just stay with Alicent and pretend that it was the right thing to do. You couldn’t abandon your family and your duties for her and she had to understand it.

You looked deep into Gwayne’s eyes and your own filled with tears at the sight of all the pain and sadness in his. You dropped your hand down from his arm to intertwine your fingers with his.

“I do not think of myself as flawed or poisoned for feeling the way I feel,” you explained to him. “But I do not wish for my nature to spoil our union. If anybody can save me, it would be you,” you whispered. A plea. A desperate cry for help. “I am a mother, I am a wife, I am Lady Hightower and my home is in Oldtown.”

Your heart, however, would forever be divided; torn and bleeding. The deep, burning hole was forever to stay there for one reason or another.

MASTERLIST

[2soulscollide]

my favorite free tools for writers

hello, hello! hope you're doing well.

today i am bringing you another list with my top 3 favorite (free!) tools that I find helpful for each phase of writing a novel.

brainstorming phase

Fantasy Names Generator - not only for fantasy (you can also generate real names). this website is just... amazing! it helps you come up with names for characters, places and locations, descriptions, generate traits, outfits (yes, outfits!!), and probably something else you could ever think of.

The Story's Hack - this one is so cool! you can generate names for everything, create your own generator, and practice writing through writing exercises! plus, you can save your generated names to see later, and you earn coins for each idea generated (you can later buy themes - dark, snow, forest, etc)

RanGen - my last favorite generator on this list is RanGen! you can generate plots, appearances, archetypes, love interests, cities, worlds, items, and more.

developing the idea phase

Bryn Donovan - in this blog you can find master lists under the tag "master lists for writers". it is so helpful when you first start developing the characters and need to find the right words to describe them and to find some quirks and flaws!

Writers Write (350 character traits) - again, this is so helpful!

Story Planner - ah, the number of times I've talked about this website... please, PLEASE take a look at it, you won't regret it. this website has literally everything you need to fully develop your idea with outlines for you to fill in step by step.

writing phase

Colleen Houck (80+ barriers to love) - need more romace conflict? there you go!

Cheat Sheets for Writing Body Language - so, you know how your character's feeling, but don't know how he'd physically act? check out this list!

Describing Words - honestly, this is a lifesaver. don't you struggle to find the right word to describe something? well, with this website all you have to do is to type the object you're trying to describe and see which description fits better to you!

revising phase

Language Tool for Google Docs - i know we all have heard about google docs before, but the truth is, it's almost impossible to find free softwares to check grammar and spelling. so, google docs is useful, because it automatically revises it for us, and it's completely free. plus, you can add adds-on, such as "language tool".

Unfortunately, there's only one (free) tool that I actually enjoy for the revising phase. if you know some others, please let me know so that I can try them out and feature in this list.

exporting phase

Google Docs - i find google docs very easy to format and export to .epub, so i'd recommend using it as a free tool.

Reedsy - this is also a free tool available online. all you have to do is to write down each chapter (copy and paste) or import your word document. it will format the document to your liking and export it to pdf, epub and mobi.

that's everything for now! i hope this post was somehow helpful or inspiring!

if you want to see more master lists full of resources, check these:

WEBSITES FOR WRITERS {masterpost}

BEST accounts to follow as a writer

BEST SITES & SOFTWARES TO WRITE FICTION

DIALOGUE IDEAS TO GET RID OF THAT WRITING BLOCK (masterpost)

Useful Resources & Tips for Writers

also, if you are a notion lover just like me, check the free template I just released with everything you need to develop and write your novel!

thank you so much for reading! hope to see you around, and have a nice day <3

[written-in-flowers]

The Costume: Demon!San x Demon!Wooyoung

Pairing: Incubs!San x Incubus!Wooyoung/ Side pairing(s): Wooyoung x OFC, demonline x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, slight angst

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Wooyoung is swamped with costume orders for the big ball, and one of his favorite clients arrives to try on his costume. When he confronts Wooyoung about a secret kink, he can't help but partake in a bit of relaxation.

Tags: cuckolding fantasy, cheating fantasy, cheating roleplay, bisexual!wooyoung, bisexual!san, anal sex, anal fingering, oral sex, 69-position, multiple positions, handjobs, blowjobs, frottage, dom/sub undertones, semi-public, casual sex, mentions of bad childhood, mirror sex, deep throat, rough oral sex, sloppy oral, belly bulging.

Pretty Lady Masterlist

***

Satin? No, too plain. 

Silk? No, too common. 

Perhaps a nice lace and velvet combo? Suede rather than velvet? Leather works too. Nobody could resist a good leather outfit. If not leather, a latex bodysuit is versatile. The Passionate Heart Ball is a time for everyone to show their best side. Wooyoung knew his designs needed to amaze and impress the masses in order for anyone to care. It made him resent them more. 

“Master?”

Peacocks. That’s what most of the demons who come into his shop are, a bunch of peacocks. They prance around in their lavish clothing, flaunting their wealth and privilege to the lower classes. Wooyoung used to envy them. He’d stand on the street corners, the commotion of the common streets going past him, and see them pass by. He saw the garish displays of wealth and wished he could have them too. Little Wooyoung dreamed of having enough food to eat and drink, wearing clothes without holes and living in houses with more than one room. He thought with a bit of success, he’d get into the club, but when he did finally reach it, the club kept their doors closed. Wooyoung realized that even if he wore the clothes and jewels, he would always be “common born”. They might like wearing his clothes, but they still looked down their noses. His parentage did not matter. 

“Master…”

Even if his mother was distantly related to the king, they'd still lived in the slums of the inner city. Wooyoung carried memories of his father pushing him into the street blindfolded to beg for money. He claimed people pitied blind, homeless children more than they did a grown man. He’d stand by street corners, in his rags and bare feet, with his wooden cup and occasionally smack around a long stick. People pitied the blind demon child who walked about with his stick and cup every morning, afternoon and night. Nobody questioned it either. Not once did somebody bother pulling off the strip of cloth covering his eyes. Wooyoung made a decent bit of coin, but whatever he made went to his parents.

‘Please, take compassion on a poor orphan, descended from King Lucifer himself!’

“Master-”

“-What, Kyra?”

Wooyoung looked up from his sketch pad to see Kyra on his bed. On all fours, the green-skinned demon wore nothing except her diamond collar. The demon behind her, lean and handsome, kept a good grip on her hips as he kept steadily pushing forwards. He took in the scene of them on his bed of red velvet and satin. Such a sight usually pleased him, but not tonight. His shoulders felt heavy, and he couldn’t concentrate on any one thing.

“Would you like me to try a different position?” she asked, seeing his discontentment. “Or perhaps you’d like to do me now?”

“No,” he said, going back to his sketches, “Keep going as you were.”

Kyra’s high grunts and his partner’s low groans became background noise. Wooyoung drew out the long, evening gown one of his clients requested. She told him she wanted something glamorous, alluding to the old starlets of the 1920’s and 30’s. Such a gown would cost more than his family’s old house alone. No doubt she could house ten families and still have room for her decadent fine china collection and four hellcats. Wooyoung, while liking some of his clients, could not stand most of them. As he grew, he’d learned to enjoy tricking, lying, and stealing from these upper-class demons. He still did it from time to time, especially with people like Lady Akura, the she-demon who claimed to bed pharaohs. Wooyoung had the obsidian, gold and aquamarine cat sculpture he’d taken the last time he visited. It astounded him. He could take and take and take from these people, and they didn’t notice.

“Master, please come here. He doesn’t feel as good as you,” she pleaded. “Nobody fucks me like you do.”

“No, they don’t.”

Fashion did not come into his life until much later. He’d taken up working for the gang leader, Lady Madeline, whom everyone called ‘Mad Maddie’ on a count of her violent outbursts. She kept an exclusive group of demon children and adolescents who ran errands in exchange for food and board. Wooyoung recalled Maddie’s main business: her boutique. ‘Opulence’ catered to every style and class in Hell. Wooyoung remembered walking into her workroom after a day in the city and seeing bolts of fine fabrics, designs on her worktable, and the different custom outfits she’d made to order. He’d always find her at her sewing machine or worktable, fashioning up a new dress or shirt for a rich demon somewhere. Wooyoung found her work awe-inspiring. Maddie did things with fabric that he didn’t think possible. A boy from the slums whose worn clothes hung on by threads, even the plainest shirt seemed expensive to him. But, Maddie’s designs stood out amongst the rest. They had style and class. They popped with colors and glittered with gems. She dressed everyone and anyone. She’d made him a few nice shirts and pants when he started working in her shop.

‘A handsome boy like you should look smart, not ragged.’

His slave’s orgasm brought him back out of his head. Wooyoung glanced up from his sketchpad to see her fervently pushing into her partner. Her almond-shaped eyes squeezed tight, full lips parted in every moan, and delicate hands balled into fists in his sheets, she made a beautiful sight. He watched her cum hard around the cock inside her, forcing herself still as the whore he’d bought rode it out for her. The man withdrew when she finished, stroking himself to completion over her round, perky ass. Wooyoung saw streaks of white fall on her lime-green skin, licking his lips when he saw the thick streams trail down to her thighs.

“You may go now, Royle,” said Wooyoung, “Your money’s on the dresser.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the demon, immediately getting off the bed and bowing to him.

Teenage Wooyoung would be stunned to see people bowing before him. This world, this new life he lived, was only a pipe dream to his younger self. The luxury of having his own pleasure slave would sound unbelievable. When Royle left, Kyra remained on the bed. He went back to his design, deciding Lady Crane would appreciate an arachnid approach. From the waist line, he began drawing spider legs.

“Did I not please you, Master?”

“You did well, Kyra.”

“You hardly watched.”

“I heard.”

“You’re barely hard.”

She was right. He found pretending to like someone stroking his ego annoying. Demons of pride typically enjoyed their lovers extolling their beauty and expecting them to be dominant. While Wooyoung didn’t mind being in charge, he grew the hardest when his lovers faked being unfaithful. Kyra was the only other person who knew what he truly enjoyed, and indulged whenever he liked. Wooyoung had asked the proprietor of Scarlet Silk to bring him one of his regulars, but instead he sent Royle. He did not want to risk Royle learning about his kink and whispering it to others.

“It’s one of our busiest seasons,” he said, reaching for an excuse. “Lady Crane says she needs her gown the day after tomorrow.”

“You’ve worked all day,” she said, and he heard the pout in her voice. “You should relax or otherwise you’ll end up burnt out by the end.”

“If I’m burnt out it means we’ve done well.”

As he finished the last leg, he heard feet walk across the soft carpet. She gently took the pad from him, and sat in his lap. The scent of sex and sweat came off her skin, which usually aroused him but not tonight. Kyra cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. Wooyoung did not object to her pulling him from his sweatpants and stroking him. Once it grew harder, she pushed him inside her. Wooyoung let out a low groan at the snug walls encompassing his length. Kyra’s body pulsated around him, already wet from her recent orgasm but slowly yearning for a second one. Wooyoung found the closeness relaxing, rather than tense. Her plump, warm body pressed against his skinny, hard one, arms sliding around his neck. He bit his inner lip when she put his hands on her breasts, the supple mounds filling his hands. 

“What do you think of it?” he asked her, nodding to the drawing on the end table.

“It’s beautiful, Master,” she said, looking over to examine it as she let go of his hands.“She’ll love it.”

"I hope so. Lady Crane isn’t as picky as Lady Akura, but I don’t like disappointing. The Passionate Heart Ball is the biggest event of the social season. I want my clients looking their best.” Her walls clenched him tightly, but she stayed firmly planted in his lap. “It’s good for business.”

“Is that really so important?” she asked, hands on his shoulders.

“Yes, it is. If people see how unique and beautiful my designs are, they’ll want to visit the shop and get their own. I need the trendiest, most popular people in the city wearing my clothes, and Lady Crane will wear them splendidly.”

“So will Lady YN.”

Wooyoung grinned at the thought of you. One of his best and most popular clients, the newest Lady of Eden inspired people to ask for 80’s styles. He believed you didn’t understand how important and popular you are in Hell. People loved talking to you. They loved watching everything you did. When you began embracing your floral-side, he had clients ordering floral patterns or jewelry to impress you. Perhaps they hoped you’d get them in with your boyfriends, giving them a boost in reputation. 

“Our lovely lady and her boyfriends came up with a pretty good group costume.”

“Oh?”

“Different barbies.”

Kyra snorted, “I’m sorry? Aren’t they men?”

“You think that stops them?” he laughed at her scoff. “She wants to be Disco Barbie, while San is Surfer Ken, Seonghwa is Cowboy Ken, and Hongjoong is Peaches and Cream Barbie.”

“Peaches and Cream Barbie?”

“It’s just an excuse for him to wear a big puffy dress. It’s pretty creative. I liked her designs.” 

As Kyra began gradually riding him, he pictured the four nobles in their massive keep. Modeled similarly to the Palace of Versailles in Paris, Asmodeus’s three sons lived in the lap of luxury, yet stayed apart from the rest of the elite. When they initially met, he thought the highest of the high borns considered themselves above the entire world. However, they proved him wrong immediately. Wooyoung thought of Hongjoong laughing at two noblewomen who wrinkled their noses at his sloppy drunkenness; San had rolled his eyes and told them to loosen their corsets before they suffocated on their own self-importance. Seonghwa, he recalled, remarked how they had no reason to lift their noses; he said their husbands were far worse when they indulged too much. Wooyoung realized then that he liked them. 

He also did like seeing them undress during their fittings. 

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she said into his ear, sliding her arms around his neck. “Royle fucked me ten times better than you ever could.”

The words broke him into a shudder. “Did he?”

“He made me cum so hard, and fucked me so good,” she continued, sliding up and down on his length. “All you do is pump a few times and then roll over. It’s pathetic.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, hands on her hips. “I thought you liked it.”

“You thought wrong, didn’t you?”

Despite this, Wooyoung bucked his hips into her faster. He’d let you see this side of him in his work room because he knew you’d understand. Living with a demon like Hongjoong, you must have been exposed to all kinds of kinks. While it had begun by accident, he didn’t feel embarrassed by it.

Not with you.

****

“Wooyoung, this is gorgeous! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Lady Crane stood in front of the long mirror on top of a small platform. As he fixed the last spider leg, the willowy woman adjusted the high lace collar and looked pleased. Pride blossomed in his chest at her compliment. A compliment felt good regardless of who it came from. 

“It’ll go great with the mask!” she said, nodding over to the mannequin head wearing a black venetian mask. All around the edges near the eyes, the maker painted black ones meant to be glimmering spider eyes. “I love, love, love it!” she beamed down at him when he stood up, clapping along with the two servants accompanying her. “Well done, Wooyoung. Once again, you’ve proved to be a master of your craft!”

“I’m glad you think so, my lady,” he bowed his head. 

She had her servants remove the dress, while one of his assistants began packing it up for her. Wooyoung listened to her rave about the costume, and how it’ll be the best one at the ball. While he agreed about the craftsmanship, he knew it’d be far from the best. Examining his work from afar, he felt he could’ve done better with it. The legs, while made of fine materials and detailed, looked stiff and jutted outwards too much. Had it been a client he cared about keeping, he’d suggest keeping it in the shop to avoid damage then work on it quietly. If she said anything, he’d tell her seeing her in the gown inspired him to elevate the look. The elite loved being complimented and told how inspirational they are. He knew because he loved it too.

When Lady Crane left to the front counter, Wooyoung turned to the peacock costume on a mannequin. Lord Byron, as old and decrepit as he is, insisted on being a glamorous peacock. Wooyoung hoped he never looked that way when he aged. Demons aged incredibly slowly, living for thousands of years before falling into a “youthful sleep”. A youthful sleep happened to be the natural state of hibernation for demons. He never witnessed it, but when their body finally gave out, the elderly demon was put into a coffin and left to regenerate back to their youthful selves. Wooyoung knew he’d age one day, but he might just go to sleep early if he became liver-spotted and wrinkled. Fixing gold and blue gems onto the shoulders, he heard his beaded curtain clack open.

“Good Brother in Fire,” he heard San’s voice say in disgust, “What is that monstrosity?”

“Lord Byron requested it,” Wooyoung said, sewing a lightning bolt pin to the shoulder. “His wife is a flamingo. It’s equally ridiculous.” 

“I thought you designed the costumes?”

“They had a specific vision they demanded I carry out.”

“Considering he’s on his way to his sleep, I’m not surprised.” He could feel the demon lord walking behind him, looking at the feathery pink costume next to him. A soft laugh escaped San as he touched one of the feathers on the collar “They’re definitely going to be talked about.”

“Are your brothers with you?”

“They’ll be along soon,” he said. “Seonghwa is with YN on a coffee date and Hongjoong is still in the lower circles. I came ahead during a lunch break.”

Wooyoung turned to see him wearing a tan suit with a red tie. The rose and serpent tie pin declared his house right away. When he was younger, Wooyoung wanted to wear the crowned lion of Lucifer, but his mother disagreed. She said only the nobles could wear them, not the common born children. When he grew up, Wooyoung decided to flash it anyway in his subtle ways. Wearing his sigil put him amongst the elite. Today, he wore it from his ear in a dangling earring. 

“I’d hoped to browse the jewelry section when I came in,” said San, “But the place was so packed I didn’t bother. I miss the days when I could walk in here and browse at my leisure.”

“You still can. There will only be a few dozen people in the way.”

“You need to move into a new spot,” he said. “This shop is too small for your clientele.”

“I like my shop, thanks. Maddie gave it to me.”

“Mad Maddie, you mean.”

“If she were here, she’d take out your eye with a sewing needle.”

“She could try,” he sneered. “Where is she anyways? Wouldn’t she be awake by now?”

“She retired,” he said, “And went to live with her kids by the river. She gave me the shop before she went to sleep and told me to keep it.”

“And look at what you’ve done with it.” 

He finished putting on the last gem, then looked over at San. Golden with broad muscular shoulders and short black hair, Lord San is a dreamboat. Wooyoung saw crowds of admirers fawn over him at the arena showings. They cheered and chanted his name, fueling his adrenaline and ego. Him dressing as a Ken doll made more sense than a Barbie. A physique like his shouldn’t be hidden from the world. 

“Do you want to wait for your brothers to start the alterations or go on ahead of them?” Wooyoung asked, already retrieving the three hanger bags from the rack.

“We can start,” San said, loosening his tie. “Hongjoong might be a while and Seonghwa and YN get caught up whenever they’re together.”

He hung up the three bags on a separate rack, and drew out San’s first. “Why Barbie dolls? I thought you’d want to be a mythological god or something otherworldly like that.” 

“It’s unexpected,” he shrugged, removing his jacket. “Nobody’s asked for something modern or creative like that around here. Plus, YN really wants to be a Disco Barbie. She says the rough draft you showed her was fabulous, and she’s super excited. You likely have dozens of other guys asking for deity costumes. ” 

“You have no idea,” he grinned. He did his best not to notice San unbuttoning his shirt. The last thing he needed keeping him behind on work was a hot demon body. “I have six Zeus, four Hades, three Poseidon, three Apollo, a bunch of Aphrodites, Heras, Persephones, and all the rest. It’s tedious, but I try making them different from one another. It’s why I find YN’s work so refreshing. She never wants to be like anyone else. While other women are going to be wearing the usual Greek and Roman costumes, she’ll have an outfit entirely her own.” 

“She loves clothes,” he said. “I don't know why she bothered with a business career. She would’ve made an excellent fashion designer.”

“You don’t get rich quick through clothes.” 

Wooyoung removed the costume he’d designed for San. Surfer Ken only came with a pair of swim trunks, a puka shell necklace, sunglasses and a string bracelet. It was by far the easiest costume he’d made so far. Wooyoung turned around and San stood in nothing but his boxers. A lump formed in his throat at the vision of this god-like demon standing half-naked in his workroom. It reminded him briefly of you when you’d last visited. He found himself staring up and down the man’s broad body without 

“Um, I have your costume here,” he said, forcing himself to look at San’s face.

San walked over and stood close to Wooyoung. “Nice,” he nodded his approval, seeing the palm tree silhouette painted on the bottom and rising up into the thighs of the orange and yellow trunks. “Very nice. It shows a little, but not too much.”

“I thought you might like that. You work on that body all the time; you should show it off as much as you can, right?”

Wooyoung’s insides fluttered when San laughed. “I do all the time,” he smiled.

He pulled on the shorts, and Wooyoung took in his defined muscles and smooth skin. He briefly thought of you and San entangled in his bed like Kyra and Royle. You’d tell him over and over that San was the better lover. You’d make sure he could see it from every angle, showing him how San’s cock split you open in every thrust. Wooyoung might die from that.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“That you and YN did it in here.”

“Yes, we did.”

“How was she?” he asked, fixing the pants around his hips. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it. She’s…different.”

“She said you’re a cuck,” San glanced over at him when he sensed his silence. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody. I think it’s interesting that a demon of pride likes to be degraded. They usually like being in charge and doing the degrading.”

“Um, well…I don’t really know how to explain it,” he said. “I guess I can blame my upbringing for it, but it’s something I’ve always liked.”

San looked him up and down, then turned from the mirror. “Is it just girls or does it apply to guys too?”

“Wha-what do you mean?”

“I mean, can I be your cheating boyfriend or do I have to be the other man for it to work?”

Wooyoung thought about it, unsure how to answer the question. He’d never switched up his fantasy before, exchanging the girlfriend in favor or a boyfriend. “If there’s another guy in the room,” he shrugged. “It feels wrong if you’re my boyfriend and you’re cheating on me with a girl.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind being The Other Guy,” he smirked. He reached for the diamond crown hanging from Wooyoung’s ear, the light brush of his knuckle making Wooyoung gulp. “As long as I got a chance to show you how good I fucked your girlfriend afterwards, I’m more than fine with it.”

“My lord…”

“What? You weren’t so shy with YN. Why am I different?”

“Guys are always different for me,” he admitted sheepishly. “Girls are easy to talk to because I already know what they like, but guys just…I suppose they intimidate me.”

“How so? I think it’d be the opposite since you know what guys like and not what girls like.”

Wooyoung looked over San’s face again. He took in his small eyes and mouth, with his tall nose and sharp jawline. A face carved by gods, certainly. How can he be smooth and cool in front of a face like that? All the blood in his body pumped straight to his groin when San moved in closer. His warmth slowly crept onto Wooyoung’s, building up the heat between them. Eyes heavy with lust, San lifted Wooyoung’s chin when he’d turned away and spoke softly.

“How am I intimidating, Wooyoung?” he asked, a firmness behind the gentleness.

“You’re, you know, hot.”

“So is YN.”

“Yes, but that’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s…”

“You’re more attracted to me,” he finished, moving Wooyoung back into his work table. “That’s why.”

“I-I like girls too.”

“I know, and that’s fine, but you find men harder to flirt with because you like them more,” he said. “This cuck fantasy of yours might even be partly because you’re jealous that I’m fucking her and not you.” 

“Did you come ahead of your brothers just for this?” Wooyoung giggled, unable to keep the heat from filling his cheeks. 

“Maybe,” he smirked. “Maybe I wanted to see how good you fucked my girlfriend.”

“Or you can…” Wooyoung hesitated, trying to hide his growing hardon, “You can show me how you fuck her?” He took it a tentative step further, “I want to see why she keeps going to you when she has me.”

San slipped his hands over his narrow hips, giving a gentle squeeze before bringing him in for a kiss. Wooyoung slumped against the table as the kiss weakened him, easily opening himself up. San’s hands slipped up his sides and around his back, securing him close as their kiss deepened. Wooyoung held onto his bicep, and nearly moaned when it flexed in his hand. With only his trunks on, Wooyoung slid his hands down San’s hard chest and abdomen. His cock throbbed when San’s tongue slipped into his mouth, slowly rolling around it. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He never imagined someone like San would want anything with him. He had the occasional good looking man, but they’re usually pleasure slaves he’d bought for the night, not dukes. 

“You’re just as pretty as she is,” San murmured between kisses, feeling underneath Wooyoung’s shirt. “I could fuck you both all day.”

“Have you done that with her?”

“Often,” he said, feeling up and down his back. “She tells me once she starts, she can’t get enough. She has to keep going until she can’t anymore. Not that I complain,” he reached up to pinch one of his nipples, “I could pound her tight holes for hours.” He moved one hand around to grab Wooyoung’s ass, giving him a delicate squeeze, “And I could do the same to yours.” 

“If that’s what you want,” he said. 

San chuckled, “It is. Why do you think I started fucking your girlfriend, Wooyoung?”

“Because you liked her?”

“Partially,” he started unbuckling Wooyoung’s jeans, “I started seeing her because I wanted you to notice me.”

“What?”

Wooyoung noticed San’s large bulge when the latter tugged down the front of his pants. His mouth watered seeing it poking in his direction, a tiny wet spot appearing at the head. The anticipation bubbled in his lower belly when he drunk in the hands against his crotch. Their fingertips and palms drew closer, making Wooyoung’s cock pulsate. When San slowly tugged down the boxers underneath his jeans, Wooyoung moaned when he stuck his hand inside them.

“I thought if you saw me fucking your girlfriend’s brains out,” San continued, rubbing Wooyoung’s tip with the flat of his palm, “You’d want me to do it to you too.” He wrapped his hand around the shaft, then said, “I thought if you caught me with her in your bed, you’d want to join and I could fuck both of you together. I want to fuck you just as much as her,” he stroked Wooyoung slowly and grinned at his soft groan, “I’ve been dying to play with your cock. Can I do that?” he kissed Wooyoung softly, “Can I play with your cock for a while, Wooyoung? I want to taste it.” He pecked his lips a few times as he pumped him carefully. “I want to suck you off and hear all the pretty sounds you make when I do it. I bet you sound just as lovely as your girlfriend.”

“You can play with it,” Wooyoung whimpered, unable to stay still with the pleasure beaming around inside him, “As long as I can play with yours.” He reached out to the large bulge in between them, hearing San’s deep groan.

“Yes,” he breathed, “Of course you can.”

Wooyoung shuddered at the heat filling his hand. Wooyoung could feel the veins throbbing from the blood pumping through it. Their lips came back together, tongues sliding back over as they fondled one another. He loved how it felt in his hand. He saw the length in every long stroke, and the width in every gentle squeeze. Feeling the slightest bit of stickiness, Wooyoung used it to wet the tip poking from the waistband. He moaned into San’s mouth when he withdrew him from his pants, being relieved of the tightness.

“You have such a nice cock,” San groaned, licking the tips of his fingers to wipe around Wooyoung’s end. “How could she not love this? I know I would, if I were her.”

“I don’t know,” he whined, body fully still as the pleasure mounted. “I thought I had a nice one.”

“You do,” he swiped up some precum and licked it from his hand, “And it tastes delicious. If she won’t suck it, then I’m happy to do it.” He kissed Wooyoung again, moving his hips into his hand as he grew harder, “I’ll take her place any time.” He gave the head a squeeze that made Wooyoung whimper, “I can fuck you. You can fuck me. I’ll be whichever you want, baby. I just want,” he swiped a bead of clean precum from the leaking head, “A mouthful of this.”

Wooyoung moaned as San sucked the drop off his finger. With both of their cocks out, San moved his head away and pressed Wooyoung’s tip to his own. Their cocks touching, it brought on a new sensation that turned him into jelly. He moaned each time San’s thick tip pushed underneath his own, grazing the sensitive wrinkles that drove him crazy. A part of him didn’t want it to stop. He wanted to keep going forever, if possible. When the heat became too much, Wooyoung removed his shirt and tugged down his jeans. San spat between them to add more fluid to the mess forming.

“Upstairs?” 

“Upstairs.”

Before the penthouse, Wooyoung used to live in the apartment above the shop. He still kept all the old furniture up there in case he decided to work overnight. Opening a door hidden by purple curtains, San and Wooyoung kissed and fondled one another up the stairs to the second apartment. When the door closed, Wooyoung brought him over to the large bed by the windows. San laid him on the bed and rested on top of him. Straddling his hips, San continued grinding their cocks together as they kissed. Wooyoung’s entire body suddenly became sensitive. He bit his lower lip once San’s mouth found his nipple, the tongue swirling and flicking the peak before sucking firmly. San groaned into it as Wooyoung’s hands grabbed his pert ass cheeks, starting to roll and spread them. Wooyoung would’ve loved to stay hanging up above the teasing.

“How’s this, sweetheart?” San asked, sitting up to gently rub their ballsacks together. He flashed a grin when Wooyoung squirmed at the delicate feeling. “Is that good?”

“Yes,” he whined, starting to stroke San’s cock again. “You look so hot like this,” he said, “I know why she fucks you so much.”

“Oh yeah?” San chuckled breathily, holding himself up to give Wooyoung more to touch. “That’s what I’ve always wanted to hear.”

He spat on his own cock to slicken Wooyoung’s hand, and continued grinding into him. Wooyoung thought he might cum from that alone. The feeling of San leaking in his hand, his heavy balls pressing to his own, and listening to his wanton moans was enough to bring anyone over the edge. 

“No, no, no, baby,” San moaned, “Not yet. We just started.”

“It f-feels so good though.”

“I know it does,” he cooed, stopping his grinding and laying back down over him. Wooyoung whined when he went back to rocking against him. “But, I need you to be good and hold it in for me. I can be patient; we’ll take it slow.”

San laid down beside him in an inverted position, putting his cock inches from Wooyoung’s mouth and vice versa. Putting one arm between his legs to hold him there, San slipped him fully in his mouth. Wooyoung cried out at the hot mouth and tongue gently massaging his pulsating length; the arm holding him in place started grabbing his ass at the same time. He returned the favor by plunging San deep in his mouth. Salty precum spilled onto his tongue as things started up. He mimicked San’s moves so he received all the pleasure he was giving. It drove him insane. He tasted so much better than he thought he would, and he wanted as much as he could get.

“It tastes so good,” Wooyoung moaned against the throbbing head. “I want more.” 

“You’ll get more, baby boy,” San moaned, licking the head in between. “You’ll get all my cum soon. Just be patient and enjoy my mouth for a bit.”

“I’ve always wanted to taste it,” he whimpered, licking up a string of precum that threatened to come out. “I want to see why she’s always sucking you dry.”

“Then taste it, sweetheart,” he said, giving his ass cheek a squeeze and burying Wooyoung in his throat. Wooyoung moaned around the dick in his mouth once he felt that tightness engulf him. “Take my dick all the way in there and get all the cum you want,” he breathed when he pulled back.

No longer using his hands, San kept pushing Wooyoung to his throat as he used both hands to grope his ass. Wooyoung went ahead and did the same. He loved the slight suffocation that came with deep throating San’s girth. He loved the feeling of the head pushing against his uvula and choking him. San groaned when Wooyoung’s arms wrapped around him to grab his ass. The round cheeks molded to his fingers in every squeeze; he could feel the natural demon-slick starting to leak from him with arousal. It tempted Wooyoung into touching him there, which had San pathetically moaning.

“Touch it,” San said, hardly pulling Wooyoung from his mouth. “Touch it, please.”

Even with drool and precum dripping from his mouth, his cheeks and jaw beginning to burn, Wooyoung slipped a finger into the fluttering entrance. Rigid walls clenched the digit prodding all the way to the rough patch that made San tremble. This did not remain one sided for long. Wooyoung squealed when two fingers slid deep into his ass. The two of them wriggled and thrusted around for as much pleasure as possible. Neither of them could help the feelings coursing through them as they fingered and sucked one another. When San rolled them over with him on top, Wooyoung planted himself properly over San and rocked into his mouth. San continued doing the same, even reaching down to hold Wooyoung’s head by the hair. Right as Wooyoung started shaking from his oncoming orgasm, San pulled away.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” San groaned, sliding from Wooyoung to end up on top of him. “I need you to stay still like your pretty girlfriend does, okay?” he asked hurriedly, slapping his cock over Wooyoung’s leaking hole.

San hooked their legs together and laid down on top of him, pinning him to the bed, as he slid smoothly inside. Wooyoung’s moans elongated and went higher with the thick, long length finally buried in him. San reached between him and the bed for the dick dripping onto the sheets, jerking him in time with his gradual thrusts. Wooyoung, kept down by San’s body, surrendered to the constant waves of pleasure coming at him. The world became drowned out by all the senses being stimulated at once. In a nearby mirror, he saw their bodies pressed together like puzzle pieces, their asses rippling each time they met. He reached down to touch San’s thigh, wanting to hold onto some part of him as the other subjected him to massive amounts of pleasure.

“You look so good, baby,” San groaned in his ear, catching them in the mirror. “Just as pretty as your girlfriend. Her ass jiggles when I fuck her from behind too.” He made a few fast thrusts just to prove it, and Wooyoung nearly came right there. San rolled them onto their sides, lifting Wooyoung’s leg so they faced the mirror. “You take me so well too,” he said, angling it so Wooyoung saw them connected in the mirror, “Look at that: your pretty wet hole stretched around my fat cock. Does it feel good, honey?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung cried, starting to stroke himself as he watched San fuck him. “It feels amazing. Your cock feels so fucking good. Please, don’t stop. I want you to fuck me how you fuck her. Fuck me how you fuck her.”

San obliged. He knelt up, straddling Wooyoung’s thigh and putting his leg over his shoulder, and pushed deep inside. Wooyoung swore his belly bulged with San so deep inside. His eyes rolled back at the mind-numbing feeling. He never had a dick as big as San’s before, and he won’t want another ever again.

“Fuck, it’s deep,” Wooyoung moaned, eyes rolling back. “It’s so fucking deep inside me.” He felt his lower stomach and huffed out a laugh when he felt a bump, “God, that’s really hot.” 

“It is,” San agreed, keeping himself hilt-deep and playing with Wooyoung’s sensitive balls. “I could be up in your guts for ages,” he said, watching his partner contort in the mirror. He smirked seeing Wooyoung slowly spiral deeper into his pleasure. “Such a silly cock slut,” he cooed, giving a few short pumps in and out. “Do you want me to keep going like this?”

“Yes!” 

“We’re going to have to-to do more of this la-later,” San said, looking in the mirror with Wooyoung as he kept going the same pace. “I don’t think I can hold my cum any longer. Your ass is fucking milking it out of me.”

“Like hers?”

“Just like hers, baby. Just…like hers.”

“Can I cum too then?” he pouted, feeling himself standing right on the edge of it. He felt San’s tip pushing deep into him every time, the feeling driving him closer to his orgasm. “Please, please, please.”

“Yes, please. I want my pretty baby to cum all over me.” 

San withdrew from him and Wooyoung rolled onto his back. The two of them stroked themselves to their orgasms. Each of them painted the others’ chest and stomach in white strings and droplets. Wooyoung thought he might linger there forever, enduring a never-ending orgasm for eternity before it finally slowed down. San let out a few more pumps until nothing else dropped out of him. The two of them admired their work on the other, still softly groaning and touching each others’ sides. When San fell onto the bed beside him, something dawned on Wooyoung.

“Your brothers and YN were never going to come, were they?”

San chuckled, “Not at all.”

Wooyoung could help but laugh with him.

“Um, well, I was going to come on my own anyways.”

The two of them looked up to see you standing near the bed. Arms crossed, you did not appear outraged at the sight before you, nor did you seem aroused. San sat up, groaning from the soreness in his muscles, and looked over at you. 

“Darling, you’re here.”

“I am, and you’re here too,” you said, trying not to smile. “You know, when I told you about me and Wooyoung, it wasn’t a suggestion to screw him without me.” 

“Hey, I came to see my costume,” San said in defense. 

“His outfit needed alterations,” said Wooyoung, slowly coming down from the high. “I was taking his measurements, and you know how that is. One minute you’re taking in his leg measurements, and the next his dick is in your mouth. It’s a lot.” He shut his eyes as he said, “You’re the one who told your boyfriend that I like cuckolding.” 

“I didn’t think he’d steal my idea,” you replied. 

“Your idea?” 

“Yeah, I was going to insist you deliver the costumes yourself and then make my proposition,” you said, “But it appears San went ahead of me.”

“I didn’t plan for it to go how it did,” San glanced over to him with a smile, “But I’m so glad it did.” He gave Wooyoung a soft kiss that could’ve reignited everything in an instant. 

“Well, when you two are done, can you help me decide between two mask designs?” you asked Wooyoung. “I drew up some and want your opinion on them.”

“Alright, I’ll give them a look.”

“Thanks.” 

San flopped back on the bed as you went back downstairs, a soft laugh escaping him. “She’s cute.”

“You really couldn’t wait, huh?”

“Have you seen yourself, Wooyoung? I wouldn’t have waited for anything.” 

“Fucking incubi,” Wooyoung laughed, shaking his head. “Not that I’m complaining, but I did hope for a second round.”

“There will be a second round,” he assured him with a smile. “You can count on that.”

Wooyoung grinned as he watched the demon lord get out of bed and head for the door. Light headed and dazed, he could hardly focus on anything else for a few minutes. His entire body felt rearranged inside and out. 

He'd definitely be making that delivery. 

***

A/N: I hope you guys really liked this side story for Wooyoung. I sort of let this one go where it wanted, and it landed in some woosan sex lol I do have parts of the regular story coming up, but I have so many side stuff that won't have much YN in it that I still wanted to share them. Reblog and like loves <3

[shybluebirdninja]

Claw Machine Master

Summary: Logan becomes obsessed with winning you a prize at the claw machine, but after burning through a hundred bucks and failing miserably, he uses his actual claws to grab the toy, setting off alarms. “Babe, I won, now run!”

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Gf!Human-reader Genre              : Fluff

You and Logan stroll through the arcade, the air buzzing with the sounds of laughter, beeping machines, and the smell of buttery popcorn. It’s one of those rare days where he’s not off saving the world or being a total grump. Instead, he’s decided to channel his inner child, and honestly, it’s hilarious watching this grizzly mutant navigate through a world of flashing lights and pastel-colored prizes.

“Hey, babe, check it out!” he shouts, pointing dramatically at a claw machine that’s blaring “Pick Me! Pick Me!” like a desperate kid at a birthday party. Inside, you see a plush unicorn, all sparkly and cute. It’s practically begging to be won.

“Logan, don’t,” you warn, laughing. “Remember the last time you tried to win me something? You ended up breaking the machine.”

“Yeah, but that was a fluke! This time will be different,” he insists, all pumped up and ready to go. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, and you know that if he goes in, he’s gonna give it everything he’s got.

“Alright, but I’m standing back. I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime,” you tease.

He throws you a playful glare. “Pfft. How hard can it be? It’s just a claw.”

He approaches the machine like it’s a life-or-death situation. The little screen flashes “Insert Coins,” and Logan pops in a couple of bucks like he’s preparing for war. He adjusts his stance, rolling his shoulders back as if he’s about to take on a Sentinal. You stifle a laugh, taking a step back to observe.

“Alright, watch and learn, honey,” he says, smirking at you. “Claw Machine Master at work.”

The first attempt? A total flop. The claw barely grazes the unicorn before plummeting back down like a rock. Logan’s jaw tightens, his competitive side kicking in. “Okay, that was a warm-up. Just getting the feel for it.”

“Sure, let’s call it that,” you giggle, arms crossed, enjoying the show.

After another few rounds—and about fifty bucks later—he’s starting to get frustrated. “This damn thing is rigged! I swear it’s cheating!” he growls, glaring at the machine as if it just insulted him.

“Or maybe you just suck at claw machines,” you quip. “You’re a master at literally everything else, Logan, but this? Not so much.”

He throws you a playful glare. “Alright, smartass, you think you can do better? Get in there and try!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Nah, I’ll let you have this one. It’s more fun watching you lose your mind over a stuffed toy.”

With a snort, he rolls his eyes and goes back for another attempt. After burning through more cash, it’s clear that this unicorn is tougher than any enemy he’s faced. “Babe, I’m gonna win you this prize if it kills me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t! I don’t want you to end up in the emergency room because of a stuffed animal!”

Finally, he steps back, looking completely defeated. You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “This isn’t over!” he declares, his voice rising like a battle cry. “I’ll get that unicorn if it’s the last thing I do.”

Suddenly, you see that wicked spark in his eye, the one that usually means he’s concocting something insane. “What are you thinking?” you ask, half-excited and half-terrified.

“Watch this,” he smirks, and before you can even process what’s happening, he unsheathes his claws, slicing through the air with a snikt that makes everyone turn to stare.

“Logan, no! Don’t you dare!” you shout, but it’s too late. He lunges at the claw machine and, with surgical precision, he reaches into the glass case.

“Babe, I won! Now run!” he yells, grabbing the unicorn as the machine starts blaring alarms like it’s the end of the world.

You grab his arm, yanking him away from the scene of chaos. “You crazy son of a—let’s get out of here!”

Logan, still holding the plush toy like a trophy, bursts out laughing, running like a madman with you right beside him. “I can’t believe I just did that! I’m like the Robin Hood of claw machines!”

“More like the criminal of claw machines!” you shout, laughing uncontrollably as you dart through the arcade, dodging other players and workers who are now chasing after you both.

As you reach the exit, Logan pulls you into a side alley, still holding the unicorn like a proud parent. “That was wild! Did you see their faces?”

You’re breathless, still giggling as you lean against the wall. “You just committed arcade robbery! And for a stuffed toy!”

He shrugs, grinning widely. “It’s worth it for you, babe. Plus, look at this thing! It’s adorable!”

“Logan, I love it, but next time, maybe let’s just buy a keychain?” you suggest, still trying to catch your breath.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughs, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close. “Next adventure, babe. We’ll get matching unicorns or something.”

[manicplank]

Hi there, if you are still taking request on what the Pizza Tower crew would do on an arcade? (Like the one with the claw machines, video game councils, etc.)

Arcade preferences

Peppino: DDR or any game related to dancing/rhythm. Old man can MOVE!!!

Gustavo: Pinball and skee ball. He's unnervingly good at pinball. He holds the high score. Nobody can beat him.

Mr. Stick: You know all those money/coin related games? The ones that are just scams? Yeah, he's always trying to win at those (he always loses).

Pepperman: Likes the strength related games. Always trying to show off. The hammer thing (where you hit the bell), the punching bag game, etc.

The Vigilante: Not the biggest fan of arcades, but he LOVES the shooter games. He doesn't care if it's zombies or war related. He's good with a gun.

The Noise: ALL OF THEM, especially Guitar Hero. He will play everything several times until he's finally tired out. Wins tons of tickets and tries to get all the big prizes.

Noisette: She likes the claw machines and the arcade games. She always wins the claw machine. Every. Single. Time. She's a master at it.

Fake Peppino: He likes all of the games! He likes the classics especially. Anything with lights and buttons. He's also pretty good at rhythm games. He can cheat the claw machines by simply stretching his arm into it and grabbing whatever plus he wants.

Pizzahead: He loves the classic games. All the vintage ones. It doesn't matter if they're popular or famous. He's very good at them. He holds the high score on most of them (except for pinball).

Pillar John: Another vintage/classic lover. He has mild difficulty pressing those tiny buttons, but he manages. He also likes to one-up Pepperman by beating him in the strength games.

Gerome: He likes the driving games. He's pretty good at them, too, considering most of them are rigged or modified.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

one of these nights - Dean Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3. masterlist.

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Reader (vaguely post-s3) with some Sam Winchester & Reader.

Tags/Warnings: friends-to-lovers, Fluff then Angst then Smut, Sex on/in the Impala, implied/technical cheating, drinking, Reader is a Hunter.

Words: 20k.

Notes: a lovely little commission for the lovely lacilou on tumblr. this was my first shot at writing a dean-insert (as a hardcore samgirl), which was an absolute blast!! hope u enjoy!!

Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

All your life, you’d never been keen on cliques. But there’s a certain magic in rolling up to a small-town Massachusett dive with yours.

It’s a little funny, calling Sam and Dean your clique. You know that, yet it’s true. You breeze inside the bar like the most popular kids in school, slow-mo strutting down the hall in the movies. Even with them behind you, you can picture it in your head on film: Dean’s jacket swinging with his saunter, Sam’s hair falling in his face, your jewelry swishing at your neckline. Tonight is already a movie. The thud of your boots together makes this pleasant rhythm, parting the Friday night crowd around the three of you, and you lead the boys to the counter with a sense that today has been perfect. The hunt you’d just spent three weeks on had been tied up with the prettiest, cleanest bow. No casualties. No scrapes that couldn’t be fixed with some whiskey and a bandage. Dean is snickering at his joke, and you and Sam are pretending it’s not as funny as it actually is. Things are perfect-perfect.

Even with your two gigantoids as buffers, the bar you’d picked to commemorate a hunt well done is packed to the brim. You gather around the only empty stool at the bar to get the bartender’s attention, and as you wait, you manage to worm your wallet free from your pockets with only a little elbowing. After so long the boys have zero mind for personal space. It’s kind of cute.

“I’ll cover the tab tonight, boys. Call it an early Halloween present,” you beam, and over your shoulder Dean whistles.

“Damn,” he says, “you really are in a good mood.”

You turn your grin on Dean, wiggling your wallet at him so the coins inside rattle like a tambourine. “We’re celebrating! And you wanna know how I know?”

Another group of people squeezes through the crowd behind you, bumping Dean even further into your personal bubble. He tries to be subtle about it, gliding in like an air-hockey puck, but you can tell that he lets the momentum carry him a little further than it needs to. If you brought it up he’d just explain it away as a product of how damn loud it is in here, _____, you can’t fault a guy for having shit hearing! But you know it’s on purpose. Tonight is good for so many reasons, but the first is Dean being relaxed enough to do that. To walk that line with you.

“How do you know?” He asks below the roaring bar chatter. Dean does have shit hearing, since he’s spent so many years behind a pistol, so he tips his face toward your cheek to make out your voice. A wave of gasoline and aftershave floods your senses.

You share a conspiratory look with him, side-eyeing Sam and hiding your smirk behind your hand. “‘Kid told me he plans to have two beers instead of one.”

Dean lights up, because while teasing Sam is fun, it’s ten times funnier when you both gang up on him. “Two? Break out the balloons,” he snickers, and drops a hand on your back to lean past you. There, he drawls at his brother, “You sure you can handle partying with the big kids, Sam? Me and _____ are kind of professional post-hunt drinkers…”

You pump your fist in solidarity because, hell yeah, what a healthy coping mechanism. Over a decade of training has made you a master of the Winchester sense of humor, so just this kills Sam a little—he’s in a ridiculously good mood too, and you can tell because he’s being even more of a tight-ass than usual.

“Cut that ‘kid’ shit out and maybe I’ll throw in some jäger,” Sam grumbles. Or, he tries to, but he’s still smiling to himself.

Again, you share a look with Dean that goes over Sam’s head (metaphorically, of course). Two beers and some jäger in him could end in only one way: you and Dean dragging over two hundred pounds of giggly man-boy the three blocks to your motel. Dean makes a face like that’s the last way he wants to end tonight, but you know from experience that being carried home piss-drunk is way more fun than it sounds. For you, at least.

Last time, you’d been laughing too hard for either brother to keep you on your feet. It was great. Whenever you complained about something, one of your best friends in the whole world appeared to magic the problem away. You were laughing too hard to walk? Dean scooped you up and carried you all the way to the Impala. Your heels were murdering your ankles? Sam wiggled them off you, trailing behind you and Dean with them slung over his shoulder. You fell asleep to the soft jostle of Dean’s walk and the low timbre of his voice humming Folsom Prison Blues. Sometimes you still caught yourself singing it when you got ready for bed.

“Hold on—that table’s opening up. I’m gonna steal it for us,” Sam notices. He slaps Dean on the shoulder as he goes, “Order for me.” Realizing the troublemaker he’d just handed that responsibility to, Sam wheels back, and asks you instead. “Actually, _____, can you—?”

You raise a hand before he can finish. “The cheapest pale ale they have, I know. Now, go, before we’re forced to sit on the pavement outside all night.”

Sam gives you this trusting nod that’s just golden, because the second he’s gone you twist to Dean, your partner in crime, and squint in thought. “...So. You think he’ll hate the peach daiquiris or the malibu cocktails more?”

The smile that hasn’t left Dean’s face once since you walked in only grows. You feel the hand on your back loop around to your waist, squeezing you against his warm side in appraisal. “God,” he sighs, wistful, “you’re my brand of evil genius, you know that?”

You sputter out a laugh instead of something clever, because, well. When Sam is in a good mood, he digs his heels in and sasses back to everything you say. When Dean is in a good mood, he squeezes the bare skin where your jeans meet your shirt, carries you home, and gazes at you with big glittery eyes and rumbles, I hear the train a-comin', it's rolling 'round the bend…

Apparently, you do about the same thing on your good days too. Gliding into him with that same air-hockey puck subtlety, you squeeze him around the back, asking in your sweetest voice, “Can you go see how many songs are in the jukebox’s play queue for me? I wanna dance to—”

“I know what song you want to dance to,” Dean smugly finishes your thought, so certain of your preferences that your heart does a little jig. “You know what d—?”

“—yeah, I know what drink you want,” you finish for him, just like he had for you.

Dean’s face glitters with open fondness for just an instant, then disappears into the constant flux of people, leaving you to suck down the gasoline-aftershave-leather fog that follows him. You can still feel the friendly pinch he’d given your waist by the time your drinks arrive, the ache of it fading into your skin. The leftover adrenaline from your accomplished hunt was still pounding through your system, so the haze of Dean's affection layered on top has you skipping back to your table.

You can taste it mingling with the cigar smoke in the air—something’s different with Dean tonight. Him and you. Sam had noticed, too, because after he accepts his peach daiquiri with an unphased huff, he waits to speak until he’s safely hidden behind his laptop’s screen.

“That was a lot of touching up there,” he says, as if he’s talking about the weather.

You take the same tone, shrugging like he’s pointed out it’s gonna rain later. “S’ been a good week, Sammy.”

Any attempt to come across as tame is useless. You’re an open book. A part of you wishes you were less obvious, but Dean’s pinch still tingles in your side and the left side of your body is alive with phantom leather jacket sensations. Shit.

“Your hands are shaking.” His brows bounce once at you over the article he’s reading.

You have nothing smart to say at this, and instead choose to scoop up your own daiquiri and clink it against his. Distraction tactic. Sam cheerses with you, but doesn’t drink from his glass, clunking it down next to him and simmering with you in your crush-pumped silence. He gets this particular look on his face when it comes to you and Dean. It’s squinty, knowing, and not an inch different from when he was a little kid. You remember the cool girlfriend that your own older brother had had in high school, and what your relationship with her had looked like. She was awesome, and every day you prayed she never left. Sam has always had that same quiet hope in his eyes—please stick around forever and take care of my dumbass brother. I’ll pay you.

Many, many times, too many times to count, the swirling threads of your feelings and Dean’s had crossed, but not once had they ever knotted together permanently. He would swing into your life and then swing out. You would live in his for a little while, threads looping and weaving, but nothing ever came of it. Putting it into terms more complicated than that usually made your chest ache like a rail spike had been driven through it. Tonight is one of those nights where the ache feels good, where loving Dean is a special secret you can whisper behind your hand to anyone you want.

Words swim in your head. There is no easy way to explain to Dean’s kid brother that Dean is the best man in this room and this world, that he bleeds goodness like other men bleed mud, that he’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Sam would probably roll his eyes. You are rolling your eyes at yourself. But on the up-and-down rollercoaster of your relationship, these last few months have been the strongest climb to the top yet. Maybe that means you’re going to hit a big drop. You’re a hopeful person, though, so you can’t help but read Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror differently. This is it. He’s not looking at the lonely girls by the bar or the pretty ones on the dancefloor. His eyes are on you.

Blinking yourself out of your head, you putter out the lamest version of your buzzing thoughts.

“I get the feeling tonight’s different,” you say, talking into your glass and avoiding Sam’s laser-focused gaze. On instinct, you stare at the vague clump in the crowd where Dean should be. “All these months of…” you gesture broadly, “I think… something could happen.”

Sam pulls a face. “Ew.”

You kick him under the table. “Shut up,” you laugh, “I’m being serious, dude. Dean—”

…appears right beside you. In your mind’s eye, he emerges from the crowd bleeding with easy cheer, glistening gold at the edges in the bar light. “You rang?” he says. “Got your song going for you. Should be the next one.”

Dean slinks out of his jacket like a tomcat, all casual slyness, and hip-checks you when he slides into your half of the booth. It’s practical—he would have to squeeze, sitting by Sam. With you, Dean has all the room in the world to manspread his thigh against yours and toss his arm over the back of the seat behind you. The flesh of his arm never actually makes contact with the back of your neck, but it could. He survived off those little almosts.

Just as the three of you get settled into conversation, the last song dies out, swaying into the first bluesy chords of One of These Nights by the Eagles. The second that first brassy note plucks off the lead guitar, a match sparks in your chest. Dean spins to catch your eye, gleaming with excitement. The old urge to get up and conquer the dancefloor becomes irresistible. You can still feel your last case in your weary bones a bit, but there’s a certain grime to hunting that can only be scrubbed off by a good time. Dean knows this, too, so you’re led by the wrist out of the booth before the lyrics even start. He steals a sip of peach daiquiri and then you’re off for the open space between the tables. You’re laughing so hard your cheeks ache.

You’re chased by Sam’s playful shout. “Don’t have too much fun out there!”

The race to the lyrics is literal. You know there’s only a few seconds of interlude before they start, and Dean, after decades of being your one and only dance partner, knows precisely when they kick in. One of you decides that you must be in the middle of the sparse crowd the second Don Henley starts singing, and the other accepts this without question. You end up laughing, scrambling, and shoving a couple of people to get there, but god—the supporting piano lands and the bass struts and the lead guitar just stings. Like always. You break through into a clearing at the heart of the bar’s dancefloor, and for a second all you can see is Dean. He skids to a stop in his boots and laughs his ass off the whole time, stumbling inwards and making a mad dash to get your hands in his. His grin shines and his eyes crinkle with glee. The fire and anguish from your earlier hunt is gone. Now it’s just him, as you’ve always remembered him.

“One of these nights…” you laugh to each other. With your hands scooped in his, Dean starts funnily salsaing you back and forth with him to the beat, which instantly splits your sides. You’re laughing too hard to sing with him, “One of these crazy old nights…”

Through giggles, you dryly comment, “Excellent starting move.”

“Why thank you,” Dean replies.

You shift his salsa dancing around in a circle, then follow the spin all the way out, wing-span wide and only one hand tethered to Dean’s. With the ease of practice, he whirls you back in. Each move is unrehearsed and mostly random, but you and Dean have listened to this song in particular at least a hundred times, and danced to it just as much. Some beats of it you can’t help repeating from other nights spent dancing in bars. For example:

You’re wrapped in one of his arms, hand still held, while Dean’s other seamlessly lands on your waist on time with the next line. “We’re gonna find out, pretty mama,” he drawls with purpose, leaning in close enough to make your neck tickle, “what turns onnn your lights…”

He does this every time. Every time, it makes your chest tight with this shivery warmth you just can’t shake.

Dean used to be pretty shit at dancing, but after a hundred bars with a hundred names you’ve forgotten, it’s the one piece of him that you’ve pried loose from John’s influence. Sam isn’t looking and nobody knows who the two of you are. For once, Dean lets loose. He slides his hands down your arms and hooks your fingers in his, calloused and thick, rocking you back and forth with the rhythm. You think to yourself that Dean would make a great musician. He keeps time with ease, falling into a relaxed four-step (you’re pretty sure that’s what it’s called) and losing himself in the words. The swinging openness of it makes him look just gorgeous. Dean’s cheeks are rosy with exertion, the hollow of his throat shines with sweat, and he never looks away from you even once.

Every other day of hunting season, Dean… compartmentalizes. He takes the fever the two of you feel now and packs it down where nobody can find it. You see those feelings shake loose from their reigns every once in a while, but there’s only one time he ever relinquishes his control over them out in the open: here, cupping your lower back and crooning lyrics.

“...been searchin’ for the daughter of the devil himself,” he murmurs, throwing you a playful eye-roll at the symbolism you’re both tired of living. “I’ve been searchin’ for an angel in white…”

You drop a wrist over Dean’s shoulder and he rocks in close, tilting back and forth on his feet. Together, you mumble along with Don Henley and sway in a cozy circle. You take the rare opportunity to relish how he feels pressed against you. Saying anything will spoil the magic, so you just let it wash over you, purposefully coasting away from the few rational thoughts your brain is producing.

It’s unfair that he feels the way he does—and you know Dean does, he’s told you and you’ve told him and it’s all been laid out before—and still strings you along like this. You know. You should be pissed at him every time you think about it. But it’s Dean, and having a piece of him you don’t see is better than having none of him at all.

“...One of these nightssss…”

The Eagles eventually seep into another band’s song, which you assume is your signal to quit. Your vision loses its luster and the glittering lights of the world dim back to normal. Dean will have his one lucky dance with you, then, since you’re a bunch of old people, you’ll retire to your table and shoot the breeze until someone calls it a night. That’s how this always goes.

You pull your cheek from where you’d laid it against his shirt. It takes you a bit to put your thoughts into words, so you’re slow to assume, “Wanna get back to our drinks?”

When you meet eyes, Dean’s are soft, and he smiles with this quiet pleasure roving all over his face. Dimly, you register that Burnin’ For You by Blue Oyster Cult is chiming through the bar now, but. He runs his hands down your arms—sort of planting you in place, like he wants to keep you here with him. Your whole body zings with millions of little electric pulses that pump into your head like a fog too thick to see through. More than anything, you want to stay too.

Around you, the dancefloor is alive with people. But Dean has a habit of making you feel cinematic, so you can almost see how the extras fizz into the background as the camera settles on you and him alone. The bar lights hang overhead, hazy and warm. Your soundtrack is lively and familiar. The moment hangs… neither of you wants to give it up.

“Yeah. Why don’t we, uh,” he clears his throat, “grab a few sips and then head back here, huh?”

Suspended in place by the pound of your own heart, you slide your palms off his chest and put on your slyest grin. “Dancing is way more fun when you’re tipsy.”

Dean slips on a smile of his own, then turns to lead the way out of the crowd. For just an instant you feel like you can’t get your feet off the floor, and you watch him go, head spinning. Deep down, you worried that you might’ve been pushing your enthusiasm to its limit thinking tonight was the night. For the last decade of your life, you’d been waiting on Dean. But something really is different now, because, true to his word, Dean snags a few sips of his drink with you and then you’re back out on the dance floor.

The next few songs fly by. Everything is Dean. The heavy thump of boots on the worn-smooth floor, the growing buzz of alcohol in your system. You’re at the center of his stage, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. If anybody but you came up and waved a hand in his face, you doubted Dean would even notice. You talk about your favorite albums and he laughs at every joke you make, giving you that big-eyed, pirate-smile Dean Winchester look that melts your insides. His eyes are on you.

You swim your way through Double Vision by Foreigner, you on lead air-guitar and Dean supporting with some seriously impressive air-drums. Neither of you consider yourselves professional singers or anything, but there’s a moment in the chorus underneath all the noise where you swear you and Dean harmonize. All the rowdy guitar and drum-playing smooths into The Police’s Roxanne. Your face is immediately sizzling hot the second you hear the starting chords, since every time, without fail, Dean pulls out all the stops to dramatically croon the song to you. The last time it’d come on the radio, he’d chased you all over Bobby’s house, serenading you with a beer bottle microphone. He does it this time too. When you laugh and squirm away, he finds your wrists and guides you back into him, palms everywhere, making kissy faces and everything.

You suppress the urge to seek revenge and huff, “You don’t even know what this song is about, do you?”

Dean snorts, but his eye contact with you is purposeful. “Course’ I do. S’ about a guy who’s so into his girl that he doesn’t want to share her with anybody else.”

Instead of having an apt response for that, you internally shrivel up into a ball and lose any fire left in you. Dean, satisfied he’s shut you up, noses your ear and sings, “...Wouldn’t talk down to ya… I have t’ tell ya just how I feel, I won’t share you with another boy…”

The mushy impression he’s doing of Sting fails pretty quickly, so Dean softens into his own voice. For the millionth time tonight, you’ve found yourself with your arms around his neck and his face hovering around yours. If you mention it, Dean will drop everything and run. You know that. So you don’t sing that particular song with him. Allowing him to sing it to you is much sweeter, anyway, and the slower the music gets the closer you’re allowed to be.

And boy, every guy in the room must be aiming to get a slow dance with his girl, because soon the steady flow of rock n’ roll on the jukebox drizzles into Elvis and The Temptations. You joke about this to Dean, giving him a small out. Just in case.

“You hate mushy music,” you tell him, even if you both know that’s not exactly true.

Dean’s warm palms coast over your waist and you draw your nails across the flannel on his back, soaking each other up. A memory pierces your train of thought in a hot flash. You’d seen Dean dance with other girls like this, hands all over, seeking. But tonight they rest on your hips or hook through your belt loops without intention. Dean’s just here, and he wants you here too. For now, you’re his first choice for who he’s spending his time with tonight.

He doesn’t take the out you gave him.

“S’ not all bad,” Dean shrugs under your hands. “...I like this song.”

It’s Elvis’s Love Me, which effectively scrubs the dancefloor of any non-couples. Besides you and Dean, that is. This fact hangs in the air, supercharged, but neither of you mentions it. Dean draws you into him and you slide eagerly into his hold, your head under his chin. A few other pairs skip out onto the floor and take up space beside you. Soon, the molecule of space left between you and Dean disappears. You’re pretty sure if a few atoms went missing from the universe something crazy would happen, like a nuclear explosion, and that’s exactly what occurs in your belly. Dean sways with you like he’s in love with you, like it’s a secret everyone can see. If anyone in the bar glanced over at the two of you now, you know exactly what they’d think.

The best part of this was that Dean doesn’t end it after two dances, three dances, or four. You go all night like that, shittily waltzing to love songs and grooving along to faster ones. He had an opportunity to escape every time you took a trip to throw back your drinks. But if it crosses Dean’s mind at all, he never, ever takes it. One of you starts talking then neither of you can stop. Almost three hours later, you’re halfway through Just What I Needed and a street racing story that never fails to blow Dean’s mind, when your hundredth round of drinks runs dry. Since you’re both past tipsy now, it’s unanimously decided that there’s more work to be done.

“S’ a good night,” Dean tells you, beaming, “we can do another round, right?”

“Hell yeah,” you shrug, and raise your empty glass, “Here’s to alcohol poisoning, baby.”

“Yeah,” Dean echoes, almost slurring. “Baby.”

You take his empty glass, too, and Dean tips back toward your table to bother his brother. Both times you glance back Dean is following you with his eyes. It’s like hearing scratching in your attic and walking through cold spots for months, then suddenly seeing a full apparition right in your living room. Bobby claimed Dean had perfected the art of admiring you from afar, but you’d always figured he was exaggerating. Instead of chasing the ghost of one of his big-eyed stares, you actually see it first-hand—the big-eyed stare. Dean blinks prettily at you over his shoulder, then sways back toward Sam, unembarrassed and flushed a happy drinker’s red. In the flesh. Wow.

You’re so distracted you almost skip into two patrons, so you start watching where you’re going and add a few more drinks to your tab. While you’re waiting on them, you rock on your heels, brimming with buzzing energy. Years and years of buildup and something might finally happen. The prospect is so sweet that you giddily dance in place, bobbing to your own content music. The bartender gives you a funny, amused look and so do the people you squeeze past to reach him, but you ignore them all, scooping up your drinks and floating back to the table. Your grin is so bright that it makes your cheeks ache.

“Alright, gentlemen, I crossed two deserts to get these drinks, so you better—”

It’s just Sam at your table, looking sheepish.

You squint at him. Sheepish. Why is he sheepish? You set down your glass and Sam’s, then awkwardly release Dean’s beer from where it’d been trapped between your elbow and your ribs. The corner where Sam has shoved all your empty drinks has since expanded—there are at least five more new drinks there, completely outside the realm of anything you know Sam or Dean would order.

You stand. “Damn. Who ordered these?”

Sam stiffly brushed the hair from his face. “Um… a table in the corner sent em’ over. As a gift.”

“Free drinks? Really? That rocks,” you brighten.

Sam was avoiding the eyes of someone at said table, so you turn to intercept the stares and instantly feel the cloud nine you’re floating on drop out from under you.

“...Dean’s over there thanking them,” he clarified.

It’s a big group of women. Your reasonable-self could follow the logic: Dean and Sam were pretty, the women had noticed they were pretty, and then bought them drinks for being pretty. Your reasonable self would pull up a chair and toast to those women. The Winchester spell made everyone want to give them stuff for just being gorgeous and alive, and though you weren’t a Winchester, you reaped the rewards just as often. Sam’s puppy look paid the rent, and more than once Dean’s dazzling smile had won your way into concerts and r-rated movies. You should’ve been stoked.

If you were completely sober you’d probably put together that it was a bachelorette party, but all you see is your Dean, center stage among them and putting on a show. Even drunk he does a convincing performance of a “modeling agent” passing out his card. Cards. To all of them. The booth of girls giggle and lean closer, all swaying in the direction of Dean’s sly grin like snakes to a snake-charmer. A swath of mothy bitterness starts to eat holes into your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Sam mourns. He says it with so much genuine remorse that you realize how crushed you must look—and wow, isn’t that an embarrassing cherry to top this sundae off. They’re just girls. It’s just talking. Still, Sam tells you, “I tried to stop him.”

“So have I,” you answer, bitterly.

The hours of dancing suddenly burn in your legs. You steady a hand on the table to slide into your seat, but there are so many glasses that it feels too full to occupy, and Sam noisily scuffling them out of your way doesn’t help your raw ears. Resigned, you shove into your side of the booth and tell yourself that you’re overreacting. Thanking people (a group of women) for sending over free drinks (because Dean’s too pretty for his own good) is perfectly normal (to non-jealous people, at least). Because you’re not at all a resentful person, you slide over the closest glass and choke it down.

Sam raises both brows. “Maybe you should slow down a bit. Unless you want one of us to carry you home—?”

You pull your glare away from the other side of the bar and focus it on the table, answering Sam’s question for him.

“Right,” he realizes, “I can go and—”

You’re already shaking your head. “Don’t. Let’s see how long it takes ‘im.”

As it turns out, drunk Dean is an incredibly social butterfly. For the first ten minutes he’s engrossed in his conversation, you aimlessly stir your drink and dodge Sam’s glances. Fifteen and you’re glued to your seat. Twenty and Dean still isn’t back, a handful of songs you know he’d kill to dance to coming and going. Past that you’re spaced out too far to care, and have failed to not let your mood be killed. The neon electricity that’d been pumping through your system all night is cold and lifeless. On top of that, you’re furious with yourself for staking all your hopes and feelings on a premise so stupid, for trusting Dean. Again. You know you’re drunker than you want to admit, but this nasty swirling bitterness burning in your stomach isn’t alcohol. You sigh into your half-finished drink. This was exactly what happened last time.

Since you’re already feeling sorry for yourself, you punish your naivety by stealing glances at Dean’s table. In the half an hour he’s been gone, he’s taken a seat at their booth, cozied up to the woman closest to him, and captivated each of them with a story. You can tell which one from across the bar. With five sets of happy eyes feasting on him, he puts on his best smolder and gestures suavely with his hands—recounting the time he heroically pulled some civilians from a burning building last year. You know he doesn’t tell them it was for a hunt. You wonder if he mentions you being there at all, or leaves out the part about you hauling him from the fire in the end.

Against your better judgment, you lift your eyes from the hole you’d bored into the table and stare at Dean’s profile until your vision blurs. Please, please just look at me again, you pray with all the faith you have left.

…It looks like you’ve misplaced it. Dean stays at their table for another insufferable ten minutes. After all, pushing you away has always come easier to him than dancing.

Ready for Love by Bad Company plays next. Your mind apparently has a bone to pick with you too, because just hearing the song drops you back into the motel room you and Dean had shared in Tulsa years ago. Jim—your father—had passed that summer, speared by the same thing you’d been hunting. Sam was at school. It’d just been Dean and whatever feeble parts of you that’d survived losing your dad. For weeks, you tortured yourself chasing his killer and tortured Dean as stress relief. You were truly rotten to him then. He should’ve left you in Tulsa, but he’d kept you standing and fed til’ the hunt was long over. He endured every fight you picked and every apathetic apology. Nothing could kill his instinct to nurture, not even your grief, and you came out of the ordeal with Dean’s warm hand brushing your hair from your face. You loved Sam, but you missed the days when he was at school sometimes. Only then could Dean open his stitches and let his inner sweetness bleed out. The night you killed the thing that’d taken your dad from you, Dean had carried you home, washed the blood from your hair, and sang that song until you were safe and half-asleep in his arms.

You’re strong, he’d told you. Stronger than me. Stronger than your dad. You’ll get through this, easy.

Paul Rodgers starts to sing. The woman closest to Dean snuggles in to ask him a question, brushing her nails down the back of his neck. He tilts his head toward hers to listen, and whatever she says makes him turn the blatant flirtiness in his grin to 100%. Her shiny dark hair rolls down her back in perfect spirals, and the swish of it around her neck as she stands from her chair, blushing giddily, brands behind your eyes. Dean stands too.

Your stomach drops. She wiggles her fingers for him to take, and Dean, the lottery winner, follows her onto the dancefloor.

That’s about when you should force yourself to stop watching. But you’ve never had the keenest sense of self-preservation, so you keep stealing glances until your stomach is in knots—until this very lucky girl wraps her arms around Dean’s neck and summons enough liquid courage to kiss him.

Dean kisses back.

You sit there until your throat burns with stifled tears. It doesn’t take long for you to notice Sam looking at you, and when you do your whole body instantly flares with dark embarrassment that writhes up your legs like snakes. You barely have to guess what he’ll do next. He stews on the pitiful sight of you alone on the other side of the bench for another beat, then shoves himself to his feet and slams his laptop shut—and it’s nice, having somebody go through all these motions of defending you, but you don’t need it from Sam. You don’t need it from anybody.

“Don’t,” you warn him. “Don’t. ‘Only make it worse.”

“I know what he’s doing,” Sam starts, lip curled in disbelief. He’s disappointed in his brother. “Dean’s—testing you. Seeing if you’ll stick around. But you’ve more than proved you will, even when he pulls this shit, so I don’t see why you’ve gotta—”

“He’s drunk and stupid,” you cut him off. “We both are. I’m gonna let it go, n’ so are you.”

Sam stills, one unsatisfied hand on the tabletop. “...If I just talk to him—”

“Fucking don’t,” you tell him, and wow, you’re a mean drunk all of a sudden, huh? Pressing your fingertips against your eyelids does nothing to make the world stop tilting. Wilting, you pull your hands from your face and try not to burst into tears. “Sorry. Sorry. M’ not upset with you. M’ not upset with anybody.” Pathetically, you beg, “C’n we just go home?”

Sam gives you an uneasy nod. “Sure thing. I’ll grab Dean and pay our tab.”

Well, shit. Miserable as you are, you did promise to pay for drinks. A night of fun celebratory drinks, to be exact, which had gone completely sideways instead. Great. Sam hastily packs up his bag like he can escape before you remember, but you send him off with a wad of your own bills so he doesn’t go broke feeling bad for you.

Since waiting for him and Dean out on the curb sounds stupid, you choke out, “Bathroom,” and go hide there to dust off your pride.

God, does a thin, shitty motel mattress sound gorgeous right now. On shaking fawn legs, you bruise your way out of the booth and through the crowd, silently hoping that a loose elbow from a rowdy passerby knocks you out cold. Unfortunately, you barrel into the women’s restroom still conscious. It’s mostly empty too, so you’re free to meet your reflection without courage.

When Dean had given his yes for your second dance, you’d imagined this moment. After dancing the night away, you’d complain about your aching heels and Dean would scoop you up, all gentleman-like. He’d joke and hum all the way home—and what a funny word that was, since the only thing in your life permanent enough to call home was him. You’d kiss him goodnight and Dean’s gaze would follow you all the way to the bathroom. And there, once the door was shut and you were alone, the magic of the night would glow in your reflection. You’d sink into your happy, exhausted feet. The heat of his fingertips would be all over your waist and neck and chin. Best of all, when you’d slink into bed and pull the covers up to your face, Dean’s stomach would slot against your back and he’d spill it all to you in a whisper. I couldn’t take my eyes off you tonight, he’d say. I never could, sweetheart. Didn’t want to.

But the truth was that Dean could take his eyes off you so damn easily. These days it felt like you lost his attention the second you got it. Again and again you gave him these chances, and every time he wasted them. Tonight you had sworn something was going to be different, felt it ringing in your soul like a promise, and the second your back is turned he’s found a better dance partner. Was this a sign? Now, you glared at the mirror you’d chosen, feeling the familiar needles of self-loathing start to creep between your ribs. When was it going to happen? When were things going to change? Every time you’d hit this point in the past, Dean had cut those threads before they could tie. I’m not good for you, he’d say. He’d remind you of what had happened to Jess, which had always scared you straight—but that fear came with a finish line. Hunting wasn’t the end of the road for you. With you and Dean, there’d always been a vague idea of something “after,” something over the horizon too far away to see.

You’d held fast to that “after” for so long. Even on the third, fourth, or fiftieth round of Dean’s eyes landing on someone else, you took in a breath and reassured yourself of that “after.” After everything was over and there were no worlds left to save, Dean would look at you and never stop looking.

But this was the hundredth time you’d saved the world. The road to that horizon was endless, and you’d waited so, so fucking long.

Staring at your puffy eyes and spinning reflection in the low flickering light, a dull realization started to connect inside you. You couldn’t care anymore. You were so tired of waiting. One of these days, Dean was going to glance away and never look back. Maybe…

Maybe it would be better for you to pull away first.

The bathroom door banged inwards, startling you into a moment of sobriety. You were whirling around and palming the pistol handle in your waistband before you could think, only to relax. It was just Dean. In the women’s restroom. Fucking hell.

“Dean! What the hell are you—?”

“M’ savin’ our party,” Dean clarifies, and woah, he cannot hold his liquor like he used to. Without a hint of shyness, he saunters into your bubble and dares—fucking dares—to power on his doe-eyes. “Why’d’ya wanna go?” He pouts. Sam must’ve told him. “S’ not even midnight yet.”

“Jesus, you’re lucky s’ just me in here. Could’ve scared the pants off some poor girl,” you curse.

Everything after that is a tightrope act to keep hold of your restraint. Taking his elbow, you pluck the beer out of his hand and toss it into the nearest bin. Dean, of course, squawks in protest, but doesn’t fight when you push him into the narrow hall outside.

“Why on earth did you just stroll in? Just wait for me next time!”

“Maybe you were the girl whose pants I scared off,” Dean chuckles, sounding dizzy. He’s not steady enough to stand in place for too long.

Any other night you’d happily let him lean on you, but just seeing him makes your chest feel split open. The second he’s propped against one wall of the little hall, you’re on the other side, twisting around him and making a beeline for the exit. But Dean is still the guy you were on the dancefloor with an hour ago, so you’re not a step away before two big arms catch you around the middle. Giggling, Dean lassos you back in, and all at once he’s draped across your back with his cheek smushed into yours from behind. The happy little snickers seeping out of him rumble warmly through your back. You’re cozily squeezed around the middle with all the love in the world, and the worst part is that you revel in it. Dean sways a bit with you in his arms, big warm hands folding across your belly, and every stupid cell in your body melts into the contact. He’s only ever like this when he’s drunk.

“If you even get scared,” he hums into your ear, amused. “You’re s’ tough I dunno if you even can. And y’know what? I think…” he turns his lips into your cheek, his stubble rubbing the skin there just right, “I think you’re tough enough to get back out there with me n’ show em’ how it’s done.”

You should resist. You honestly should. But you’re drunk and hollowed out and lonely, so you compromise with yourself and stand dead still. You don’t touch him or lean into it. Yet you don’t squirm away, either.

At your silence, Dean wuffs out a breath down your neck and pouts into your shoulder. “C’monnn,” he urges, “dance with me more. Party! We’re celebratin’. N’ you’re such a great dancer, I wanna take you out there n’ brag ‘bout you. Everybody was lookin’ at us before. You and me. Didja notice that?”

“I did,” you swallow. “But I think m’ all partied out. I just wanna go home, kay? Sam’s out there waiting for us…”

Dean hears this and shifts his face into your neck, pretending to search for a comfortable place to rest his cheek when really he’s just nuzzling. “Boring. What? Pretty princess too tuckered out?” Dean teases. “I’ll tell the kid t’ walk back without us, he’ll be fine. C’mon. I’ll even say please.”

You remain silent. Anxious, Dean fills it. “Just a lil’ while longer, _____. Y’know I can only flirt with you when m’ like this.”

The ache in your chest hits a searing point, and the breath you’re holding breaks. He always, always has to hide.

You squirm out of Dean’s bubble. He makes a gentle attempt at fishing you back in, whining in the back of his throat, but you rip your hand free and peel around the corner before he can react. The mental picture of Dean left hurt and confused in your wake is satisfying, but you know it’s not a faithful image. Instead, he and his words chase you all the way to the curb outside. C’mon! Don’t be lame, ______! The yelling is embarrassing, but what really stings is how he does this in front of everyone. Sam. The bachelorette party, who make your skin crawl with mixed stares of jealousy and sympathy. The woman he kissed. And worst of all, everyone else in the bar, who only recognize you from the hours of slow-dancing you’d done with Dean.

You burst out into the chilly amber night, scrambling for any sense of backbone. A hot flash of unwelcome tears locks your throat shut. Like the unshakable hunter you’re supposed to be, you grit your teeth despite them and ignore Dean’s shouts.

“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he calls. The hurt in his voice surprises you. Dean’s voice is thready with genuine, mounting panic, flooding your brainpan with oily pleasure. Good. “Didn’t want this t’ go this way. We wer’ havin’ fun, weren’t we? M’ sorry. Come back inside. Whatever I did—”

You feel your resolve snap next, splitting apart like a guitar string under scissors.

Then you’re whirling toward him at collision speed, a mangled mess of snarling teeth and tear-caked cheeks. Yelling feels fucking great. You bare your fists, flying at him in a rage.

“Come on come on come on—you know what you did! You know! You have to know!”

Dean skids to a stop. By the street lamp light, he’s still golden as ever, looking soft and beaten. His expression crumples. His visible pain feels good for one glorious breath, then it all shatters as you realize what taboo you’ve brushed up against—and why. Over a few girls. Over a little talking. Some dancing. A silly tipsy kiss. You know everything gets heavier when you’re drunk, but god, this burden weighs more than the fucking sky sometimes. You’re so tired of carrying it. You want an out.

He drags a calloused hand down his face. “...I was just messing around, talking to them… dancing with her. Needlin’ you.”

“Well,” your breath rattles unprettily between words. “I’m needled. Are you fucking happy? Are you? Does it—does it—” you have to talk through harsh, sudden sobs, “—do you like playing with my feelings? Hanging that bone over my head, over and over and over again, just to rip it away?”

You don’t get to see how your desperation lands on Dean, since it’s then that Sam comes between you. “It’s okay,” he soothes, “you’re okay—just—” and lays your jacket over your back.

Then, Sam gets his hands on your arms to steer you the opposite way. You thrash away from him and his brother, furious. But you’re coherent enough to know that this is a bad time to wield the contempt you’ve kept stored. Roiling with fresh horror, you stifle your sobs into your sleeve and dart fast out of the parking lot, toward your motel.

“That didn’t involve you, Sam,” Dean barks over your shoulder, but it comes out more feeble than he intends. Your words were so much so suddenly that it sounds like he’s been shocked sober. Hoarsely, Dean pleads, “_____, wait. Hold on a second. Think about this—!”

…And you’re thrown back in. Supercharged with all the ferocity of a whirlwind, you twist around again. Sam’s already intercepting you, hands up and calm, but after years and years of second chances, you’re sick of waiting for something that’s never going to happen. You love Dean. It aches in your chest and bleeds out your ears, chewing away at your survival instincts.

You’d been right. Something was going to change tonight.

“You have no fucking idea how much I’ve thought about it,” you snarl. “Every day I think about it! Every night! So, no, I’m done thinking and—an’ watching and—”

The tank of crazed energy you’re running on immediately saps. Your voice cuts off with it, so you’re forced to gasp for breath and broil in your bone-deep exhaustion. Though this isn’t the first time the boys have seen you this hurt, they stand frozen on coltish legs, wide-eyed. Your effect on them lands hard: Sam’s mouth is drawn into a firm guilty line, and Dean, who usually fills whole continents with his authority, shrinks miserably into his jacket until his hands are lost in the sleeves. Finally, he takes me seriously.

You give Sam a look. Shell-shocked and unsure, Sam shuffles aside to face his back to you both.

With no one between you, it’s clear in Dean’s eyes that there’s another element to this for him. He’d known this was coming. Having his brother as a barrier was just one more way Dean had softened the blow. Between the awful, sinking guilt seeping out of him at the seams, there was resignation too. On one of those slow nights in your motel in Tulsa, he’d told you himself.

Everyone leaves, Dean had shrugged. Sam. My dad. Some day, you’ll leave too. And I won’t even blame you.

Back then, you’d laid your cheek against Dean’s sweat-tacky arm, the two of you trying to stay cool on a boiling Oklahoma night. You’d wondered to yourself how anyone could do that to the man you loved. Dean’s instinct was to give, to point both fans in that boiling room at you instead of him. How could anyone look at all the things he’d sacrificed and not give the same in return?

Well, you’d smiled at him, I’m not moving an inch, cowboy. You’re stuck with me.

Now, after years and years of sacrificing to no end, you knew that Dean’s prediction had come true. He had been waiting for the other boot to drop for so long that he’d already decided what it would sound like. A part of you wanted to cling to him and the promise you’d made him until your nails bled. But that dead limb was the one that’d been killing you, and tonight was the final proof you needed to amputate it.

You had to leave.

“I love you so much, Dean,” you hiccuped. “But I can’t wait for you anymore.”

You knew you were breaking a promise, no matter how good your intentions were. For that, you weren’t going to allow yourself an easy exit. Instead of whipping around and running for it like you wanted to, you let the slow, ugly acceptance in Dean’s silhouette brand your memory.

Statue-still, all Dean could manage was a tight nod.

He just stared and stared at you, gutted and appalled. You waited for him to say something, to fight this even a little, to make any of this easier on you both. Hating him wouldn’t be so impossible if he screamed you off the street or started throwing your stuff in the gutter. Instead Dean just hung there, frozen in that heart-stopping moment where the blade sinks in to the hilt.

Wielding that knife, you turned on your heel and left.

_

By the time you’ve frozen your ass off getting to your motel room, you’ve lost much of your steam. All the anger has washed out of you in one surging flush of misery. You get to the door almost gagging on your own tears, and pathetically slump down on the curb when you realize Sam has your room key.

Sam, who’s two blocks back helping Dean get home.

The cement stings your legs through your jeans. Betrayal throbs through your whole body, and unable to go anywhere, its barbs turn inward. You try to scrape up any backbone leftover from your tantrum, which is about as easy as splitting atoms. Since that didn’t work, you try to fold in on yourself for some warmth instead, and shiver stupidly on the sidewalk. A pair of late-night road-trippers give you sad stares as they pass. The soft heat of their room as they shuffle inside gushes out onto the stoop, calling your name.

Suddenly, the seething need to be as far from here as possible disappears. You want Sam to get back with Dean. You wish this night could’ve gone any other way, so the three of you could fumble into your room and straight into warm, cozy beds, too lazy to change into pajamas or to kiss goodnight like usual. Sam would check the salt lines and Dean would shuck off his jacket. With the last of your strength, you’d stretch a hand out from under your comforter and Sam would do the same to squeeze yours over the beds’ gap. Goodnight, Sam. G’night. Dean, close enough to kiss in your bed, would tilt you toward him by a gentle hand on your shoulder. He’d smush a kiss into your temple. Night, he’d hum. Together you’d snuggle down into your blankets and crash, content. If this was any other night. Maybe it still could be. Maybe you’d been overthinking this.

You’d had so much to drink. It was you who’d created these imaginary stakes for Dean to follow, and you who wigged out, blew up on him, snarling in his face and breaking a promise in the same breath. No matter how much you wanted it, you had no claim on him. If Dean wanted to dance with more than one person on a night meant to be fun for him… If he… wanted to kiss someone else…

Two tall shadows appear at the end of the parking lot. It’s too late to stand up and look put together, so you pull your knees to your chest and make an attempt at silencing your sobs. You press your lips together, watching Sam help a sniffling Dean across the lot and toward your room. Dean doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t tell you he’s sorry, he doesn’t pick you up off the pavement, and he doesn’t tell you that he loves you even though you both know it. It makes all of your lashing anger bubble up to the surface again, and you sit with it until long after the boys are inside.

These feelings feel petulant at first, then simmer into righteous ones. The hunt had robbed you of so much—your parents, your normalcy, your childhood, and more than once, the love of your life. There was no reason it had to take Dean from you this way, too. Those sticky-sweet nights in boiling Tulsa could be every night for you and him.

You could still taste him, and the syrup of old blues songs on his lip. You’d told him back then, you’re stuck with me, cowboy, and Dean had believed you, really believed you, because he’d rolled sideways in your bed and touched his fingers to your chin. Just the rough tips of them, burning hot. There’d been this irresistible magic in his eyes, like he was learning it was possible to break his own rules as long as he kept them later. His breath was sweet with ice cream when he kissed you. Just one kiss had him shakily sighing through his nose, and with his same trembling hand, he’d cupped your face—in the weird sort of way Dean did affection, the slope of his palm around your jaw and his thumb turning up your chin. It’d felt so special, like a promise to hold out. You’d savored each one with your nails tickling the nape of his neck, your dose of love potion refilled. The two of you had passed out curled nose to nose, Dean’s grin hidden in your pillow.

You could be living every night like you’d lived that one. But there was one barrier in the middle of that road: Dean. I’m not good for you, he’d say, even if you’d never had enough of him to tell.

After years and years of holding out and dosing on your love potion, it occurred to you, pathetically curled up outside a random motel room, that Dean would never be with you. Even if the monsters had been hunted and the world had been saved, he just didn’t have it in him to believe in something so good. Deep down, you’d known this. You were a naive optimist hoping for a different future, but the truth was that Dean hated himself too much to see that future too.

Slowly, you unfurled your hands on your knees, staring at them without taking anything in. All you could feel was the uncomfortable, surging ache in your chest, which choked your throat shut and burned stinging tears around the curves of your nose. The last few hours felt weirdly layered in your memory, like film cells from different strips laid over each other. This had been going on for so long that it’d officially crossed into deja vu. Years and years of moments just like these pressed upon you in the ringing silence of the parking lot. But you could only hold up the sky for so long, and tonight your grip had finally slipped. You were sure of it: if these circular, pathetic dives for an answer were the only thing in your future, it’d kill you. It had been killing you.

What else could you do but leave?

The question itself felt rash, but you were struggling to breathe past your tears and you wanted out—away from the constant want, away from Dean. He could bang whatever girls he stumbled upon, so why couldn’t you do whatever the hell you wanted, too? What the fuck was stopping you? Freedom—from years and years and years of that ugly stirring weight you’d once loved—was only a bus ride and one boosted car away. It’d be easy.

The door creaked open behind you. You held your breath at the sound of footsteps, praying it wasn’t who you wanted to see.

“Come on inside. Don’t like you being out here by yourself,” Sam called.

The breath you let go of didn’t make you any more relieved. It hadn’t felt good to yell at him, either. You opened your mouth to respond, but a thought slammed on top of you with all the malice of a blow to the head. The next words out of your mouth could be some of the last you ever speak to him for a long time. Instead, you scuffed your running tears on your sleeve one last time, then hauled yourself onto your feet.

The plan was to dart past him fast enough to avoid the look you were sure Sam was giving you, but it fell on the whole lot bright as stadium lights. You made the stupid mistake of catching eyes with him, and the intensity there was enough to root you to the spot. You froze. Sam’s face was solemn, but when he finally got a good look at you it shifted into calm, haunted understanding, since you weren’t the only one who’d cried on a curb like this. He knew exactly what leaving looked like.

After a pregnant pause, Sam stole a glance into the safe darkness of your motel room. Whatever he saw inside bolstered his nerve, and before you could argue he’d swiped his coat and stepped out into the cold with you. Here we go, you braced yourself.

“...I need to punch something,” you confessed, just to have something to say.

Sam stopped awkwardly hovering around the sidewalk to spread his arms wide, and how he had the energy to smile, you had no clue. “I’m open,” he offered, only half-joking.

You sputtered out a laugh. It trailed off where you couldn’t follow it, and unfortunately, neither could he, leaving you both shivering side-by-side in silence. You started to stutter out something intelligent, but the open sympathy in his eyes took all the nuance out of you. Renewed tears squeezed down your face. Instantly, he was there, a big warm hand coming down to rub your shivering back.

“I know you already know this, but it’s worth saying,” Sam murmured. “Everybody leaves him. It’s all he’s used to.” (...I know, you breathed between sobs). “Dean doesn’t… hang these other girls in front of you because he’s, y’know. Trying to play with your feelings. He’s scared. It’s wrong, but it’s his messed-up way of testing if you’ll stick around.”

You want to listen. Sam’s tone makes this all sound reasonable and easy, but that bitter crawling thing eating away at your conscience reminds you, Of course it’s his brother out here trying to fix this. Of course he can’t pick up his own mess.

“It sucks. Trust me, I’ve taken a good chunk of it myself,” Sam chuckled, but his heart wasn’t really in it. “I dunno what it is that makes em’ think he deserves it, but… he’s so used to everyone leaving that he rushes to push em’ away first.”

Swallowing around the bitter taste in your mouth, you tell him, “Well. I think it worked.”

That weighs on Sam for longer than you expect, strangling the lot with a heavy silence. Compelled to fill it, you wrap your arms around yourself and spit out your confession.

“I-I think I,” you managed. “I think I gotta go, Sammy.”

As soon as you say it, the reality of your decision hits you. This isn’t a light move to make. Leaving wouldn’t just shred things between you and Dean, but your friendship with Sam, too—it would mean turning all of your memories with them into kindling. In all your time on the Winchester family road trip, you’d seen all sorts of people take up the space in the back of the Impala. Psychics. Some angels and some demons. Good, good friends. Alive or dead, they all got off at their own stop eventually. You’d been riding in the backseat for so long, not once had you thought there’d be a stop for you, too. But here it was; Dean had hit the breaks himself, and Sam was readying himself to open the door for you.

You thought of the girl you’d been when you’d first met them. She’d still had room in her for friendship bracelets and brown sugar, for mystery novels that never ended, always chasing the next adventure. At the end of all this, that’s what Dean was: your next grand adventure.

Being hunter-born had put you in the strange middle-ground between sheltered and grotesquely exposed; you’d seen how purple and putrid a corpse could get before you were fifteen, but were more than acquaintances with a sum total of five people at the same age. Dean was your worldly opposite. He’d find the towns you landed in like you were his homing beacon, fresh out of the thick of it with a fantastical story to match. He’d hang half-out of your bedroom window, fierce-eyed, and singing, and you’d roll right out of the monotony of your life and into the magic of his. You’d mention him to friends in high school like a made-up boyfriend—Dean lives out of town, but he swears he’s gonna visit next month—because even you weren’t sure he was real. He was this untethered cowboy you’d somehow lassoed in, swinging into your life with all the colors and life of the wild west. Not so much a knight in shining armor, but. Dean, your Dean.

You would miss that. You would always miss him.

Sam tamped down his panic. “Are—are you sure?” He turned you by your shoulder to look at him, and Jesus, those kicked-puppy eyes should be considered a weapon of war. “You don’t wanna talk to Dean about this…?”

You were already shaking your head. “For the hundredth time?”

Sam pressed his lips together. You knew he thought this was a cowardly, drunken decision, but in the middle of it all, you felt like you’d earned the right to be cowardly and stupid. The last decade of your life had been wasted being reasonable. When Dean kicked you out of your motel room to share it with a stranger, you found another place to crash without complaint. When he’d told you he loved you, you gave him the space he asked for, neither of you sure how to handle something so big so young. You waited. When you sat him down and spilled your guts about the future you wanted him in, you’d respected his answer. I’m not good for you had translated to I’m not ready yet. You waited. When Dean was ready for other girls, though, Julie, Ava, Cassie—you started to press back. Since then, your feelings had become the ugly “it” that lingered in every room you shared with Dean. Every argument you’d ever had orbited around it somehow, along with every relationship. Spats turned into arguments, and arguments became second chances and third chances. It really had been the hundredth time Dean had played with you like this.

And even if he’d had nothing to do with it, it was killing you anyway. Being around him, good or bad, had sapped your adventurer’s spirit.

Sam goes still, conflicted. “This is your life. You know that I of all people understand that. But… but just… please. Please just give it one more shot. A month. Or a few weeks, if you need it. Please.”

“You think I’m overreacting,” you assumed, swallowing against the drying film of alcohol on your teeth.

“No, no, I think you’re drunk,” Sam answered, instead, and as blunt as it was it still came out soft. “And tired. But you’re not overreacting, ______. Dean’s done this and worse a dozen times before,” he sighed. Realizing that wasn’t exactly convincing, Sam scrambled for a foothold. “...He really does love you. Just needs to see reason.”

Reason, he says, like that had anything to do with this. Sam starts to clam up, desperate to glue the situation back together.

You feel the need to explain, “...Me leavin’ would have nothing to do with you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Sam said, thickly. “But I’m pretty sure it’d break my heart if you did, so I can’t imagine what it’d do to him.”

At that, you couldn’t resist the magnetic pull of the door to your motel room. It waited over your shoulder with all the gravity of a neutron star, dragging you to face it and wonder at the man on the other side. Knowing Dean, he might’ve managed to kick off his shoes before crashing into bed. Knowing the love of your life, he’d probably roll onto his back and sink like a rock, the hard lines of his face softened by sleep. His was probably puffy from crying. After long nights out, there’d be times when he’d accidentally wake you up by slipping under the covers. Dean would curse and hush apologies, clumsily pawing in next to you, but the intrusion was always welcome. You remembered him always having to pat around for your face in the dark, just so he knew where to place his goodnight kiss. Sometimes he’d miss on purpose and playfully pinch your cheek or lay a gross, sloppy kiss on your eye, which never failed to make you squirm away giggling. Good night, pretty girl. What would it do to him, to watch you go?

Your chest flared with ugly guilt. You weren’t sure. But you knew what would happen if you stayed, and Dean, in the long run, would be proud of you for looking out for yourself for once. He’d always said you put yourself last too often.

You imagined him asleep on the other side of that door, muffling his tears into his pillow, and the last of your hope and optimism just shatters. Swallowing your own cowardice, you steel yourself. “I’m sorry,” you tell Sam.

Sam laid a hand on your back. “Look at me a minute.”

Somehow, you did. Seeing Sam’s devastation hurts even more than you thought it would, but nothing compares to knowing that you’ll be leaving him behind. “C’mon,” he steps off the curb and toward the street, trying and failing to smile. “Let’s walk to the gas station or somethin’.”

You shook your head, heaving for breath, and confessed: “I really gotta go, Sammy. At least for a little while.”

Sam set his jaw. He teetered back toward you, thinking fast, and padded down his pockets for his wallet. “Okay. Okay. I know. But, but make a deal with me—let’s take a walk, get you sober. Then when you have some food in your system, you’ll tell me if—i-if this is still what you want. Kay?”

“Sam,” you grimaced.

“Please,” he begged, full-voiced, then snapped his mouth shut. When Sam was sure he could keep his feelings in check, he held up his wallet. “My treat. C’mon.”

Without hesitating, Sam started walking backward to the nearest corner store. Just the thought of eating made you nauseous, but not only did Sam have the keys to your room, but he’d also taken his stubbornness with him on this walk too. Thawing yourself off the stoop, you took one last look at your door and started after Sam. You knew that he was going to use this time to rally, to convince you, and that it would definitely work—so you steeled yourself. Sam couldn’t win. You had to leave.

It was just one dance. One kiss. You knew that. But you were stupid, drunk, in love, and weighed down by years of Dean’s reminder: I’m not good for you.

You hate that he’d been right.

_

Dean woke up sometime after dawn, but his body was so thoroughly glued to the mattress that he didn’t physically move for at least another hour. Even his routine where am I panic set in later than usual, and Dean was sluggish to answer it:

He was in a motel. That rarely changed. This time it was in… Springfield? Right? Yeah—they’d had fun little town postcards at the front desk, Dean remembered. _____ had studied them while Sam had got them the room, making that funny little hum sound she did when she thought something was quaint. It’d taken Sam only a minute to get their key, and Dean managed to fill that whole minute with nothing but spiraling. She loves kitschy crap like that. Maybe I should swipe one for her. Start a collection or something, make all this back-and-forth driving fun for her. She’s been so patient with us lately, deserves somethin’ to perk her up. Would she like it? Or was that too weird?

Dean groaned at himself—not only was he dealing with a hangover for the record books, but a heavy dose of embarrassment too. God. That woman. Nobody twisted him up like she could.

He kicked at the blankets, wiggling backward onto her side of the bed where the sheets were nice and cold. Usually the two of them cooked under the covers together, but she must’ve been hanging off the other end of the bed to leave so much cool space between them. He reached around with a foot. Nothing.

Huh. He hoped the gut rush of shittiness seeing her side empty was from whatever he’d been drinking last night, not something serious he was forgetting. Since getting up was so, so much uglier than being smushed comfortably in bed, Dean closed his eyes and thought. Counted back. The three of you had just wrapped up for a hunt… gone out for drinks to celebrate… and past that things start to fuzz. There might’a been a screaming match. Dean really wants to lean toward no, but he distinctly remembers being inside while Sam comforted you outside and sort of hating that. It was definitely Dean’s fault. But still, he remembered bitterly stuffing his face in his pillow hearing the soft lilt of your voice through the door—he should’ve been the one to fix things.

He would. Today. Dean laid in bed for a little while longer, but the guilt clawing around in his gut was making it impossible to do anything but overthink. How’d he fuck things over this time, huh? As sucky as it was, his best shot was to get the story from Sam, then figure out where to go from there. With how patient you’d been with him when he’d snapped his collarbone in Illinois, Dean was willing to grovel for forgiveness. This wasn’t the first time he’d hurt your feelings being coarse, but… c’mon. This was you. The only person who knew Dean better was Sam, and his forgiveness was the price of family. Yours was untethered, free, and lovingly given, so Dean tried to cool his mounting panic. You’d talk it out. You’d forgive him, because Dean was stupid lucky to have such a fucking saint in his life.

You loved him, Dean reminded himself, and forced himself to sit up.

The second he’s up and looking at everything, he’s pinched by this sense of wrongness. His duffle’s where he left it at the foot of the bed, the salt lines are clean and uninterrupted, but it’s like everything’s been moved an inch to the left. The pinch turns into a pang. Dean trudges out of bed, suspended in the limbo between his bedside and the open bathroom door. Something is wrong.

Some of your things have been moved, Dean rationalizes. You must be out grabbing breakfast. On stiff legs, Dean moves into the bathroom because, obviously, that’s where your shit would be if he’s not seeing it. Ignoring the bile that rises in him the second he’s moving, Dean purposefully avoids the mirror and hangs in the doorway. All three of you occupied the motels you lived in like you were ready to bolt any second, so there isn’t exactly any toiletries to take note of or clothes to notice… Until Dean circles back to his duffle at the foot of the bed. There’s a set of clothes thrown on top that he hasn’t seen since high school—some ratty sweats, holey winter socks, and two or three tees and shirts lost to time. It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realize that they used to belong to him, and just as long to connect them back to you.

These, Dean realized, were your most prized war trophies. Over the years you’d borrowed so many clothes from them that you’d probably modeled the entire Winchester closet. At first just the sleep shirts, but that graduated into tees for casual days and layers to add in wintertime.

By junior year, the half you’d pilfered from Sam was all too big to wear practically. That left Dean’s half, which you essentially lived in. A few of his shirts in particular had become main stays, so Dean had neglected to ask for them back and you’d comfortably forgotten to return them. You had a thing about wearing them around his flings, too, which Dean figured was your cute girl-way of reminding them who’d still be there when they were gone. True to form, they’d always left and you’d always stayed. Dean liked things that way, too.

A real pang of panic rang in his chest. Were you so pissed at him that you’d returned everything you’d borrowed? Or was this something worse?

His panic finds its legs. Not only had your pilfered clothes been returned, but Dean couldn’t find your travel bag. If his duffle is thrown at the end of the bed, and Sam’s is zipped up on the table, then yours had to be in the Impala. It had to be. He picks through the backseat and then graduates to tearing apart the trunk, both of which are void of your things. Your phone isn’t plugged into the wall. Your shoes aren’t by the door. Even the pistol you’d duck-taped under the coffee table was gone, along with the knife behind the headboard. Dean still can’t find your bag. Maybe it’s out in the open and I missed it, he tells himself, but the bathroom and the dressers and under the beds and the front lobby carry no sign of your stuff. Of you ever being there.

His last resort is that you have to be with Sam, who usually goes for a run this early—Sam, who walks in alone, twenty minutes into Dean’s full-body meltdown.

He should assume that you left. Logically, that is what missing keys, phones, toothbrushes and wallets mean, but this is Dean Winchester.

Instead, he assumes: “______’s been taken.”

Right away, Sam deflates. Which is impressive, since he walked in looking pretty wilted already. There are dark smears of purple under his eyes, which are puffy from crying. But that’s not exactly the reaction you want from your brother when you share this kind of thing with him, so the lack of response just spurs Dean into tearing their room apart even more, stone-faced.

“...Dean,” Sam manages.

Dean starts ripping the drawers out of the dresser, like finding one of your socks will be proof that you’re still here.

“She was fucking taken, Sam,” his throat feels tight. “I woke up and all of her shit was packed up and gone—somebody good had to do this, s’mbody who knows what the hell they’re doing, cause’ they knew to make it look like she’d left on her own. May—maybe she went out by herself after we went to sleep? N’ that’s how they took er’?”

His hands are shaking, fighting to get the next drawer off its track. Looking at Sam will just make him fucking implode, so he ignores him, shredding through the room inch by inch. The wheel on the dresser’s track snaps so hard that Sam flinches where Dean can’t see. Somehow, the urge to find expands into something an inch more logical, and he rolls seamlessly into escape mode, tossing his duffle on his bed and shoving the returned clothes inside. In a never-slowing storm, Dean flies around the room and hunts down what isn’t already ready to go in their bags. The adrenaline was starting to cut into his nausea, and the two mixed uncomfortably inside him, each knowing in their own way that something was terribly wrong.

After a long silence, Sam collapses onto the end of his bed and confesses in a small voice, “She left a couple’a hours ago, Dean. On her own.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Dean snorted.

Something patted Dean’s shoulder, and it was a miracle that anything in his bubble didn’t immediately dissolve into molten lava; reining himself in, he turned. Sam was holding a letter.

He shrugged, swallowing thickly. “She said she, uh, needed some time. Not forever, just… time. Wrote you this.”

Dean hung in place. Too quickly, he recovered, and managed the gentleness to take the letter from Sam instead of yanking it away. There was no envelope. Just your tri-fold notebook paper and the bubbly curve of your handwriting on both sides. In the clean white space at the top of the page, you’d written Dean’s name. If he flipped it over and opened it, there would be more bubbly letters strung together in words. Words Dean didn’t have the strength for, right now.

It was easier, much easier, to succumb to the sudden slosh of sickness in him and follow his hangover into the bathroom.

After he empties his stomach and Sam gets some water into him, the crazed packing continues. Your letter goes straight into Dean’s duffle, unread, because Sam asks him what he’s doing, and Dean curtly interrupts him, “What else? We’re gonna go find her.”

Sam avoids his eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

Reasonably, Dean knew that Sam had helped you. He’d felt it, seeing him walk in late, seeing him pass off the letter. But it only starts to press on him now, with the alcohol sickness becoming a different kind of sickness within him, the full weight of what exactly Sam has done.

“You fucking didn’t,” Dean snarls. “Tell me you didn’t.”

There’s a flicker of rebellion on Sam’s face, but he subdues it for Dean’s sake. He shrugs, “...She wanted to leave.”

The nearest lamp on the bedside table shatters against the wall with a fierce pop. Dean’s close to tears, he’s so upset, sucking down anguished breaths. This is his worst nightmare. It roars off him all at once, and Sam, the nearest target, takes the brunt of it.

“How could you do this to me? How could you do that to her? She—she can’t survive on her own—!” he lies to himself, “—she needs us—and-and I need her! Why would you just let her walk away? What the fuck, Sam?”

“What was I supposed to do? Handcuff her to the radiator?!” Sam snaps, spreading his arms wide, “It’s her life!”

“With us!” Dean roars. His throat grates with acid and tears.

“With whoever the hell she wants! You should’ve—” Sam argues. He realizes how fruitless all the yelling is, especially with tears smeared in the creases of Dean’s face. “...I can’t speak for her. Read the damn letter.”

“No,” Dean grates. He gets his duffle over his shoulder, his whole body coiling with betrayal. “Get your shit and get in the fucking car. We’re finding her. Where’d you drop her off?”

Of course, Sam refuses to answer. He gives Dean this quiet, desperate look neither of them is good at processing. Dean’s not exactly in the mood to process much of anything, nevermind this, nevermind the mountain of shit he’s messed up between last night and today.

He snarls. “Where, Sam?”

Sam still doesn’t answer. His stubbornness forces an old ugliness out of Dean that he’ll regret later, but, what’s one more thing for the pile, right?

“What?” Dean whips on his brother. “You give that little of a shit about her? You pick up brunch and a smoothie after you left her to fuckin’ rot?” Baring his teeth, he spits, “She’s not running off to Stanford, kid. This is different and you know it.”

The blow lands so hard that Sam bristles, but if you left a couple of hours ago, then he’s had plenty of time to brace himself for the grave Dean had planned to dig himself. After a long, treacherous silence, Sam finds an answer:

“Train station,” Sam’s lip curls. “But she made sure I drove off before I could see if she even walked in. She’s just like you n’ me, so she’s probably two states over by now—”

Dean slams the front door before he can finish.

-

It takes Dean four miserable hours to chase the specific bus you’d taken over the border to Connecticut, two days to pinpoint the lousy 83’ Mercury Capri you’d bought, in cash, from a dentist in New Hartford, and another to find it trunk-first in the Connecticut river, stripped entirely of your things. Sam fights him all the way to Brooklyn, which turns out to be a last-ditch distraction tactic. Dean had figured you’d head somewhere busy to shake them, but instead, you’d turned West, to Tulsa.

At the end of the week he finds you waitressing in a little dive just outside town. It’s a long chase, by their standards. As anguished as Dean felt, he couldn’t help nursing a warped sense of pride: his girl was good. Lesser hunters would’ve never caught up with you.

The Impala coasted along the buckling sidewalk framing the lot and stilled, idling on anxious wheels. Dean left sometime after Sam fell asleep. A whole week of non-stop pursuit had almost burned the spirit out of him. Sam’s moral needling never stopped, not until the silence burning up between them was as light as a slab of concrete. Twice now Dean was tempted to cut and leave without him, but the dark swimming part of Dean’s mind knew he deserved the constant backlash. She doesn’t want to see you, Sam had spit once, she needs time.

But the thing was that you’d never needed time before. The only time you’d needed in the past was the minutes it took for you to say, you’ve hurt my feelings, Dean, and the time it took for him to drop into your lap and bemoan his apologies until you were in stitches. He’d clutch your pantleg in his fists and fake-sob, Oh, baby, I’ll never forgive myself fer hurtin’ you! There was a familiar dance to it. At first, you’d stifle your smile and shove at him, all tough n’ girly-like. Dean would hunt down your nearest ticklish spot until your anger was a funny thing you’d both forgotten about, then sink into an apology he really meant. It worked every time and you knew it worked every time, but. Dean would drop his head into your lap and the first thing he’d feel was your hand on his back, keeping him there.

You’d never needed time before. You’d never needed space, because Dean was your space, with no room for anyone else to squirm in between.

It’s been days, man, Sam had said, endlessly. Just read her letter. Just read it.

He’d tried. More than once, he’d steeled himself enough to find it at the bottom of his bag and open it up, but beyond those steps was a whole new hell. He gets three words in and is immediately split open like a deer carcass in the sun. I’m sorry, Dean. Just that is enough to make him carefully re-fold the letter back on its seams.

There, in the parking lot of your bar in Tulsa, Dean finally finds the endurance to shovel past that first line. Originally, his plan isn’t really a plan at all—he’ll swing inside, convince you to come home, get some dinner in you and give “making things right” his best shot. But those are just ideas with no ground to stand on beyond what Sam has told him. And what Sam has told him sounds like, l-like horseshit, something Dean would hunt one of your shitty ex-boyfriends down for. To him, it sounds like something irreparable. That feeling is starting to find its roots.

By the flaxen street light, he spreads the thin notebook paper out on his thigh, careful not to smudge the hurried pen with his fingers. He reads it once and only once, unable to stomach any more.

The Impala pulls out of the lot and slinks back to their motel.

-

The next day, Dean loads his brother into the Impala, picks a direction, and drives.

His instincts settle back onto their monotonous track, and within a week he and Sam are cutting down vamps in Montana. Only once does Sam ask about what happened, and Dean only shuts him down once for the two of them to return to the Winchester default: not talking about it. Sam clearly wants to, squirming with unspoken questions when they find your spare boots kicked under Baby’s front seat or dodge hunters who’d ask around for you. Dean feels like ripping out his own entrails every time Sam itches to bring you up, but draws blood from his lip instead. When Sam’s out of resolve and Dean’s alone, he presses his face into the shirts you’d borrowed, soaked all the way through with your perfume, choking down tears that don’t do nothin’ for nobody. Especially Dean, who hasn’t cried in front of anyone but you since he was nine.

It’s like he’s lost a limb, left only with the phantom grasping feel of it. Dean definitely copes like a man who’s lost a leg. Sam leaves the issue alone, for the most part, trying to trick himself into being content with you being where you want to be. Meanwhile, Dean’s flask graduates from his duffle to his jacket. Hunting stops being a distraction and gradually opens up into a dangerous sinkhole.

The following weeks reek with deja vu. Silences stretched, gaps in their routine yawned wider, every inch of their never-ending road trip scrubbed raw with impressions of you. Dean must’ve checked the rear-view a thousand times, running on that same old instinct to steal looks at you in the backseat. The whole universe had been kicked off its axis by the aftermath, causing a run of bad luck worthy of a horror movie. Dean’s gun started jamming inexplicably; they’re caught by cops in Indiana and have to circle back two weeks later for the car, which is stripped of everything they’ve got; he almost loses Sam getting their arsenal back from an evidence lockup in Fort Wayne. Scrubbing his brother’s caked blood out of the steering wheel one afternoon, Dean knows that it’s more than luck he’s lost.

When you were stressed or feeling stuck, you’d lay out all their weapons on the bedspread—reminding Dean not to plop his ass down without looking first—and clean them each meticulously. The way you did it sort of reminded him of sewing. You’d count under your breath, so versed in the steps you’d created that you didn’t even have to watch your hands. Sometimes this ritual collided with the nights you polished up your poker skills together, and if Dean listened between hands, there was your counting. Four. Take off the slide. Five. Scrub the frame. If Dean’s pistol landed in the pile, you’d forget you were winning altogether and sink into deeper focus, pretty brows furrowed and your lips in a soft line. Dean’s gun never jammed if you’d been the one to clean it.

You were stealthier, more unassuming, with the kind of easy smile that policemen looking for fugitives glossed over. The cops in Indiana would’ve glossed over you, too. You were the third support beam that kept them sturdy—with you at Dean’s six, he and Sam would’ve smuggled back the arsenal with no problem. And even if there’d been trouble… well. This was you. Lose-a-car-in-the-river-on-purpose you, who Dean could always rely on to back his play.

When Sam has to drive him home from the bar one night, Dean slurs, Everythin’. Everythin’ goes to shit without ‘er.

Those thoughts crept up on him again and again, preying on him in low moments. He buried them under everything close enough to grab, keep the salt lines clean, call Jody, fix the car, but everything thrown on top of his memories of you swayed and shuddered, demanding to be dug up. Dean knew that he’d betrayed you. Already that was unforgivable, but by hurting you he’d broken a blood oath as old as your friendship. At fifteen Dean had sworn to protect you, only to turn around now and wound you so viciously that you couldn’t even bring yourself to say goodbye to him. Not in person. Not in the letter.

It was the one detail his heart couldn’t stop fixating on, no matter how deep Dean buried you. He knew you better than anyone, and you never said goodbye unless things were truly over.

He’d heard you sob it into Sam’s shoulder before he left for school. When the hellhounds came for him in New Harmony, you’d resisted, clutching Dean’s jacket in both hands and weeping instead, “I’ll see you.”

You’d never said goodbye to him.

This turns into a notion, then a stupid idea, then a plan that Dean rolls around in the bottom of his glass, considering. He could get that goodbye from you. He could knock on your window like he’d done when you were kids, say his piece, and then let the grass eat his boots as he waits for you to truly finish this.

He could get that goodbye from you. It’d kill him, but Dean wasn’t sure he could go on without it.

-

Five minutes into his drive to DeLancey’s Pub and Bar, the slimy dive you waitressed in around the dicier ends of Tulsa, Dean realizes that he’s not even sure if you’re working tonight.

The drive was long—long enough to swerve Dean’s confidence in every single direction possible, until the revving toughness he’d gathered had swan-dived into gut-clenching fear. Two hours ago he’d been combing through articles for a case. Something had compelled him into the car, something bone-deep and inescapable, and if Dean was being truthful with himself it had everything to do with the strange adrenaline he got just being in the same state as you. Twice, he swore he’d seen your face among the officers at the station and blending into the diner crowd at breakfast. He knew that you were a whole town away and intent on not seeing him, but. Dean could sense the divide between you like the childhood home he’d never known. It was a distance he could close and map in his sleep, and after another night jolting out of a nightmare and into a bed empty of you, Dean was exhausted. He missed you so much he was sick, choking back mouthfuls of guilt just thinking of you. He missed you so much that the drive to you could’ve been measured in inches, and the walk to the Impala was even smaller, calling to him.

Waking up, he’d sensed it. Tonight was gonna be different.

Things had started off strong. The second Dean had turned the key and pointed the Impala toward Tulsa, his hands on the wheel were sure as all hell. I’m gonna tell her all my cruddy fuckin’ feelings and get all this cruddy fuckin’ honesty out of the way, then either we make up or she gives me the boot. Simple as that. Nothin’ to it. That was as far as his planning went, since that’s as far as Dean could handle thinking into your future. By the time Dean was off the highway his plan had started eating itself, circling constantly back to your letter to him. But he was already halfway there, then over halfway, and giving up became an increasingly spineless option.

Along the way, I’m gonna give it to her straight, slowly, bloodily evolved into, I’m bringing her the fuck home.

Dean’s propelled himself forward so hard just to get here, so the Impala’s still rolling into park when he clambers out and onto the gravel. His heart is pounding like thunder in his ears but it’s nothing compares to the screaming silence that stands between where the Impala’s sitting and where you must be. DeLancey’s is the only kind of place Dean could picture you working; somewhere low and unglamorous, like any other bar you and Dean had skulked around in your twenties. You lived for skeevy places like this, the shabbier the better, and privately Dean had always thought you were too pretty to exist in places like those. But he’d seen you under neon beer lights so often that you’d sort of claimed it for yourself, this strange brand of cigar-smoke beauty that made Dean’s ears warm.

He thinks of that image and can’t help but need himself to be there, to be with you like he always has, and that’s what gets him across the gravel and through the door.

Either this is a hunter’s bar or the place is packed full of demons, because the second Dean bangs inside, making a few heads jerk up with the noise of it, those heads immediately swivel to whisper to each other. What’s that Winchester boy doing here? Anyone who knows you knows there’s only one answer. The bartender looks up from the drink he was making. The host awkwardly shrinks behind her podium, freezing like everyone else in the room. For just an instant he has the whole saloon itching toward their pistols, and Dean lives off the warped satisfaction he gets from that until the kitchen door swings open for a huge tray of drinks.

Hefting it over one shoulder, you slip easily out from behind the bar and pass the drinks over to a table of hunters. There’s a resonating shock that sizzles through Dean’s system, seeing you. It’s the strange pleasure of confirmation, of knowing that you’re real, that you’re someone he can lay eyes on instead of a slow-fading memory. In your element, you’re… Dean swallows. You’re still you. One of the hunters says something to you, and you snap back in a way that has them all roaring with laughter. All doubt left Dean’s body, and standing there, he’s winded by the single-minded purpose that got him there in the first place. He’s getting you home.

At full tilt, Dean bee-lines for you.

The harsh sound of boot steps makes you glance up, and with it the chatter of the hunters dies away. Your expression doesn’t shift from your usual calm, arrow-eyed look, empty of anger or loneliness or happiness. Just calm, like you knew he’d find you, you’re just surprised it took him this long. You take a cool step away from the table to stand at your full height, and an old shivery warmth flutters down his spine. Yeah. There was his girl, tough as a fuckin’ tank.

“Dean,” you murmured, a greeting.

He wants to murmur your name with the same sweetness. He wants to scoop his arm around your waist like he used to and shove his face in your neck like he used to, spilling his guts in ways he’d only spilled to you. He wants to do this the easy way, but that’s not exactly his default.

Dean swings in, snapping, “Get outside. I’m telling you something whether you like it or not, n’ don’t think I won’t drag you if I have to.”

Your brows fly up your forehead. “Wow.”

Right along with you, the hunters with the front-row seats to the scene Dean’s making bristle in tandem. Some of the guys at the bar twist around on their stools to throw Dean barbed looks, and really, he shouldn’t have underestimated your ability to assemble so many minions like this, since he and Sam had been your minions from day one. The guy closest to Dean makes a big show of scraping his chair back and growling, which Dean pities him for. Get in line, pal.

“That’s my friend you’re talkin’ to, chisel chest. If you know what’s good for you, I’d get the fuck outta’ here,” says Asshole #1 of 4, and the threat hasn’t even landed before you’re neatly cutting through him, “—mind your damn business, Tommy, he has just as much a right to be here as anyone else.”

At your request the other hunters simmer down, and, ignoring Dean, you scoop up your empty tray and deliver it to the bar. All the energy he’d rationed in the car starts to seep out of him, since. Well. Still, after all this time, you didn’t hesitate to bare your teeth for him. With the wind successfully taken out of Dean’s sails, he tries not to twitch in place as you round’ the bar, brush past him and gesture for him to follow you out a side exit.

Your silence terrifies the hell out of him, so adding the hanging quiet of the parking lot to the equation makes Dean’s nerves crawl. He hadn’t realized how loud it’d been in there until you were isolated outside, the rowdy Friday night chatter softened behind the door. Swaying next to you on legs he’s forgotten how to use, a dart of something mean and cold hits Dean in the chest. On the other side of the door, where the lights are dim but warm and the air sings with the tang of alcohol, Don Henley floats into the first lyrics of One of These Nights.

Even now, your magic sways over him. Across from him on the gravel, you stuff your hands under your arms and huff a strand of hair out of your face, glowing gold by the creamy moonlight. If this was any other night of the year that the two of you had fallen out of a bar together, Dean would ask you to dance with him right here by the dumpsters. You’d say yes. He knew you would’ve said yes, then.

“You worried me sick,” is the first thing Dean manages to say. “Wakin’ up, finding you gone—I thought someone had fuckin’ took you, y’know that?”

This is apparently the wrong thing to say, because the coolness in your expression coasts straight into bitterness. Regardless, Dean rolls right past it and right into nervous, emotional ranting.

“I know what I did. I know I don’t deserve shit for it,” he chokes out, “but you could’ve at least said goodbye t’ me! I deserved to know you’d be safe! If you couldn’t… If I was hurtin’ you too much, and if I wasn’t listenin’, you had every right to get the fuck out of there and make your own life somewhere else. But after—after bein’ with me for so, so damn long, so long I don’t even remember how we met, you couldn’t even say goodbye? Nothing? I just have to live with the fact that I don’t even ‘member the last time we fuckin’ talked to each other? Don’t even get to see my best fuckin’ friend one last time?”

“No,” you scowled. “No, you fuckin’ don’t. Because we’ve never been just friends, Dean, and even if you knew that you still played with my feelings. Why the hell would I even want to look at you again? Why do you deserve that?”

Dean flinched. He sputtered on his answer, of course, because he’d never been able to keep his head straight around you. Not now, not ever. “...I guess I don’t. But, um… I know this doesn’t mean much anymore, but…” He closed his hand into a fist, like it was possible to draw in raw courage from the air. “You’re right. We’ve never really been… just plain friends, and—”

“We’ve said I love you,” you scoffed, “We’ve kissed! We’ve spent four whole years on the road together, with nobody but each other, and even years after that you still can’t even admit it to my face! Can’t even say it!”

Dean’s hands are shaking, and in a rush he says, “Yeah? And you wanna know why? Cause’ the second I do, the second it’s out of my mouth, you’re dead. You hear me? A target drops on your back so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

Honest to God, you start laughing, the scary hunter’s laugh that only bled out of you in the thick of a chase. “I’m already dead!” You budge him with your fists, almost pushing him back a foot, “We’re both already dead! None of that bullshit matters! Wouldn’t you rather we use the fucking time we’ve got instead of sitting around with our thumbs up our asses? Dean, come on!”

“Of course I do!” He roars. You’re close enough to grab, so he does, ripping you toward him by the wrists, “That’s all I’ve wanted!” He sucks down the cool night air and the little breaths puffing out of you, panting, “You’re all I’ve fucking wanted. Since the last time we were here. Since way before then. But the minute—the second they know that, Hell or—o-or whoever’s after us now, they’re gonna take advantage of that.”

The look on your face is frozen still with mute shock. Choking down another dose of guilt, Dean drops your wrists and suppresses the urge to pull you back in, to squeeze you against him, to kiss you stupid like he’d done years ago.

“Don’t think for one second that I don’t want you,” Dean rasped. “But I’d rather have you livin’ than be with you dead, you get me?”

You closed your eyes. Tears squeezed down your face, rolling around the curve of your cheeks. You grit, “I’m sick of having this argument, Dean.”

Then, the pull to reach out for you grew too great, and Dean couldn’t help but cup one side of your neck. He swallowed, thickly. “I know, baby girl.”

Starved for contact, you dug your nails into the material of his sleeve and did your best to speak. “If I go back with you,” you rattled out. “If I go back w’ you, sittin’ with this is gonna kill me. Can’t wait anymore. Can’t sit in the damn car while you run off with other people. I have t’ go. I love you, but I gotta go.”

Dean was sick of having this argument too. After years and years of it weighing on the two of you like a black hole, of this same old story returning every so often to throw a fresh gap between you both, Dean had hit his limit. There wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to keep you living and happy. But this pressure on his heart was heavier than the damn sky, and now more than ever he wanted to let it go. Find another way. Choose you.

He overspills.

“I love you too,” Dean gushed, and from there, poured the rest of his heart out onto the wet asphalt. “Love you so much it makes me damn sick. Makes me all stupid and mushy on the inside, which is probably half the reason I’ve made it this far. Having you gone has just made it worse—the road’s too quiet and the backseat’s always cold, like everything else’s sick too. S’ made me realize that I—I-I can’t do this without you. Everythin’. Livin’ like this. I tried for your sake, I honestly did, but god, baby, I need you home. I need you to come home.”

“Dean—”

“Let me finish!” Dean barked, and the sloping misery on your face paused. “I know why you left. Shit, I’d leave too if the one person I… if that one person kept treating me the way I was treatin’ you. Fuck, _____, if this was some other guy? Doing this to you? I’d kill him. Acid bath, hit him with my car, something. I’d kill him. And I’d—”

Dean stops himself, realizing the spiral he’s throwing himself down. “You’re everything t’ me,” he gasped. “So get in the damn car and just come home.”

In the thousand-foot-drop-silence that follows, the only sound capable of puncturing the space between the two of you is, as always, One of These Nights. Inside DeLancey’s, there are a few couples swinging along to the beat, but all of the real fever is out here, thundering in Dean’s chest. There’s only one time he ever relinquishes his control over his feelings out in the open: here, as the Eagles sing your signature song. Dean’s eyes are only on you.

“C’mon, _____,” he pleads, one last time. Again, he’s compelled by something beyond himself, and with nothing left to lose he starts to sing, smiling without feeling. “Oooh,” Dean croons, “loneliness will blind you, in between th’ wrong and th’ right…”

Here it is. You drag in a breath with all the weight of the world on it, and Dean knows what will follow. The goodbye.

Despite yourself, an amused little smile presses through the seams of your composure. You sober yourself. “... Things are gonna have to change, Dean.”

He’s not sure what that means. But it sounds good, and there’s still an optimist swirling around in him somewhere. “Yeah. Of-of course, anything. We can talk about it more, but… I’m willing to put you before anything. I should’ve put you before anything, before.”

You nod. “...Okay. Lemme go tell the other girls on shift.”

That’s good. That’s good, Dean realizes, and without meaning to he beams, blinking hard. You’re coming back with him. That’s what that means, right? Relief rushes through him so fast that he almost faints. Not so prepared to trust it, Dean’s eyes roam across your face for hesitation or displeasure or anger—and some of it’s there. There are still things to fix, still changes to be made, but. On top of all that is beautiful, sweet-tasting relief that Dean feels like collapsing under. You’re coming home.

“Just like that?” Dean asks, and he really shouldn’t be grinning, not until he’s sure and you’ve said it, but he can’t help it.

The tears still beading in your eyes slip into the pressed line of your lips, where a guarded smile is growing. You start nodding and then you don’t stop nodding, sobbing in earnest, and since it hasn’t screwed him over yet Dean follows his instinct to scoop you into a deep hug. You’re a little chilly and you smell a bit like pub food, making Dean’s heart squeeze with nostalgia. God, he fucking missed his girl. You grope around his back for something to cling to and fist both hands in his jacket til’ your fingers ache, and Dean explodes with gratefulness so pure he sways in place with you, squeezing you tight around the shoulders. You’re here and you’re alive and you don’t fucking hate him. Dean would take that and this stilted happiness over anything.

“This is all I wanted, D,” you hiccup. “You never say it, n’ I-I just need to hear it, okay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I did this to us.”

“You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for,” Dean soothes, but you interrupt him.

“I was too much of an idiot to say goodbye,” you shook your head, smooshing your face into his jacket. “Too scared,” you confessed, and your voice was even scratchy from crying. “I didn’t want it to be over for real. Didn’t wanna close that door forever.”

Dean sloped his palm down your hair, your back, your arm, soaking you in every way he could. “M’ glad you didn’t. I’m sorry I pushed you to any of this, darlin’. I’m sorry too.”

You peel yourself off him just far enough to flash him a wolfish, tear-streaked grin. “Oh, I know you are. Are you ready to be makin’ it up to me for the rest of your life, Winchester?”

Dean makes the mistake of indulging your taunts with a chuckle, which puts this light in your eyes that he never wants to let go of. You swish in real close to his face, threatening with a big, 1000-watt smile, “Pucker up, cowboy, because you’ve got a lot of ass-kissing to do.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, wetting his lips. His belly warmed at the nickname. “So come here, ass.”

It’s not often that Dean has the pleasure of making you so flustered your face steams. He never gets to see it this close, either, so he leans further in to put it all to memory, which just makes your cheeks hotter. Your eyes dart across his face, wild and nervous. Dean’s smile sinks into a nasty smirk because, there you are, tough as nails and melting into your shoes at the thought of kissing him. It’s a lucky thing you’re so distracted. Maybe if you weren’t you’d notice how Dean’s hands are trembling, how his mouth’s watering. His whole nervous system flips when you reign him in by a fist in his collar, and he’s pretty sure his soul levitates out of his body when you kiss him.

One kiss turns into two, then three. Your lips are smooth with vanilla chapstick, and it only takes a minute for it to be all over Dean’s face—his mouth most of all, but the corners of his lips and his chin, too. You’ve always been the sweet one, but something about finally being subject to it melts the iron ball of anxiety in his gut. He kisses back like it’s his damn job, pouring his confession, his apologies into you, cupping your face, dimpling your cheeks with his thumbs. You’re softer than he remembers, and the fact that he could be forgetting anything at all about the last night you spent in Tulsa together makes him starved to remember this.

By some twist of fate, Bad Company’s Ready For Love plays next on the cue inside. With you cozy in his arms, his body works on muscle memory, and soon you’re swaying back and forth as you kiss, dipping in close for sweet pecks of each other.

“I love you,” he thinks he hears you say.

Playfully, Dean budges your nose with his and sing-songs, “Can’t hear you!”

“I said,” you took in a big breath, “I LOVE YOU TOO, asshole.”

Dean dissolves into chuckles, which are happily interrupted by more insistent kisses. You’re almost ten whole feet from where you started, and scooping up your hand, Dean starts the trek backward to where the Impala is parked. It’s your home as much as it’s his, so you barely need him to take the lead to find it among the other cars.

“Hm,” you say, “Maybe the girls will just figure out for themselves why I’m gone, yeah?”

“They’ll survive without you,” Dean shrugs. “You got other people who need you.”

“Need me,” you say, just rolling the unfamiliar words around in your mouth. Dean feels another pang of guilt; he could’ve sworn he’d told you that more, could’ve sworn he showed his love to you every day. Another thing to change.

“Yeah, need you,” Dean mutters, and he doesn’t mean to expose the desire rolling around in his belly, but there it is. He wants to take it back as soon as it leaves his mouth, but the second you get a taste of it, you’re hooked. A beat later he’s being pushed up against the driver’s door of the car and kissed stupid, warm and wet and so much of what he remembers. Fantasizes about.

In the next kiss a gentle hand grabs at the clasp to his belt buckle. Instantly, Dean pulls back to speak.

“Sweet pea,” he manages, trying so hard to be reasonable and good and everything that you deserve. You laugh at the nickname, which eases his mind a bit. “...You sure you don’t wanna wait? I think I got other things to prove t’ you, first.”

You draw him into a deep, lingering siren’s kiss that leaves his knees threatening to lock and his common sense threatening to bend.

“Can’t wait any longer,” your eyes burn like cigarettes, all heat. Quietly, you ask him, “Prove to me I’m your favorite. That m’ the only girl you’re looking at.”

There’s the underlying desperation to your voice that goes beyond just wanting to have sex with him. This is confirmation of something to you, something you need to hear, to feel. So Dean guides you into the backseat and proves it to you.

This is not at all where he expected this night to go, and he’s grateful that he’d lost the opportunity to overthink himself into his grave. There’s no room for Dean to worry if he was really good enough for you, if he deserved this, because these things are proven to him too. You slot so perfectly into his lap that he knows the moment you’re out of it he’ll be battered with homesickness. For long breaths there’s no kissing at all, just Dean nuzzling his face into your neck and committing each second to memory. When you do kiss him it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, this grand, surging happiness that ripples through him head-to-toe. Each kiss has a new kind of gentleness, and before either one of you starts to strip Dean knows that you want more than what he’s about to give you—you want him, and that feeling is an old comfort.

Knowing your famous attitude, Dean would’ve bet money on you taking control, but for whatever reason you step back and let him make the first move. Again, it tells him that this is his chance to tell you something, to make it clear that he wants you and he’s going to show it. So he does. Your fingers in his hair are all the invitation he needs.

Dean scrapes his palms up your back as you kiss, soaking up every naked inch of skin he’s allowed. You’re making all these soft little noises that make the pressure in his jeans unbearable, so with the next drag of his hands he’s intent on seeing what you’ll feel like naked in his lap. When your uniform is nothing but a memory and your throat’s slick with hickeys, you try out a new way of teasing him, murmuring in that caramel voice how long you’ve wanted to feel him inside you. After that he doesn’t even care about being fully naked—but you clearly do. He puts your roaming hands on his belt. I want you to do this part, I want it to be you who opens me up. You kiss him so intensely that Dean doesn’t even remember when or how his belt comes off. Or his shirt, or his jeans, or his boots, gulping down your love potion by the gallon.

All he knows is pretty girl, his pretty girl, and swaths of hot sweat-tacky skin on top of him. You hesitate to close that final gap between you once the condom’s on, so Dean whispers whiskey-warm assurances in your ear as he cups the curve of your ass and slides you onto him. The moan that presses out of you pours right into your next kiss, then the next, and the next. It takes everything in him to start slow; Dean gives you two deep, fulfilling grinds across his lap. The rippling squeeze of you around him is too good to be real. You press your lips into his, then his nosebridge, his forehead, urging him on, and that’s all Dean needs to let go. He cups the dip of your back, shoves his face in your neck and just loses it.

Dean rocks you across his lap at a vicious, pounding tempo, giving you his all. The whole time his head bumps against the height of the seat, craning to watch the perfect little shifts in your expression. You’ve got your eyes squeezed shut and your lips parted. His lap is slick with you, making the grind, the chase, the rush to the finish come faster and faster. He could’ve gotten off on the sounds you were making alone. They turn into full-on squeals when Dean slides his fingers between your legs, and a flush of I love you I love you I love you bursts out of him when the hot silk wrapped around him clamps even tighter. You cum almost sobbing his name, and Dean coos you through it, his thighs cramping with effort. But it’s all worth it—you’ve always been worth it.

He finishes with your hands combing through his sweat-damp hair, echoing back to him the three words he’d been chanting the entire time.

-

It’s a few hours before dawn when you land in Sam and Dean’s motel a town over. Dean had wanted to get back earlier, intent on having you back as soon as possible, but it’d taken a bit to pack your stuff into the Impala and drive home. You’d commented on being hungry on the way back too, which ended with Dean pouring an entire gas station’s worth of snacks into your lap at three in the morning.

By then it’d gotten too cold out to be comfortable, so it was tempting to succumb to sleep in front of the Impala’s heaters. But robbing yourself of any time with Dean wasn’t an option, so you pushed through, feet aching after an eight-hour shift and body glowing with Dean’s affection. You nibbled on twinkies in the passenger’s seat, happy that he was happy. He kept the radio off to hear you, but hummed when the conversation peacefully faded. I can hear the train a’ comin’, it’s rollin’ round the bend…

Sam was waiting for you on the stoop outside the room when you pulled up, and did an impressively poor job at containing himself. He’d gotten his arms around you before your door was fully shut, and when you were back on your feet his brother took up your other side. Together, you herded each other into the cozy darkness of the motel. Someone said something about unpacking your things; but all three of you were tired, so that thought was saved for tomorrow.

Dean tossed his jacket on the back of a chair. Sam rearranged the salt lines on the window sills with a careful hand. You fumbled into the first pajamas you could find (aka, the hoodies in Dean’s duffle that rightfully belonged to you), and crash straight into bed, too lazy to kiss goodnight like usual. When the lights were off and the boys were down too, you stretched a hand out from under your comforter and reached across the bed’s gap.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you told him, wiggling your fingers.

His whole hand engulfed yours in a warm, I missed you squeeze, and then he was rolling onto his stomach and sinking like a rock into sleep.

When you twisted onto your other side, Dean was already there, propped up on an elbow. His broad hand on your shoulder smoothed across your belly to pull you into him. Once you were close enough to kiss, he disregarded your cheek and your forehead entirely, dipping in for a real kiss that tingled all the way down to your toes.

“G’night,” Dean whispered.

Welling with too much emotion to put into words, you willed it all into a simple and loving, “Goodnight, cowboy.”

Together, you snuggled down into your blankets and crashed, content.

-

tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #16 - Third-rate

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #16 - Third-rate

Briar tilted his head, watching Aeluan with curious fascination. He wasn't quite sure what the paladin was doing, but it was intriguing to watch the man as he worked. At the moment, the Raen was carefully examining several pieces of wood. He was doing so with such intensity that the vendor selling looked somewhere between baffled and concerned.

"No," Aeluan said finally with a frown. "Not at this price."

The vendor sputtered and animatedly gestured at the wood Aeluan was currently frowning at. "Sir, this is the finest northern pine wood and--"

"It's third-rate at best," Aeluan cut in, polite but firm. "It is full of knots and still needs proper curing. Look." He pressed a nail into the wood, denting it. "Not to mention you can see discolourations from the sun." The paladin folded his arms and lifted his chin. "I'll give you half."

"…Half?" the vendor said, trying to look offended but paling slightly when Aeluan pointed out the wood's imperfections. "It was imported, sir! I would be selling at a loss! Perhaps we can come to an agreement?"

Briar watched in silent interest as Aeluan haggled and countered the vendor, who was doing their very best to make the wood sound exceptional as well as get Aeluan to buy more. It made Briar's head spin a bit, but it was nice to see Aeluan calm, confident, and assured in his stance. Not that the paladin wasn't often a steady presence, but he was clearly in his element at the moment.

At last, the vendor threw up their hands and sighed. "Very well," they groaned. "But my children will starve," they muttered dramatically. "I can have the wood delivered by the evening, sir."

"Thank you," Aeluan said politely, lips twitching in a smile. "Also, you don't have any children."

"Bah," the vendor huffed, taking his coin and waving Aeluan off. "Be gone with you. I have others to sell to!"

Aeluan chuckled and Briar blinked. He looked up at the paladin as he was herded away, glancing over his shoulder at the vendor. "You know him?"

"Oh, quite well," Aeluan said cheerfully, one hand on Briar's back protectively as he kept an eye out on the street. One could never be too careful. "I buy from him often."

"Then why did he try and cheat you?" Briar said with a baffled look.

Aeluan barked a rich laugh. "That? Oh, that's just the game. We always come to a fair price in the end, but getting there is half the fun." He glanced down at Briar, raising a brow. "You don't haggle?"

Briar shook his head in confusion. "No? Why would I ask for more than I want?"

Aeluan blinked and chuckled again. "Oh, dear," he murmured, shaking his head. "Let's talk about that later. For now, how about some lunch?"

Aeluan belongs to @sword-and-surfboard / @valdiis

[ynnllsn]

Master of my Lifeline

Rin Obami x F! READER

Warnings: Domestic abuse, curses, gambling, crazed, heart attack/conditions, cheating, adultery, maybe a little too sweet of Rin as well, some error grammars.

Words: almost 14k.

--

"You lost 200 million yen, Y/n... Do you have a way to pay for it?" The soft and yet chilling voice of Kirari made your way to your ears but on your expression, it didn't even affect you to but. You smiled brightly.

"None! I only live with my mama and somehow, I know I can make that money back." Kirari chuckled at your odd behaviour. How incredibly interesting to act rationally and normally when you have a burden.

"A life plan works really great on you. You have a fair look... I think that one is a suitable payment." Kirari expect a scared look on her face. But...

"Sure. I'll take it. This is a payment for now, but if I manage to pay the 200 million will you withdraw it back, Momobami-san?" Kirari giggled and nodded. It was quite a surprise. She release a 50 million yen as a down payment and give it to Kirari.

The 50 million yen is the one she won in some random deliquent in school.

"Nyaha~ so deducted the payment, it's now 150 Million Yen."

-

You are the biggest prankster kitten. You are a first year in Hana Class and ever since the news spread that you lost to the President. The bullying started however you don't mind being boss around. But if they mock you, you will mock them back.

"Aw you only survived because you're daddy's only successor, you don't even look like a proper heiress to me~. Daddy must be so disappointed to raise you up~" You giggled and stuck your tongue out.

You are seriously a one tumor in the council's name. Even the head of the beautification chair girl has trouble controlling you.

"That's not my fault! She's being mean!!" You release a small 'hmph' to her and drop the cards. "Why you always challanged people who goes against your guys will?"

"I mean that's how we punish them, put them into more debt, but in your case..." Midari glared at your chips, your chips is way ahead of hers! "What a troublesome pet..." She whispered and in the end, you are carrying 20 Million Yen!!

"Hee hee~ thank you for giving me such a great time~ I will put all I've won today directly to my debt!!" Midari sigh. Even the President won by luck with you.

The only reason why you got challanged is because you put a air fart bag in the president's seat. And it seems the President is amused on how you acted. Despite the life plan that have been forced to you.

And there are only few people are allowed to gamble with you. But despite that, you still manage to stand out. If a normal student or powerful heir or heirress decline your offer to a game. You would simply just gonna say something that would crush their pride just to take you on.

And when Rin Obami came here for the first day. You also prank him with the same prank as what you did with the President. Even Yumeko is not safe with your pranks. Hell, not even the oh so strict Manyuda Kaede.

"What an interesting girl." Rin smiled as he looks at her laughing state. It's so immature yet so entertaining, specially that she's a pet and then she have guts on doing this. Rin have wondered how easy you are to be swindled but boy oh boy~

"There is no guarantee that you will win and these shitty coin will raise their price! If you lose or worst you got kick your ass out, that would be the end of it and I will not trade my votes!" with that signiture 'hmph' of yours.

How smart. For a pet like you.

"But this scumcoin can really help you from getting out of your pet status." He convinced and pretty good and tempting reason to take a risk.

"So 'scumcoin' is... The name of these shitty coins. Pretty weird name, it suits the word scum because you're a scammer~" She giggled while stick her tongue out. "I am not gonna fall for this coins, Obami. In your dreams!!"

"So what are you planning then?"

"I'll earn votes the normal way. I have 3 now. And if the price go higher, I would sell them to pay my debts." He smiled and then you showed him a book from your coat. "So I can finally get rid of this. This haven't stressing me out yet since it will take place once I graduated highschool but I better make a solution." You pout and eat your ramen.

"Life Plan..." He whispered and you nodded. He took that to open it and start to read it, he can't help but to feel disgusted to what he is reading. So this is what Kirari do to those you can't pay their debts? It's sickening. "Marriage? Birth? This is disgusting, what a sick plan." he throw them back to you.

"I know right?! Like I already said that I would only make myself troublesome so the man on the list can finally let me go but Runa-chan said to me that they would force me!" I pout and right now you still have 130M¥ remaining debt. "Since I am limited to who I should gamble with. It's hard to make money in games and that is my only source of income. I can't trouble my mom!" you put them back in your chest.

-

"You told everyone that you're a busy person, Rin." You said and look at the pastries that Rei is serving in the table and you glared at the black haired man, enjoying his tea. He finally look at you and smiled.

"Yes, time is very important to me."

"No, shut the hell up. Why are you inviting me to have a 'private' chat with you? For the third time that is!" You pointed out and he chuckled. You already reject his swindlous offer, but he still kept pestering you every break, lunch and after school hours!! You suppose to be gambling, make your way to survive your housepet status!

Not chatting nonsense with this guy. You sigh.

"Ibara is the one who's doing business, truthful business, so I considered it is my free time." He tried to persuade yoh by his innocent sweet facade that it's not even working on you. "Come on Y/n have some tea, and let's talk about the future~"

Is this how rich people do? How boring. "I don't like tea, I'm sorry." you decline. You get up but he asks Rei to stop you. "Rin, seriously, I need to get votes now!"

"Please~ the election just started, why won't we talk." He pout and you straight up and breath in.

"You know, Rin. I am not a good pawn. You will mever gain something from me, so save the flattery alright? You can just fool other girls, just leave me alone." You convinced him. But he smiled.

"I know. But I didn't invite you over for that. I just wanted to talk with you. Don't you like to talk to me?" Wow, now he's gaslighting you? The nerve after he tried to persuade and swindle you.

"It's not like I don't, I just don't see the goods for it." You honestly told him. He smiled, you are so honest with him and you are always frank, you're good with reasonings and never lie about your reasons, however, you are hard to swindle despite being so honest

He wanted to take his sweet, sweet time with talking until you allowed him to take over you and devour you.

"I have always wonder what your parents do for living?" Your brows furrowed but leave a heavy sigh. You think it won't hurt to just tell him everything, right? He might leave you alone after that.

"My father left us with some random chick, it's just only me and My Mother. Mother owns a ramen stall near school. You probably won't like it since you're rich. Ugh rich people." You stick out your tongue and pretended to be disgusted.

Good laugh, since your father left your Mom after he met that rich ass bitch.

"I-is that so? I'm sorry. I-i am not trying to pry, I swear-"

"It's fine. It's not like it will do something if I get sad over it." You assured him. You don't know if he's lying about being so sorry about it. You hope that he won't lie anything about this, but who knows? You definetely can't trusts a swindler like him. "I did a very great job pranking that lady." his eyes immediately lit up when he heard you.

Oh yeah, he always laugh at your stories whenever you tell him about your pranks and mocking people here. He always find it amusing on how you manage to survive this school. Apparently, you are a scholar and manage to pass the entrance exam, you also have an excellent grade... Even if money is what circullating this school. Kirari have some charity.

"What happened? What did you do?"

"I did a lot of trauma from that lady, I am shock that she never even hit me or something. As she should because I have pictures of her fucking with my father and I can sent her to jail for that. First I embarrassed her to a meeting. Shout at her that she's a homewrecker, a whore and blablabla"

"Oh god!!" He laugh and you honestly can figure out that he likes riot or something. It's probably entertaining for him. Well it does. And you're quite glad that, he didn't show this emotion to others. Aside from his family, probably.

"And? And??"

"I put holes in her tires, make a huge gossip about her and throw a huge pile of cake when she's giving her speech in the party." He gasp and laugh loudly. Suddenly Ibara barge in to report at Rin.

"HAHAHA!"

"Whoa! Rin-san what's up. And hey L/N-san." You nodded and you could see Rin wiping his tears from laughing.

"Oh hey Ibara. Why don't you sit down, were just talking and Y/n told me about some of her silly stories."

"Yeah, Obami is lazying out instead of helping you. Your boss is lazy as fudge." I roasted and Rin pout.

"Hehe~ I don't really mind, L/n-san."

-

Rin is gamblimg with the Vice President and you feel relief because you now have a time to gamble. Rin is very clingy. He even convinced you to call him in his first name and introduced you to the other branch of the family.

You get along with Yumi a lot more since everyone is a lot more tought and serious when they started to discuss the reason why are they here. So whenever the discuss something that is really serious, both you and Yumi would try make it atleast to ease them all up. You get along with Rei too and share your ramen recipe to him.

Yumi always question you about your relationship with Rin and you just smiled and never gave her a definitive answer since you, yourself is also confuse why Rin keeps you around. Even the President asks you often whenever you come at her for updates regarding the life plan.

"I see so you also pranked him and he tried to persuade you into these scumcoins." You nodded and Kirari giggled. Kirari always think that you are very confusing... Despite being devoured you continue to swim around and hang on tight. You survived her aquarium far more than she anticipated.

" I decline. I told him how I see that as a fraudulent offer. Since there is no guaranteed that he will win and he might run after he win. He explained the risk and it's pure gamble but I can't take that much risk now nobody would trusts their possession to someone they just met. That was a good one tho, the student body was fooled by it." Kirari giggled and Sayaka gave you a cup of hot chocolate. "Thank you, Igarashi-san."

"Scumcoin are getting popular now. But I have always wonder how long this will keep up." You shrugged your shoulder and take a sip.

"Who knows. Anyways I am off to go. This might be also the end of his career as a swildler, he's up to the Vice President as of the moment." She chuckled and giggled.

"You must have low hopes for him..."

"I just have high hopes for your twin. I mean... She's a Momobami after all. And your double, yourself." You gave her a small smile and bow. "Expect a payment. At the end of the election, probably." She smiled and nodded.

"take care."

Soon you found out about Sayaka's buying votes and when you figure out that it's only 3 million yen. Sayaka offered it to you but you immediately decline to sell it. It's too low for now, you have to stay back and keep ypur votes in hand.

You decided to gamble more, poker, roulette, rock paper scissors. Anything and now your vote count is now 5. It is a small process but this five votes can reach it's proper value up to 30 Million Yen at the end of the election.

The sun will shortly set. And you saw Rin walking down the hallway, talking with Ibara shortly he saw you and asks Ibara if he can give the two of you a private time alone, Ibara agreed, they seem alright, did they won? He looks in your eyes and you giggled.

"What's up?"

"Well... I lost the 200 votes." And you giggled. You saw his frown. "And I got de-facto out of the election." he told you what happened and how his pride was crushed in oblivion by Ririka. But even after that huge lost...

You can sense that, he's alright with it. You chuckled.

"You sound like you're fine staying in hell..."

"Absolutely." He said and you smiled. "I did the best I could, and to think that Ibara have forgiven me and accepted me and my illegal ways, that put me into rest."

"You know what, let's get you something to eat. Do you wanna eat at my Mother's ramen stall? I swear it's good. It's probably not as good as what you usually eat-"

"I have something to confess, Y/n..." Your eyes blink and you look at him. Your heart is beating so fast but he smiled cockily. "I asks Rei to make it for me when I found out you shared the ramen recipe."

"That's not even a big issue, Rin." You rolled your eyes and he laugh.

"Now you know how it feels to be prank. That's just a mild one. But anyway, you probably expect a lot more dramatic base on your expression." He pointed out and you giggled. Seriously, this guy is just so sharp at reading people.

"I thought you would decline since it's lame to eat in my Mother's stall." You said honestly and truthfully, you will feel heartbroken if he think that it is lame. You honestly swore to yourself that you will never make friends with rich people anymore because of this reason. It became your biggest fear to look down upon by your so called friends.

"What? I'm heartbroken. I will never say that to you." He said and pout. Your eyes widened and look at him. He held your hand and he ran, dragging you along, he exit the academy and spoke again. "I like the Ramen that Rei made for me. If Rei mastered it perfectly at first try and it's already delicious, what more if your mother made them? I wanna taste it, right now, Y/n!"

Your heart feel like it will expload so suddenly. He said that to your face and he genuinely wanted to try them, you can't see a hint of lie or pretentiousness in his voice and expression. He... Genuinely excited about eating your family's signiture dish. And it made you smile, happy.

How many times this swindler will going to surprise me? You asks yourself.

"Don't freak her too much alright. She have some heart conditions." and he looks at you worriedly.

"And yet she still works so hard?"

"Don't get me started, I convinced her everyday to let it be and just let me do the work myself and she said that it will make her sicker if she won't move too much. Besides, Mother wants me to finish in Hyakkaou Academy. And move to a great university." I said and he looks at your eyes. With such admiration.

"You people are hardworking." You look at Rin and gulp. One thing you're scared abput is him swindling not only you but your family. You're not worried since their family is way ahead of his but you are still worried. But you wanted to test it out. You wanna see how he will react at your mom.

"At this hour the stall is now close but... We can go straight ahead to our Apartment." you informed him and he smiled while nodding in a fast way. The excitement on his eyes never cease and the way he walks to the way he speaks.

You smiled secretly.

This will be alright.

-

"is this your boyfriend Y/n?!" The moment Rin introduce himself to your mother, this is the immediate question she did asks you. Your mother smiled warmly at him while asking him to take a seat on your small living room.

You try to control your expression but the heat on your face rose up and immediately decline.

"Hahahue, It's not my boyfriend. He's a..." You hesitate to said who he is since it's the first time you introduce someone as your Friend. "He's a friend of mine."

"Oh? You've been studying there for quite sometime. You just got a friend?" I knew she would question you immediately.

"W-well..."

"Y/n prank me on my first day of school and we became friends." You blushed even more when Rin told your mother how the two of you interacted.

"So she still haven't let go her few old habits." Your mother rose a brow at you.

"Mom we didn't came in here for that..."

Your mother scold you and threatened you to spank your butt when Rin leaves the house, you pout while Rin is just trying to control his laugh. You glared at him. Then your mom asks Rin if he already ate dinner and he shook his head. So your mom prepared a meal for the both of you.

Surprisingly, your mom get alomg with him... Perfectly. You just watch the two of them while Mom told him how hard-headed you are while she started to cut some vegetables for the Ramen. You start to do the noodles yourself. While Rin just watch you and listen to your Mother.

"Now I know where you got your talkative traits." Rin whispered and held your waist! You flinch and shake your shoulder.

"Rin, space." you whispered back... Because you can feel his hot air that he's releasing as he whisper in your ear! It's making you flustered and it's ticklish! He watch how you knead the noodle dough.

While your mother make the broth. He didn't put his hand away from your waist. He comfortably wrapped his arms around it as he watch your hand. He keep laughing at your mother's story.

You were very glad your mother is cutting vegetables, you're facing her bareback while you knead the dough in the table. So you're mother is turning her back on both of you.

Rin is very flingy indeed. You thought, while flattening the dough until it's thin enough. But this is the first time he hugged me like this. He just usually held your hand in the hallway, have tea with you during breaks. Always fetch you after class.

Always looking forward with your stories, and keep you away from trouble. Or needless to say... He only wants you to prank him. You tried to push him away by pranking him more but it didn't work. Always attempt to devour you with his lies but it didn't also work well.

He's gentle and sweet. Clingy and always touchy. He didn't mind showing you around despite your pet tag status. He kept you around. Even buy you lunch so you could save up some money.

Why am I suddenly thinking like this? Your face heat up. Is falling in love is also one of the category of being devoured?

-

After the three of you eat, you let your mom to rest, hopefully she forgot tye deal about spanking your butt. Fortunately, she did sleep after she take some meds. Rin finally called Ibara to get him here so he could go back to the Academy, since his dormitory is there. While waiting, the two of you decided to talk for a while.

"Your Mother is very sweet." Rin said while waiting outside. You smiled. Ever since your fether left, she set aside those sadness away and keep on moving forward for the sake of you and her, but while doing that, her heart is also getting weaker and weaker.

For her, there's no point of getting sad when you are in the dark, might as well cheer yourself up and keep on working hard. Just smile while finding your ways to survive the crisis. You smiled...

"She is."

"Just like you." He said and you look at him. "I never had a Mother like yours, mine always pressure me because I am their successor." He added, trying to divert your attention from his compliments.

"You can come by to see her if you like. It's not like I mind it." He chuckled. You may not say this often but, you do want him to make it feel how to have a peace of mind, how to be happy despite being in a hardship situation, because frankly, that's how poor people survive. He works hard like anyone else from his family and that's good already, he doesn't need to exert too much effort to be the best all the time. You saw that with your own eyes.

"I'll keep that one in mind." He whispered and then you saw the car came and the window went down to see Ibara. Rin smiled at you and nodded. "The ramen is so delicious. I'll come by again for sure."

"Have a safe way at home."

-

After that, he felt great, although he's hiding from his costumers specially to whoever wanna cash out their scumcoin. A real swindler indeed. You went inside a room where you definetely know that he's staying, and you were surprises when he immediately wrapped his hand around your waist with a pout. What a clingy bastard.

"What too you so long?" He looks like a... Dog who misses it's owner. You giggled and pat his head. Both of you take a seat

"I made an excuse to Itsuki, she's watching the grandmeeting and it's starting, so might as well let's go to wherever Terano is." But you saw in his phone that he's already watching Erimi and Yumeko.

"Do you have any idea how this thing will turn out? Do you think she will win?" Rin asks and you frankly dom't know but one thing for sure.

"Who know's what's inside of their head, I only knew that once someone won this grand meeting or after this grandmeeting, the votes value will also drop." He chuckled, yeah you're keeping five, and as of now, the value of these votes are 8 Million Yen a piece. If someone will win, the price will certainly go down and it's such a problem.

"Well atleast I can pay 40 Million Yen. I am thinking about selling it right now to Sayaka but I also need to wait a bit more." Rin smiled. And patted your head. He stand up and lend out a hand, you took that and went out of the room.

"I can always raise the price, Y/n..." He just said and smiled at you. "I can make it an auction type, deal with Sayaka Igarashi. Just give me your word." He said, because right now, he still have one card left and it will benefit you, and the entire family.

"Please, don't. I don't wanna think that I am using you besides, I can totally see this as a gamble. I'll figure it out myself if i lose." you don't mind staying as a housepet for quite sometime, it can take time to make money.

-

But then you recieved a very bad call. Your mother suddenly collapsed and will be needing an urgent heart surgery. You were crying all night, just by thinking where will you be able to get 28 Million Yen. So you decided to get all the money for your college at the bank, your mother has been saving for you for years.

It's an emergency and you need to use it for her, her health is the most important. Rin found out about your situation shortly, you plan to never tell him about it but, Itsuki spilled the news to him accidentally.

"I will try and use the college funds that my mother has been saving for a decade." You said to him after he spoke that he would love to help you out. As much as possible you don't wanna asks for his help. The surgery is expensive enough, and I know the 28 Million is just a coin to him.

But, your conscience just can't. You just asks him to give you a ride to the bank to deposit all the money, but also a bad news happened that made you see red.

The college funds were already deposit, you were also surprised that the bankbook that belong to your mom was also named to your father.

"Bring me to the XXX Company." Rin swear that he felt so scared for his life.

"Y-you... Heard her Ibara. Ehem." He tried to calmed you down by reaching for your hand since he has no idea. He only found out when he accompany you to ypur father's office. You run and slapped the man, who he assume that is your father.

"HOW DARE YOU STOLE THE MONEY THAT YOU NEVER EVEN WORK HARD FOR?!" Rin tried to stppped your outburst but once he heard your father response...

"That money is mine! Remember that your small and crook stall of your mother was there because of me. Don't you dare raise your vouce at me, Missy!" He lets you go suddenly and slapped him again. He lets you go on purpose

"YOU CRUEL BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO MY MOM! MOTHER DID EVERYTHING SHE COULD TO SAVE THAT MONEY! GIVE IT BACK! GIVE THE MONEY BACK!!!" Your tears starts to flow and in the first time, Rin felt furious. Those angry tears, never belong in your expression. And yet your own father swindle and scam you.

"THAT MONEY BELONG TO MY MOTHER! She needs it..." your voice is dying out as you went on your knees. "P-please... Hahaue is dying... She needs that money..." Rin tried to grabbed you and glared at the man infront of you.

At the end you were kicked out of the building, and you haven't stopped crying. Rin tried to comfort you but you keep on looking at the huge building infront of you...

"Y-y/n-" he hugged you. He never felt bad for anything. But you... You work hard and yet... How could some other people just go and ruin and step on you. He felt furious... Suddenly he remember this company. He kept on rubbing your back as you cry on his shoulder, he carried you to the car.

"T-that money... H-how could he d-do that..." soon you stopped talking and Ibara kept on looking at Rin from the rear mirror simce his face is so dark from madness. Although his gentle touch on your skin made you doze off.

"Ibara, contact my father." Rin has a wicked smiled on his face. He'll make sure that these people will suffer for the rest of their lives.

-

Rin never left your side since then.

"Y/n..." You woke up and he helps you sat up, but the joy on your face wasn't there. He know to himself that he swindle a lot of people, but not like what your Father did to you and your Mom. "A-about your father-"

"There's no point into getting dramatic, Igarashi is still buying votes right now. I'll sell these five." You stand up and tried to prepare but Rin stopped you. You just got up, you didn't even eat anything.

"Calm down, please." Rin tried to persuade you and you stop to look at him. "Try to get yourself something, first. I also heard from someone Igarashi has no funds left, and trying to gamble to earn votes instead."

"She what?!" You panicked but he held your hand.

"Calm down first. Terano and the rest of the family talked and... We decided to come up for our last card." Rin told you about his plan to use the Scumcoin again to gain votes, just transfering the entire rate to Kirari's vote count.

"Terano lost the gamble..." You whispered. I-if that happened then the value of these votes drop rates up to 0. You lose the gamble. You felt defeated. It didn't happen the way you predicted.

"You're not lost yet." Rin cupped your face. A sinister smile on his face, a crazed that is rushing on his entire face. "Please... Gamble with me. And I'll make sure you will win." You gulp but you felt your heart race.

"I..." You're father betrayed you and your mother, you can't let Rin to devour you this time!! Your Mother's life is on the line!!

"You have to take the risk, there's no time for you to be scared of it, this is Hyakkaou Academy." You felt your tears starts to burst but he quickly wipe them off. "Y/n... What's your entire conclusion. All you have to do, is wait for tommorow."

"But Mother-"

"I know... But Tommorow, I promise you.." You look at his eyes, sincerity is all you could see. "I'll scam the entire student body but you." He release his pinky finger and for the first time in your life... You trusts him. But you have wondered what will he get in return, why is he doing this?

You will survive this crisis not on your own but because he help you entirely and all you have to do is to trusts him and everything else is on him. What is he after?

"I know what you're thinking, Y/n." Rin said and look at your eyes, he held your wrists firmly as his other hand tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Hmm... Indeed, what a smart question. How am I going to benefit in this promise... You are risking your pet status and your mother's life... How about me... What am I risking?" he smiled tenderly and lean in your ear.

"I'm risking of losing you..."

-

"Rin-san, are you sure it's okay to move without Y/n-san's approval?!" Ibara asks. Because this is insane, Rin called his father to swindle every single penny of the company of your father. Your father is the one who's managing all the assets of his affair. The woman is naturally the CEO of the Company but since they are together, the woman make your father as a manager.

"I have more plans." Rin whispered. Ibara look at Terano who sigh. "Y/n won't accept any help from me, because to her, it will only hold me back. However, I can help her in other way where she can accept. I'll use our current plan to raise the price of the votes. I can bet that Sayaka Igarashi would borrow money from the Academy's treasury."

"But what if we ended up winning." Terano asks and Rin sigh. He knows very well what kind of risk he's going to deal with but this his work to begin with. And Rin's priority is Y/n and only her.

"I'll pay out to her."

Terano sigh. There is no point stopping Rin once he focused on something.

"I wanna make everyone suffer for stepping on her. I want her to be my wife and queen, And i'll punish everyone who will act hostile towards her." Ibara gulp and Rin smirked. The Obami family is really something, they are considered as the secomd devious family in the entire clan. And they are never called devious for nothing. "So first, I'll scam their company. And I will make sure that they will never be able to stand again."

"Then second, while your father do his thing outside the Academy, you and Terano would work together, use the Scumcoin to swindle the entire Student Body again. Except Y/n." Ibara said and Rin nodded. The thing here is, they are not only trying to defeat Sayaka Igarashi, it's also Kirari. But there is no guaranteed that the other side won't win too.

"This effort will only lead us to lose. But I guess we need to give this one a try." Terano said. Either way, if they end up winning everything will go in Rin's way. If they won the vote buying war, Rin can pay Y/n out for her five votes, but 1 vote should only cost 10 Million First. If Sayaka raise the prices so they are.

They will keep going until one of them can't.

"Third, if Kirari or Terano ended up winning, you'll asks the president to change Y/n's life plan."

"Isn't that outrageous? You can just asks Y/n once she pay her debt and also her mom's condition, that is just 28 Million Yen." Miyo asks and Rin explained her debt.

"So you are not only trying to save her mom, but also her debt here?" Nozomi asks and Rin giggled.

"Well you can't stop him, he's insane when it comes to her." Terano said and shook his head and now she thinks that he and Kirari are both the same. "And Y/n just so stubborn to asks for help." Rin smiled. For him, he saw her as an independent who always make her way out of predicament. But luck is jot by her side now, since her mother was included, and that is a different situation for her. That's why he love her.

"Besides there is other way on how to defeat Kirari. She may continue to lead the school and the family but what will happen if she don't have funds anymore?" Rin asks and giggled. "Well it may work well but for sure it will bring a lot damage on her."

"You're so fucking smart." Miyo snorted.

Considering that they are in a devouring clan.

-

"You can go on..." Rin smiled and patted your head. You hesitated because you felt bad. Rin smiled to assure you so you shyly made your way to Sayaka's team and hand over your 5 votes. For you, the plan worked well. Your mother can finally have a surgery now.

Everything works well in your way but you felt terribly sad for Rin and the rest of the family, they didn't won the election. But Rin assured you that it's okay. They lost fair and square and not because of you.

He accompany you to the hospital and make appointments, you also pay for it immediately so the operation will start now. The doctors immediately move your mother to the operating room. But before that, you held her hands as tears stream down your face.

"Hahaue... Please... Stay strong... Don't leave me yet." You whispered as you look at her sleeping form. Rin patted your back to comfort you.

"She will be alright." He kissed your forehead. The nurse went straight ahead to the operating room. While doing so, Rin look at you and smiled.

"It will never happen without your help..." You whispered shyly and he smiled.

"I think it's good because it benefits not only me... But also the entire Family." Rin smiled and cupped your face. "Igarashi took the bait, I don't know what will happen to the Council now." Then he started to tell you about his plan to dig Kirari's grave.

"I know this Academy probably have 250 Billion to 300 Billion in their treasury. It already came into my mind before... And since this Vote Buying War started, I kinda want to stirr things up. But ofcourse for it to happen, I want Sayaka Igarashi to take the bait and it happened. Well if it didn't work we would naturally win." He explained and you smiled. So not only ypu who's gambling in the game, so does she and everyone from the Clan

"So you're planning to burn all those 300 Billion Yen?" You asks and Rin nodded a little. "Ah! Sayaka Offered 100 Million Yen per vote and there is 3000 students in Hyakkaou Academy!" You suddenly realized but Rin chuckled.

"Igarashi is smarter than that, she only needs enough votes that will secure Kirari's position. Maybe she'll burn around 100 Billion Yen. However it's still a cash that she don't owned. So, naturally, there is no exception about the Secretary of the President being a housepet. So she will be..." You nodded in realization.

But another question is... "What will happen if all of this didn't happen?"

"Well... First, Terano will have 507 votes now and has the power to control who's going to win. Second, you may sell your vote for 40 Million each to us instead. You have 5 so, you will be having 200 Million. That is still enough to pay for Mom's surgery but won't be enough for your housepet status." Rin explained and you nodded. "But I also prepare a seperate gamble for that, haha~" You look at him flatly and pinch his side but then your expression soften...

"So all this risk, you are planning to save me all along. I-i... Why?" He suddenly turned red at your sudden question and turn around. You look at confuse.

"C-can you give me some time? I-i'll explain everything once the d-dusts is settled. I-i'm still waiting for the result." Result of what? The election? But why?

-

Since then he started to avoid you, I feel extremely furious because he never invite me for tea every break. He usually do that routine. Is he busy? You asks yourself. Did I say something that isn't suppose to say? You asks again. You usually never question your behaviour but it's been 3 days since this strange events is happening.

The election is over and Kirari won. You were surprised about the turn of the events, specially Yumeko. But that doesn't matter as of now! Rin is avoiding you for no gold reason at all. Your housepet status haven't been settled as well.

Well you pay the hospital bills and every maintenance that your Mother needs. The operation went smoothly, you can now breath properly now that your problems is now over. You still have the 450 Million Yen on hand.

Also the Momobami Clan's branches started to leave one by one!

I-is Rin is avoiding me? Because he's leaving? You started to over think even further. Well Terano told me that the reason they were here in the first place is because of the Election that was held by Kirari. Kirari offered not only the President's seat, but so does her position as the leader of their Family. So now that their business is over with this school.

Does that also mean that they will leave now? Is that the reason why he is avoiding you?

Also Kirari refuse to also, accept your payment suddenly that's why you still have tons of cash in hand, Runa also talke back the Pet Tag, so you returnednto your humanhood. It's all confusing!! Runa also asks for the Life Plan. It was withdraw she said or rather there will be some major changes.

You heart is beating rapidly, Kirari told you that your lifeplan will take place once you graduated from here? Did they change it? Is my arrange husband wants me now?!!

"What's the matter, Y/n?" Itsuki looks at you worriedly. You suppose to be happy that your problems has been lift up, your pet status is now gone, your Mother is now okay. "You look bothered."

"Well... Itsuki... Can I asks you something?" you asks and she looks at you. "Have you feel lonely when... Someone dear to you, starting to act strange?" You asks and she looks at you and take a seat beside you with a soft smile.

Itsuki is your classmate, but after you got your ass beat by the President, the two of starting become close, and then introduce you to her Second year friens.

"Is Rin Obami is avoiding you?" She asks and you nodded. Wait, you suppose to be worried about the strange things that is happening in regards to you life plan!! Not Rin Obami. "You two became so close, and to be honest, Y/n..."

"H-hmm?"

"I started to think that both ofyou were dating or something." You gave her a flat look. Well yes. Everybody would think that way. "You two are just so close with each other..." she's right. To the point that he helped you in every problems you had. To the point that he met your Mother. You put bounderies to yourself to not be friend with rich people here.

But that didn't happened, because of Rin Obami.

"I think you're inlove, Y/n... I mean I felt this way too when Manyuda-senpai abandoned me, since he is my accomplice but you two are more than partners you know. He helped you... He always be with you. When he lost his votes you were there for him, even go further as entering your private life." she pointed out as you turned red but it do make sense.

"I-itsuki!! Tone your voice down!!"

"But that's true!" she shouted quietly. "Besides, Rin will mever help you like this, if he doesn't love you.." She said and you blushed even more. It suddenly feels extremely hot even though the whole cafeteria is air conditioned.

But it did make sense. You held your hand in your chest.

Do I love him? You suddenly remembered all the things that the two of you do together, during breaks he always look forward of your stories. How persistent he is into swindling you, that didn't even work. The way he feels happy about simple things you do.

The way he smile to the way he held you.

You feel your heart beat so fast as heat rush in your face. Your thoughts has been cut off when Itsuki giggled.

"I d-don't know, Itsuki. I just feel upset." You said and you frown. Upset because he suddenly start to avoid you.

"Come on, Y/n whenever you feel upset, you just shrugged it down and do stir more trouble." You pout because that's what you've been doing a lot.

"B-but I am afraid to approach him. And I feel anxious." You whispered and you look at Sumeragi. "He probably avoiding me now since he will leave the Academy." She looks at you weirdly.

"Huh?"

"I-i mean, all the President's family is leaving one by one! Maybe he's next or something." You can feel your nose tingle as the thought of him levaing you. But why are you even afraid about it? You were whole prepared for this!

Itsuki sigh and she was about to say something but the bell rang, perfect timing since you were about to cry in any seconds. You suddenly miss him. You stand up and ran in the bathroom. And decided to skip class to go somewhere in the Academy, hoping for Ikishima not to caught you but you suddenly remembered about the Life Plan.

"Shit I almost forgot about it, I should have inquire about it with Sayaka and The President!!" you quickly ran in the Council Room. But you saw Rin went outside of the room with Ibara, Terano and Yumi. You felt your feet petrified.

You gulp and look at the floor.

"Ah... L/n-san. What brings you here?" You look at Sayaka and you quickly went to her. You ignored Rin and the rest who did the same however, Ibara's face is distorted. Like he's guilty or something.

"A-ah... About..." You look at her and proceed. "About my Life Plan. I wanted to asks why it was withdrawn and a-about my debt? R-runa told me about it, that I shouldn't pay for it anymore. What happened?" Sayaka smiled and come up with a great explanation.

"We are busy to settle matters, The election just ended, so we are not accepting payments about the debt, we will announce when we will be collecting them." She response calmly and she proceed. "About the life plan, maybe there will be some changes." but why your pet tag was also withdrawn and you're the only one who doesn't have a pet tag among all the House Pets.

Your name was also removed from top list.

"I-i see... A-alright. Thank you for making it clear."

"Please proceed to your class." She said but you smirked.

"Oh no. I'll skip. Bleh." You stick up your tongue and ran in the hallway.

-

You pout while the beautification chairwoman scolds you terribly.

"What happened to your owner?! Where is that bastard! Whole election, Y/n!! Whole goddamn election this office was at peace! AT PEACE!!" You pout as she keep on ranting about how you behave. About how there is no deliquent pet or troublesome pet she is punishing the whole election because of your 'owner' or so called Rin Obami.

And since you won against her so many times in a gamble, she didn't punish you like that. You were just in detention for 2 hours, let you listen about her rants.

"But I no longer a pet, look I don't have a tag."

"That is why I am not gambling with you, it us because of that." She scoffed and you giggled.

So for two hours, you listened to her blabbers.

Then after that, she let's you go and look for your locker, you opened it to change your shoes but a letter dropped as you open the door of your locker. You look around you, there is no longer people around you.

You opened it and you sigh.

'I heard you finally got out of your pet status, well done~ I am so glad that you return to your Human Hood, so... Tommorow at YYY Restaurant, after school, meet me there. -M'

"WHO THE FUCK IS THIS BTCH?" you asks and glared at it. He just insulted you and asks you out on a date?! "What happened to hi and hello? To greetings? To get to know stage? Ugh romance in this academy is also crazy." You said as you also torn the letter in pieces and throw it in a trashcan.

Whoever that M is, it's probably an upperclassman.

-

"Seriously?! You're going to feel shy now?!" The green eyed woman glared at Rin who keep on rubbing his nape. "She asks you why! That was your moment!!" Terano shouted at him which he felt even more shy.

"W-well it caugh me off-guard!!" He reasoned out but Terano can't even more stressful. He already went too far, as buying that stupid book. The reason why they were inside the council room is because they wanted to arrange something.

Rin asks Kirari a favor about changing the arrange husband. Or tell her that, Rin would pay the 130 Million Yen debt. At first Kirari disagreed because you don't know anything about Rin's schemes. But she agreed now since it was interesting.

In the end, your debt was paid and your pet tag was retreived. But your life plan was bought by him.

"You can't get her out of this school. Y/n just barely started highschool. That's our agreement." Then Kirari get the lifeplan from Sayaka and open it.

"If Y/n asks you about it, keep it a secret." So That's why Sayaka told you a very good lie.

Back to the topic.

"After all the strings you pulled? You're going to back out now?!" Terano shouted at Rin. Terano can't believe how this idiot is acting upon Y/n. After all the stun he pulled all for the sake of that lady.

"I am not backing out! I just feel nervous!!"

"You..." Her face scrunched in annoyance. "I don't even wanna say it." It just feels ridiculous how this person is feeling nervous about saying his true feelings for her. Or maybe because he is born a liar so admiting something true is not in his character. That's why Terano shut up. "Don't waste your time, you are upsetting her." That is all she just said and nodded at Yumi.

Rin knows that she's very upset for avoiding her but it just feels like his heart is going to get out from his chest just by thinking what he did behind her back.

Terano is just mad right now because he's chickening out after he spend money all for her sake. Her debt is paid all because of him. He feel like she won't agree to this. But he... He likes her so much. Because no matter what kind of tempting situation he gives, she never bite. For the first time, he failed his duty as a Swindler.

She continue to be a smart, and cunning lady who always saw through his lies. She never fell into a trap, but as time went by...

He fell even harder, how she loved her Mother, and...

How he feels guilty by robbing her even a single yen. He can't bring so much pain to that Lady. He can't even treat her that way, he never felt so guilty about it. And the way he looks forward into talking to you, always listening to your silly stories, and how you won with the Student Coucil Midari because she tried to punish you.

How you had guts to even sneak a fart bag into the President's seats. He remember all your stories. Every single one of them.

"Y/n..." Oh how he missed you.

-

"Huh?"

"WHATEVER YOU ARE SCHEMING, YOU BETTER STOP IT!!" you look confusely to your Father who is pointing his finger at you.

You were suddenly got arrested for no good reason at all when you are on your way home and then the Police informed you about that your Father file a case to you, and your mother a Fraud... So you shouted at the your Father.

"HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT TO MY FACE?! YOU WERE THE ONE WHO ROB HER HARD EARN SAVED MONEY!!!" you shouted as you try to raise your hand it him but the Police stopped you.

"How could you believe him?! This is ridiculous!!!" You said as you explained the Police Man about how your Mother was on the hospital for 5 days now, since she got a heart Surgery. And then he look at your ID and found out that you studied in Hyakkaou.

And since you're underage, they file a case against your Mother instead, making you mad at him even more.

"How dare you!! We didn't steal anything!!!" You shouted but you got kicked out of the Police Station. Your father exit there and glared at you and grabbed your collar to slap yoh across the face. You felt the stingy pain on your cheeks.

"You brat! You cause me so much trouble, you better stop it now or else, I will fucking kill you." He said and you gulp the lump in your throat as you look up in the sky.

"You..." You whispered and bang him in the forehead, hard and nut. "BASTARD!!"

You ran away and hide somewhere.

Tommorow and you still went to class to asks for some good lawyer, Itsuki and your friends gasp to the way you look.

"Y-y/n!!" Suzui is the first one to approach you and you bit your lip. "Who did your fought to?!"

"What happened, Y/n?! Who did this?!" Mary asks you while Yumeko is worriedly rush to the canteen to get some ice because of your swollen cheeks. Itsuki wrapped it in a handkerchief and put it in your cheek.

"G-guys...do you know any Law Firm around the city? I might need a Lawyer." then you started to tell them who did this to yoh and how you are accused by Fraud.

"Is he even thinking? How can you destroy a big company, just like that?" you shrugged at Itsuki's question while contacting Manyuda-senpai. "That is ridiculous."

"And they arrested your Mom instead?! They arrested a disabled person! So the police is, around at your Mother's room?!" Mary asks and Ririka tried to asks for some help for ypu too, even contacted their Family Lawyers.

"Yes. It's stressing me out now, she just got a successful heart surgery, I don't wanna stress her out so I need a Lawyer now. But nobody would probably stand up for me since I am underage." You massage your temple as you sigh.

-

"I see.." The blue eyes girl look at the Aquarium Tank. "News really does have wings." She said to Sayaka.

"I saw her in the cafeteria making commotion, she have a poorly made head patch on her head that she probably did herself, and also a bruise cheeks. So I tried to listen to their conversation." Sayaka said and she giggled.

"Rin better make his move now, right, Terano?" She look at the opposite side of the table and smiled.

-

You are walking down the hallway when you but as soon as you turn your left, you bump into someone and it hit your wonded forehead. You yelped in pain as you tried to fix your patch.

You look up to see a pair of purple eyes that you quickly stand up as you pretended that nothing happened however he grabbed your arm to stop you.

"What happened to your face?" He said and look at you. You kept your mouth shut. You've been hiding on him, ever since that talk you had with your Itsuki and the others, you just stay somewhere else, to the place that he barely visit or staying in.

However he didn't like your silence. "Y/n.." as always, he would found out about it wether you tell him or not, you asks Itsuki to never spill a word about your condition. But he manage to find out about it anyways.

"It... Shouldn't concern you." You whispered, well you felt very very embarrassed about saying that word, after everything he'd done for you. You missed him so much but what's the point of getting him involve in your life if he's avoiding you?

But those expression. His madness is visible in his eyes, you can totally see that.

"Even if you tell me or not, I have ways to find out." He said to you. Almost like threatening you. You look away, however he kept on touching your swollen cheeks. From the looks of it, you were slapped by a rough hands. He look at the poorly made bandage, he already knew that you made them. "What on earth did you do this time, Y/n?" He whispered and carrassed your cheeks.

"This time, huh?" you felt your heart feelimg heavy. "I don't know either. I don't know what kind of mess I was involved to either." He looks at you but you felt your tears flow down. All the frustrations you felt, you're mother is detained even if she's in a confinement room. It was all mess up.

The police told you that I might got involved into a massive Fruad out of desperation to make you afford the Surgery. Non from the Law Firm wanted to accept your case. If this keeps up...

Your mother would be put in to prison, she doesn't even have an ounce of idea what kind of mess she was put into. Rin hugged you, putting his hand on your head and the other hand is in your back, rubbing it tenderly

"Haha. I was just avoiding you for days, and yet you were in another trouble... Seriously, Y/n..." You didn't listen as you continue to sobbed in his chest. "There's no one controlling you... Hmm?" Everybody do have weakness... And he already assumed that your Mother is involve to it. He knew you, you loved your Mom dearly, and that is the only reason why are you crying right now.

"I don't know. I was accused of defrauding the Company that my Father work into." When you said that he was stunned to the point and bit his lips. "Nobody from the Lawfirm in the City wanted to take my Case, My Father probably pulled some strings-"

"I did that." He told you on point. Your eyes widened and he smiled cheekily.

"Y-you what??" he smiled and patted your head.

"Well, only the 40%. The remaining 60% is all up to you." then he told you, what he did. How he swindled and made a huge fraud to your Father's company. And the reason he did that is... "They are the people who deserved to be devoured, and I don't like what they did to you." And now that he saw how your Father reacted to you and hurt you.

He's livid again. He wanted to make him suffer and begged on his knees. And you sense a sinister crazed from him, just by looking at him makes you shiver.

How many times will you go through lenghts just for me?

"Rin... Stop." You whispered and he shook his head.

"I'll take care of your Lawyer. Let's burn his cash, assets and properties. And let's see how far they would go." Your eyes widened. He's going to help you again and you won't let him this time!

"Why are you always doing things for me?!" You shouted and he look at you. You mever shouted at him like this. "I always asks you why! Is this fun to you? Stop making me crazy, Rin!" the tears that you've been trying to hold back kept on flowing. "I asks you why you help me so much, and you told you will tell me..."

"But why are you avoiding me? And then you will show up to me then tell me you would help me, again!! I don't understand you at all!!" Ypu kept on ranting about how much he hurt you and how much you miss him. "I hate it when I am left behind! I hate it when I don't understand you! I hate it, that I have to be so curious what have I done. And you know what, Rin? I am only like this to you!"

All you want is an answer from him, an answer why! So you would stop hoping too that he loves you as well. That if only you're rich as him, you would help him to achieve his goal and rule over his family... But all you could give is, his comfort and peace that is even a bare minimum, compare to what he do for you and your mother.

You hate this... You hate this so much that you can't even do something useful for him.

"I miss you so much! And I want answers from you! I want a closure between us! Because this, this is ridiculous! Because I kept on hoping! Hoping that you love me too!" You confessed already and your eyes widened. Rin looks at you. He was red. Your voice suddenly stop making noise, your throat started to hurts even more as your nose tingled.

You broke down.

"Y-y/n..." Rin called you and tried to touch you but you get your hands up and put it on your face to cover it as you cried.

You've been hoping all this time... hoping that everything would fall into right places at the right time. That everything would be alright, in this school, everything is decided in gambling. You wanted to take a risk but the world hates you so much. The world, the odds and even the gods hates you and confuse you!

"I-i know I am a brat! I am a deliquent and I deserve this! But I don't deserve to be in this mess! My mother don't deserve to be robbed! To be in jail as she recover! She d-did everything for me! And yet she's suffering! Because of that bastard. And you! Please... stop confusing me! Stop making me crazy, Obami!"

You spoke between your sobs, as you tried to push him away because he kept holding you forcely, all the frustrations, desperations and confusion starts to surge in every corner of your head.

"I hate that I can't even do anything to pay you back from everything you have done. I hate it that I am not rich enough, good enough to help you too." He lets you cry while holding you in his arms. He felt... mixxed feelings, he felt sorry for all your frustrations, that he's making you upset and bothered.

But the other half makes him feel... great, that you felt bad because you can't help him. That you genuinely want to give everything he did for you.

Those broken sobs turn intl silent breath, those force coming from your hands that trying to push him away turn meek and slowly giving up in to putting distance between the two of you. He took the opportunity to comfort you as he completely wrapped his arms around your frail body.

I made... her cry...

"I'm sorry." He would let you hit him until you felt enough if that would earn him your forgiveness, losing you is not in his option. "I don't want to keep you stalling." He doesn't know how to start admiting his own revelations either.

You didn't spoke. So he continue.

"I don't wanna upset you, gods knows how much I missed you, Y/n-" He suddenly stopped talking when he felt your entire weight in his arms. And yelp as he tried to catch you in his arms. You passed out suddenly out of weakness. "SHIT."

-

"She's too young to handle mental and physical predicament. Also, from the beating she got, and not getting helself anything, she experienced lack of physical energy." Rin immediately get you in the nurse because you suddenly passed out. "We will conduct few more test on her."

"Thank you, Miss." Ibara was the one who thanked the nurse, Rin didn't even spare her a glance however his ears were all up. Y/n's health is going downhill. He doesn't know what to think or who to blame. He just want your normal self back in his arms. He held your hand and kiss your knuckles. The door closed.

"I heard she's all stressed because she can't find a lawyer who wanted to accept her case. Given the situation, that she got 500 Million Yen so suddenly became a huge evidence to press charges." Ibara said and Terano is just listening. "She's underage, so they press charge to a disabled person instead."

"If were talking about law, that is possible. If were talking about Humanity, that's sick." Rin just kept on listening, because his kind can't drift to anything else.

"She didn't eat anything today, she tried to seek help to her friends, but all those lawyers doesn't wanna take her case." Ibara also added.

"Due to-"

"Enough." Rin whispered.

Everyone shut up and the room was filled in silence. Rin is in deep thought he cant help himself to feel distraught and blame himself why your Father press charges to you and your Mother, he was the person behind the Fraud and yet you suffered the consequences.

"To be honest. I don't know what to think anymore."

"That's not your fault, Man." Ibara tried to comfort hus cousin but he glared at him.

"But I was the reason! The reason why her Mother is getting to jail, and why she is on that bed! This plan backfired her a lot!" Why not him? That bastard. "Heh... he's testing my patience. He took thus opportunity to corner her..." But that is his work too.

"That bastard sure is smart." He doesn't like it anymore, he does not like what he will become if this continue further. A fact that the person he loves the most was affected so much.

She confessed how bothered she was. She confessed how much his avoidance cause her so much stress and confusion. Her situation that he started backfired her so much that her health detoriates rather quickly.

He doesn't like it.

"Prepare my lawyer. I will fix this mess. Bring guards for her and her mother. They are the top priority. Were all done with Kirari, might as well bring her in higher priority." He said while looking at her ease face. She's resting. That's what matter the most. It is much more better to set things straight and to also make sure everything is done the moment she wakes up.

It is much better.

"Yes, Rin-san." Ibara said and went out of the room. But before he close the door, he gave them one more glance. Rin is really serious but above all the scariest thing he could pull off. There is a soft eyes always glancing towards Y/n. Finally, he closed the door. "Everything for the love of his life." Whispering while shaking his head.

-

Y/n slowly have her own conciousness, she can feel her limbs, her control at the tips of her fingers. She slowly open her eyes. Where am I? What happened? Where's Hahaue?

She felt a hand that holds her firmly. She looks at her right side to see the sight that made her heart beat so much. She blink her eyes to see if she is still hallucinating or dreaming but it was indeed him.

Tears build up in her eyes. "R-rin." She said in a meek voice. He was there, exhausted, and looks so worn out.

How many days has it been? The last time she remember is that, he said sorry.

Those two words rang in her head as if it is what her heart desire the most. As if her entire body system has been waiting for his words of apology.

"Obami..." she called him. His body was so tired and stress, from so much work and worries to her mom, to her father's ruthless behavior, to Rin's unusual avoidance towards her after he helped her.

Her tears won't stop. Why is he here? What is he doing? Those question lingers in her head as she pour all her tears out.

She felt so many emotions that driven her to cry more. She felt happy and sad, she felt relief yet frustrated. Even herself does not know how can one feel so messed up.

But a hand cupped her face to wipe her tears, her irises met the blue ones, there is only one thing that matters.

"I'm here..." he is there with her no matter what. "Use me, take me, anything, Y/n... Nothing matters anymore."

"R-rin..." She felt conflicted, she does not want to risk on being associated with Rin. For someone like her, for someone who did nothing in her life but to be fair and truthful... She feels conflicted to be with someone who did nothing but injustice and lies for a living.

"Do not fret, everyone will pay for the damage they have caused you." He said and smiled warmly at her. He does not look down at her for being vulnerable, he does not mind seeing her being a human. "Even I, will pay for what happen to you." He whispered and all she could do I cry.

Cry her heart out.

"So tell me, you were my benefactor and also my punishment... What do you want me to do?" To Rin, Y/n is his saviour and yet his trial, Y/n will decide if she will pardon him or make him guilty. She is his one and only salvation, his goddess.

"I-i..." she start to speak between her sobs and Rin waited patiently for her. "I-i... Want..."

"I-i... I want y-you... To never l-leave me... Again." She whispered and Rin smiled ever so tenderly. "D-don't lie to m-me. D-don't leave me..."

"I won't..." When it comes to her, he never lied. "The moment I failed to swindle you is the moment I would never lie to you." And this perfect and right moment, the moon shone upon their window... He said those words. "I love you..."

"Y-you... Did?" she asks and Rin smiled. "Y-you loved me?" hoe could he love a peasant like her?

"I do... Even if I eat dirt. As long as I am with you, everything is okay with me."

"H-how could you... Love me?" she asks, she can't believe it.

"So many answers to thay question. I would be more than happy to answer them for a lifetime." He whispered and kissed her temples.

-

"She fell asleep." He whispered and kissed her forehead. He look behind him and saw Kirari. "How odd. It seems she also hold a piece of your heart to visit her personally."

"Someone outside of my aquarium decided to reek havok inside without my permission. Trully unacceptable." She said and went closer to her. "She's so worn out."

"You knew all along what is happening."

"I did..."

"Then why you didn't tell me?" Rin asks but somehow he knew the answer why Kirari did not tell him.

"It's fun. Besides, she has a head as hard as cement. She will never yield or asks for help, considering the amount of money she have now, she have the power to put her father on prison..." but Y/n surprises her by yielding at the end.

Love is the most twisted gamble and curse in this world.

"Was it you who pulled the strings why Y/n can't have a lawyer?" Rin asks hardly.

"What do you take me for?" Kirari asks with her brow raised. "I play fair, I would never do something so unfair in the game. The reason why she can't have a lawyer because her case is so hard for those incompetent fools." her hand went to her forehead and kiss her hand. She stand straight and look straight to Rin who has no reaction, maybe because its practically Kirari's hand that met her lips and not the skin of her forehead.

"She has to be better, before she fight. So she could use you perfectly." Kirari said and left. "Feel free to use the Momobami's Lawyer. This is my gift, for your soon union."

"Union?"

"You guys don't plan to get married?" He turned red and got flustered. "That expression is unlike of you, stop that." In her head, he finally get it what was Terano's talking about when she said he is chickening out of the things he started.

-

"You have to get well, Y/n." He said as he feed her some warm soup. He also prepared some ginger tea.

"I'm worried at Mom. Can I see her?"

"She is just next door, we can but you have to finish this first." She nod her head and open her mouth. Rin told her about what happened and everything he was about to do on her Dad's life.

He started to tell him how, step by step, how he will accurately destroy his useless life. Your father will never ever lay his hands on both you and your mother ever again.

"If you were not going to stop me, this is what exactly would happen." he said and he look at you... He saw no reaction.

"It's much more worst than what he did to us." It's triple the hardship, it's triple the pain. "Back then when he left, he stole Mom's savings for my college. Then he stole all of the money under my name this time."

"Ibara did some investigation why your Mother's illnesses suddenly flare up." Rin said and he opened a drawer beside your bed, he gave you a piece of paper regarding your Mother's insurance and pensions.

When he gave it to you, your eyes started to tear up, your hands is shaking, it is loke your body was blowned revelation after revelation, you feel sick in to your stomach. You put your hand in your mouth.

Rin surely does not want you to know but you have to decide. He can't do this without your permission. But seeing your sick reactions he can't help but to feel disheartened and hurt. You don't deserve it, this pain that your father inflicted you.

"R-rin..." You choked the lump in your throat and cry. You sobbed hardly when Rin held you so tight in his arms. "H-he's trying to kill her. T-that evil bastard."

"So that was w-why... Why he told me t-to g-get out of his way."

You broke down and cry again on his chest, and all he did is to comfort you, rubbing your back while your heart has been thorn to multiple pieces.

He has another support to continue devouring your worthless father.

"I... I want you to do it. Merciless, d-don't hold back. Ruin his life as he did to mine." He smiled softly and nod.

"Yes, as you wish."

-

"I hope you understand what is the situation here." Rin gaze coldly at the man who is wearing orange suit with a cuffs wrapped in his wrists. "Or even just the severity of the situation." His eyes turned dark.

"W-why... Are you doing this? Why are you ruining my life?!"

"Your company is in poor debt because of your poor management skills, not only that, you evade taxes, hire ghosts employees, used dual contracts, and ommited revenue, and many more wasn't mention." Rin started with a cold and ruthless smile.

"Y-you... Just who are you Obamis? You were the one who swindled my company and stole 100 billion yen! You were the bunch of scammers here!"

"If I were you, you would becareful on what you say, especially when you don't have evidences against us." Rin said and roll his eyes. "Because of your debt, you committed a sin by attempting to murder Mrs. (Mom's name). We conducted a test on her, that the medicine she used has a side effect to make her condition much worst. I met her 2 days after Y/n receive an emergency call that her mother got an heart attack."

"Too much of a coincidence, no? What a pity, Mother in-law was so healthy when I met her thought... And this evidence points at you, because these description came from your company. The serial number of this medicine is in one of your records."

"M-mother in-law?" He gasps when he realized who did he messed up with. "Y-you were the one who is helping Y/n?!"

"The reason why you wanna kill her is because of the insurance and pensions under her name, you want to robbed Y/n again."

"And pinned her to the corner, because your plan to kill Mrs. (Mom's name) did not succeed, so you blamed her for corrupting your company." Rin said and shook his head. He can't talk, he also robbed people of their money, now that he saw what are the effects of these work to someone... Trully breaks his heart.

"I just visit to see the reaction on your face before I ruin your company and your life. It is a pity, that you have to live the rest of your life looking at your shoulders, since you break her heart in a million pieces, I am more than happy to devour you in one whole as well. Not even bones will remain in you." He smiled and left the interrogation room to meet Ibara and Miyo.

"No blood in your hands." Kirari said which surprises him because she is here. "I lost to Mira." He rolled his eyes.

"Mira made sure that he will know his place when he gets to the prison." Miyo said and Rin nods... It was exhausting to deal with this people. How about the CEO? Well she abandoned her boyfriend. Since she help Rin to gather evidences, she had a lighter punishment. She just have to work the rest of her life under the Obamis.

And that company will be now transfer to Obamis.

"How come your father agreed to all of this?" Kirari asks and Rin smiled wickedly.

"I made a gamble with him."

"Hmm... With the look on your face, it seems like it worked."

"It does."

-

"Y/n..." Rin whispered to you. You regain your composure and maintained your health after a week. You visit your mother all the times and also in those times you visit her you also told her what happened.

"I-i cant believe that, he would do this to me." Your mom shudder as if feeling the chill in horror on what your father has been on.

"Everything will settle now, I made sure that he will be sentenced life in prison, not only that both of you will be compensated." Rin said. And your mother thanked him a whole bunch.

"I don't know how am I suppose to thank you enough..." He smiled brightly.

"I... I wanna asks for Y/n's hand in marriage." Your mother gasps. Marriage?! You also choke on your water and has been coughing non-stop.

"Wait... I know were together already... But marriage?" you asks

"It's for the future, since..." He showed you a packet. And you gasped. "I have this now."

You grabbed Rin's collar and glared at him. "We will talk." You dragged him away from your mom's room who is very confuse, you slam the door and went to your room.

"You... You bought my lifeline?! WHY! "

"I... I love you. I wanna corner you, I don't want your eyes on someone else. It's toxic! I know, and I am so sorry if I didn't told you! But... I... I wanna be with you forever."

"Rin... I am not mad about you doing things for me, I am not mad even if we get married now! The thing here is, my mother doesn't know about this packet." Rin blinked his eyes in shock. Yeah your mother doesn't even know your schemes at school or what is happening in that school.

"E-ehem." He cough while your eyes is glaring daggers at him. "Right I-i also forgot."

"But why? Why did you bought my lifeline."

"I asks Kirari... To take care of it for me, and to convince my father. If there is someone who could order him, it's Kirari." He said and sigh. "I asks her to change it for me but I have to pay for it in order to do so. I... After the election I paid that remaining debt, of course without a second thought. I did."

"You did?"

"Yeah, that's why, Sayaka didn't accept your payment."

"But why?"

"I don't ever want you to experience something like this again. And for it to guaranteed you have to get my name, and be with me. I don't see any issue with this, I love you and I am willing to be your husband, and also to protect you under my wing."

"Y-you don't have to lie to become one of us, you can still live a normal life if you want, you can still join to a university and study for college. You just... Have to take my name."

"This is really one of the weirdest way to propose. But... Y/n, you were amazing, most loving, and independent woman I've ever met, I was entranced the moment I heard your laugh after pulling that prank, I don't deserve someone like you but an Obami like me is a greedy bastard, so please accept me, marry me."

"Rin..." He went on his knees and you gasps.

"I don't need your answers now. I just... Want you to know why am I going through so much for your sake. I don't wanna confuse you anymore, I don't wanna make you cry." He opened the box and there it show the most beautiful radiant black ring. "I love you and I wanna be with you for the rest of my life... Will you marry me please..."

Tears starts to flow down your cheeks. And he was startled at your expression.

"What if you met someone else?" He calmed down a little and give you an assurance smile.

"It won't happen. If it does, I will have the entire Obami wiped out of the Momobami name, not only that, Kirari will strip of our status, money, and my head."

"Wait what?"

"I have the blessing of the Momobamis."

"When... Are we getting married?"

"According to your packet, we must get married at 18."

"I see.."

"Were 17 we still have little time, so we have to hurry." He smiled and you went on your knees to match his height, and there, you kissed him fast.

"Aren't we too young? Do you have the power to alter the packets since you are the master of my lifeline." you asks with a smile. He blushed furiously and laugh it off.

"Hahaha. Yes, it's okay."

"Rin..." You whispered and look at his eyes.

"Yes, love?"

"I love you too. You swindler."

A/U: goodness I have been writing this since 2022 I can't believe its finally over! I honestly have so many stories or AU of Rin. I had so so so much fun for real! Well time to let this fic fly.

[dark-and-kawaii]

₊˚⊹♡ Oc Smash Or Pass ♡⊹˚₊

Thank you for tagging me @octarinecat @hydropyro @msrhaxoz xoxo I smashed all your oc’s because they’re so beautiful!!!

⟡ Rules: Include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. Aka describe your character and see if people wants to diddle them.

Kieran Elendighet - Sorcerer Rogue - Tiefling Highborn - A Cocktail Of Charm, Cruelty, And Chaos

Stats:

⟡ Height: 6'2"

⟡ Gender: Male

⟡ Age: 30

⟡ Pronouns: He / Him

⟡ Sexuality: Straight -but likes to tease men-

Pros:

⟡ If he starts getting attached to you he will watch you from the shadows and make sure no one messes with you, and if they do well they’ll end up “missing” totally kills them in the worst way possible.

⟡ Loyal to those he deems fit for his loyalty.

⟡ Sentimental. Though he will never admit it, his actions prove he is extremely sentimental when it comes to someone he loves/loved. The coin he flicks is a memento from his mother, indicating he was a mamas boy before she passed. If he’s found himself attached to you he’ll take something of yours simply because it brings him comfort and is grounding. If you gave him a gift -and he likes you- he’ll hold onto it forever ♡

⟡ Great in bed, will have you completely mind broken and drooling for him.

⟡ A fabulous cook, the man could be a michelin star chef!

⟡ Kieran is obsessed with cleanliness and appearance along with an appreciation for aesthetics. He values beauty and order -in his home-, and his meticulous nature ensures that everything around him is kept in pristine condition ^~^!

Cons:

⟡ His penchant for gambling is well known, and he always resorts to cheating. Cheating isn't just a tactic for him, it's a compulsion. He just can't resist the thrill of bending the rules, no matter the stakes or the consequences.

⟡ Sadistic Thrill-Seeker. Kieran doesn't just cause pain, oh no, he thrives on it. He finds an almost artistic pleasure in the suffering of others, turning every encounter into a twisted game of torment.

⟡ Master Manipulator… With a charm as dangerous as it is irresistible, Kieran can weave his way into anyone's life. He doesn't just seduce women, eeesh no he also dismantles relationships with an almost surgical precision, leaving emotional wreckage in his wake. Enjoys watching the heartbreak unfold and savoring every tear.

Tagging: @eurydia @reverieblondie @astarioffsimpmain @astarionposting and whoever else wishes to do this :3

[dreadhorsegirl]

DAI Mods - Tay's Playthrough

I've been asked a few times what mods I use when I play DAI--and I thought I'd make a master list! I've organized these best I could, and keep in mind I change hairstyle/outfits throughout, and not all these mods can be used at the same time.

*I use Frosty, but you may be able to find daimod versions.

Game Enhancements

Basically, mods I use to make the game more fun for me.

ConversationCameraZoom

Party Banter Tweaks

Party at the Winter Palace

Game "Cheats"

I don't particularly think these are that "cheaty" more...taking care of annoyances.

Shorter War Table Missions

Stores Overhaul

More Money From Gather Coin

Game Fixes

Some of these fix issues when you're loading mods, some just fix...issues.

DAI Frosty Texture Glitches

Elven Translation Fix

Modded Hair in DLCs

Character Creator

Mods I use to create my character the way I want to. These include complexion, hair, eye, etc.

Brown-Friendly Eye Texture

Hairstyle Day DAI

Misc Hairstyles for Frosty

Nimue Complexion

femshepping's 4k Female Inquisitor Complexions

Anto Hairstyles

Outfit Changes

Specifically, altering outfits for the prologue, winter palace, and skyhold. [for Inky]

TW3 Ciri

Dalish Elf Skyhold Outfit Retexture

Formal Wear to Pajamas [Let's you change Inky's Winter Palace gear! You still have to find a skyhold replacer outfit as well]

Wedding Dress Replacer [changes the Winter Palce gear to this specific outfit]

Druu's Clothing Emporium

Dalish Mage Robe Tweaks

Companions

Complexion, Hair, Outfit changes for companions--including changes for the Winter Palace.

Tweaked Leliana

Alternate Haircuts for Sera

Casual Knight Outfit for Cullen

Josephine Outfit Retextures

Leliana Outfit Retexture

Solas Default Outfit

Melancholy - Solas Outfit Retexture

The Pride - Face Texture for Solas

Cassandra - Dragon Hunter

Resplendent Formal Wear

Solas Halamshiral Hat Fix

Josie, Leli, and Cullen Masks at Winter Palace

Exquisition for Trespasser DLC

And I believe...that's it! I always play as Daesyra, my mage Lavellan, so these mods are geared around Female Lavellan, please keep that in mind.

ALL credit of course goes to the modders! Thank y'all SO MUCH for what you do.

[showing some examples below]

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: November 11, 2024

Reworked Character #4: Fio Germi

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, alcoholism, and SA.

Real name: Fiolina Hortensia Germi

Alias: Teatime in the Battlefield

Occupation: Master Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. and the lead medical technician of the Regular Army’s special forces

Retirement plans: Become a sports doctor and astrophysicist, open up a bakery, and start a family

Special skills: Chiropractic and massage therapy, knowledge in military medicine, housework, acupuncture, and astronomy

Hobbies: All types of sewing (hand sewing, machine sewing, embroidery, and quilting), ballroom dancing, giving her friends massages, cooking delicious meals and enjoying it on a picnic outside, and frequenting petting zoos, nature reserves, and art and outer space museums

Likes: Peppino, being in Tarma’s arms, the beauty of nature, baking cakes and other sweet treats, and reading books on stories centred around the stars and constellations

Dislikes: Scolding hot and freezing cold baths, people cheating at card games, the time she had to wear orthodontic braces, insects and creepy crawlies, and sneezing on the battlefield

Favourite food: Homemade sandwiches and gelato

Favourite drink: Ice tea (preferably Queen Mary)

Sexuality: Heteroromantic demisexual

Gender: Female

Age: 15 (in 2022), 21 (in 2028), 23 (in 2030), 25 (in 2032), 27 (in 2034), 34 (in 2041), 36 (in 2043), 37 (in 2044), and 40 (in 2047)

Blood type: O+

Weight: 145 lbs. (66 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 2” (157.48 cm) Italian mesomorph with sloping shoulders, upper arms that carry some of her weight, a bit of belly fat, voluptuous breasts and hips, and prominent thighs. She has olive skin, droopy blue-grey eyes, and brownish freckles scattered across her face and neck. Fio has straight, slightly messy orangish-brown hair that falls just above the middle of her upper back, framed by blunt bangs and chin-length, layered sides. However, she typically wears it tied up in a ponytail. Her fingernails are painted an English lavender hue, and she wears thick, winged dark brown eyeliner, a soft rosy red blush on her cheeks and nose, and cherry blossom pink lip gloss. As a result of battle injuries and her own clumsiness, she bears a bullet wound near the centre of her left calf and numerous cut marks, stab scars, and scrapes on her arms and legs.

Her military gear consists of polarised, silver-plated transition lens eyeglasses, a metal dog tag necklace with her name, and a cordovan Eisenhower jacket. She wears a pink lavender T-shirt with a dogwood rose stripe running along the front and a carmine bra underneath. She wears carmine gloves and a gold-buckled leather belt to secure her ebony army cargo shorts, which fall just above her knees. She also wears ebony paratrooper boots, dogwood rose knee and elbow pads, and over-the-calf bittersweet shimmer socks. She has a khaki waist pack attached to the front of her belt, which carries her nail polish, lip gloss, eyeliner, two makeup brushes (a large one and a small one), a makeup sponge, and a powder blush palette.

She wears a leather sheath for her hatchet, a gun holster for her handgun, and a holder for her tonfa. The pockets of Fio's Eisenhower jacket carry around Peppino, her beloved greyish-brown teddy bear with a pearlescent blue bowtie, a red wooden maneki-neko figurine with its right arm raised and its left paw holding a koban coin (a gift from Eri), and a deck of cards. The pockets of her army cargo shorts carry a canister of pepper spray, a Ventolin inhaler, a bottle of azithromycin pills, and a bottle of specialised prescription supplements specifically designed to manage her cystic fibrosis.

Over her T-shirt, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. Her black ammunition bandolier is slung over her right shoulder, and the back of her Eisenhower jacket features an embroidered S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. logo. Fio carries an ebony load-bearing backpack containing camping equipment, fire bombs, stones, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, and a picnic basket filled with prepared sandwiches. She also carries her latest sewing project and its accompanying supplies, a Hexagon Arms M-3685, a cat o' nine tails whip, medical supplies, and a scientific telescope.

She always wears a pair of teardrop-shaped pink opal earrings and a gold chain necklace featuring a red coral cornicello amulet, believed to ward off bad luck and bring good fortune. She wears a khaki army cap, once worn by her father during his military service, with the Regular Army insignia emblazoned on the front. Additionally, she wears a rosy pink armband on her left arm, featuring an European bee-eater perched on an olive branch at its centre.

Character summary: She's initially reserved and timid around strangers but warms up and opens up once she becomes familiar with new people. She's a compassionate, considerate, and overly cautious listener who's really good with children and lends everyone a generous helping hand. She's sensitive and unafraid to show her true emotions, often engaging in introspective thought. She possesses a steadfast commitment to justice, having no tolerance for individuals who seek to stir up strife, and is slow to forgive those who inflict harm on others for their own selfish purposes. Despite her quiet and calm demeanour, she's surprisingly prone to stress and anxiety, particularly when confronted with obnoxious noises, unwanted physical contact or situations where she can't escape. Even though she's a seasoned warrior, she harbours an intense fear of insects and creepy crawlies, often resorting to hiding behind Tarma, Marco or Eri and insisting they handle the situation. On occasion, she displays an almost childlike naivety and exuberance, typically after completing a mission or while off duty.

She's a very friendly and gentle clean freak who'll do anything to help out her family, friends, comrades, and those in need. She prepares all her meals with love and dedication, considering others' likes and dislikes, hoping they'll enjoy what she's made. When talking to others, she often uses lively hand gestures and animated facial expressions to emphasise certain ideas. She gets easily flustered by compliments and flirtatious advances, blushing deeply and becoming nearly speechless. She's a somewhat superstitious person, believing in things like placing one's hat on a bed being a sign of bad luck for homeowners and spilling salt being a harbinger of financial troubles. She's a nature-loving girl who's incredibly clever and always thinks optimistically. She's a great strategist who excels in keep-away tactics. However, she often pushes people away due to fear and isn't the most skilled fighter, but can fight when necessary.

Whenever she's faced with the death of a child, a comrade or friend being severely injured, being touched inappropriately or being rudely insulted, her face darkens. She becomes cold-hearted and deadly serious, and her tactical prowess shines through most. She's quite curious around strangers, nervously trailing them and asking a few questions to get to know them. Despite cherishing the importance of friendship, she sometimes feels isolated by her exceptional intelligence, privileged upbringing, and cystic fibrosis. She values maintaining a healthy work-life balance and prioritising her time with loved ones, holding both in higher regard than success. She believes that living in or exploring beautiful places helps her become a better person by gaining a deeper appreciation of the world around her.

She originally harboured romantic feelings for Marco, but they dissipated after he disclosed that he isn't interested in romantic and sexual relationships. Her affections eventually shifted to Tarma, whom she found charming due to his silliness, emotional intelligence, Hokkaido dialect, the soothing sound of his voice, pleasant smile, and knack for building professional motorcycles. She finds immense comfort in Tarma's presence and often offers him solace when he's having a rough day or struggling with self-doubt.

After her romantic relationship with him fully blossoms, she forms an exceptionally close physical and emotional bond with him. However, her tendency to become overly attached manifests at times, especially when feelings of fear or loneliness arise. Despite being in a romantic relationship with Tarma, she maintains a non-possessive attitude, unconcerned if he flirts or sleeps with other women and men, considering it his personal freedom. However, she does prefer openness and honesty, ensuring that he communicates with her about his actions.

She eventually enters into a polyamorous queerplatonic relationship with Marco and Tarma, which she deeply cherishes and further satisfies her craving for emotional intimacy. She's displeased when Nadia takes advantage of her kindness to avoid responsibilities. However, she appreciates Nadia's help with dessert-making, although Fio often has to bribe her by offering something equally sweet or letting her have the largest share of a batch to persuade her to lend a hand. She's frustrated by Eri's overprotectiveness, especially when it comes to Tarma, as it reminds her of her father's behaviour and makes her feel like she's being treated like a child. She finds Red Eye to be an incredibly intimidating person, despite their relatively friendly relationship, which occasionally involves sharing a cup of tea together.

When she's reached her limit, feels threatened or needs to express her authentic feelings about something that gets under her skin, she's capable of standing up for herself and making her voice heard. She rarely swears, but when someone's pushed her too far, she'll unleash a stern reprimand, peppered with profanities in Italian. She's unconcerned by Marco's and others' opinions that carrying Peppino is childish because the teddy bear provides her with personal comfort and solace, particularly when she's anxious or sad. Ever since meeting Ralf, who encouraged her to try new things, she has mustered the courage to pursue thrilling experiences and enjoy them to the fullest, even if they carry some risk.

She's not fond of drinking alcohol due to its bitter taste and intoxicating effects, which make her feel nauseous and slightly nervous. However, on rare occasions, she’ll let loose and indulge in alcohol with her friends, especially after a challenging mission. When intoxicated, she starts to act playful, flirtatious and sexually teasing towards Tarma, obnoxiously loud, agitated, and bluntly honest.

She harbours private reservations about the Regular Army's methods, particularly when it comes to neutralising perceived threats, including journalists and enemy-affiliated personnel. She acknowledges that not everyone in these groups is malicious, but rather, many are innocent individuals caught in complex circumstances. Moreover, she struggles with the nagging feeling that those closest to her have been conditioned to uncritically accept the Regular Army's moral stance, never questioning its motivations or ethics. However, she's deeply afraid to express these thoughts aloud, fearing deadly repercussions and unwilling to risk stirring up trouble or jeopardising the relationships she values. She often pushes these thoughts aside by focusing on becoming a better fighter and drawing inspiration from high-ranking individuals like Marco and Clark, whom she greatly admires.

She has a tendency to fall asleep extremely quickly at bedtime or naptime, and her loud snoring can be disruptive to others who are trying to rest or focus on important tasks in the same room. She would be heartbroken if Peppino were lost, destroyed or stolen forever, as the teddy bear has been her constant companion since birth. However, she would be overjoyed to be reunited with the original Peppino or receive a new teddy bear that's an exact replica. She believes that war serves no purpose other than to be destructive, resulting from conflicts that escalate beyond the control of free will. In her view, war profoundly alters the moral fabric of society, while accelerating the advancement of weaponry and technology used in conflict. She’s a firm believer in virtue ethics who holds that life is more powerful than death, as it continually finds innovative ways to adapt and flourish.

Backstory: Fiolina Hortensia Germi was born on October 2, 2007 in Genoa, Italy. The Germi family is renowned for their vast wealth, military service, and philanthropic endeavours. Originally merchants and nobles, they amassed their fortune in the Mediterranean region during the Age of Exploration and have since maintained their wealth, now managing various corporations and philanthropic organisations. True to their militaristic heritage, the Germis have participated in numerous conflicts, including the Napoleonic Wars of the 1800s, the Italian Unification Wars of the 19th century, and modern-day wars against terrorism worldwide. Sadly, many Germi warriors lost their lives, leading to an important family custom where the chosen heir of the Germi family must serve in the military.

Alessandro Germi, Fio's father, was a fearsome soldier in the Regular Army in his earlier years, serving alongside Fabriclus Roving. However, he was forced to leave military service after being severely injured during a shootout, which left him crippled and suffering from debilitating post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). His body bore the scars of countless battles, a testament to the wounds he had endured and the bloodshed he had witnessed on the front lines. After returning to civilian life and receiving proper support, Alessandro successfully restored his family's struggling business. He also started a family with his beloved wife, Giulietta, a talented seamstress and manager of a luxurious art museum.

Alessandro's wish was to have a healthy son as he feared that sending a daughter onto the battlefield would be a perilous ordeal. To his surprise and dismay, Giulietta gave birth to a daughter, and due to health complications, she couldn't bear any more children. Fio's mother would also experience postpartum depression after childbirth and passed down a disease that runs deep within her heritage: cystic fibrosis. Alessandro's deep-seated fears for Fio's safety often led him to become overly protective, causing tension with Giulietta, who found his helicopter parenting suffocating.

Despite her parents' mental health struggles, they went above and beyond to care for her, providing unwavering love and support. For half of her elementary school years, she was homeschooled and her parents taught her a diverse range of subjects, including mathematics. They encouraged Fio’s appreciation for friendships, the outdoors, and the finer things in life. They even fostered her love of astronomy, gifting her a scientific telescope on her 10th birthday, which she still has to this day.

Giulietta often took her on enriching outings to nature reserves and art museums, where she learned about biology and art history. Her mother also taught her the importance of domestic duties, showing her how to do her chores and clean the house. On special occasions, her mother would dress her up in pretty dresses and give her adorable animal plushies, which she still keeps.

She was bullied and exploited by the other children because of her wealthy status and overt politeness, but her father and teachers consistently intervened. As she grew, she discovered her own voice, learning to assert herself with courage and conviction. Standing up to her bullies with firm yet gentle confidence, she effectively silenced their taunts and earned respect. Like Marco, Fio excelled in all her classes, demonstrating exceptional academic prowess and a deep appreciation for effort and lifelong learning.

However, her life took a devastating turn near the end of her secondary school days. A sudden and tragic terrorist airstrike, attributed to the Ptolemaic Army, struck Genoa, Italy, claiming Giulietta among its many victims. Her father was the most affected by this loss, turning to a life of alcoholism and self-isolation. Although Alessandro still cared about Fio and tried his best to support her, his alcoholism and newfound self-isolating behaviour made it challenging for him to do so. As a result, the butler and maids who worked in the mansion frequently took care of her.

It took time for Fio and Alessandro to heal from this loss, but they remained resilient. To cope with the loss of her mother, she turned to sewing, baking, and reading books on ancient and modern medical practices. Eventually, Alessandro sought help and went to rehab and therapy to address his issues with Fio's support and encouragement. After graduation, Fio was awarded multiple awards and scholarships, which enabled her to attend university. There, she pursued an interdisciplinary course of study, exploring chiropractics, acupuncture, physics, and astronomy.

Fio would eventually express her interest in joining the military after coming across a persuasive flyer to serve in the Regular Army. This revelation horrified Alessandro, as he didn't want to send his only child off to the battlefield, risking her life. He wanted to disregard the Germi's military traditions, believing that war is repugnant and a never-ending cycle of hate and violence. Alessandro tried to deter Fio from joining, but she persisted, driven by her desire to join the fight against terrorism and protect the lives of innocent people. He reluctantly agreed and sent her off to the military at the age of 19, but attempted to minimise her risk by using his connections and friends from his own military days to secure her a desk job, hoping to keep her out of harm's way and away from the front lines.

However, everything changed when a paperwork mistake caused by militant bureaucracy resulted in Fio's transfer to the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., a special operations branch of the Regular Army's Intelligence Agency known for carrying out high-risk missions. Surprisingly, Fio was ecstatic to hear the news as she had been eager to be deployed on the battlefield and make a real difference. In contrast, her father was furious and stormed into military headquarters, threatening officers in an attempt to prevent his daughter from being shipped to the front lines.

He would often try to extract Fio from the battlefield via a private jet, but she consistently resisted. Eventually, she had enough of his overprotectiveness and bravely told him that this was what she wanted—to fight on the battlefield and provide medical aid. She assured him that she was capable of handling herself. Alessandro finally understood and let her pursue her life as a military woman. In return, she promised to keep in touch with him after each mission, providing him with reassurance and comfort.

Like Eri, she played a crucial role in the Great Morden War by providing Marco's team with useful intel on Rebel Army positions. She even went so far as to provide them with sustenance, mainly in the form of homemade sandwiches. She also dedicated herself to providing medical support for Marco's team, which led to her being recognized as the lead medical technician of the Regular Army’s special forces.

During the Extraterrestrial Alliance Clash in Hong Kong, she was seized by a ruthless group of fanatic land troops and bikers who intended to exploit her for their twisted desires. One of the deranged fanatic land troops subjected her to unwanted physical contact, leaving her severely traumatised and more prone to anxiety. This horrific experience intensified her resentment towards the Rebel Army and those who seek to spread chaos and harm. Fortunately, Tarma intervened just in time, eliminating the Rebel Infantrymen with the SV-001. Eri quickly freed her from the ropes that bound her arms and ankles.

Her countless battles against worldwide criminality, terrorism, and corruption enabled her to rapidly rise through the ranks, becoming the Master Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. special forces unit. However, her time in the military has taught her a harsh reality: even the good guys can't always protect the innocent or save their friends and comrades. She has witnessed many deaths and severe injuries that left people crippled and traumatised in each battle. Nevertheless, with the emotional support of friends like Eri and Tarma, she has persevered and continues fighting to this day.

[tgrailwar-zero]

*stares at the PRIVATEER*

(A long time ago, back on the Moon, wasn’t she one of “our” servants?)

(Well. We’re on live TV. No need to cause or broadcast a public incident.)

Looking at her, you didn't get the sensation that she was one of yours.

As you stared at the ADMIRAL's face, her features, her scar… it seemed to trigger another faint vision. A feeling of deep rage. Of endless resentment. A 'memory’, or something resembling it at the very least.

It bubbled from deep inside of you as you once again remembered a time you fought alongside Izou. The memory and the emotions with it grew more and more potent.

Pride. Excitement. Confidence. Hope.

After all, 'You' had summoned the prestigious Okada Izou, one of the most prolific killers in human history. A warrior with immense adaptability and skill with the blade. This was a Servant primed for covert operations, for taking down enemies swiftly and quietly. You could fight a perfect, stealthy war.

And yet somehow- 'You’ had lost.

The Servant had cheated, clearly.

S█████ M████, a Master and famed 'Game Champion' on Earth, had started the Grail War strong. Rather than direct combat, he and his Servant gathered treasure and materials, focusing on hoarding precious items first and leaving the other Masters at a deficit. So, a small alliance between some Masters was developed to take out the 'Champ' before his advantage grew to troublesome heights.

Obviously, with 'Your' professional Assassin, 'You' were the perfect candidate to take out this nuisance before it became a problem.

…And yet, the attempt had failed. Miserably.

'You' were captured along with your Assassin, unceremoniously tied down and dragged to the bow of a ship. The 'Gaming Champ' wished to make an example of just what would happen if he and his Servant were messed with.

MASTER OF RIDER: "Rider, it's time! In this digital world, I'm on top! So let's show the others what happens when you come at the king! El Draque, finish them off while everyone's watching!"

'EL DRAQUE': "As you can see, my little Master is a real piece of work. But hey, for villains like us, flamboyancy is ideal. Don't take it personally... it's just war."

MASTER OF RIDER: "H-Hey! Don't call us 'villains'! We're just playing the game better than the others! Now quit talking and finish them already!"

'EL DRAQUE': "Aye, aye. You've done well paying me, so I'll do whatever you ask, Master."

With that, she drew her flintlocks, pointing one at the back of your head and one at the back of the Assassin's. In the last moment, your Assassin had tried to strike, cutting free from his bonds and going for the throat of his adversary. But--

Bang.

…The flash of steel ended up being slower than the pull of the trigger. A coin flip, made in an instant, that had landed on the losing side.

It wasn't your fault. The Enemy Master wasn't better than you. He wasn't stronger than you. He wasn't more talented. He wasn't. He couldn't be. That Servant must have been using a cheat skill. You had summoned a prime Assassin, so how... how?!

'You’ were a great wizard, and had lost to a pathetic Master and a pathetic Servant.

Failure. Loss. Hatred. Failure. Loss. Hatred. Failure. Loss. Hatred. Again and again and again.

Those feelings swirled and bubbled, locking together as 'You’ found yourself spiraling deeper and deeper into death and darkness…

The crash of ocean water shook you out of it, as you found yourself back on the deck of the ship.

MUSASHI: "Eyes up, Masters! We've gotta focus!"

[peakyswritings]

The Rise of the Bastards

GOT AU

No one knows how a family of bastards managed to climb their way to the top, going as far as conquering their place into the Small Council of the Seven Kingdoms. The Rise of the Bastards, people call it.

⚔️ Vincent Waters is the bastard son of a Targaryen prince and a Braavosi woman. When he was born, his mother settled in King’s Landing. Although the Prince never married the woman, with her great beauty and charm she was able to convince him to provide for their son.

⚔️ In his young years, Vincent decided to travel to the Free Cities, and settled in Braavos, where, thanks to his brain and quick-learning abilities, he started working with the Iron Bank. During a stay in Lys, he met and fell in love Marya, a half-Braavosi, half-lyseni woman. When Vincent returns to King’s Landing, he takes her with him as a wife.

⚔️ His association with the Iron Bank is the key to his rise: the Crown is, surprise surprise, in large debt with the Iron Bank. And let’s remember Tywin’s words:

One stone crumbles and another takes its place and the temple holds its form for a thousand years or more. And that's what the Iron Bank is, a temple. We all live in its shadow and almost none of us know it. You can't run from them, you can't cheat them, you can't sway them with excuses. If you owe them money and you don't want to crumble yourself, you pay it back.

⚔️ For over two decades, Vincent has used the debt to “persuade” the Crown to have a special place at court. He eventually became Master of Coin. As long as he has that place, the Iron Bank won’t take action against them.

⚔️ But the rise doesn’t stop with Vincent.

⚔️ Petyr, his eldest son, is destined to become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

⚔️ His second son, Salladhor, is sent to the Wall, in an era when being part of the Night’s Watch is still an honour rather than a punishment.

⚔️ His third son, Victor, is still a squire.

⚔️ His youngest and only daughter, Adianna, is promised to Stephan Bolton, so that the Waters family’s influence will also reach the North. As for the Bolton family, the Waters’ place at court is an appealing prospect of growth.

A/N: finally got around to the family’s backstory! I made it as short and quick as possible. Also, I had to make their names less… Italian. I hope they work! (Yes Victor is Vittorio. At least in one universe, he’s alive).

Tagging the AU team: @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @mischievouslittlecreature @evita-shelby @cillmequick @shelbydelrey (sorry if I forgot anyone)

[theoutcastrogue]

Roguephonics

. "Rascals, would you live forever?" — Frederick the Great, trying with limited success to guilt-trip his soldiers to fight and kill and die for him

A is for Assassin who makes your heart stop cold B is for the Burglar who deftly picks your lock C is for the Cutpurse who swipes your gold and runs D is for the Dodger, all mischief and street smarts

E is for Enforcer who's bursting through your door F is for the Filcher who lifts coins, jewels, and all G is for the Grifter who takes you for a ride H is for Highwayman, your money or your life

I's for Infiltrator, the spy who gains your trust J is for the Jack of All Trades, master of none K is for the Knave who lacks an honest bone L is for Lawbreaker who fought the law and won

M is for the Mountebank whose swindles are an art N is for the Ne'er-Do-Well, that trouble-seeking scamp O is for the Outlaw, that outcast robber bold P is for the Pícaro who begged, borrowed, and stole

Q is for the Quack who lies and leads you on R is for the Rogue who takes the crooked road S is for the Scoundrel who's not afraid to swing T is for the Thief who swiftly palms your ring

U is for the Urchin who on barricades stood tall V is for the Vagabond who roves, rambles, and roams W is for the Waif who's cast out like a tramp X is for the X-Con who is free but wears the brand

Y is for the Yardbird who's always in the slammer Z's for daring Zorro and all dashing swashbucklers Rascals and rapscallions all, we cheat and steal and lie, and gathered here we do avow that never shall we die

[eskelsgirl]

Labour?

(Title is still in the works) This is just a brief prologue. With an abrupt ending. Main pairing: Geraskier, Side pairings: Vesemir/Original Male Character, Eskel/Original Female character. Tags: Alpha/Omega/Beta au, canon divergence, arrange marriage -kind of? Vesemir looks down, unimpressed at the young omega at his feet, even less so at the omega’s beta ‘father’ that put him there. Male omegas were as rare as alpha females, unheard of but not impossible. The boy wasn’t a tiny thing like his omega; he was all limbs and about as tall as his oldest, with no hips to speak of. This wasn’t the first time men have tried to sell their unwanted children off to the witchers to pay their debts. But Vesemir already had enough pups and wasn’t looking for another.

“And what am I to do with him?” Vesemir asks, looking back up at the court. “He’s no child surprise, far too old for the mutations to take.” The beta growls a low warning, which is unimpressive, but Vesemir doesn’t allow the challenge to go unpunished. Growling back louder, a vicious snarl that sends the beta aback. A fraction of a movement caught Vesemir’s eyes: a young girl hanging off the skirts of her maid. The red swollen mark on her cheek would soon become a proper bruise. She was a timid thing, holding on to a well-cared-for doll. “She’ll do,” Vesemir says, his eyes narrowing on the girl. "She’ll make a fine playmate for my youngest.” “No!” The forgotten omega at his feet snaps, grasping Vesemir’s arm, pulling attention back onto him. “You will not touch her.” Cornflower blue meets harden amber, the first time Vesemir had seen the omega’s eyes full of defiance. The pieces clicked; maybe he would have a use for this omega after all. “Very well, then,” Vesemir shacks his arm out of the boy’s grasp. “I’ll take the omega off your hands, as well as his dowry.” “Dowry!” The beta yells, “Yes, if he is to mate one of my sons, a dowry is to be paid,” Vesemir explains, taking the time to now circle around the omega. “Then again, you are trying to cheat your way out of a 1,000 crown contract. You must not even have a dowry for your children.” A few snickers meet Vesemir’s ears, it seems someone else was enjoying the look of humiliation on the Lord’s face. After that, getting the dowry, a horse for the omega, and a bag of his belongings didn't take much convincing. “Go witcher.” The lord sneered, “Do not expect a warm welcome again.” —------- It was a long ride to where ever the Witcher alpha was taking him. While Jaskier was pleased to be away from his father, he will dearly miss his little sister and hope she will be safe without him there to protect her. The alpha didn’t speak much or at all, only deeming him worthy of conversation to command when to rest, eat, and water the horses. Jaskier wasn’t good at silence, so he spent most of the time lost in his head, humming songs or speaking softly to himself. He had made it through most of Hannelore Varidil’s epic poem, which he had memorized years ago. When they had stopped in a village outside of Kaedwen after weeks of camping outside, Jaskier was ready for a real bed, even if it was filled with straw. The Witcher dismounted effortlessly, while Jaskier still hadn’t mastered it. Once his feet touched solid ground, a young boy quickly gathered the reins in exchange for a few coins. “Come.” One-word commands. It seems that all the conversation Jaskier will ever have. Vesemir leads him to some form of market, stalls set up near two established buildings, the inn, and a tailor. Assuming they were heading for the inn, Jaskier didn’t think much but walked forward, only to be stopped by Vesemir. “Finally going to sell me then?” Jaskier couldn’t help the quip as it left his mouth. Then, he braced himself for a smack that never came, only a chuckle. “Not worth the hassle.” Vesemir answered, “They’ll probably arrest me for kidnapping.” “Fair. So what are we doing?” “Shopping.” Vesemir turned to the nearest stall, selling vegetables, and moved on before finding a traveling merchant with what he needed. “A master Witcher,” the merchant smiled. Vesemir didn’t need his secondary gender to tell him what he needed from the man. The Distaste was obvious, but he wouldn't turn down a paying customer.

“A blue Opal pendant to match your omega’s beautiful eyes.” The pendant was beautiful, and its silver wiring suited it better than the gilded sapphire next to it. Vesemir huffed but didn’t correct the merchant; instead settled on a crescent moon-shaped jasper with bronze wiring. “My mate prefers the simpler things in life,” Vesemir admits, holding the necklace in the light. “A young thing such as him-“ 

“He’s not my mate. He’s for my son.” Vesemir growls,

[novankenn]

He's a ... GOT STREET CRED!?!

Emerald was disgusted. She had been dragged to a street rap battle by Mercury... who had some obsession for the gritty underground gatherings. The basement room was packed full, and the smell of cigarettes, beer, and weed was heavy in the air.

Emerald was also sure more than a quarter of the audience were strapped. She grabbed Mercury's wrist and shot him a "Why the fuck are we here?" look.

Mercury: What?

Emerald: You know what!

Mercury: You've got see the Free World. They are brutal in their teardowns!

Emerald: I don't want... is that?

Jaune stepped out onto the stage, he looked tired, and angry. Dressed in baggy jeans, scuffed sneakers and his trademark Pumpkin Pete Hoodie.

Mercury: That's Rabbit. He so choked last week...

Emerald: That's Jaune!

Mercury: What? No... wait... it is!

A coin flip was done, and the mic was passed to Jaune.

Mercury: ...

Emerald: Did Pyrrha cheat on him????

Mercury: ...

Emerald: Merc?

Mercury: ... he's... he's... he's...

Emerald: Merc!

Mercury: got... cred...

/== Back at Beacon ==/

Pyrrha growled. A sudden inexplicable rage that someone was judging the love of her life, their relationship, and her chastity. She also had a deep need to punish some skank for hurting Jaune.

(A/N - NO Pyrrha did not cheat on Jaune. It happened prior to Beacon and them meeting. Just thought it best to confirm that.)

(Master Episode List)