#i will feel like a dumbass in like 10 seconds when i remember what i actually like...

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 10 - Look And See

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Going back to my roots (forced proximity)

Chapter title from Thank You by Led Zeppelin

Word Count: 17k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You, Sam, and Dean finish a case from Ruby, and it has consequences. Usual warnings.

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

Chapter 9 - Chapter 11

Read on A03!

“Can you drive any fucking slower?”

Dean shot Her a glare in the rearview mirror, trying not to get lost in how Her eyes were shining in the low light of dusk, or how all Her features seemed to be washed in the cool, pastel colors of sunset. “No, Princess, because I’m trying not to give the cops an excuse to pull us over after you blew our fucking cover-“

“I did not blow our cover,” She hissed. “I said we needed to leave now, and you decided to stick around and try to find more caviar-“

“We weren’t done, and I was hungry-“

“You’re always hungry! And we were done, you just don’t listen to me-“

“Maybe I don’t listen to you because you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Her eyes narrowed, and Dean could almost feel Her gaze burning and twisting on his skin. “We both know that I’m the only one who knows exactly what I'm talking about-“ She paused, and Dean could see Her giving Sam an apologetic grimace in the mirror. “Sorry, Sam-“

“It’s fine.” Sam shrugs, his attention forcefully fixed on the book in his lap. Dean had a feeling Sam had entirely been tuning them out. “I mean, you’re not really wrong.”

“Don’t tell her that, Sammy, she’ll explode from her ego-“

“My ego? That’s fucking rich from you, Winchester-“

His grip began to strangle Baby’s wheel. “At least my head is in the game, sweetheart-“

“My head is in the game-“

“Didn’t look like it was,” Dean hissed. “It looked like you were more worried about flirting with that old son of a bitch rather than getting the knife-“

“It’s not a knife,” She snapped. “And I wasn’t flirting, I was looking for information, dumbass-“

“Yeah, that seemed to really pay off for you-“

“It did-“

“Dean.” Sam cut in with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You guys can keep fighting, I just want to make sure you remember-“

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m going to Norfolk, Virginia, and the black-eyed bitch will meet us there.”

“Ruby’s trying to help-“

“Well, shit load of good it’s doing, we didn’t even get the damn knife-“

“It’s not a knife.” She leaned forward, resting Her forearms on the bench, and Dean could feel the heat from Her body. It was a little dizzying, and She smelled like sugar and fruit, there was that damn fruit again-

Sammy was frowning, shaking his head. “Ruby said it was a blade-“

“And She was wrong. And I’m-“

“Right?” Dean muttered under his breath, glowering at the road. “You’re always right, aren’t you-“

“Yeah, I am.” Her words were clipped, and Dean hated how that made his heart split and howl in his chest. “And you better say thank you, because I didn’t break my nail just for-“

Dean snorted, and he hated the sound. It was louder than it should be, and toxic in his ears. He hated all of this. He didn’t know how to stop it. “How fucking tragic, her majesty broke a nail-“

“It hurt, dickwad. And,” She leaned back, only for a second, and Dean had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself from reaching over the bench and pulling Her back to where he could still feel her warmth. “You’re welcome.”

Sam was frowning, twisting in his seat to look at Her, and Dean wished he could do the same. Especially as Sammy gasped, and he felt as if his jaw was going to snap and his teeth were going to grind to ash. What was She doing that made Sam gasp, why did She always have to be so awesome and insufferable and annoying and brilliant, why couldn’t Dean just know when to quit, why wouldn’t she just leave him alone to die in goddamn peace-

“When did you-“

“While Dean was drinking half the bar,” She cut Sam off with almost a sneer, and it was burning over Dean’s head. “I got the museum curator to show me the collection.”

“And that’s-“

“Yep.”

Sam swallowed, and when Dean glanced over, the kid’s eyes were nearly bulging out of his head. “And you’re sure-“

“I’m always sure, Samuel.” Her tone was smug, and Dean could picture the proud, pretty smirk on Her face. “And it’s not a knife. It’s an arrowhead.”

Sam reached back, Dean heard a slapping sound, and when he glanced in the mirror She was clutching something to Her chest, glaring at the front seat.

“Don’t touch it.” She snapped, and Sam blinked at Her.

“It’s just a rock,” Sam said Her name carefully, shooting Dean a what the hell is happening look. 

Dean didn’t know. With Her, Dean never fucking knew.

“It’s not- You-“ She took a deep breath, Her voice suddenly far too soft and measured. “Just, I’m going to hold onto it, okay?”

“But-“

“Sam. Please.”

Sam frowned at Her, but nodded, and Dean scowled.

He had to bite down vile, spitting words about Her thinking she was better, about not even trusting them to hold the weapon. There was a line, and Dean refused to cross it. He couldn’t stop toeing right up to it—driven by the bitter, furious part of him that still hated how She’d lied about being sick, how She’d left him fucking dying in the hospital, how She was better and Dean couldn’t be allowed to have her—but he wouldn’t cross it. He couldn’t leave a real mark on Her. It would fully drive Her away, make her finally snap and leave him in the mud for good.

And She’d been working with them for several weeks, and Dean was still being a selfish piece of shit. 

He couldn’t fall out of Her orbit. He couldn’t bring himself to save Her from himself, from all the horror that came with being in his life, but he couldn’t hate Her enough to lie that he didn’t want Her here and mean it. He couldn’t just mean it.

Dean couldn’t sneer that She knew everything and believe it to be the truth in his bones. He couldn’t snap that She’d been flirting with that old asshole—and he knew it was the museum curator, and he knew it was for the case, and he didn’t care—and not put extra venom in his voice because She wasn’t smiling at Dean like that. She was barely smiling at Dean at all.

He didn’t blame Her. He was being a dick, but it was for Her own good. He was lying, but it was for Her.

He repeated, over and over in the dead of night, that it was for Her. For the best. And, it was but he still couldn’t quite convince himself. 

He had five months left. If he was smart, Dean would stop swallowing his crueler words and just vomit up every false reason he hated Her—She was too pretty, She did strange things to his heart and body he didn’t like not being able to control, he’d follow Her anywhere but knew she wouldn’t do the same for him—until She left, and he’d rescued Her from caring about him.

Because Dean was damned. 

But he never wanted to be damned for hurting Her. 

So he was being a fucking asshole and not crossing the line, because he wanted Her. He couldn’t stop wanting Her, he didn’t know how, it had become such a critical part of him now—to always crash down, down, down into Her and that soft, sliver light that She always cast over the pit inside of him, even when She hated him and he was supposed to hate Her—that Dean was pretty sure he’d only ever stop wanting Her when his soul was carved up and split into pieces.

Yet he still wouldn’t tell Her. He still couldn’t allow himself to look Her in her bright eyes and tell her I’m dying, Princess. I’m pretty much already dead.

Dean didn’t have a good enough memory to keep track of all the lies he was telling Her. And Sammy was barely creative enough to come up with a proper story that explained the Devil’s Gate and Azazel and Lilith while completely omitting the whole demon deal thing.

But they managed.

And She had no idea.

She believed they were hunting Lilith because that was their job. That they were researching crossroads demon because Lilith was known to work with them. That they were working with Ruby, getting this arrowhead for Her, because they needed anything at all to try and kill Lilith. 

Dean had called Bobby, and told him that, under no circumstances, could he tell Her about the deal. About Dean’s timer, and how it was slowly creeping closer and closer to zero. That they were hunting together again, and Dean wouldn’t ask Bobby why the hell he’d lied about Her being sick, as long as Bobby didn’t rat them out. 

“I won’t say anythin’ unprompted,” Bobby had grunted through the phone. “But if she asks, I ain’t gonna lie to her.”

Dean had scowled into the air, keeping a careful eye on the sidewalk through the window. She and Sammy had gone to get coffee. Dean had needed to wrap this up before they got back. “Bobby-“

“No. You know you’re my family, boy, but she’s always gonna be first.” Bobby had sighed. “Listen, I won’t tell her ‘less she catches it herself. But you know she’s far from dumb, Dean. She’ll pick up that something’s off, and there ain’t nothin’ that’s gonna save you from how pissed she’ll be that you kept it from her. At least try and give her the dignity of learnin’ it from you.”

Bobby had hung up, and Dean hadn’t told Her. He couldn’t. Bobby and Sam didn’t understand that he just fucking couldn’t. 

Couldn’t tell Her.

Couldn’t fully push Her away.

“How are you sure?” Sam was watching Her carefully, and Dean kept his eyes on the road. She was there. Right now, Her being there was all the relief he could allow himself. “I mean, I trust you, but we just need to be positive before we show this to Ruby-“

“It’s jade, and that’s what Ruby told you it would be, right?”

Sammy nodded. “Yeah, but-“

“And if you trust her-“

“I do.”

Dean frowned. Sam, for some reason, did seem to trust Ruby. Dean didn’t, because She was a demon. Being trustworthy was against her freakin’ nature.

“Well, she said it would have writing on it, right-“

“Yeah, but-“

“Look.” Dean saw Her shift in the rearview mirror, and felt Her brush his arm as she leaned back forward. 

Little sparks flew through his body, and he sat a little taller, and he could see Her side-profile in his periphery and She was glowing, and there was the fruit again-

She was trying to make him crash the car.

“That’s Hebrew.” She tapped the arrowhead she spoke. “That’s Arabic, and that’s-“

“Latin.” Sam finished, and Dean rolled his eyes. Fucking nerds. “What about that one-“

She jerked Her hand back as Sam went to touch the arrowhead, and elbowed Dean in the shoulder.

He grunted, gritting his teeth as the dull pain. “Son of a bitch-“

“Shit, sorry, De-“

“Whatever.” He muttered, refusing to look Her in the eyes. She’d almost called him De. And maybe She’d been about to say Dean, but that wasn’t any better. His whole body felt like it was buzzing and heavy, and took a tight grip on the wheel to stop himself from leaning closer to Her. “Answer Sammy’s question.”

“Yeah, it’s, um-“ She swallowed. Dean could goddamn feel Her gaze. “Sorry, it’s just like, witch symbols. Probably.”

Sam’s face twisted slightly, and Dean didn’t understand that look. It was more tense than Sam’s usual, doubtful bitch-face. It was almost pained. Weary.

“Probably?” He asked, and She shrugged.

“Yeah. You’re the one who said it’s a witch artifact-“

“Ruby said it’s a witch artifact, I just passed it on. And, I dunno, can you not tell-“

“Tell what?” Her voice became clipped again, and something in the air shifted. Became heavier, more taut. 

“That it’s a witch artifact-“

“I know all the same things you do. If Ruby says it’s a witch, it’s a witch.”

Sam frowned, Her arm brushed against Dean’s again, and the taut thing was now frayed. 

Dean didn’t know what was happening. 

“Okay.” Sam broke their odd stand-off first, letting out a slow exhale. “I just wanted to-“

“Be sure.” She muttered. “Yeah, I know.”

There was a long pause—Dean forcing himself to focus on the low sound of the radio rather than how close She was, how her breathing was heavy and measured, how he wanted to follow the pattern with his heartbeat until he was moving with Her all the time—and when She leaned back, Dean couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Her small frown in the rearview mirror. 

“What did Ruby say this was for?” 

Sam shrugged, turning in his seat as he spoke. “She told me it could help kill anything inhuman or unholy. Stuff that even her knife and the Colt can’t gank.”

“The nasty sons of bitches,” Dean muttered. “Worst of the worst.”

There was another pause, and when She spoke again her voice was small. “I- anything?”

“Powerful things,” Sam explained. “Ruby said it was designed for things outside of nature. Like Lilith.”

“Like Lilith.” She repeated, and She sounded strange. Nervous.

Dean glanced back in the mirror to see Her curled into the backseat, turning the arrowhead between Her fingers with a tight frown, Her body braced in the way it always was when She started to freak out, her free hand gripping slightly at Her throat, that little wrinkle in Her brow obvious and prominent-

He couldn’t reach back and run his thumb over, no matter how much he itched to. She probably wouldn’t even let him. 

But God, the sight of Her like this made him feel sick. He hadn’t seen any real, full episodes since Her return, but he’d seen the bags under Her eyes, the raised marks on Her skin, the dried blood around Her nails.

It wasn’t his place to say anything anymore.

But it still torn him to pieces. Still made him feel like he was doing something wrong, still made Dean feel wrong. If he was good, he’d never allow something as amazing as She was to be in pain. He’d stop being selfish and set Her free of his burden, because even his proximity stole and hoarded Her light. 

But he needed Her here. Even if She couldn’t be his.

And he needed Her to stop clawing at Her throat. 

So he did the only thing he could think of, and coughed for Her attention.

Her eyes flicked to his in the rearview mirror, and they set off fireworks over his ribs. Colorful and hot and bright and Her-

“Nice work.” He muttered. “With the case. You were-“ Dean choked on the word right. Of course She was right. She was the only right thing in the universe. “You did good.”

He wouldn’t apologize. Dad said to never apologize for making the smart, right call, even if it was the tough one. Especially if it was the tough one, because that meant he was being strong, and it wasn’t his responsibility to make sure people understood that.

And what he’d said seemed to be enough. She sat a little taller, Her chin tilting a little higher, and when She spoke again Her voice was back to its usual tone. Smooth and clear and designed to haunt Dean in his sleep.

“Of course I did good.” She snapped. “I know what I’m doing, Winchester. I always do.”

Something in Her suddenly seemed to be glowing, leaking out through Her eyes on Dean’s in the mirror. 

It made Dean glow. Like he was being called further down into Her. He didn’t know how the hell She always did that to him. He’d likely never get a chance to find out. 

So all Dean did was roll his eyes and look back to road, because now he had a new lie to drill into his brain.

The lie that—if that hadn’t succeeded in returning Her to the proud, sharp, blinding woman She usually was—Dean would’ve said sorry.

That if She ever did lash at him with words that left bigger and more purposeful scars than the ones he already carried—the ones that seemed to line his every thought and breath, where he was haunted by Her when she was gone and consumed by her when she was there, and he was almost certain She didn’t even know how deep she was branding him—Dean would fall to his knees and fucking grovel for Her to heal him. For that shifting, easy light to cast over him and Her warmth to fuse him back together, better than he’d been before. For Her.

Dean would do most anything for Her.

And that meant—even if Bobby and Sam disagreed—lying to Her about the deal. 

“Dean,” Sam was shifting through his backpack as they pulled into a gas station, his attention mostly focused on trying to find a credit card that hadn’t gotten frozen. “If they don’t have pie-“

“We’re in Carolina, they’re gonna have freakin’ pie-“

Sam sighed. “Yeah, but if they don’t-“

“They will.” Dean snapped. The world was already fucking tormenting him. They didn’t need to take away his pie as well. “Pie, Sammy. Nothing else.”

“Dean-“

“Pie-“

“We’ll find you pie, you giant baby.” She rolled Her eyes from the backseat, stretching as she scooted to the door. Dean could see a little bit of bare skin from the movement.

His pants got a little tight.

He was fucking pathetic.

Sam said Her name carefully, shooting Dean a weary look from the corner of his eyes. “We can’t control what the gas station has-“

“We’ll figure it out.” She shrugged. “C’mon, buddy. Let Deano brood in peace.”

Dean scowled, half because of Her drawling, bored use of Deano that still made him bend a little much for her, and half because he wasn’t brooding. And if he was, he should be allowed to. He was dying-

She didn’t know that. She was going to find him pie anyway. 

And he hated this.

It was the good moments that were the worst. Moments when they glanced at each other when Sam said something dramatic, and he wanted to whisper a joke, but he wasn’t allowed to anymore. Moments where they brushed past each other and didn’t flinch, where Dean would see Her early in the morning and She’d look downright adorable with that small, pouting frown. 

Moments like this one. Where She got back before Sam, passed Dean his pie without a word, and sprawled out in the backseat. And Dean could glance at Her as he filled up Baby’s tank, and She fit so naturally that he wasn’t sure how his very foundation hadn’t crumbled to nothing while She was gone.

She looked beautiful. She was wearing the jacket he’d left Her, and Dean could see the poke of the blade he’d given Her, and she was frowning at the broken nail she’d mentioned earlier, and it would be so easy to reach out and run his thumb down Her nose until she let out a soft, easy breath and everything was okay again.

“Have you met Ruby?”

Dean blinked at Her. “Yeah.”

She hummed, not looking away from Her nails. “What’s she like?”

“She’s a demonic bitch.” Dean muttered, glaring at the gas pump, and She snorted. 

“Eloquent, De.”

He felt like he was falling from a million feet. She’d really called him De again. Out of fucking nowhere, like nothing had happened, She was smiling at him and calling him De and there was something in Her that was guarded and Dean wanted to shred it down and crash right into Her-

“Why are you working with her?” She asked, tilting Her head at him. “Is it because of Sam?”

“He trusts Ruby.” Dean’s words were pushed through his teeth. “And I trust him.”

“Should I trust her?”

Dean let out a dry chuckle. “Gonna matter what my answer is?”

“Yeah.” She said the word like it was nothing, and Dean’s lungs stuttered and caved for a brief second, as if he’d just been shot. “I didn’t ask for shits and giggles, Winchester-“

“Then don’t.” He grunted. “Don’t trust Ruby.”

“Alright.” She shrugged. “I won’t.”

There was a pause, and Dean didn’t know why She wasn’t trying to fight with him. He didn’t understand Her, how she could be acting like nothing was wrong when it so clearly freakin’ was, when they hadn’t even dared to speak about how She’d left him and lied and obviously didn’t want anything real to do with Dean-

“Did you see Sam trying to flirt with that waitress-“

“I have to shit.” Dean blurted, refusing to meet Her eyes as he returned the gas pump to its station, because She might look sad or surprised or hurt, and he wouldn’t know how to deal with that in a way he could permit. “Watch the car.”

He walked away before She could say anything, and Jesus, he was an asshole.

She’s been trying to be nice to him. Dean didn’t know why, but She seemed to be determined to try and patch at least something between them, and it made everything so much goddamn worse. She’d sneer at him one second—when the air around them was heated and weighted in Dean’s lungs, when Dean was biting at Her and she didn’t resist his silent plea for Her to bite back—and then do something like that the next, and Dean couldn’t live with it.

He couldn’t live with himself. It might be a good thing he was damned, because otherwise he’d have no justification for how he’d just walked away, how Her trying to reach out to him just made him recoil, because nothing had ever been as good as Her, and no one had ever been less deserving of Her than Dean.

And that was why he hated the good moments the most. They reminded him that She really was better, and Dean wasn’t worthy of Her infinite… everything. They forced him to build his walls higher, to line them with further barbed wire, because if he didn’t, She’d slip through a crack without effort.

Dean couldn’t afford to let Her back in. She needed to hate him. This whole thing would be so much easier if She would just hate him. 

Maybe one day he’d walk away like that again and not glance over to check that She was still there. He had to drive Her away, but he still made sure She was still there.

And She was. She always was. Every day for the past few weeks, Dean had looked for Her and she’d been there. Legs folded in a chair as She chewed on a pencil, lying flat on Her back and humming to herself in a way that made Dean’s head a little fuzzy, standing tall as She scanned over a room and rubbed Her thumb over that scar on Her palm.

She was doing that now. Leaning over the front seats and rubbing Her palm, head slightly bowed so Her hair blocked a full view of Her face, occasionally reaching down to touch something that was on the bench. Probably Sammy’s book.

She was so pretty.

She could never be Dean’s.

Sam didn’t say anything when Dean shuffled to his side in the station, just raising his brows, glancing out the window, and letting out an unnecessarily long breath with a shake of his head.

“Wanted some coffee.” Dean muttered, grabbing a paper cup and ignoring Sam’s flat expression of disbelief. “Long drive ahead.”

“Sure, dude.” Sam was still looking out the window, an odd expression on his face. “Huh.”

“What-“

“See the Cadillac? The silver one?”

Dean followed Sam’s gaze to the parking lot. “Yeah, what about it-“

“It was behind us, on the highway. For a while.” Sam ran a hand through his hair, shooting Dean a tight look. “Did you seriously not notice?”

“Course I noticed.” Dean muttered, and he very much had not fucking noticed. He’d been distracted. She’d been right there whenever he used the mirror, and there had still been a little bit of lipstick stained on her mouth from the case, and he’d wanted to wipe the smudge on Her cheek off with his thumb, just to test if She’d gape at him or look at him like he mattered. Like he could matter to Her, if that was allowed. “Lotta cars in the world, Sammy, some of them are bound to be going from Carolina to Virginia-“

Dean cut himself off as the Cadillac stopped in the middle of the lot, its door opened, three large men climbed out.

They were walking towards the Impala.

He could see the sun catch light off of something in the largest one’s hand, and it was glinting and long and-

Dean was roaring Her name before he could think better of it. There was red lining his vision and a blaring, alarm-like sound in his ear, and She was in danger-

Sam was right on his tail as he burst out of the lot, sprinting back to the car—back to Her—as the men started crowding the windows, but She was faster. Right before Fuckhead Number One could bash Baby’s windows in, She pushed the door open into his gut, vaulting forward with Her knife in hand as the man let out a guttural noise of pain.

Dean slammed his body right into Fuckhead Number Two—the big, ugly one who’s knife he’d seen—right as Sam caught up to him, grabbing Fuckhead Number Three and pushing him down onto the concrete with a grunt.

They all had the same knives. Somewhere in the whirlwind of the fight—fists flying, Dean trying to reach for his gun but always fumbling as he had to dodge another punch, Sammy scrambling with Fuckhead Three on the ground as She danced around Fuckhead One—Dean realized that it wasn’t just the asshole he was fighting who had a that knife. 

It was the same one that had stabbed Her in Colorado. Same curved, sharp blade he’d seen a few times on Bobby’s desk, that had damn near killed Her-

They’d gotten separated. Somehow Sam had ended up wresting with Fuckhead Three in the grass, She and Fuckhead One were the middle of the lot with Her knife in hand, and Fuckhead Two had backed Dean up to the stations walls.

“If it ain’t the Winchesters.” Fuckhead sneered, and Dean barely managed to duck the blow aimed at his jaw. “Didn’t expect to see you here-“

“Shut up.” Dean snapped. “Unless you’re gonna say why you’re trailing us, I don’t wanna here a word out of your ugly mouth-“

Dean side-stepped another punch, and Fuckhead gave him a crude smile.

“Not trailing you.” He sneered. “Trailing what you’ve got.”

“If it’s Sammy, you can have him,” Dean slammed his knee into Fuckhead Two’s side, sending him stumbling back with a grunt. “But I’ll warn you, he snores like a bitch-“

“We have no interest in Azazel’s little experiment.” Fuckhead let out a dry chuckle, not balking as Dean finally grabbed his gun, aiming the barrel at his temple. “Our kind deal in far… bigger, older affairs.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “This the part where I’m supposed to ask you what your kind are instead of just shooting you-“

Fuckhead smirked. “I’d imagine you’d like to know, Dean. Not like you can kill me anyway.”

“You wanna bet on that-“

“I’m not the betting type. To risky. And we- Well, we aren’t the kind to take risks.”

Dean was about to scoff and pull the trigger, but Fuckhead held his gaze, and his eyes shifted.

Eclipsed with a venomous, neon green for a long second, the grin on his face widening until he was laughing.

“You have no idea what you’ve begun to meddle with, Mr. Winchester-“

Dean shot Fuckhead’s foot. He didn’t need a villain rant right now, worst that would result in was a limp for the vessel, and goddamnit why couldn’t anything ever be easy-

“Sammy!” He roared across the lot. “Demons!”

Sam nodded, locking his arms around Fuckhead Three’s neck and started to chant the exorcism, and Dean sprinted forward to where She was still fighting Fuckhead One with a shout of Her name-

She was faster. She was always faster. 

Dean watched as She brought Her knife right up to Fuckhead One’s throat, hissed something in his ear, and seconds later bright green smoke erupted out of his mouth.

The same happened with Fuckhead Two and Three, and Dean frowned. He’d never seen Sam do the exorcism that fast.

He muttered Her name, fisting his hands at his side to stop himself reaching for Her. “Are you-“

“I’m fine.” She snapped. “Let’s go before someone calls the cops.”

She didn’t look okay. Sam rejoined them at the car—dusting the grass and dirt off his pants and looking between them with a frown—and Dean had to restrain himself with brutal reminders that She didn’t need him, because She looked the furthest thing from okay and it was eating at his gut.

She wasn’t speaking. For the rest of the drive She was lying on her back, eyes squeezed shut, body half curled into itself and arms wrapped around Her stomach. For the first time since She’d returned, she really did look sick. Colorless and pallid, lips drawn in a thin line as if she was in pain, breathing loud enough for Dean to hear over the music. Sammy kept asking damn questions about the demons, about what Fuckhead Two had said to Dean and what green eyes could possibly mean, but Dean couldn’t really hear him. 

His tongue was caught in his throat to stop him from spitting out that they needed to stop, because he was worried about Her. His chest felt like it was contracting and aching and ripping, and his heart was loud in his ears, and why was this so goddamn horrible, why couldn’t he just not care that She was in pain-

“Dean.” Sam muttered, long after the sun had set, a little while after She’d fallen asleep. “We need to tell her. About the deal.”

Dean scowled, his gaze flicking back to Her in the mirror. She seemed to be really, truly asleep. 

Dean wouldn’t bet on it.

“Not now, Sam-“

“Bobby was right, she’d going to work it out eventually-“

“No, she won’t. She’ll leave first.”

Sam gave him an odd look, glancing back to Her with a shake of his head. “Why are you so fucking convinced she’s going to leave-“

“She always leaves.“ Dean snapped. “She left at the hospital-“

“Because she was sick-“

“Does she look sick to you-“

“Yeah, she does.” Sam seemed to suddenly, somehow, be taller. “And I know she does to you too, Dean. I mean, just look at her-“

“I did.” Dean muttered, glowering at the passing white lines on the highway. “And it’s not my business. I’m not talking about this, Sammy. So fucking drop it.”

Sam sighed. “You know can convince her you don’t care about her, shit, you can even convince yourself, but you can’t convince me. If it were anyone else, you’d have shot them in Utah, and we both know it.”

“Shut up-“

“I am. Just-“ Sam said Her name, and Dean felt like he was going to vomit. “You’re not good at being right about her. You get blinded, Dean, and I think she needs us just as much as-“

“She doesn’t need us.” Dean couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Her in the backseat. 

Hauntingly beautiful in the night, the shadows and moving lights of the road making Her look even more like something that had fallen from the sky, like a piece of a star or comet that had started to breathe and walk the earth. The breeze breaking through the cracked windows blowing through Her hair and giving her cheeks a slightly flush.

Her knife was gripped tight in Her hands, and she was folded around it like it was gravity.

Dean wanted Her to fold around him like that. He wanted to be the thing that grounded Her.

But he wasn’t.

“She doesn’t need anyone, Sam.” He muttered, ripping his gaze back onto the road. “We’ll be there in an hour.”

And when Sam dropped it with a sigh, Dean made himself focus on the music. Normally, he’d turn it up to drown out his own thoughts, louder than even Sam’s chastising voice.

Tonight he kept it low, because louder meant there would be a possibility of disturbing Her. And Dean was already pretty sure She didn’t get as much sleep as she needed. 

So he’d give Her this last hour of the drive—going a little slower to extended the time—and he’d let himself look at Her a little more when she couldn’t see.

Then he’d park the car in the motel lot, mutter to Sam that he needed to work out how to get Her up without getting himself stabbed, and steel himself as he exited the car.

He couldn’t care. It would be unfair to Her for Dean to care, when he’d be gone in five months. 

Maybe, if he repeated it enough in his head, it would feel true.

Dean stopped in front of the room from Ruby’s message to Sam, and he’d barely had a chance to raise his fist to knock before the door swung open, and Ruby was glaring at him from the other side.

“Where’s Sam.”

“Hi, Dean.” He muttered, shoving past Ruby with an eye roll. “Thanks for taking time to get the thing for me, I’m going to try and not be a fucking bitch for five seconds to show my gratitude-“

“I’m not going to be grateful when you probably didn’t to shit.” Ruby crossed her arms, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “Where’s Sam.”

“I’m here,” Sam’s head poked around the door frame, a tense frown on his face. “Dean, she’s not moving-“

Dean froze at the foot of the bed. “What do you mean, she’s not moving-“

“She woke up, but she said she just wants to stay in the car-“

“She can’t stay in the car, Sammy, she has the arrowhead and we- shit, we just got jumped by demons-“

Ruby stared between them, her eyes wide. “You just got- who the hell are you talking about-“

“Oh, yeah, you guys haven’t met yet.” Sam swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “I- uh- You remember how I mentioned that girl Dean used to hunt with-“

“You told Ruby about her?!” Dean hissed, and Sam shot him an apologetic look.

“Just like, once-“

“Wait,” Ruby looked between them, said Her name, and Dean was going to rip out Her tongue. The bitch shouldn’t be allowed to say Her name. Nothing evil should even be allowed to know about Her. “She’s here?”

“Yeah,” Dean narrowed his eyes. “You got a problem with that?”

“Of course I do, you two idiots weren’t supposed to tell anyone what you were doing-“

“You don’t get to tell us what we do and don’t do,” Dean hissed, his glare turning to a very worried looking Sam. “She’s not coming out of the car?”

Sam shook his head. “No, uh-“

“I’ll take care of it.” He grunted, not looking at Ruby as he moved back to the door, clapping Sam on the shoulder with short words. “You kids keep it in your pants while I get her majesty inside.”

Dean didn’t bother to wait for Ruby to make a snide remark, just marching to the Impala and opening the back door, glaring down and where She still lay.

“C’mon, Princess, we’ve landed-“

“Don’t care.” She mumbled, twisting onto Her side and burying Her face in the seat. “I’m fine here, Dean.”

Dean jaw clenched. “Fine, just- give me the arrowhead thingy-“

“No.”

Dean grunted Her name. “You can wallow in the car all you freakin’ want, but we need that arrowhead-“

“Why.”

“The hell do you mean why, the whole point of that whole damn thing-“

“Why was it the point?” She rolled onto Her back, meeting Dean’s eyes with raised brows. “Who would want this thing?”

“Ruby wants it, and she’s going to be a real bitch if we don’t give it to her-“

“Should I give it to Her?”

Dean stared at Her, saying her name slowly. “What the hell are you talking about.”

“You told me not to trust her, Dean.” She held his gaze, and Dean felt like She looking right down into the pit. Daring him to admit something he didn’t understand. “Why should I give her the arrowhead if I shouldn’t trust her.”

It took a second for Her words to sink in. She was just watching him, a challenging expression on Her pretty face, and when it clicked, Dean had to go rigid and still to stop himself from crashing down into Her pouting, drawn lips.

She was taking him seriously. She was taking Dean—Dean, of all damn people—and his opinion and trust of Ruby, seriously. She wasn’t trusting Ruby because he told Her not to, and there wasn’t an ounce of doubt in Her voice. It had been flat, pointed, filled with that same dry tone She’d used when she’d asked Dean a rhetorical question about a hunt or a monster She’d already known everything about. The voice She used when she was half quizzing him, but She’d also been in charge of designing all the answers.

He couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t sit in how it made him stand a little taller, how Her gaze on his was almost certainly looking all the way into him, how She was seeing into every piece and sunken hollow in Dean’s body and not moving away.

Why the hell couldn’t She just move away.

He couldn’t have this. He couldn’t have Her. Dean needed to keep moving, and Her looking at him like that—like She could see him, like he was real, like She wanted to fall up into him just as bad as he wanted to tumble down to Her—made him want to stay in this parking lot for the entirety of his remaining months. 

“We still gotta work with the bitch,” Dean said Her name, forcing his gaze to remain on Her’s, all while trying to remember how he’d ever managed to convince Her to do anything. “She’s our best line to Lilith-“

“That can’t be true.” 

Dean blinked at Her. “You got a better idea?”

“No. But I could find one.”

“You planning to find it in the car?”

She scowled. “Shut up-“

“Look, you-“ Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. “You don’t need to give it to Ruby. But you need to come inside.”

Her eyes narrowed, Her mouth opening to probably say something harsh and firm along the lines of shove it up your ass, Winchester, you don’t tell me what to do, but Dean pushed on before She could. 

“Please?” He watched Her carefully, trying not to get lost in how She was blinking at him, how he could move just a few inches and brush the hair off Her face, trace his fingers over her parted lips. “Can’t just leave you alone in the car at 3am. You never know when more demons might jump out of the bushes, sweetheart.”

“It’s three in the-“ She cut Herself off with a yawn, and God, she could be real damn cute when She wasn’t glaring at him. 

“C’mon, Princess.” Dean nodded to the motel room, hoping She was too tired to hear the affection in his voice. “Let’s go.”

When She pushed herself to her feet, Dean’s hand almost shot out to rest on Her lower back and guide her inside.

He regained control of his body at the last second, and flinched back. He was falling again. Further and further every time, because he always thought he’d reached the deepest part of this strange pull to Her, and he was always wrong. 

She didn’t see it. Didn’t see how he recoiled from Her body. Shit, Dean hoped She hadn’t seen it. That might be the line crossed—might be something She took as Dean hating her, when he couldn’t, he didn’t know how—and Dean didn’t want to lose Her. He would. He’d have to.

But not now.

Not when She was listening to him. Not when he could feel something start to bloom to the right of his heart, because She was trusting him. Against all odds and logic and reason, She was trusting Dean. He didn’t understand it. He never did. But this was good, and it would all be gone soon regardless, and Dean can’t be allowed to have something so good just to break it, but he also couldn’t live with himself if he shattered Her without having her at all.

His head was spinning around that idea. How could She still trust Dean, he was Dean, he was damned and selfish and mean to Her, but she still trusted him-

He almost missed the chorus of shouts that broke through the motel room. 

She flying at Ruby, knife in hand and eyes slightly crazed, blocked only by Sam jumping in Her path and holding Her back as Ruby scrambled away.

“What the fuck-“

“Let go of me!” She was screaming, thrashing in Sam’s hold and watching Ruby with a slightly crazed expression. “Sam- Fucking let go- I- I can’t-“

Sam said Her name, his voice in the calming tone he used on the vics. “That’s just Ruby, she’s an ally-“

“Just an ally?” Ruby shot him a glare. “Ouch, Sammy, I thought we were friends-“

“I- Maybe wait until after I calm her down to start yelling at me-“ Sam cut himself off with a groan as She elbowed him in the gut, but didn’t waver his hold. “Fuck-“

“Let- Sam, let me go- I need to- fuck- Dean!” She screamed for him, and whatever daze Dean had been shocked into was destroyed by the sound of it. “Dean, it’s a- Dean-“

“Fucking hell,” Ruby shook her head slightly, her back still pressed to the wall, her body a little more rigid than Dean had seen it before. “She’s a dramatic one, isn’t she-“

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Dean snapped, giving Ruby a firm, harsh, don’t fucking test me, bitch, glower before taking Her face between his hands, lowering his voice until only She could really hear it. “You need to calm down, Princess-“

She shook Her head, hair sliding over Her brow, and Dean had a striking realization that this was the closest he’d been to Her in over two years. 

“Dean, she’s- If- It’s wrong- Something’s wrong-“

“Ruby’s a demon,” he said Her name carefully, scanning over Her open features. “You knew that-“

“I- I’m not-“ She shook Her head, Her voice more panicked by the second. “It’s wrong, Dean, something’s wrong-“

“I know. Just, son of a bitch-“

He gave in. Dean let his control slip just a little, gave into his every deeply rooted and natural instinct, and ran his thumb down Her nose.

The effect was almost immediate. Her eyes closed slowly, the tension leaving Her expression and body as she half-slumped into him, and this was everything Dean had been trying to avoid, but he also couldn’t ignore how his own bones felt lighter in his body, how the world felt bigger—in a relieving, colorful and bright way that made Dean’s head not feel like a weight on his neck—because She wasn’t freaking out.

He moved Her to the bed without a word, letting Her lie flat on her back and curling his fingers to stop himself from falling further—from tracing Her cheekbones and tucking Her hair behind her ears—and only managed to remember they weren’t alone in the whole universe because Ruby coughed behind him.

“What the hell was that-“

“She must have, uh-“ Sam swallowed, glancing to Her on the bed as he said Her name. “Are you-“

“I’m fine.” She muttered, eyes still closed as She twisted a ring on her finger. “Forgot she was a demon. Sorry.”

Lie.

That was a lie.

Dean frowned at Her, keeping his voice level and casual. “How’d you manage to remember-“

“I must have flashed my eyes.” Ruby jumped in, and she hadn’t moved from her spot on the wall. “Happens sometimes.”

Sam shot Dean a confused, slightly questions look, and Dean gave a small shake of his head. 

“I’ve never seen you do that shit by accident, Ruby-“

“Well you don’t look at me, Dean, so kindly stop being an ass and have your girlfriend hand over the arrowhead.”

Dean scowled, but couldn’t bring himself to properly protest the girlfriend thing. Not when his brain was still in a scratching loop of Her face so close, Her warm cheeks under his hands, the intoxicating smell of that goddamn fruit dragging him higher and higher-

“No.” She muttered from the bed, and when Her eyes opened they found Dean’s so fast he’d have thought he was a magnet. “It’s staying with me.”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed as she pushed off the wall, Dean body moved a slight inch to the side—just enough to stop Ruby if she tried something on his- his whatever She was—and Sam sighed.

“Oh, shit.”

“What do you mean, no?” Ruby sneered, taking a slow step forward. “I sent you to get it for me, you can’t just keep it-“

“You ever heard of finders keepers?” Her voice was bored, and whatever panic Ruby’s black eyes had sparked in Her seemed to have vanished entirely. “This is that.”

Ruby scoffed. “That doesn’t work here, you spoiled brat-“

Something hot filled Her eyes, and Dean felt like something was rotting in his chest. 

“That’s rude.” She cut Ruby off with a shrug, nothing in Her tone shifting, but Her eyes remained different. Dean wasn’t sure anyone else had noticed. “And I’m sorry, but I’ve never been good at being peer pressured. Try again later.”

“Later? Are you-“ Ruby whipped around to snap at Sammy. “Make her give me my arrowhead.”

“I- uh-“ Sam glanced to Dean, his face filled with worry. “I’m not-“

“Shut it, Ruby.” Dean grunted, and Sam’s whole body seemed to slump with relief. “If her majesty says no arrowhead, you don’t get an arrowhead.”

Ruby glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me-“

“I dunno,” Dean looked to Her with raised brows, and he could’ve sworn he saw Her mouth tug slightly upwards. “You kidding, sweetheart?”

“Not really, no.”

“Alright.” He shrugged, turning back to Ruby with a shrug. “You heard the lady. No arrowhead.”

Ruby’s jaw twitched. “This is stupid, I mean, even for you, Dean-“

“It’s not stupid.” She snapped from the bed, and Dean glanced over to find Ruby on the end of one of Her coldest, most threatening glares. “I’m holding onto it. No one else.”

“You could try and take it from her,” Dean suggested, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I’ll warn you, she plays it real fast and loose with that knife.”

There was a long, silent stand-off—Sammy shifting on his feet in the background, looking around the group like he was trying to work out which bomb in a pile would go off first—and Ruby caved first.

“Fine.” Ruby sighed, shooting Her a glare. “Be a fucking child. In the meantime, we need to go back to how Sam said you three got jumped by demons.”

“Jumped is a strong word,” She muttered, arms wrapping around Her stomach. “More like snuck up on-“

“This isn’t a joke.” Ruby snapped. “If demons are following you, it’s because of the arrowhead, which means more will be coming if we don’t do something about it.”

She sat up on the bed, an odd and unreadable expression on Her face, but before Dean could ask what the hell it was for, Sam was talking.

“They were- uh-“ He looked to Dean and Her, his voice filled with slight nerves. “They were green? The demons-“

“Green?” Ruby stared at Sam, the almost frightened look returning to her face. “Sam, what the hell do you mean they were green-“

“He means they were green, genius.” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. “Green smoke, green eyes. Green-“

“Demons.” Ruby was shaking her head, the movement almost frantic. “For- God, for fuck’s sake, can you two not making anything easy-“

“Do you know what they are?” She was fully sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing Her palm with a thumb as Her attention fixed on Ruby. “The green demons, have you heard of them-“

Ruby let out a dry laugh. “Of course I’ve heard of them. They, shit, they’re like nightmares. In hell we use them to scare little baby demons into brushing their fucking teeth-“

Dean frowned. “Hold up, you’ve got baby demons-“

“Obviously not, dumbass, I’m just trying to drive home how fucked we are-“

She took a long breath, pushed off the bed, and Dean was worried he was going insane. He thought he saw Ruby fucking flinch at Her movement.

“Ruby.” She said, and that was the tone She used on a hunt. When She wasn’t looking for anyone to argue with Her, and wasn’t going to give way for the opportunity. “What are the green demons.”

“Hell’s Assassins.” Ruby said, her words pushed through teeth. “They do things that are above every other demon’s pay grade, usually staying in the shadows and only showing themselves when there’s no other option. If they’re out now, that means, shit-“

“We’re screwed.” Sammy muttered, and Ruby nodded.

“Royally fucked. Our best bet is throwing them off the trail.” Ruby sighed, started to ramble about how if they could convince the green-eyed douchebags that they’d taken the arrowhead somewhere else and dropped it, maybe they could buy enough time to figure out how to avoid them once they worked out it had been a trick, but Dean wasn’t listening.

He was looking at Her. 

And She looked horrible.

Drop dead gorgeous—just as She always was—but horrible. Sick. She looked truly, awfully, deeply sick again. Sunken and afraid and small, curled into Herself and eye screwed tight, and this was worse than any of the fear because Dean felt like he needed to do something, but he wasn’t a healer, he’d break Her further and She’d leave for good once more, and it would kill him. He was an asshole, and if She walked away now—right as he was starting to see parts of him that had been hollow and cracked fuse back together, brighter and stronger than before—it would kill Dean before the contract even got the chance to catch up with him.

But Her obvious pain was clawing at Dean’s throat and burning over his skin, he needed to fix it, needed to make things better for Her, everything had to be better for Her-

“I’ll take Sam, then.” Ruby’s words cut through his thoughts, and Dean turned with a scowl.

“Take Sam where-“

“To drive off the demons, you meat-headed idiot-“

“Shut up.” She snapped from the bed, and Dean wasn’t imagining it. Ruby flinched. The bitch was actually fucking afraid of Her.

Which was understandable. 

She could be scary. 

And right now, with Her furiously beautiful features and firm glare, She was downright terrifying.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” She muttered. “And you’re not just taking Sam-“

“I’m- I think it’s a good plan.” Sam scratched his neck, shooting Her an apologetic look. “I mean, she’s right, Ruby. Talk to Dean like that again and I won’t hold her back when she tries to carve your eyes out, but I’ll go with you. For the team.”

The team. They were a team. And She and Sam were standing up for him, and cared about him enough to maul Ruby or put up with her for an extended amount of time, and this exactly what Dean was afraid of-

“You two will have to go on lockdown,” Ruby snapped, and Dean didn’t miss how she was standing a little too tall. Too guarded. “Buddy system to get food, doors shut day and night, no one in or out that’s not me or Sammy-“

Sam frowned. “Don’t call me that. Or I’m not driving these demons off with you.”

“Well, Sammy, you don’t really have a choice. Just like Elizabeth and Darcy,” Ruby turned her smirk of Her and Dean. “Are going to have to hole up here. Together. Just them, all week.”

“All-“ She swallowed, and something stung at Dean’s heart at the expression on Her face. “Can’t we just go to Bobby’s-“

“In Dakota?” Ruby laughed. “We don’t have time for that. Besides, we’re taking the car-“

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Like hell you’re taking my car-““Don’t worry, Sammy will drive. Ready?” 

Sam blinked. “I- are we leaving now-“

“Like I said, we don’t have time. Those things- They’re a bigger threat than Lilith. So unless you’re going to hand over the arrowhead-“

“Not a chance.” Her chin raised slightly, and Dean couldn’t stop a smirk at the sour expression on Ruby’s face.

“Fine. Have fun on lockdown.”

Everything moved in a flash. Ruby and Sam got stopped at the door as She moved in front of it—Dean didn’t know how She was suddenly back to her usual, sharp and quick self, but he did know that Ruby froze at the sight of Her in their path—and She demanded the full, detailed plan. Ruby and Sam were going to draw the green-eyed demons away by fucking off to Oklahoma, She and Dean were going to stay here and keep the arrowhead safe, and once they were in the clear Sam and Ruby would come back. 

And before Dean could find the proper words to express how he was so fatally close to completely giving back into Her, to moving fully back into Her orbit and doing everything he’d sworn he wouldn’t—forgiving Her again, being whatever She needed him to be, trying to hold Her when he’d really be nothing more than literal dirt and blood by the end of the year—Sam and Ruby were gone.

Dean was alone again.

But this was worse.

Because he was alone with Her.

And it didn’t matter what Ruby claimed. 

That was a bigger threat than Lilith.

————

This is going to kill you. 

You should’ve protested more. Insisted that you and Dean didn’t need to go on lockdown together, that there had to be other options.

You couldn’t think of other options, but there had to be some. 

Dean wouldn’t have let you stay alone. You had to stay with the arrowhead. There was no world where you’d let Dean go off with Ruby. You didn’t even love Sam going off with Ruby, and she’d only been insulting him while casting a broader net for Dean. 

Nobody should go with Ruby. But you had a feeling she wouldn’t have allowed that, just as you wouldn’t have allowed her to take Dean. 

And you’re certain she’s not your biggest fan either, given how she flinched at the sight of you, even before you tried to kill her.

You’d almost let the Darkness slip there. If Sam hadn’t held you back, you would’ve let it rush out and stomp Ruby down to nothing, because you’d never seen a demon that hideous. They all had horrid, twisted and marred faces, shifting and moving in the smoke, but Ruby had been awful. Glinting and rolling and stained along her vessel like a disease.

And maybe she was just an ugly bitch.

But maybe you’d have to keep an eye on her. She’d wormed her way into Sam and Dean’s life like a parasite, and you now had to ensure they came out the other side with all their organs intact.

And that’s not your job. Not your place.

But you’re going to do it anyway. 

You have to repay them somehow. For putting up with this. For putting up with you, and the danger you brought just by daring to try and breathe in their proximity. 

In Dean’s proximity.

You can’t stop drawing closer and closer to Dean.

And you know he hates you. He has every right to, even if you don’t know why. You have a theory it starts and ends with John, and how you never said goodbye, but it doesn’t matter.

You’ll spend your time with him trying to keep yourself on a leash, and pretending you’re not already addicted to his voice and smell and face once more. 

You’d never truly been clean of him. You’d never stopped dreaming of him, never stopped wanting him, and the White had never hesitated to whine and buck and scream for you to turn around and return to where you should be. 

Wherever Dean was.

But one month back, he hates you, and you’ve never needed him more. Because he makes it easier. The pain is harsher and sharper when it comes—on worse cases and when you don’t sleep for long nights that never seem to end, until color breaks the horizon and Dean is at your side once more—but every waking moment doesn’t feel vile. Sometimes you breathe and it’s not poison in your lungs. Your heart beats and it’s a steady time that isn’t shredding itself apart. Dean brushes past you in the hall, or meets your eyes in the Impala’s mirror, and snaps your name like he cares about, and everything turns silver.

So you can’t stop trying to fix it. Dean so plainly loathes you, but then he’ll smirk at you, or laugh at a joke, or pull you away from danger, and you’ll fall further into himo. It fuels you. To patch this vast crack between you with whatever you can find, scavenging for thread that isn’t frayed in heated moments—when he cares, or when he’s furious—that fuse this back together a little more.

And God, it’s so unhealthy. How you’re scrambling to fix something you’d never had a right to break in the first place, especially when Dean doesn’t even care to see it fixed himself. When, even if you manage to salvage this, it will crumble once more when the Darkness gets a full hold of you, and everything crashes down. 

But knowing that had never stopped you.

And it’s Dean. And he’s magnetic and strong and still somehow the only certain thing in the universe. You’re drowning in him every second, and the whole world has become sharp and stained in gold because he’s right there and you could touch him if you tried, so you can’t just give up. He’ll snap and you’ll snap back, but you won’t leave. 

You can’t leave.

When Dean’s finally here, you don’t think you could pull fully away if you tried.

Now would be the time to learn. When you know that the demons hunting you are Hell’s fucking assassins, and they’re here for you. You’ll let Sam and Dean believe it’s the arrowhead—and you have a sense that Ruby is already aware it’s not—but it’s you. They’d been there for you, and the Darkness had started to seep out no matter how you chewed your tongue red or dug your nails to your skin, and nobody was safe with you but you still couldn’t leave.

Not when you’re locked down.

With Dean.

You won’t let him touch the arrowhead. You’d caught him, the first day, trying to shift through your jacket and pull it out while you’d been taking a shower. You’d cleared your throat, your arms crossed over your chest, and he’d turned with a wide-eyed, guilty expression. 

“I- uh-“

“It’s not nice to snoop, Winchester.” You’d said, giving him a pointed look. “And it’s not there anyway.”

He’d blinked at you, but recovered quickly. Charming, boy-ish grin returning, expression a picture of mock innocence, so painfully unaware of how the White in your chest was begging you to close the space and just hold him-

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart, I was just looking for something. Is a guy not allowed to look for things anymore?”

You’d raised your brows at him. “What were you looking for?”

“Gun.”

“In my jacket?”

He’d paused at that. “Thought it was my jacket.”

“I didn’t know you wore women’s jackets, Deano.” You’d taken at step back into the bathroom, reaching for your spare towel as you continued. “You are not a good liar.”

He’d scowled. “I’m a freakin’ fantastic liar-“

You’d hummed, shooting him a look of amusement. “Sure.”

“I’m better than you are.” He’d snapped. “I always have you figured out, Princess. And I’m lying right fucking now.”

It had been hard not to wince at that one. Dean was better than you were. Everyone was.

And he could be lying, and you don’t even know about what, but he could be. And you’d deserve it. Whether it’s a punishment or just another way for Dean to hate you, you’d deserve it for making everything so much worse.

So you’d sighed, grabbed the arrowhead from folded towel, and held it up for him to see.

“Just- don’t try and take this. Don’t touch it.” You held Dean’s gaze, and there had been something hot inside of it. Something that seemed more turned on him than aimed at you.

It still hurt.

“Please.” You’d added, just because he really couldn’t touch it. “Dean, I need you to say-“

“I won’t touch it,” he’d grunted. “Bossy.”

And the White had relaxed. A little less danger for Dean to be in. 

Another thing to take and let ignite you from within. To grab onto and cast around your body, until those fractured pieces could grow a little further back together, and the world could be a little more colorful.

Days later, you’re still keeping the arrowhead under your pillow. Dean hasn’t tried to take it, but there’s no other place for it to be.

It has to stay with you.

Because whatever Ruby thinks it is, she’s wrong.

There had been a brief moment of terror, when Sam had said made to kill powerful things, but then you’d looked at it and you’d known that wasn’t the truth. The weight over your chest and pressing on your lungs had been relieved, but only for a second. 

Then you’d looked closer, and it was something far worse.

There were four languages carved into the jade, and one of them was shifting and strange the same way your thoughts always did when you created a ritual, the same way the words women of the high always moved on the paper. You’d told Sam it was simply witch symbols, and it hadn’t been a full lie. They were symbols, just as all letters were. And they were likely carved by a witch.

But they were likely more. 

Because this thing was powerful. 

And it fed the Darkness more than anything you’d seen before.

Everything was louder and bigger and sharper when you held it in your hands. Even Dean’s presences didn’t fully soften the sheer vastness of everything when the arrowhead was in your hands. The world was still silver, but it wasn’t blurred. It was harsh and bright and violent inside of you, barely contained and pressing up under your skin to be freed.

And then there was Dean. How when you hold the arrowhead, he’s not just leaving stains. 

He’s branded into you. 

It’s visible. You can feel it. You can fucking taste him, lingering in the back of your throat despite never having been that close to him before. He’s embedded in your chest and marked all over you in places that he hasn’t touched in years. There’s something faint golden painted all over your body—tangled in your hair and glowing in your guts—and it spurs all those fractured pieces into an overwhelming frenzy. They grasp onto every bit of light the gold provides and toss it all over your body until even the Darkness feels like it’s blended into the White and everything is all just silver.

But then you drop the arrowhead, your hand growing weak from just how fucking much everything is, and it all becomes numbed pain and shifting gold on the couch and Dean’s bed.

So whatever the arrowhead is, Ruby can’t have it. And Dean can’t know what it is, or why you keep staring at him with a tight frown when you hold it, watching his… everything. How he’s like a walking, breathing pillar of gold.

“Take a picture, Princess.” He mutters from the table, his attention on the laptop Sam had left you. “It’ll last longer.”

You scowl, shoving the arrowhead back under your pillow. “Shut up.”

He does.

You don’t think it’s because you told him to.

About three days of your lockdown have passed. Dean’s barely speaking to you.

It’s eating you alive.

Every day has been the same. You exist in Dean’s gravity, and he doesn’t even know you can’t pull away, and time passes in barely a crawl. You watch the tiny box TV and flip through the motel’s provided magazines and your own books, while Dean drinks and hunches over Sam’s laptop.

Half your trash is beer bottles, and you haven’t even had one. You still don’t drink—now doesn’t really feel like the time to start—and Dean probably remembers that, but it still worries you. You know he’s had a rough two years, that he had to watch John die, and Sam almost die, and fight Azazel, and deal with the Devil’s Gate, but this seems worse. Dean drank before.

He didn’t quite drink like this. 

And he still won’t really look at you. 

The most you get from him is grunts about food, strange looks that end the moment you catch his eyes on yours, and muttered words about how Sam sent a message, and he and Ruby are still alive.

It’s moves the Darkness to an edge. Everything is still silver, but the Darkness is still a part of that, and it’s volatile. Hateful and wrathful. Cracking over your ribs and rotten on your tongue, and at night—when Dean snores in his bed and you stare at the ceiling with your knife in hand—you feel so fucking sick once more.

And this is another one of those nights. The day had been the same as all the others, and Dean’s fast asleep across the room, and you allow yourself to look at him.

He’s still so pretty. There are a few more lines on his face and a slightly heavier expression on his face, but he’s still Dean. Still the best thing you’ve ever seen, and the only one that had ever managed to make you falter. To sit down and want to stay there, to have that strong, unexplainable pull that makes you watch him in the dark like a creep, that drags you down, down, down when he’s only existing near you.

It’s just as terrifying as it’s always been. How Dean is just more. How he was like a phantom behind you in the years apart, and how he’s all the world in front of you. How there had been moments—while you’d been apart with no belief you’d ever fall back into him again, when you’d skipped every town you set foot in and never allowed yourself to stop moving—where someone at a bar had smirked at you and asked for your name, and you’d given it, and when they’d repeated it with a drawl and heated promise in their eyes, all you’d been able to think was not Dean.

And he’s right there. In the dark.

And you’re not running.

But you are growing sicker. Watching him makes the White rear its head, and that sparks the Darkness, and Dean has always been able to set you off more than anyone else, and he’s just lying there and looking like everything you could ever need, and you’re losing control.

You push out of your bed—holding your breath and taking light steps on the creaking floor—and move to the bathroom. 

You can’t use your usual methods. Dean would wake from the sound or notice the blood in the morning, and you don’t need that right now. So you take the second-best choice and turn the sink on, letting the hot water flow until steam is rising from it, and run your hands under it.

Your skin feels like it’s raw and peeling. It fucking hurts, and you might not be able to really turn a page in the morning without wincing. 

But the Darkness sinks back down.

So it works.

You bow your head, eyes squeezed shut, and push on. You need the Darkness to go be tamed, to go so deep into your body that you’ll be able to go at least the whole day with no fear of losing it, with no fear of hurting-

“You shouldn’t do that.”

When your eyes shoot open, he’s right there. Dean’s frowning at you from the door, supporting himself with one hand on the frame and rubbing his eyes as he speaks.

“’S not good for you.”

“Yeah, well,” you narrow your eyes at him, furious at yourself for not locking the door, furious at him for thinking he has any right to tell you what to do. He doesn’t know you’d follow him anywhere, and trust him with your soul in his hands. As far as Dean’s concerned, you’re nothing, so he doesn’t get to tell you what to do. “You shouldn’t drink.”

He blinks at you. “What.”

“Half the motel room is beer bottles.” You snap. “And if you’re allowed to do that, I’m allowed to do this.”

“You-“ Dean jaw twitches, his eyes darting to your hands, still pressed until the steaming water. “There’s no fucking reason for you to be doing that shit-“

“Is there a reason for you to drink?”

He scowls. “That’s different, Princess-“

“Is it?” You hum, looking back to your hands. They hurt. You won’t pull them away. “How?”

“That’s not your business- It just fuckin’ is-“

“So this isn’t yours.” You shrug, letting out a long, slow breath. “Go back to bed, Dean.”

There’s a long moment where you can still see him in the doorway. You think he’s going to argue, or push you, or keep trying to convince you to step back from the sink. 

But the floorboards creak, and he’s gone. You follow him, a handful of minutes later.

Neither of you mention it in the morning. 

“We need to get more food,” Dean mutters that afternoon. “But Sammy took my fucking car-“

“There’s the shop down the street we used last time.” You don’t look up from your book, because if you do, you’ll meet Dean’s eyes and fall a little further. “It’s like, a five-minute walk.”

“I don’t wanna use that place, they didn’t have bacon-“

“They were out of bacon. Three days ago.” You sigh, glaring at the words on your page. You’ve read them ten times before, and you’re getting bored, but Dean will only talk to you about necessity so repetition is your only option. “I’m sure they’ve restocked.”

Dean mutters something under his breath you can’t hear, and don’t really want to. 

But you’re right. When you’ve dressed and walked down to the tiny, acceptably useful grocery store—Dean one pace behind you, your body leaning slightly back as if it can’t help but try to be a little closer to him where it’s allowed—they’ve restocked on bacon.

“I’ve got a list of what we need,” you’re trying to ignore how he’s shifting at your side, like he can’t wait to move away. You wish you could blame him. “Find whatever else you want, and try not to go overboard.”

“You can’t go overboard on food, Princess.” Dean’s words are casual. Easy. Your heart skips and beat then freezes in your chest. “You try not to get lost.”

You glare up at him. “I am not going to get lost, asshole-“

He’s already walking away.

It takes all your willpower not to chase after him. 

The grocery store really is small, and you don’t need much. One of the—countless—amazing things about Dean is how he’s a man of habit. Even after two years apart, you can still predict him like he’s the moon in the sky. Beer, jerky, the bacon he was so whiny about, a few pre-made pies. A lot of butter and meatballs because you refuse to not take advantage of having a real, small kitchen for the first time in years, and Dean will be eating with you whether the asshole likes it or not.

And you don’t know where he’s wandered off to at first, but you realize quickly it’s not as far as you thought. 

Because you glance over your shoulder at the exact right time, and Dean’s there. Half hidden behind a shelf, glaring at a bag of vegetable broth that is so obviously a cover, you almost laugh.

You don’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

You’re too starved and desperate for his proximity—how easily everything is bright and silver in your body—to confront him. 

So the rest of the grocery trip passes exactly like that.

You wander the isles to cross every item off your list. Dean stays several, poorly hidden paces behind you like some kind of oddly trained guard dog. You indulge him and pretend he’s being stealthy, when in reality he’s just a massive man very obviously following you around in a grocery store. 

At one point you catch his eye and raise your brows—because you just can’t fucking help it—and you could swear he blushes before he looks away.

This is so strange. He’s barely looked at you all week, and suddenly he’s doing this.

You wish you could bring yourself to care about that a little more.

Around the canned goods isle—chicken soup because it’s easy—a woman approaches Dean. She’s not a demon, just a pretty human with soft eyes that are fixed on your—not your—Dean, but you still feel something stabbing and biting in your gut when he even looks at her.

It’s pathetic. You have no claim there, no valid reason to want to march over and link your arm through Dean’s like you used to, to suddenly wish he’d just fucking stop the whole act and come stand at your side, but that doesn’t stop the feeling

Or the way the whole world—in and out of your body—sings when Dean dismissed the woman barely a chance. When he glances at her, shrugs off her overly sweet words, and doesn’t shift at her fluttering lashes. When she shuffles off with slumped shoulders, and Dean keeps up his stupid little charade of trailing you through the store.

He probably was just being cautious. You’re both a little wired and vigilant given the whole situation. 

But those featured pieces still bloom and grow along your body. And you can’t bring yourself to be bitter about it.

Neither of you mention anything when you meet back at the checkout isle. Dean shoves his hands in his pockets with a short nod and grunt of done, stays his usual one step behind you, and pretends nothing odd happened at all.

“I got you one case of beer,” you say as you approach the front of the line. “If you want more, I’d go get it now-“

“One is fine.” He leans slightly forward, and you can feel the heat from his body, and he smells like grass and spice- “Where the hell is my bacon.”

You turn to glare at him, and fuck, that’s a mistake. He’s very close, and you can see the slight crook of his nose and how full his lips are, and if you moved your hand up a little you could trace along his jaw-

“Did you forget my fucking bacon-“

You pull yourself together, and give him a flat look. “Such little faith, Deano-“

“I’m not seein’ it-“

You shift around the basket, pushing items aside as you take a step forward, revealing the three packs of bacon and placing them on the checkout belt. 

“It was the first thing I got,” you shrug, moving the rest of the food out of the basket. “Add whatever you grabbed to the belt.”

He hadn’t grabbed anything. You were pretty fucking certain Dean hadn’t actually gotten anything, because he’d spent the whole time following you. The only reason he missed the bacon was because you’d gotten it first, and he’d been-

Getting something. Dean reaches into his jacket and pulls out a few candy bars and fruits, dropping them onto the belt without a glance in your direction.

“What-“

“They’re for you.” He mutters. He’s still not looking at you. “You never freakin’ remember to get yourself something.”

You blink at him, and nod slowly. 

He got you things. He’d followed you through the grocery store and got you things, but he still won’t look at you. He’ll barely speak to you.

Another day passes, and Dean won’t just look at you.

You’re not sleeping. And that’s no different than normal, but this feels worse. When it had been you and Jo—before your party got crashed—Jo had agreed to do shifts. She’d known what was happening, known that there was no world where you’d sleep easy, especially not with another person in the room, and she’d talked you into rotating schedules. 

It had worked.

And in the past month with Sam and Dean, you’d had your own room. If demons burst through the door, you’d be the only target. 

But now you’re putting Dean in danger. 

So you don’t sleep. You keep yourself functional with quick naps in the middle of the day—when Dean’s awake and not looking at you—but you can feel cracks starting to form over your head. Somethings set to snap. 

You’re going to break. 

You can feel it coming, like a storm moving in and pressure shifting in the air. 

Your only hope is to hold it down. You try to hold it down. The hot water is running out faster, and the skin around your nail is raw and bloody, and Dean still won’t look at you-

And your guard slips.

When they arrive, you’re not ready. 

Your head is a little fogged. You’d left your knife on your bed, in your jacket from when you’d gone to the motel lobby for more toilet paper. Your back is to the door because the sun is too bright, and it’s giving you a headache. You’re curled on the couch because everything hurts, and Dean’s still in the lobby grabbing ice and you wish he’d just finish the fuck up, because you need him close but you’re never allow to say that- 

You’re too tired to think anything of the first bang on the door. It’s likely just housekeeping, even though you’d put the do not disturb sign up, and carried the toilet paper back yourself.

The second bang makes you frown, and you can’t see anyone outside.

Third bang. Your voice is dripping with exhaustion when you raise it, trying not to flinch at the fourth bang. 

“Sorry, we have do not disturb-“

“Don’t be sorry, darlin’.” A drawling, almost honeyed voice drawls from the other side of the door, and your blood runs cold. “And I can promise this ain’t gonna be disturbin’ if you make it easy.”

You try to launch to the bed, to grab your knife, but the door crashes open before your jelly-like body can even get off the bed.

You manage to scramble to the edge of the mattress, grabbing the arrowhead and shoving it into your jeans, but you’re barely turning before the violent, rioting and furious green grabs you by the throat and yanks you up-

Instinct kicks in, and you ram your knee into the vessels gut. It’s enough for the grip to falter, enough for you to pry his grip off your neck with shaking finger and scramble back, but there are three more and one grabbing your arms and the second has it’s knife aimed right into your chest-

“Dean!” It’s the only thing you can think to say. Scream. Pray. “Dean, I- Dean!”

You hear a gunshot go off, and a choked sound leaves your throat, but no abnormal pain comes.

The demon behind you slumps, you got right down with its weight, and the one with the knife stumbles right over your head.

You’re still too tired to fight properly. But you’re not useless. You slam your body into the knifed demon’s legs, and roll away as he topples down. 

Then you look up, see Dean’s jaw clenched as he wrestles with the fourth demon, and demon you’d kneed earlier is coming up right behind him with the knife-

It wouldn’t have killed you. If the demon on the floor had gotten you, you’d have screamed and shattered but lived. 

You don’t think Dean will live.

And the rush kicks in.

You launch yourself at the demon that’s behind Dean, wrapping your arms around it’s neck and squeezing with all the strength in your body.

Dean turns with wide eyes and a roar of your name, and you rear all your body weight forward. Slamming your demon into the one that Dean’s had been fighting, because the dumbass hadn’t knocked him down and he’d been barreling at Dean like a tank. 

You jump off right in time, and Dean catches you. Steadying you on your feet and scanning over your face like he’s looking for something, opening his mouth to say something but shutting it closed when the still conscious demon on the floor start to stumble upwards.

Dean shoves you behind him and draws his gun once more, the shot echoing around the motel room as you dunk under his arm and run to the bed-

Dean shouts your name, and you can feel his gaze searing into your skull. “What the fuck are you-“

You grab your knife—jumping up on the bed and spinning it in your hand—and launch forward, grabbing Dean’s head and shoving it down as you land on the first demon’s shoulder’s driving your knife right into its chest. 

These vessels weren’t going to live. You hadn’t bothered to tell Sam and Dean at the gas station—it was already a shit day, and you didn’t want to be fucking bummer—but you’d learned the hard way that the moment a green demon possessed a human, they were done. That ripping and tearing violence inside of them killed them the same as any bullet or blade. 

So you don’t pull punches.

And you tear your knife right down the demon’s skin.

Dean catches you again, when the demon under you collapses. Holds you right to his side as he shoots the last demon—crawling up behind you with a blade angled at your calf—and keeping you there in the long moments after.

He looks like an avenging angel or something else stupidly beautiful. The arrowhead is still a weight in your pocket, and Dean’s muttering words you can barely hear over the ringing in your ears, and he’s glowing and golden and powerful—rioting in an almost righteous way, in stark contrast to the vicious fury of the green demons, rocketing out of their vessels and screeching out the windows—and you put him in danger.

Dean could’ve died. You could’ve gotten him killed.

You could’ve killed him.

And suddenly you’re not your own anymore. The rush fades and it’s all too real and Dean’s right here, but you could’ve lost him and had no one to blame but yourself because you’re cancerous and evil and wrong and can’t just save him—save something so permanent and beautiful that you have no right to be protected or served by in any way—because you’re the bad thing, you’re the sickness, you’re worse than the demons. And you’re everywhere. You’re the jagged pain of the shattered windows and the ache of the cracked walls and the shredded fever of the torn blankets and ruined couch-

“Hey,” Dean’s muttering your name, his voice low and firm, and it’s the only thing in the world that isn’t painful. “You’re good. We’re both alive, Princess, don’t- Shit, don’t cry-“

Something warm but not burning is cupping your face, and tracing your cheeks, brushing away a white-hot stain that had begun to wash out of your stinging eyes-

You are crying. And Dean—those were his hands, touching you carefully, like he was afraid you’d shatter in his hold when you’ve never felt more whole—is wiping away your tears.

You’re fucking pathetic.

And you can’t stop yourself leaning into his touch, falling into his focused certainty, and letting out a shaky breath when he starts to pet down your nose and the world sinks right back into your body.

You’re only you again.

But you’re still Dean a little, too. He’s so golden and you’re molten silver a little to the right of your heart, and those fractured pieces are surging up and around you, blooming and furious and bright, so fucking bright-

It’s good Dean pulls away right then. You’d been seconds from fusing fully back together, from something not snapping apart, but into place.

You already too far gone.

You still need to be able to pretend you’re not completely, irreversibly his. 

Neither of you speak. You don’t really see a reason to. Dean just watches you, and you watch him, and then you’re both moving.

The motel is trashed. Cracks mark up the wall, the bed and couch have been flipped, the door was fully crashed through, and there’s really no universe where anyone who sees this doesn’t call the cops. Ruby checked in, and the room was under her fake name and credit card, so all you and Dean need to do is leave. 

Dean starts to gather everything together—including your blood-stained jacket, the arrowhead stuffed safely in the jacket—as he calls Sam, telling him what happened, and that you’re skipping town. You head outside while that fun conversation happens, surveying the cars and picking the fanciest, fastest one you can find. 

“No.” Dean snaps, glowering down at you in the driver’s seat. “You’re fucking begging for attention in that this thing, sweetheart, cops will catch us in an hour-“

“So we’ll drop this at 59 minutes.” You say, holding his gaze. “And take the train from there. This car only needs to get us the furthest away, not fully out.”

Dean scowls. “I am not taking the train-“

“Yeah, you are.” You nod your head to the trunk. “Pack up and haul ass, car boy. Now.”

You get a mutter of fucking trains, but Dean does what you’re telling him and soon you’re bound for Chicago, staring at Dean from across the train compartment.

You’d gotten a compartment. And a bed.

One bed.

You’re going to stab someone. You did not pay almost two thousand dollars on a fake credit card for a double private room, only to be stuck in your most beautiful, terrifying nightmare.

Sleeping next to Dean.

You’d been careful. You’d been so fucking careful, for so many years, to not give in to being that more for Dean. Because it would never be enough. Dean could’ve flirt and tease all he wanted, he never wouldn’t convinced you to share his bed because you’d never just share his bed. It would’ve been a catalyst. Something would’ve shifted in you, and there would never be any coming back from Dean. There was the whole, vast, amazing and horrible world, and then there was Dean, and he could maybe be yours.

He’d never be yours. You weren’t something someone wanted to have. 

But that being the truth didn’t stop the longing or craving or need. It never had. So you’d made it clear that you barely slept in the same room, and you never shared a bed.

And almost six years of effort—four if you didn’t count those two years apart, which was still far too many years—were crumbled because you said room for two people, the ticket lady added who are sharing a bed in her head, and you’d only caught it when it was too late.

It could be fine. You feel like you’re about to pass out but you’re also far too paranoid to sleep, Dean had been up at the crack of dawn to steal all the hot water and it’s almost midnight, and this is a twenty-one hour ride so eventually you’ll both need to sleep. 

You could stagger it. Dean could sleep, then you could sleep. 

But then he’d realizes you don’t actually sleep, and that would be a whole thing that you didn’t need. You know you need rest. You are perfectly aware sleep is good for you.

Every single nerve is alight in your body with fear that a demon will crash through that door as well, the Darkness is one wrong nightmare or sound from bursting out of your body, and guilt is swollen in your stomach and sticking in your throat as one single thought loops in your head.

You could’ve gotten Dean killed. 

He could’ve died. He’s fine—his arms crossed as the glares at the room around you, splayed out over the compartment’s chairs—but Dean could’ve died. Because of you. Because you’d dragged the green demons there, and you’d put him in danger, and you’d been useless, you’d barely held it together, you hadn’t held it together, and Dean had been there to pull you back up but what if he wasn’t-

“Stop doing that.” 

You blink at him, he jerks his head to your hands, and you realize that blood is running down your fingers. 

You hadn’t even felt it. 

And you make a choice. He needs to know. He needs to understand that you don’t mean to, you never mean to, and he’s in danger as long as he’s with you so he should run, he should kill you or put you down and then run-

“Dean.” You whisper, bracing yourself for the fallout. Telling Jo went alright, and she’d only just met you.

Dean isn’t Jo. 

He’s so much more. And even just him running might break something fundamental in your body, that lives just to the right of your heart.

He grunts. “What.”

“I- the demons-“ You stare at his hands, because you can’t stand to look at his face. Maybe those same hands will be strangling you in only seconds. You’ll find out. “I- We need to talk.”

“We’re talking right freakin’ now, Princess.”

“I know, but I-“ Deep breath. Nails in your skin. Keep it together. “They were at the motel for me. The demons, they were there for me-“

“I got that, Princess.” He grunts, and your gaze shoots up find him glowering at you, his words low and his jaw clenched. 

He knows. He’s known, or he figured it out, and it’s over but why didn’t he say anything and why aren’t you dead but why does he look like he wants to throttle you or pin you against something-

“You still have that freakin’ arrowhead.”

“I-“ You swallow, your brow furrowing as you stare at him.“What?”

“The damn arrow thing, that you wouldn’t give to Ruby-“

You shake your head, your voice growing a little stronger. “That’s not- I couldn’t give it her-“

”I’m not complaining about that, the bitch is a demon. You’d be better off trusting a damn witch or vamp.”

It’s hard not to flinch at that. You manage. “Then what are you-“

“You’re just-“ He scowls. “You can never fucking listen.”

You stare at him. “What?”

“I told you to fucking wait for me,” Dean snaps, sitting a little taller. “Those sons of bitches never would’ve even gotten to you if you’d just stayed with me.”

You don’t remember that. Your brain had been the same, blurred haze it is now, deprived of sleep and aching for Dean while only knowing that it can’t have him. 

It pokes through the fog. Dean grunting wait for me, we gotta stick together as he hunched over the ice machine, and he’d smelled so good, and you’d almost collapsed over him. 

You’d barely heard him. You’d just known you couldn’t be there, or you would’ve destroyed something that already barely held together. 

But Dean can’t know that. It will lead to more questions you’re not ready to answer, because he’d just said witch like it was barely better than demon, and just as bad as vampire.

You’re bending. You can’t.

So you raise your chin, and hold his gaze. “I didn’t hear you. And I’m fine-“

He scoffs. “You were fucking sobbing-“

“Because I just got attacked by demons-“

“Which happened,” he leans forward, his voice a hiss. “Because you didn’t listen to me. You never just fucking listen-“

You roll your eyes. “Fuck off, Winchester, you’re not my dad-“

“No. And that doesn’t matter. You don’t listen to anyone. You-“ He shakes his head, and you think he’s seeing right into you. Finally, really seeing just how wrong you are, and getting ready to deliver the killing blow with only his words. “You’re so goddamn stubborn, and you’re going to get yourself fucking killed and I won’t be there to save your ass-“

“I don’t need to save my ass.” You snap. “I’m fine, Dean. I can handle myself, and I’m stubborn because I know what the hell I’m doing-“

“You’re stubborn,” he sneers. “Because you can’t stand that sometimes, sweetheart, you’re fucking wrong. You don’t listen because you hate not being in control-“

It cuts deep. You can cut deeper. “At least people listen to me, Dean. At least I can tell people what to do, instead of following someone around like a fucking dog-“

“Well at least I never fucking run! At least I don’t leave people whenever things get hard, when they-“ His shout is pushed through his teeth, and it’s almost venomous. “You fucking run. You just goddamn vanish, and act sick, when you’re fine, just can’t fucking stomach having to deal with something instead of fucking running.”

“Are you talking about the-“ You gape at him, shaking your head. “I had to leave, asshole! I fucking had to-“

He rolls his eyes. “You never have to, you just didn’t want to deal with all of our shit, but you never- You just-“

“Azazel threatened me.” You hiss, the words falling out like vomit, before you can stop them. “He told me he’d kill Bobby if I didn’t vanish.”

Dean stares at you, and you hadn’t meant to tell him that. You’d meant, earlier, to explain what was wrong with you and leave John and Azazel fully out of it. Dean had loved his dad. You’d known that, and you’d known better than to make him face the horrid truth that John was a fucking asshole, shit-headed cunt-face of a father.

Maybe that’s why you still hadn’t mentioned that John had been a part of it. Dean already looks like he’s tearing his head apart trying to figure out if he should believe you for what you did say.

You don’t need to make this worse than you already have. For either of you.

“Azazel…” Dean trials off, shaking his head like he’s trying to physically remove something from his skin. “He fucking- what-“

“He said if I didn’t leave, he’d- He’d kill Bobby.” You let out a slow breath, scanning over Dean’s shocked expression. You’re a little worried he’s going to hurt himself, with how you can see his brain whirling behind his eyes.

There’s not a lot of color on his face.

“And you- You just-“ Dean’s throat bobs, and something flashes in his eyes. “You should’ve fucking told me, I would’ve protect you-“

You shake your head, and whatever burning anger in your body had been there moments before was gone. 

You’re really just so fucking tired.

“You have enough people to protect, Dean.” You’re looking at his hands again. Curled back into fists. You want to touch his knuckles, a little bruised and swollen from the fight. At least press ice to them, keep them from getting worse. Keep Dean from being in pain. “And I was okay. Bobby’s okay. Nothing- I didn’t want to.” You swallow, choking on a lump in your throat. “I never wanted to.”

“Bobby- He said you were sick-“

“I am.” You mutter. “Two things can be true.”

“How?”

You frown at him. “How-“

“What’s wrong with you.”

You can’t tell him. Not now. You will, when you have more courage than a martyr and you’re feeling a little less intelligent, but not now. 

Now you just give him a sad, soft smile. “My- I don’t know. I’ve never been able to figure it out.”

He nods slowly, and suddenly he won’t meet your eyes. “Sammy could look at you. He’s smart.”

“I’m smart-“

“Yeah,” he offers you his own little half-smile, and his teeth flash white in the low light of the compartment. “But you can be real dumb, Princess.”

He hasn’t said Princess like that since you returned. In a way that feels like a name, in a way that’s almost more than affectionate. Filled with an odd honor you can’t place, and tugging your own smile a little wider.

And everything blends, so easily, back to silver.

You pull out a book. Dean locks the door and starts to clean his gun, humming low music until you chuck your iPod at his face. 

He grumbles, but put his earbuds in, and starts to stretch out on the seats. 

It’s a silent decision he’s making himself. Dean will sleep on the seats, you’ll sleep on the bed.

You won’t sleep on the bed. You’ll pretend to, ignoring how he’s right there. You’ll stare at the ceiling and count the little dot on it to pass the time, and everything will be better in the morning, when Dean is—maybe, just maybe—your friend again, and he’s safe, and you’re in pain and exhausted, but that’s okay-

“Go to sleep,” Dean mutters your name, and you frown.

“I am asleep.”

You think you hear him chuckle. “Sleep more, than.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are, De. You always are.”

You can hear his frown through the dark. “I don’t love the third degree, sweetheart-“

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Maybe. You need fuckin’ sleep.” He pauses, his voice getting slightly softer. “I’ve- You don’t sleep. You gotta sleep.”

You let out a long breath, frowning at the ceiling. “I can’t.”

“Because you’re sick?”

“Yeah.” You swallow. “It’s- Yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence, then- “What does Bobby do.”

“He-“ You swallow. “When I was younger he’d do a sweep of my room. Like a real hunt.”

“And now-“

“Nothing.”

“Oh.”

You think you can hear Dean’s brain moving, and you don’t know why this matters to him so much. It’s just sleep. You’ve lived like this forever, worse and worse over time, and eventually you’ll just pass out and everything will be fine-

“Would it help if I was there? With- uh- with my gun?”

His voice isn’t as firm as usual, and it’s almost nervous. Like he’s afraid of the answer.

And you should say no. A gun wouldn’t even do anything, not with these demons.

But you’re tired, and that always makes you weaker. And Dean’s here, and that always makes you dumber.

“Yes.” You whisper. “Please.”

You hear him moving from the seats without any further conversation, and when his weight settles beside you, his thigh presses to yours. 

It would be too much if it was Dean. If his warmth wasn’t something you’d always chased after, even when you’d both be sweating in Georgia or Texas, even when your blood had been running high and the sun had been beating down on your skin.

Up close, it’s so easy to fold into. It’s soothing, and he smells like grass and spice all around you, and when your eyes flutter open for even a second the whole world is softly glowing with gold.

It’s imprinting deeper on your body, just from how close he is. Not everywhere, but close. And the gold is sinking so far down you’ll never be able to pull it back out. Those fractured pieces are so terrifyingly close to growing fully back together, and you don’t know what you’ll become when they do.

You can’t really find it in you to care.

The sound of Dean’s snoring is like a lullaby, and the smell of his is like an anesthetic and just his presence is making the world something peaceful. 

For the first time in years, sleep comes fast, and you go down without a fight. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel truly rested when you wake up. 

End Note: Sam Winchester you are once again God’s strongest solider for not grabbing them and mashing them together like they’re barbie and ken dolls. I just know he spent his whole trip with Ruby bitching about how impossible they are. Thank you for your service my king.

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

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[angeisherexoxo]

EVERYONE HEAR ME OUT (I think I was so close to entering the void)

From what I noticed, void is literally just as simple as sleeping, but because we suddenly heared about it we thought it's something way too complicated and "impossible" and that's what made us take a little processing the whole thing and practicing it ig, but the last week I was sick, and tbh I had no energy to overthink the attempt like I always did, so I layed down in my bed, wrapped up myself in a blanket and since I always fall asleep when I'm laying, I sat a LITTLE and supported my back with pillows so My position can be both comfortable and a mix between sitting+ laying, and literally I was just there, took breathes, said I'm in void (affirming), and I had a void subliminal playing out on my sister's phone (mine is broken), as I said I had no energy to do extra work which is (overthinking it/overcomplicate it) and as I'm sick I was low-key between being aware and unaware, I took like 10 or 20 minutes idk but it was the most successful attempt so far, I suddenly realized that I can't hear the subliminal on my sister's phone? I LITERALLY CANT HEAR ITT, I was like bitch where is it? It's just gone even tho it was right next to my pillow, but what confused me is I could first feel my body and second feel my room, I wasn't in void completely or idk really, I still affirmed anyways, and once I was done (let me tell you how I was done, once i stopped hearing the subliminal.. my dumbass started wondering why it stopped and where did it go lmao, so i focused on it again and thats where i started hearing it which means if i was close now im not☠️😭 ) I realized it wasn't void but I guess it was close enough? I have no clue but guys! This gave me so much hope and knowledge, I knew it's just by letting the whole thing go and literally just exist!!! (Even while im laying down i had soooo many thoughts i cant even remember them, i was just randomly overthinking while breathing and being there) Yk when you're down and you have ZERO energy to go throughout the day? Yes, do this with the void, act so chill and be like meeh and you'll be in, plus I read a post here that's still stuck in my head idk the acc but it said : "void is just like sleeping, when ur going to sleep do you complicate it and say I'm going to sleep I'm going to sleep? Like you're going to war or smthn?"

The point is to not complicate it and remember that BITCH YOU'RE DOING IT FOR THE SAKE OF YOU!!!!!!! DONT BE LAZY, DONT COMPLICATE IT BECAUSE YOU DESERVE HAVING IT SO EASY SINCE U STRUGGLED FOR THIS LONG, IT ALL FOUND YOUUUU FOR A REASON, YOU GO GET THAT REASON DONEE!!!!!

Note:

1. I'm consistently affirming for void whenever I can despite what I feel or see.

2. It exists

3. It's easy af.. It's like- idk for example its as easy as walking but I can't explain walking so you gotta do it yourself type of thing

I hope I helped <3

[aroace-insert-reader]

hey!

okay, so as a person who suffers with chronic headaches, lacks motivation for assignments, and generally feel like a ghost of myself, could you write something involving Katsuki Bakugo? free reign here, feel free!

Absolutely! I hope this is along the lines of what you're wanting 🤍

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

**all pairings on this blog are platonic**

Your phone buzzed for the 7th time in the last 5 minutes.

You don’t want to answer.

Your head’s pounding and you have a mountain of homework to keep procrastinating.

You should probably get started on that.

Eventually.

Another buzz.

You should probably get up and figure out who’s trying to get a hold of you.

It’s hard to do anything when you feel like this.

There’s a loud bang at your dorm door.

“—YOU HAVE 60 SECONDS TO GET TO THIS DOOR BEFORE I BLAST IT DOWN, DUMBASS!”

So that’s who’s trying to get a hold of you.

“It’s unlocked, Bakugou. If you’re so insistent on coming in,” you reply.

The door clicks open, and light cascades into your room. You squint at the assault against your headache.

“What are you doing, stupid?” Bakugou starts as he stomps into your room. “I told you and the other idiots that we were going over the homework today. I don’t like wasting my time waiting.”

“I don’t recall asking for your help.”

“Really.” He gives a pointed look at the stack of abandoned textbooks on your desk.

You… don’t have much to say to that.

“Seriously what’s your deal?” Bakugou stares down at you.

“Headache.” It’s mostly the truth.

Bakugou turns and leaves, leaving your door wide open.

Rude.

You should probably get up and close it.

Probably.

Suddenly you’re being jerked upright and pulled to sit in your desk chair. A water bottle and some pain meds are shoved into your hands.

Baffled, you look up to see Bakugou straightening your covers and clearing off your nightstand.

“Wha? What are you doing?”

Bakugou whips his head around to glare at you. The dino plush of yours that he’s holding slightly lessens the effect.

“Take the meds.”

“Okay…?” So, you do.

By the time you're done, your bed and nightstand are mostly clean.

“Have you eaten yet today?”

“…No.”

Bakugou once again stomps out and comes back not 10 minutes later with steaming leftovers you know are from his personal stack in the common room fridge.

You'd mention this if not for the fact it smells mouth watering and you know that this will probably never happen again.

As you eat, Bakugou clears and organizes your desk.

When you both finish, Bakugou turns to fix you with a hard stare.

"Now, we're getting started on this." He says, pointing at the now manageable stacks of textbooks and assignments.

With the exaggerated groan you let out, you forget to notice how much better you're feeling already.

-----

After a few hours later you're well-fed, your headache is mostly gone, you have a decent start on your mountain of assignments, and you feel a little less like a shell of yourself.

It's easy to forget how much having a friend around helps.

“Hey, Bakugou. Thanks.”

“Whatever. Just remember I don’t waste my time on lost causes.”

He turns his face away from you.

Heh… softy…

“Lost causes? Well, that just sounds like quitting to me.”

“Huh?! What’d you say to me?!”

[scarletwinterxx]

i don't think i could love you more - joshua hong imagine

istg joshua owns this song, he's honestly all i can think about when i hear it🥺🥺 i used to think i met him too late but this is joshua, he'll probably say there's no such thing as late. I met him just right when I needed him the most🤍

anywaysss I hope you like it!

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is it?"

"Uh like a 9" Jeonghan answers, leading you where the rest of the boys were. A few of them got together and had drinks. One drink turned into two then three until they all lost count of how many bottles were opened as the night progressed.

Atleast one of them was smart enough not to get too hammered, that person being Jeonghan. Thus he was left with the task to get the boys home safely.

"How did you not get as drunk as them?" you ask when you saw your friends on varying states of unconsciousness. Soonyoung is already passed out on one side of the couch, Seungkwan and Dino having a sing off using a spoon while Seungcheol is also singing with eyes closed while hugging an equally drunk Joshua who also looks like he's two blinks from collapsing.

"Well someone has to make out alive here" he gestures to the rest of your friends all passed out and drunk

"Take your pick of the litter" Jeonghan jokes, picking a few bottles from the floor to tidy up a bit. He'll probably make the others clean it tomorrow, for now he needs to fix the safety hazards.

You walk towards where Joshua sat, tapping him on the shoulder making the guy look up at you. A look of surprise flashing across his face,

"Oh wait what?! What are you doing here? Cheol look I told my girlfriend was coming!" he hits Seungcheol repeatedly to get his attention.

The rest of the boys are already to out of it to understand or remember Joshua's word but the only sober one is now laughing behind you.

You look over at Jeonghan who is already looking at you with a sly smile, "Don't worry, your not so secret is safe with me. The rest of them is too drunk to remember what's happening"

"Dumbass that's not your girlfriend, that's Y/N!" Seungcheol retorts

"She is my girlfriend! Right, love? I'm your boyfriend right? Tell him" Joshua pushes Seungcheol off him to reach for you, grabbing hold of your arm

"Yes you are, and right now we need to get you home" you brush back the bangs that's over his eyes, admiring your boyfriend for a quick second

"You're so pretty, yah why is my girlfriend so pretty" Joshua gushes, the dopey drunk smile showing on his pretty lips making you smile too.

"Is that how he sounds when he's with you?" Jeonghan jokes

"Pretty much" you joke back, running your hand through Joshua's hair. You then look down at your drunk boyfriend who is now hugging you by the waist keeping you in place.

"You know, he always had a crush on you. If you remember the first game night you attended, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you"

You do remember, Soonyoung was the first friend you made during your first year in university and after a couple of months he introduced you to his group of friends who are now also your friends. That night you also met Joshua for the first time.

The two of you were friends for a long time, you thought he didn't like you that way but you already harbored those feelings for him. Thinking it was best to keep it to yourself until after time you sent him the playlist you made for him.

You never revealed it because there wasn't really a feeling that you needed to. You kept your relationship private at first because you wanted to savor the moment with him before sharing it with the rest of your friends. Weeks turned to months turned to 2 years.

There's no ill intention behind it, it just so happen you and Joshua are private people.

"What?" you ask Jeonghan when you see him smiling

"When are you going to admit it?" Jeonghan asks you, looking back and forth between you and Joshua.

"Admit what?"

The latter shakes his head, before grabbing a water bottle to drink. "You and him, you love him" he says so casually.

You blink back at him, acting like you're innocent and isn't guilty of what Jeonghan just said.

"Of course I do, he's my friend. I love all of you"

"You love us like brothers, you love that one like you're ready to give him a pair of brothers or two" Jeonghan juts his head towards clingy Joshua

"Were we that obvious?"

"A bit, you're not that slick, sorry to burst your bubble babe but the moment Joshua walks in the room you light up like a kid seeing Santa on Christmas day. See you're smiling right now"

You wipe the smile away, unconsciously smiling when you feel Joshua nuzzle his face on your tummy mumbling random words you can't understand.

"I'm smiling because he's funny"

"He's not that funny all the time"

"Yea he is"

"Is he really? Or are you in love with him. Also during Wonwoo's party, Kyeom and Soonyoung said they saw you and Joshua hugging then Dino basically told us there's been something going on between the two of you for a while"

You open your mouth you answer but nothing came out making Jeonghan smirk.

"Hey, you're happy he's happy it's a win for everyone. We support you guys, whatever it is" he gestures at the two of you, "Thank you Han, I'll tell you about it when we're not surrounded by all of this" you laugh.

"Josh, come on it's late"

Your buff boyfriend shakes his head like a little kid being scolded, instead of standing up he just slumps on seat more resting his head on Cheol's shoulder

"It's late, Han will kick you out if we don't go now"

He picks up his head to look straight at you, "Say you'll marry me, I'll come with you"

Jeonghan laughs, walking over to you to help you get Joshua on his feet. He gives you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder

"Go take this one home, I'll take care of the rest"

You help Joshua on his feet, guiding him to your car outside. He was a bit wobbly so you take his arm to make sure he won't fall over.

When you get back to your apartment, you help him change into something else before guiding him to bed. Leaving some medicine and water on his bedside before going over to your side and finally calling it a day.

Come the next day, Joshua woke up with a bit of a hangover which rarely happens. He doesn't get that drunk that easily but Seungcheol kept on giving him shots, the last thing he remembers from last night was calling you.

He immediately noticed the empty spot on the bed, where he would usually find you the moment he opens his eyes. His phone is plugged, sitting on top of the bedside table where a glass of water and some medicine is also waiting for him. He also spots the note with your handwriting saying you're out to go get a few items at the store.

Getting up from the bed, he takes the medicine first before going to the bathroom to freshen up. He probably didn't get to do so last night, the change of clothes surely was done by you. He can't clearly remember how last night ended, all he remembers is you showing up and him being elated you were there.

After an hour, Joshua's casually lounging on the living room when he hears the front door open and close.

"Hey beautiful"

Joshua looks up from where he was sitting on the couch, immediately he smiles when he sees you walking towards him.

"What did you just call me?" he questions you, opening his arms for you. The whole couch is there for you to sit on but he pulls on you his lap, looking up at your face waiting for the answer

"Beautiful" you smile at him, repeating the word as you trace the bridge of his nose down to the tip making him scrunch it. The action doing so much to your heart.

"You're beautiful" he tells you, "Did you get everything at the store?"

"Mhm, we'll make pizza tonight. Oh and I got these for you"

He lets you got so you can go back to the table to get it, when you come back you're holding a bouquet of fresh flowers

"Pretty flowers for my pretty boyfriend" you tell him, going back to where you were sitting on his lap. He takes the flowers from you while you make your self comfortable, "For me?"

"Mhm, saw them today and I thought I should get them for you"

"Did I do something?"

"Huh? No?"

"Did YOU do something?" he raises a brow at you, poking you on the side with his free hand

"Hey! Stop that" you take his hand in yours to stop him from tickling you some more, "I just wanted to get them for you, like you always do for me. And I heard somewhere that most men only receive flowers at the funeral. That's so sad" you pout, looking at the beautiful flowers you got for him

Joshua watches you, heart filling up with more love than he could ever express with words. "You know I love you right?"

This makes you look back at him, a smile forming once again on your lips "Of course I do, silly"

"Thank you for the flowers, darling. I love them. I love you and thank you for taking care of me last night"

You let out a chuckle, recalling how clingy he was the night before "You were being all cute last night, Han witnessed all of it"

"Should we tell them?" he asks you, expecting you to say maybe not but all you did was smile back at him "Bubby, you pretty much demanded that I marry you or you won't come home. You kept on hitting Cheol, saying I'm your girlfriend but he won't believe you. Soonyoung was passed out so I'm still waiting for his version of last night's event"

"I... what?"

You laugh at his confused expression, smoothing out the crease between his brows, "We can tell them, Han knows and I think all of them already has a hint. I think it's time, I definitely enjoyed this peace" you jokingly add the last part

"You sure?"

"Of course, how else would we invite them to our wedding?"

Joshua knows you're poking fun at his drunk antics last night but hearing you say that makes him want to get down on one knee this very moment. There's no doubt you're the one for him, the only person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

"So you said yes to me last night?" he asks

"Just when we were about to sleep, you asked me again. I said I will but you need to get me a ring first of course I was joking about the ring part but then you mumbled something about having it already"

Joshua don't say anything, hoping you don't read right through his facade right now but you know him all too well.

Leaning closer, you give him an eskimo kiss "I'll pretend you didn't tell me about it if you do plan on asking me"

"I am, I will I just didn't think drunk me would ask you first" he jokes back.

This time he's the one pulling you closer, crashing your lips against his. Hand behind your neck while the other rest on your hip holding you in place

You break away from the kiss, looking straight into your lover's eyes "Well, whatever or whoever version of you ask the question just know my answer will always be the same"

He looks at you, letting the words sink in and just how much they mean to him. "You know, I don't think I can love you more, then I get to spend another tomorrow with you then I fall in love with you some more. I want to keep on falling in love with you everyday"

"You better save those words Mr. Hong, I want to cry when I hear your wedding vows"

"The only time I'll ever make you cry, future Mrs. Hong"

[chronicdisasterwrites]

gotta keep these kids on leashes

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, geto suguru, shoko ieiri (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - MAJOR FLUFF !! alooot of swearing, smoking, sexual jokes, mention of grandparents doing it (lmao you gotta read it to understand), reader wants to murder the bois, suguru wants to die, everybody is CRAZY!

word count: 3,350 (rip)

summary: OKAY i wrote it. the dynamic quartet is back doing... nothing good. suguru gets hit on, the three losers do crazy stuff and surprisingly no one dies (shocker) :0

enjoy this tomfoolery <3

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the curses are dying and you're not the one doing the killing, your head isn't pounding and your bed is so, so soft. Your window is slightly parted so the cool breeze is making the curtains dance and your skin prick. Nuzzling your head on the plush pillow and pulling your blanket higher so only your head is visible, you open your eyes, check the time, remember you have no classes, smile to yourself and dive back into the warm embrace that is sleep. 

Until the tranquil atmosphere is disrespectfully shattered by the idiots you call your ‘friends’.

Your door is kicked open and the sudden sound was enough to make you jump and reach for your katana leaning against the bedside table. Your vision is blurry but your katana is half unsheathed as you contemplate killing the two perpetrators. 

“Yeesh, you're hostile in the morning,” Satoru grins as he kneels on the ground and rests his obnoxiously large head on his obnoxiously large palms on the foot of your bed, like some petulant child who broke a vase and is now being their best self to appease their parents. “Nice bedhead,” his grin gets exponentially larger and your hand twitches against the hilt of your katana.

“I told you we should've knocked. You never listen, Satoru,” Suguru sighs as he walks through the gap that used to be your door. 

Your morning is thoroughly fucked. The birds are dead, the curses are in your room, your head feels like it will explode and there are tiny fragments of wood all over your bed. 

Your jaw clenches and eyes darken as you fully unsheathe your katana with the pure intention of murdering these morons. 

“I will give you 10 seconds to run and hide.”

“Aw c’monnn,” Satoru’s obnoxious voice drawls as he attempts to pat your head, but before your blade had the chance to amputate his wrist, Suguru’s hand held Satoru’s away from you; therefore preventing a major bloodshed from occurring. Ever the mediator.

“Okay I think we pissed her off enough, Satoru,” Suguru says calmly as Satoru pouts with a small “Aw man”. Suguru lets go of Satoru’s hand as he slowly takes the katana from your hands and puts it into its scabbard. Releasing a breath he places his hand on your head and gently smooths down your wild mane. 

He drawls your name and you look at him with furrowed brows and a deep scowl. 

He chuckles, “We’re gonna have a day out and you can get all the mochi and pancakes your heart desires. Our treat, for ruining your sleep and…” he looks at the desecrated door, “…your door.” You hear Satoru whine about why you let Suguru touch your hair and not him and choose to ignore it.

He smiles when he sees the glint in your eyes at the mention of mochi and pancakes and your scowl gets smaller and brows get straighter. You sigh and get up off the bed, “Fine. I have to get dressed so get out.”

“Don’t be late, mochiii~ we’ll be waiting.” He manages to dodge the hairbrush you throw at his head perfectly as he jumps up to run out of the room while giggling like a schoolgirl.

Suguru laughs as he follows his dumbass friend out and you look at your completely fucked door, wondering what you did to deserve this. 

—-

“Can you shut up, please? I'm begging at this point,” Your voice is tired and your eyes are glaring holes into the brunette’s head as she laughs and chortles into oblivion. 

“They- broke your- they broke your door-” more laughter. “Dude this is a comedy-” more laughter and snorting. “comedy- gold-” Shoko slaps the table and wheezes as various strangers stare at the two of you and mutter among themselves with concerned faces.

You silently poke at your half-eaten cheesecake as you try to forget the events of the morning and ignore the moron sitting before you. 

“Why didn't they torment you like that?” you grumble as you cut up the poor cheesecake with your fork and turn it into mush.

Shoko takes heaving breaths and sniffles as she takes a sip of her matcha latte and drags her chair forward. Her voice is light and thoroughly amused, “Because I'm not fun to tease. You, on the other hand, are the best person to tease,” her lips tilt up to a grin as she stirs her drink with her straw.

You stare at her with dead eyes. “I hate you,” you deadpan.

“Yeah, I love you too,” her grin gets wider and a few chuckles escape her as she bites on her straw.

The mall was pretty packed considering it was the weekend. Pretty girls window shopping and checking out people with their pretty friends. Couples walking around holding hands and laughing at each other's jokes. It was fun to watch them live their lives, as you lived yours. You wish you wore one of your cute, normal outfits instead of your uniform, just for today. But as you look down at your uniform, you appreciate it more. This uniform got you through some crazy times. Some near deaths, some deaths, a lot of blood. You feel comfortable in it, and it doesn't look completely awful. 

Suddenly, you hear your name and Shoko’s name being yelled at in the distance and you both look at each other apprehensively and look around the little open cafe you were in. You quirk an eyebrow at Shoko and she shrugs, but then the sound of Satoru’s obnoxious voice yelling both of your names cuts through the chatter of the crowd and you both look to the side to see him running toward your table at full-speed screaming like an idiot. The moment he reaches your table he slams both hands down and heaves and wheeze as people stare at you with genuine concern.

“What the hell?! I've been looking everywhere for you two,” Satoru yanks Shoko’s matcha latte from her hands despite her “Hey!” of protest and makes a scrunched-up, disgusted face upon inspecting the bitten straw. He proceeds to open the plastic lid, chug the remaining latte, crumple up the cup into a tiny ball using his Limitless technique and drop it on the table for you and Shoko to gawk at. 

He then looks at your cheesecake-turned-paste concoction and makes another face of pure disgust. “Can't you losers eat properly? Jeez,” he complains as he takes your plate and finishes the cheesecake mutation in two bites.

“Satoru…” you sigh for the umpteenth time that day, as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“What do you want?” Shoko completes for you with her nonchalant voice as she rummages her purse for her pack of cigarettes. At this point, you know you need one too.

He makes wild arm gestures like a cheerleader for every word he utters, “Suguru. Is. Getting. Hit. On.”

Your face is unimpressed and Shoko says “Aha” while holding up a pack of cigarettes.

Satoru visibly deflates as a look of pure shock crosses his face at the shameless nonchalance you both are portraying.

“Okay. So?” you shrug as you pick at your nails with your teeth.

Satoru pulls your hand down and holds it there as he leans down and gawks at you with his jaw dropped and furrowed silver brows. 

“No, no. This is serious. Suguru is getting hit on and we're wasting time,” he stares into your eyes and you can see your reflection in the dark glass of his sunglasses. You bring up your free hand to fix your hair using his sunglasses as a mirror and something in his head cracks as he jolts up, grabs Shoko’s hand, and pulls you both towards the scene of the crime. You both scramble to take your purse and you leave more than enough money on the table before being dragged away by a tall, crazy man.

“Listen up. We are going to embarrass the shit outta him, okay?” He's walking faster as he makes his way out of the air-conditioned mall towards the outdoor food court. You and Shoko are reluctantly following him as you honestly have nothing better to do and you can't lie; embarrassing Suguru sounds really fun. 

“Roger that, sir,” you do a mock salute and hear Satoru chuckle. “What's the plan?” 

“You two will attack first. Shoko you gotta be as scary as possible and-” Satoru’s master plan phase-1 was interrupted by Shoko asking a tangible question. Or actually; questions.

“How scary? Can I slap him? Can I throw water on his face? Should I cry?”

Satoru groans and starts walking even faster. “Okay, you can do all of that, but remember your role is the ‘cheated girlfriend’, alright? You're mad but sad. Mad and sad.”

You hear Shoko mutter “okie” right as Satoru says your name, “You can act as the ‘cheated wife’ or something. Cry, latch onto him, beg him. Go crazy,” he throws a sly grin over his shoulder and you're concerned about the evil lilt his voice took when he said the word ‘crazy’.

“And what about you? What's your role?” you ask as you feel him slow down. You look ahead and see Suguru talking with a pretty woman with long, straight black hair. Satoru stops, steps behind you and Shoko, and says with his usual cocky demeanor, “You’ll see, Lil' Mochi,” and doesn't give you the chance to complain about the nickname as he shoves you both towards the victim of ‘Satoru’s Master Plan Phase-1’.

You and Shoko look at each other with devilish grins as you activate your inner drama queens and launch yourselves toward one unaware, unprepared Geto Suguru.

You gasp and squeal with a shaking hand against your open mouth, “Oh my- Geto Suguru?! How dare you! Especially now- how could-” You choke on a fake sob and place your palm on your stomach as Suguru slowly turns back with wide eyes and a bulging vein on his temple. 

“While I'm pregnant with YOUR CHILD?! You're inhuman!” you fall to your knees fake crying your heart out as you cover your face with both palms and try your hardest to not break character.

You hear gasps all around you and the sound of Suguru stuttering, and you wonder if you overdid it.

You then feel someone lift you with their hands on your arms. You glance to see Shoko acting all ‘mad and sad’ as you fall into her arms and fake cry some more.

“It's okay, I understand,” she pats your head with her soft hands and spits fake venom at an even more bewildered Geto Suguru. “He tricked me too. He was cheating on you with me first, you know?” You crank up the fake crying upon hearing this and you feel Shoko’s chest shake and you feel your concentration slipping.

Shoko nudges your head and you look at her with completely dry eyes, as you keep clutching your completely baby-less stomach. Shoko pulls out two water bottles and hands you one. She nods at you and you nod at her. You both look at Suguru and he looks like he just watched his dead grandmother have sex with his dead grandfather or something. He looks aghast. You and Shoko walk towards him and Shoko steps ahead of you as you wait your turn.

“This is for cheating on me, you spineless pig! Even though I was cheating on you too!” she declares as she drenches Suguru in cold water. You hear more gasps and you see the woman he was previously talking to blanch with wide eyes and a slacked jaw. Suguru stands completely still as his bangs drip with water and his left eye twitches in pure rage.

Well, it's your turn. You step up and stare him down and fear for your life when Suguru stares back at you with a dangerous look in his eyes. You gulp down your fears and put on the bravest face you can muster, “And this is for breaking my heart and my hymen! And you weren't even that good!” For the added effect you choke on a fake sob after the last sentence and dowse him in some more cold water. You hear a bark of laughter from the crowd and you huff and hold onto Shoko as you both slowly step away from him as his cursed energy slowly grows and grows. Suguru drags his hand down his face and flicks his wrist splattering water by his side when you hear an obnoxiously loud scoff followed by an even louder voice.

“Can you stop your cryin’? It's hurting my ears,”

Satoru stands there looking like a full-on trophy wife, left arm stacked with shopping bags and right hand on his hip. Dazzled in a silver satin shirt; he definitely wasn't wearing before, with the top buttons open and sunglasses perched on his head, giving the crowd a clear view of his glittering sapphire eyes and very open chest. 

You and Shoko gape at him in horror and you both look back at Suguru who looks like he might just explode. His uniform is soaked, his front hair is sticking to the side of his face, and his eyes just about look like they do when he’s fighting curses, except now they look unmerciful.

“Sugu, I'm done with my shopping. How about we go look at some furniture now, hm? ” Satoru slings the shopping bags over his shoulder and sends Suguru just about the sultriest look you've ever seen his face make. 

You glance at Shoko and she glances back, and you both bite your lips to stop yourselves from spiraling into a peal of uncontrollable laughter. 

Suguru seems to have had enough, as his eyes glazed over and he turns around to face the downright terrified lady. 

“You seem nice, but I have some…” Suguru pauses, rethinks his sentence, and continues with a curt nod, “Well, take care.”

He gives her the sweetest, fakest smile as she returns a smile that looks more like a grimace and turns away. She looks back again and sees you and Shoko clutching onto each other for dear life, Suguru still smiling at her with a twitching eye and veins popping on his temple and neck, and Satoru spinning around swishing his shopping bags and singing Suguru’s name like a prayer, and quickly walks away. 

The crowd slowly dissipates as you, Shoko, and Satoru stand in silence and Suguru slowly turns around, smile gone, and eyes narrowed, “You idiots… are lucky I didn't like her.”

You break first, and then Shoko, and soon the two of you are shaking each other, rolling around and laughing like absolute menaces. Satoru chortles seeing Suguru’s unimpressed poker face and walks up to him, placing the shopping bags down on the floor.

“C’mon it was funny and besides, we saved your ass. She seemed so boooring,” Satoru drawls and gags.

Suguru exhales as he closes his eyes and the muscle in his jaw twitches. Satoru finds a chink in his armor and grins. He's gonna break.

Satoru laughs and throws his arm around his best friend's shoulder and calls out to you and Shoko.

You two wheeze and try to catch a breath as you see Suguru’s serious face on the verge of breaking.

“Suguru, for the record, I thought she was really pretty,”

You voice your opinion with an innocent smile and Satoru facepalms. 

Shoko giggles and shoves you, “That doesn't help, you idiot.” 

You throw your head back and laugh, “I dunno dude, I think I lost a bunch of brain cells after that performance.”

“Not like you had any to begin with, Mochiii ~” Satoru mocks and you launch yourself at him as you both run around Suguru, you yelling profanities at Satoru and Satoru chanting “Mochi” and laughing like the actual spawn of the devil. 

Suguru finally cracks. Resting his hands on his knees, he bends down and laughs freely, uninhibited; like a child. Shoko smiles and takes out two cigarettes from the pack she safely kept in her uniform pocket. She puts one between her strawberry lips and taps Suguru on his drenched head with her knuckles. Suguru looks up, his laughter subsiding, and accepts the outstretched cigarette held between Shoko’s fingers. He places it between his lips as he rummages his pockets for his little orange lighter. Finding it, he lights his cig and holds it in front of Shoko, as she lights her one. They stand next to each other and smoke their cigarettes while watching Satoru teleport behind you as he grabs you by the waist and spins you around. The sound of his cackling and your screaming fades into the background as Shoko asks, “You think they’ll ever tell each other?”

Suguru leans his head back and blows smoke into the sky. As people start filing out of the food court, you and Satoru were the only rambunctious morons making all the noise in the entire area. He looks at the scene unfolding before him; your head is locked between the junction of Satoru’s arm as his knuckles attack you with fierce noogies. You’re giggling while flailing around like a fish out of water as you try to shove him away but to no avail. Suguru huffs a laugh and takes another drag of his half-smoked cigarette, “Maybe, but not without help.” He nudges Shoko’s shoulder with his own and gives her a devilish grin. Shoko chuckles and stubs out her cig on the sole of her shoe, “What were you thinking? Push their faces together or ask Yaga Sensei to assign them on a joint mission?” She snorts, “That’d be something.”

Suguru hums. He stubs the cigarette butt on the ground and puts it in his pocket and says grinning cheekily, “Nah, I was thinking something more ridiculous. Something fit for two morons of their caliber.” 

Shoko quirks an eyebrow and shakes her head with a smile, “Alright.”

You manage to escape Satoru's iron-clad grip after much effort. You boot him on his shin and make a run toward Shoko, tackling her in a massive bear hug. Shoko reciprocates the hug and you two waddle around conjoined like two baby penguins. 

“Ow! That hurt!” Satoru limps toward Suguru and leans on him with his arm on his shoulder while Suguru does a hand-clapping motion. He receives a flick on the cheek from Satoru for that. 

“That was literally the point, stupid,” you flip him off as he returns the very thoughtful gesture. You both chuckle and Suguru and Shoko send each other cheeky looks.

“Don’t think this is over, by the way,” Suguru says with a vengeance as he flicks you and Shoko on the forehead, to which you both reply with a small “ow”.

“I will get you all back for this. And it won't be pretty,” he ends his threat by flicking Satoru on the forehead; to which he replies with a whiny “I'm already injured, maaaan”.

“Bring it on, champ,” you grin and smack him on his back as you finally release Shoko as you pick up the shopping bags and swing them by your sides. Satoru joins you and takes a few off your hands as you all make your way out of the mall. The golden light marks your path with an incandescent glow. Time flies by incredibly fast when you’re with these children. It's scary, but at the same time, it's humbling. Being with them makes you want to live. They inspire you and drive you to reach greatness. They also make you want to store these precious moments into unbreakable vials or freeze time so you never have to leave. Nothing would go wrong, it would just be the four of you, through thick and thin, through blood and dust, through life and death. But you know you’re smarter than that. However, for today, you'll let yourself dream a little.

“So, how about some KFC?”

——————————————————————————-

a/n: not another slow-burn, pining, friends to lovers situation w satoru and reader whoops-

tagged: @porridgesblog, @stray-npc

[nanasrkives]

Navigation : midnight records! the moonlight album the haikyuu! album

── .✦ "HOW TO LOSE A SETTER IN 10 DAYS" ─ Miya Atsumu

author's note. / It's how to lose a setter day !!<3 second chapter finally written hope you like it <33 content : post timeskip. mentions of smoking/alcohol. OSAMU APPEARANCE. atsumu being a dumbass (poor man cant catch a break). 3k words.

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── .✦ CHAPTER 2./ A date to remember, for all the wrong reasons

The clink of chopsticks against ceramic bowls resonates softly in the cozy ramen shop.

The broth's steam rises into the air, bringing with it the warm scent of home. You sit opposite Sakusa, the quiet murmur of conversation between the pair of you creating a warm, near-intimate atmosphere. The soft slurp of noodles is the background melody to your thoughts, which are anything but peaceful.

The ordeal from this afternoon still lingers, like a song you cannot get out of your mind. Atsumu's clumsy efforts to flirt with you, the stammering, the fake smiles—and then—the volleyball hit you right in the face. It did not really hurt all that much, but man, was it embarrassing. You still cannot believe that it really happened.

You mix your noodles, attempting to divert your attention. He was just being himself, you say to yourself. He was just bragging. No big deal.

"So," Sakusa says after a pause, "how's your ramen?

You blink in surprise to hear him speak after so much silence. It is as though he has something to hide—possibly the same agitation you have felt all day. You swallow a mouthful of noodles and smile a little, baiting him to dispel the tension.

"It's fine. Though I believe your bowl's looking better than mine." You nod towards the additional toppings in his ramen—additional char siu, additional egg, simply the way he prefers it. "You always do it big."

Sakusa snorts under his breath. Naturally, you'd pick up on the details.

"It's the way to do it," he states, his usual cool composure making a showing. "Only the best for the best." He gives you a glance, not anticipating a response. You never do take the bait.

However, as much as he tries to focus on the simple pleasure of eating, his mind keeps drifting back to Atsumu's chaotic antics. The last thing he wants is for you to get caught up in whatever silly game his teammate is plotting. Atsumu might have an air of confidence about him, but there is no doubt in his mind that winning this bet is out of his league. He knows that.

She is too smart to let Atsumu get to her. He lets out another silent sigh, trying to keep his cool. And yet. what if? He chooses to bite his tongue, deeming it wiser not to utter a single word. No need getting riled up over something, which may not even be worth noticing. Instead, he watches you—studies you, reads the slight variations in your face that always have a narrative to tell even when you aim to conceal it.

You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. Nevertheless, there's something about it that doesn't feel right to him.

She won't bite, he says again, but the knot in his chest gets a bit tighter.

Meanwhile, Atsumu was at Onigiri Miya, his favorite spot ─and only ─ to pick up a quick bite when he had to take a time-out from the insanity of his day. There was the smell of hot, salty fish and rice in the air as he bit into his onigiri, not really paying attention. His mind was still on the failure of impressing Y/N earlier in the day.

Osamu, as always, did not fail to notice that something was bothering his twin, call it twin telepathy or whatever. He took a bite of his rice ball, leaning back in his chair a little and observing his younger twin with a touch of suspicion.

"You've been starin’ at that rice ball as if it owes ya money," Osamu said to him, cleaning his mouth with a napkin. "What's wrong, Tsumu?"

Atsumu sighed heavily and did not look up from his food. "I'm just thinkin’ ‘bout this bet. I need to win this, Samu." Osamu's eyebrow went up, and he leaned back in his chair as he always did. "Bet? What bet?" He already knew what Atsumu would say, but he enjoyed teasing him about it.

Atsumu leaned forward and put his chin in his palm. "Bokuto said somethin’ and I made this bet. I have to get Y/N to fall in love with me within ten days."Osamu didn't respond immediately. He just slowly chewed on his rice ball, considering what his twin had said. "And ya really think that's a good idea?"

Atsumu glared at him. “Shut yer trap. It was a disaster anyway." he said, running his fingers through his hair, trying to get it all to add up. Osamu also raised an eyebrow at him, clearly entertained by his twin. "What's wrong? Got rejected already?"

Atsumu looks over at his brother with a touch of frown on his lips. "It was worse. I—well, I tried to charm her, you see? I was going to be charming, as always, but." He lets out a deep sigh. "I ended up accidentally hittin’ her in the face with a volleyball."

Osamu stops for a moment, holding his rice ball mid-air. Then he erupts in laughter. "Come again? ‘Tsumu, I always knew ya were a dumbass but this is somethin’ else."

"I didn't intend to so shut yer trap! I was attempting to move her out of the way, but I ended up makin’ it worse. I grabbed for her wrist and then—bam!" Atsumu acts out how the ball had gone, waving his hands in wide arcs. "Direct hit."

Osamu shakes his head, grinning. "Well, at least she'll remember you for something.".

"I didn't want people to remember me for that!" Atsumu laments, covering his face with his hands. "She wasn't impressed. She didn't even care that I was trying to apologize afterwards."

"Calm down, ‘Tsumu," Osamu says to him, leaning back in his chair. "This is so stupid. Just ask her out for a drink or something. Apologize properly, like a man."

Atsumu sits up straight at attention as his brother's words hit him. It makes sense, but to go through with it does not feel right. He does not know if he wants to be with her, not like this. "Alright, I'll. consider it," Atsumu mutters, but the thought of pursuing her now is too much of a hassle. 

Yet, he cannot help but feel a tug of something else—something that makes him uncertain about leaving this alone. Osamu looks at his brother, a cunning smile creeping onto his face. "Are you really not feeling anything more, Atsumu?" Atsumu scowls at the man, but there is a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. "Shuddup."

The day had stretched on longer than Atsumu expected. Training had been brutal, leaving his muscles aching, and yet, none of it had distracted him from the lingering conversation with Osamu.

“Just ask her out for a drink or something. Apologize properly, like a man.”

Osamu had said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, like Atsumu hadn’t already made an absolute fool of himself. Like she wouldn’t laugh in his face the second she saw his name pop up on her phone.

Atsumu slumped back on his couch, drumming his fingers against his phone screen. The clock read 6:03 PM. Too early for bed, too late to act like he wasn’t still thinking about it.

Would she even want to go? Probably not. Would that stop him from trying anyway? Definitely not. With a deep breath, he finally caved.

He dialed her number.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

And just as he was about to hang up, her voice cut through the line.

“…Miya?”

There is a pause after you respond. Not static, not background—just hesitation. You move the phone slightly aside and look at the screen to check if you were dreaming. But no, Miya Atsumu had indeed called you.

"Miya?" you say, raising eyebrows.

Atsumu clears his throat on the other end. "Hey. Uh. What's up?"

You blink. What's up? Did he actually call you to say what's up?

"Nothing?" you say hesitantly.

"Cool, cool, cool," he mutters under his breath, like he never actually had a plan for this conversation. You can hear him tapping his fingers against something in the distance—his knee, a table, or possibly even his own forehead because he is so frustrated.

You allowed the silence to continue until it became uncomfortable. "Did you call for a reason?"

"Yeah," he says out of the blue. Then, a bit more assertively. "Yeah. Look, uh—I wanted to, y'know… make up for earlier." You frown and lean against the counter. "Earlier?"

Atsumu makes a sound that is a cross between a groan and a cough.  "Uh—This mornin’? The volleyball headshot?"

Oh.

Your hand brushes against your face involuntarily, and the sting of the slap is still recalled. You are unable to forget the moment of shame when a speedy volleyball struck you due to him.

You roll your eyes. "Oh, that. Do you feel bad now?

"'Course I feel bad!" he defends immediately, voice rising. "I had great aim—I just, y'know, got distracted."

You scoff. "Distracted?

"It doesn't matter," he huffs. "Point is—I wanna make it up to ya."

There is a pause before he eventually says, "Let me buy you a drink.".

You tilt your head, pondering the words. "Like… an apology?"

"Yeah." Pause. "And a date."

You lift an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Just a casual one!" he rapidly amends. "Like, really casual. You won't even realize that it's a date."

"That's not the way dates go, Miya."

"C'mon, don't make me beg, that's just embarrassing."

You took a deep breath, still thinking. A drink was not a major problem. You did not owe him anything, and it might be fun to see him sweat in front of you.

"Okay," you finally say. "One drink. Only if you pay". 

Atsumu breathes out as though he'd been holding his breath. "Alright. Alright. I'll send you the information.". You couldn’t help but tease him a bit. "That's great. Looking forward to it, lover boy."

He groans when you hang up.

Atsumu was standing in front of the mirror, looking at himself like he was the male lead of a romcom, getting ready for a major life event. "Alright, Miya," he said to himself, brushing his hair back with his hands. "You got this. You're hot, you're smooth, and you're not overthinking."

There had been a few seconds of silence. His eyes flicked towards the door, and his thoughts darkened. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to embarrass myself?" He let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

As if on cue, the chime of his phone was heard. He immediately grabbed it in the hopes of hearing some moral support. On the screen appeared Osamu's message: "Try not to embarrass yourself too much."

Atsumu sighed heavily and banged the phone down onto the counter. "For fucks sake!" He cast a second glance at his reflection, then took his jacket and went out the door, ready for whatever sort of trouble was waiting for him.

You had gotten to the bar hours before Atsumu got there. You were sitting at the bar, sipping on a drink, chill. You weren't overdressed or anything—the way to be ready for anything crazy that might happen tonight. At this point, you didn't dare to hope for anything straightforward, and you had no expectations for Atsumu.

Even before checking his calls or messages, you took a sip of your drink, and your mind was someplace else. You reached for your phone and looked at your notifications. Nothing from him. Only a funny meme from one of your preferred accounts: 

"If he's a walking red flag, run. If he's a red flag but funny? …Girl." 

You laughed a little and typed a short reply to the meme: It might be the second one. Maybe you should run. But no. You were already here.

The second Atsumu walked into the bar, you could almost hear the theme song of a cheesy romcom playing as he gave his signature smile, clearly under the impression things were going better than they were. He took a look around, saw you, and walked to the bar like it was his personal catwalk.

But when he tried to lean on the counter and act cool, his foot became tangled with the leg of the stool. The poor man missed his mark completely, stumbling and nearly toppling over the bar. Time just seemed to stand still for a moment.

You didn't bat an eye. You took a second sip from your glass, calm as can be, and lifted an eyebrow to the chaos in front of you. "That was graceful," you stated, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm.

Atsumu looked nervous but tried his best to compose himself. He stood up straight and brushed his clothing. "Did that on purpose," he said, somewhat too defensively, giving a half confident, half annoyed smile.

You smiled faintly. "Of course you did, Tony Hawk," you replied, leaning back in your chair, obviously unimpressed. His smile got lost briefly, but it was back in place soon. "Ya'll get used to my charm," he said to her a bit too confidently. You couldn't help but roll your eyes."We'll see," you muttered under your breath, clearly doubtful of whatever was going to take place.

After a silence of a few uncomfortable seconds, Atsumu figured it was time to pull out his best ─and worst ─line. "You know, I didn't figure ya were the whiskey type," he attempted to say nonchalantly, like it was a compliment.

You raised an eyebrow and placed your drink down. "What kind did you think I was?" He scratched his head, as if he was attempting to recall something regarding your personality. "I dunno, maybe, like a girl who likes fruity drinks?"

You slowly blinked, causing the silence to drag on a bit too long. "What is that supposed to mean? Explain yourself. Now."

He blinked at you, his brain clearly thinking. The man was struggling—his brain was racing a mile a minute, but he couldn't get anything articulate out. Finally, he just shrugged and gave an awkward laugh. "Well, uh… I dunno, I guess I was wrong." You did not even try to answer. You simply took another sip and allowed the silence to say more than words.

A minute or so later, the bartender, who'd been following this entire conversation with some amusement, leaned across the bar, drying a glass. "You two make a nice couple," he said, smiling. Atsumu's face went pale. "We're not a couple!" His voice was barely high enough for you to detect the panic in it. The bartender's eyebrow went up, a little too entertained by the interaction.

You couldn't help but laugh quietly, unable to resist. "Calm down, drama queen." The bartender chuckled, his grin widening. "I was just saying—could do worse." You looked at Atsumu and saw his face growing redder. "Wow. That must be really hard on you, huh?" you joked, leaning back in your chair.

Atsumu muttered, hiding his face in his hands. "I promise I will not do it again."

However, to save face—or at least look normal, Atsumu suggested a drinking game. "Hey, let us have some fun. Just a small game so that it will not be so awkward."

You shrugged. Why not? You were not doing anything else. But he did not know that you were not just good at the games—you were fiercely competitive about anything that had to do with liquor. And tonight, you were going to win no matter what.

Twenty minutes had gone by, and Atsumu was already tipsy, talking more freely than he usually did. His words were a little slurred, and his movements were more exaggerated. You, on the other hand, were perfectly okay and unaffected.

He gazed at you in wide-eyed wonder as you beat him round after round.  "What the hell kinda tolerance is that?" he asked incredulously. "I can hardly keep it together after two drinks."

You shrugged indifferently and took a casual sip. "I exist in constant emotional damage. Alcohol can't do anything about it." He looked at you carefully, trying to determine whether to laugh or inquire whether you were sad inside. "That. that's dark."

"Yeah, all right, welcome to my world," you replied with a slight, dry smile. "Now, your turn to drink." Atsumu shook his head, immensely dismayed. But he didn't give up. 

Then something terrible happened.

Since he gestured with his arms excessively while relating a tall tale, he was not aware of how much extension he was making. The beverage in his hand sloshed and spilled directly onto your lap.

There was a total silence for an instant. 

Time seemed to lag a couple of seconds while you stared down at your lap, where his beverage had spilled. Atsumu's eyes went wide, and he froze. "Oh… no." You raised an eyebrow and stared at him with a very stern face. Then you took a deep breath and glanced down at yourself once more. "Wow," you said sarcastically. "You are lucky I don't believe in violence." 

Atsumu was almost panic-stricken now, looking for napkins, knocking some over, and getting agitated. "Shit! I—I'll fix it! Don't worry, I'll fix it!" You lifted a hand, and he halted his nervous motions. "You've done enough." The tension was thick in the air, uncomfortable and evident. You both stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with the developing problem. 

Then, when the embarrassment was at its maximum, you both stepped out into the cool night air, you took the opportunity to pull out a cigarette and light it. 

The sudden silence was a relief after the noise of the bar. Atsumu rubbed his neck, his face still red, trying to feel normal again. "Well… that went well," he commented, his voice a mix of amused and exasperated. You snorted and rolled your head. "That’s a date to remember," you said, straight-faced as you took a drag. "Just for all the wrong reasons. Good night, Miya."

 Atsumu groaned and slapped both hands over his face, clearly humiliated. 

You couldn't help but notice as you walked away, feeling a bizarre mix of amusement and sympathy for him. And maybe, just maybe, a little curiosity about whether or not he'd be okay next time the two of you chose to spend time together.

2025 © NANASRKIVES. / do not copy, repost, edit, plagiarize, or translate any of my works on any platforms, including ai.

Taglist (OPEN). / @cherrysurf @elmaa127 @arwawawa2 @ihatetakumi @koishitooru @pookalicious-hq @ohgodthevoices @itsmeaudrieee @soranihimawari @jayathelostdragon @virgothesimp @reads-stuff-quietly @beabamboo @yessimo

[azrielwingspan]

THE CYBORG WHO STOLE MY HEART (Bucky X F!reader)

A/N: I know I know, there's another Bucky fanfic that I'm already working on and yet here I am starting a whole new one. Why you ask? Because I'm a dumbass. The idea just popped up into my head and I HAD TO write it down. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1 :

Chapter summary: Bucky and Sam come across a woman who seems to have lost her mind. Literally. Using Bucky’s cyborg brain, they try to figure out who she is.

Chapter warnings: Mild swearing.

You know when you're having a great dream with a hot guy that could only possibly exist in dreams ? The happiness that breathing the same air as him brings you? That's what you were feeling right now.

Eyes as blue as the ocean, veins that were easy to put an IV in and that black shirt phew. Was it possible to drool in dreams? You were going to have a great day once you woke up. That was for sure.

Why was he looking at you like that though? Weren't they supposed to be flirting with you or puckering their lips in your dreams by now? Was this supposed to be a slow burn or enemies to lovers genre dream?

"Why is she staring at me like that?" the hot guy asks the air next to him.

"She's just coming into it, give her a second." it responds back to him.

Wait, what ?

"Are we sure she's alright and not having an absence seizure?" the air voice asks.

"She's alright. Probably in shock." another voice responds.

Shock? From seeing that beautiful man in front of me? Sure.

Okay, focus.

Wait, it's a dream. Why do you need to focus?

Eyes, the colour of piss , come into focus. "Cannn youuu hearrr meee?"

"Why are you speaking like that?" you manage to ask, still trying to figure out if you'd accidentally taken shrooms.

"Not a seizure then." the voice from earlier comments.

Piss eyes looks proud of himself. "I told you, she's in shock."

If this really was a dream, it would have to be the strangest one you have had in a while. What in the actual cockfuck was happening?

"Youu areee in theee hosp-ee-taalll. Weee---" piss eyes sounded like he was having the seizure.

"Stop talking like that." you say, blinking rapidly to clear the dark spots from your eyes. Things were starting to feel more...real. A heaviness settled over your head, every breath seemed to send a slight sliver of pain through your side and your arm felt numb.

Dreams weren't usually ultra-realistic, were they? Only one way to find out now.

"Is she...pinching herself?" hot guy asks, that strange look on his face.

A set of cold hands clamp your hands down.

"HEY." you say, the slight sting of your pinch confirming your doubts.

"Self hurt or mutilation can be a side effect. We need to restrain her for her own safety." Piss eyes speaks rapidly and you hear him muttering to himself.

"I'm not...is this not a dream?" you finally ask leaving the room in pin drop silence.

"I don't think so...unless Wanda is upto something again." air voice sounds a bit unsure himself.

"Wanda?" the name seemed familiar but in this state , you could barely remember your own name.

You try to get up only to be gently pushed back down by piss eyes. "You probably shouldn't be doing that. Bed rest for the next 10 days, I'm afraid." he says not sounding apologetic about it at all.

"What even happened? And---" you're cut off by air voice.

"Where are you? Well, the Avengers compound. Now, don't get too excited and all. We can make you sign a NDA , but we aren't going to because we're hoping you're trustworthy. Stark said you might be...useful. Now, if you're feeling upto it, how the hell did you end up in the middle of a cemetry half dead?"

You blinked once, twice, thrice.

"Who is Stark?"

"Listen, man. She's got to be living under a rock if she doesn't know who Stark is. That guy has been stuffed down everyone's fucking throat." Sam tells Bucky as he takes off he looks at their new visitor.

Bucky doesn't respond and instead stares at Sam with a poker face.

"What's going on in that cyborg brain of yours?" Sam isn't phased by Bucky and his staring anymore. He was however very sure that Bucky would not be bringing home any ladies with that serial killer look.

"What if she's lying?" Bucky finally says, turning to look at the CCTV recording of the room you were in. You were sleeping again, knocked out by the pain killers.

"Lying about not knowing Stark or not being able to remember what happened to her?"

"Both."

"What purpose does that serve her?"

"Well, that's what we're supposed to find out."

“How exactly are you planning on doing that?” Crossing his arms over his chest , Sam raised an eyebrow at his cyborg friend.

“I’ll think about it.” Bucky walked past him, grabbing his jacket on the way. “With my cyborg brain.”

“I understand that you want to get some answers” you said for what seemed like the 100th time, exasperation taking hold of you. “I honestly cannot remember what happened. I’ve thought myself into a headache. I’m sorry, okay?”

Sam looked defeated as he let he shook his head. “It’s been two whole days. Now, I don’t want to seem like a dick and question you in this state but we need some goddamn answers.”

“Too late for that I guess.” you muttered under your breath.

“Huh?”

“She said ‘too late for that I guess.’” The hot guy, Bucky, was his name chimed in.

How the hell did he hear that? As if reading the question on your face, he simply said “Advanced hearing.”

Okkayyyy.

Sam on the other hand was giving you a flat look. You gave him one back.

“I’m feeling much better now. Can I atleast get out of this damn bed?” you scratched near the iv line, wanting to just rip it out. “Piss eyes told me I shouldn’t but I cannot stay like this.”

“Piss eyes?” Sam was clearly running out of patience.

“The doc. Is he even a doctor? He’s very…”

“Sort of.”

That explains it.

“She’s right.” Bucky takes a step forward, looking at Sam. “Walking around will help her recover faster.”

“THANK YOU. See , I knew you were the smart one.” you give him a wide smile to which you get a poker face in return. Embarrassing. Not letting it deter you, you pull the iv out.

“Hey !!” Sam steps forward, surprised at your show of stupidity.

Before he can reach you to help you out of bed, you’ve already stood up. Which was another stupid move considering that the entire room was spinning around. Holding on to the wall next to you for support, you blinked rapidly.

“That’s another concussion waiting to happen.” Bucky commented dryly.

After regaining some semblance of direction, you managed to stand up straight ignoring the slight stab of pain in your chest.

“Much better.” you say, taking a step forward. The pastel pink tee and pants that had been given to you did not compliment your current condition, you knew. To be quite frank, you were a good looking woman too. Always have been. Then why the hell was Bucky looking at you like he was going to stab you right then and there?

“Uhhh…now what?” your suddenly felt extremely awkward in front of the two men.

“Don’t ask me, you were the one who wanted to do this.” Sam still had an arm out, ready to jump into action in case you cracked your head on the tiles again. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky make a slight movement. Thank fuck you did because the next thing you knew , you were holding a dagger 2 inches away from your chest by the handle.

Silence engulfed the room for a good 20 seconds before it was broken by a very calm “What. The. Fuck.” from Sam.

You looked at Bucky who stood in the same spot like nothing shocking had even happened. Finally a crack of a smile appeared on his face.

“Told you she was lying.”

[7975348473]

When the Asshole is sick.

————————————— A Lyrason ff.

Lyra was trying her best to get her mind off of her current circumstances. What were her current circumstances, you ask? Well, she started dating an, admittedly, mighty fine Hawthorne a few months ago.

But the problem about dating a Hawthorne is that they never, and I repeat, never give in.

And Lyra just happened to land herself not only the most stubborn Hawthorne, but also the most self less one.

When Lyra had awoken to find a still sleeping Grayson beside her this morning, she immediately knew something was wrong. Grayson was always the early bird. Lyra reached over to touch his forehead and found it burning up, Grayson stirred under her touch.

“Gray? Are you feeling all right?” Lyra asked gently, not sure if he was awake yet or not.

Grayson didn’t reply but simply put his hand around Lyra’s waist and pulled her closer. And you best believe he was burning up.

“Grayson. You’re burning up.” Said Lyra sternly. She knew well when Grayson Davenport Hawthorne tried to avoid a subject of discussion. Especially when it involved himself.

Grayson gave an uncommitted ‘mm’ in reply before nuzzling himself closer to her. It took everything in Lyra not to just give in and cuddle closer to him because she knew he was not going to acknowledge his sickness anytime soon.

And she was right indeed. When he finally let her go and got out of bed he followed his usual routine. He got up, kissed her cheek, her neck and took off for the washroom to get ready for the day, all the while Lyra kept telling him to stop and listen to her.

Haaa fucking Hawthornes and their stubborn asses.

Grayson exited the shower in a record timing of 25 minutes and 33 seconds, which was a lot longer than it usually took him to get ready.

“Grayson. Listen to me.” Said Lyra sternly, flashing him the glare she had learned from him.

“I have listened Lyra, about 20 times now since I woke up, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.” Said Grayson, looking at his phone and checking his schedule for the day.

Fine my ass.

“You are not fine Grayson. You woke up late, took far too long to get out of bed, took an extra 10 minutes in the shower even though you prioritise being early to work and you’re burning up. Nothing about that screams fine.” Stated Lyra, matter-of-factly, coming closer in order to get his attention.

Grayson let out a sigh and glanced up at her, “Lyra. I am fine,” he said putting emphasis on each word, “It’s a slight spike in temperature, it happens. I’ll be alright.”

And so the tug of war commenced, neither side giving up until finally, Grayson walked out of the room.

That would lead to Lyra’s current state of dilemma.

What in the world do you do when your boyfriend is sick and you’re mad at him??

Maybe I should apologise?… for what? Caring for him? As if.

But he’s not going to apologise either— stubborn bastard. So what, I watch while he suffers cuz he’s a dumbass and an asshole?

Precisely.

……..I’m such a terrible girlfriend—

NO. Not going down that road right now.

Lyra’s internal battle continued when, finally, she had had just about enough. She got up and ran through the house for a good 30 minutes until she finally found the kitchen.

Okay. Now. To make a stew for a sick asshole.

Lyra whipped out her phone and called Libby.

“Hello?”

“Libby. Hi. I need your help.”

“Oh? One sec— lemme just— yeah, okay, what’s up?”

“So you remember that one time you told me how Nash got really sick so you made him some st—”

“GNRIJGHORUEHEGROUHOUGBTE SHSHSHSHHSHS.” Libby made a few incomprehensible noises and she seemed to be running?

“GIRL— TELL ME BEFORE YOU DROP A BOMB LIKE THAT.” Came Libby’s long awaited reply.

“…oh— Was Nash there?”

“YES, HE WAS.” Said Libby, out of breath from her sudden expenditure across wherever she was.

Lyra started laughing and Libby joined in soon after.

“So? What did you need? You realise we’re in the same house right?” Asked Libby in between giggles.

“This house is too big for everyone’s good, it was hard enough to find the kitchen, finding you in the process would have resulted in me being lost.” Stated Lyra with a huff. Libby signed in agreement.

“Right, so stew?” Asked Libby.

“Yes. So. You know how Nash was very sick that one time so you spoon fed him that one stew that apparently works like a charm?” Asked Lyra.

“Mhm.”

“Well, I’m in need of the recipe.”

“Oh? Is Grayson sick?”

“You bet he is.” Said Lyra and let out a sigh.

“God damn. He’s even more stubborn than Nash. How do you plan on getting the stew into his mouth?” Asked Libby, Lyra could practically hear her eye roll at the end.

“That.. just leave that to me.” Said Lyra, as an evil smirk spread across her face.

“I can hear your evil smirk.” Said Libby.

“Not evil, Libby.”

“It totally is.”

“Is not.”

“Is to.”

“Okay, ouch.”

Libby laughed at the other end of the line.

“Okay, I’ll come to you.”

“Nah, you could just run me through the recipe over the phone.” Suggested Lyra, hyped to start cooking.

“Uh huh. And I’m sure you know where all the ingredients are in the kitchen?” Said Libby.

…. Right.

“On second thought, pls come to the kitchen that’s right next to… the ballroom? I think?” Said Lyra.

“Second floor?”

“uhhhh yeah.”

“On my way.”

And so Libby walked Lyra through how to make the stew, not bothering to hide her amusement while watching Lyra work hard to make stew for the same boyfriend she was complaining about while making it.

“Lyra. You’re whipped.” Said Libby, after having thought it about 28 times in the past ten minutes she spent with Lyra.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Retorted Lyra, though her reddening cheeks have her away.

Libby laughed and gave her a playful wack across her arm.

And after a good 30 minutes the stew was ready. Now, onto the hard part of the plan. If reasoning and talking wasn’t going to work with Grayson, the art of forced-spoon-feeding might.

Lyra walked on over to Grayson’s ‘office at home’, where he did a lot of his work in recent times. She took a deep breath.

Okay, Lyra. Stay cool. No getting angry. Don’t say a word. Just walk in and act according to plan.

And Lyra, being the queen she is, did just that. She knocked on the door and didn’t bother waiting for a reply. She knew Grayson had no meetings today and was simply trying to ignore that he was sick by busying himself in documents.

Lyra walked in and Grayson looked up at her once before his eyes went back to his documents. Anybody else would have seen that as a cold reaction, but Lyra noticed the way his gaze lingered on her figure, the way his anger and guilt were both visible in his extremely tired eyes.

She payed all of those details no mind, as much as she wanted to. She walked on over to his desk ignoring him when he called out to her.

Lyra stopped right beside his desk and they made eye contact. She noticed the way his body was slightly slumped, the way his cheeks were slightly reddened, the way his eyes looked glassy. She paid those details no mind.

They stared at each other for a while before Grayson finally rose a single eye brow in question. The gesture said it all.

What is it, Lyra?

Lyra didn’t reply immediately. She placed the tray with the bowl of stew on his office desk, ignoring all the documents that were scattered on them. Grayson’s gaze followed her hands before locking-in on her eyes again.

“Turn over.” Commanded Lyra, finally.

Grayson did just that and turned his office chair to face her. He looked even worse in this angle. His red cheeks were on wide display and she noticed how his top two buttons were undone, his blazer abandoned somewhere on the sofa. (Yes this office has a bloody sofa. They’re rich.)

Lyra did not break eye contact a single time. Not while she turned back to him, not while she stepped closer, not while she sat right down on his lap to face him and not when his eyes went wide at the sudden action.

It took everything in Lyra not to break character then and there and just kiss him senseless.

“Lyra.” Came Grayson’s voice. A question that came out sounding a bit lustful.

Lyra didn’t deign that with an answer. She reached over to the soup bowl, took a spoon and brought it to his mouth.

Grayson’s gaze remained on her eyes only fleeing once or twice to her lips.

Lyra raised her own eyebrow and signalled with her mouth ‘ah’.

Grayson continued staring at her before finally opening his mouth. His eyes remained on hers as Lyra took the spoon to his mouth, and she did not appreciate how that action wanted to make her squirm. She picked up more soup and brought it to his mouth again.

“You made this?” He asked, before drinking the soup.

She replied with a ‘mm’. She was still mad.

They continued the process in silence for a while.

“It’s good.” He finally said.

WOW HAWTHORNE. THATS THE BEST YOU CAN COME UP WITH AFTER ALL OF THIS?? ‘ITS GOOD.’ ??? Asshole.

She sent him a glare before taking up another spoon and bringing it to his mouth.

“Lyra.” This time he was requesting for something. For her to listen.

Lyra sighed, “ What?” She moved her eyes to the soup bowl.

“I’m sorry.” Oh. Oh. So he was capable of apologising. Lyra looked back to him, taking in all the details she had refused to before. He looked terrible. He looked fucking glorious.

They, once again, stared at each other for a while, before Lyra broke eye contact to nudge him into drinking the soup. He did.

They continued in a comfortable silence while he finished the soup. Lyra was mad, but she wouldn’t trade this silence for the world. This moment. It screamed them in every way possible. Silence, but so much was spoken.

In the way she made the soup for him despite being mad. In the way he didn’t snap when seeing her, despite also being mad. In the way she spoon fed him in that position despite wanting to sock him in the stomach. In the way that he apologised and listened to every one of her commands, despite always being the one in control. It was them.

Finally the bowl was empty. Lyra moved to get off of his lap but his hand came to rest on the small of her back, preventing her from moving.

She gazed back down at him, willing her eyes to look angry even though she hated the state he was in.

“I’m sorry. Lyra.” He said again, his eyes boring into her own.

They continued the stare down, as many words passed between them without truly being spoken until finally, she broke the silence, with a smirk breaking free on her face.

“Prove it, Hawthorne.”

The look in Grayson’s eyes changed. He still looked sick, put off, guilty, but something stronger overcame those eyes. Want.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as his grip one her waist tightened, pulling her impossibly closer. He kissed her like his life depended on it and she savoured in it.

When they finally broke apart after a very….. productive make out session. Lyra smiled.

“You’re an asshole. You know that?” She said in between pants.

“Mm. Yes. But I’m your asshole.” He replied simply, as if the words took him no effort to think about at all. As if they were always meant to be said.

Lyra hated the effect those words had on her. She loved it.

“Are you flirting with me, Hawthorne? What has gotten into you?” She joked her hands stroking his hair as he angled his face in the crack between her neck and collarbone and rested it there.

“This is how I am when I’m sick.” He said.

Lyra laughed, “You admit it now?”

“Yes. And I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He brought his face up and kissed her again before adding, “ I really am, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Lyra smiled and kissed him in reply.

Yes, he was a stubborn- selfless Hawthorne. Yes, he could be a complete asshole. Yet, he was still hers, as much as she was his.

My Hawthorne.

——————————————————

Ahahahahaha. I had this idea marinating in my head for a while and I couldn’t help but finally type it down. THIS IS MY FIRST SAD ATTEMPT AT ROMANCE SO CUT ME SOME SLACK PPL.

(Thoughts would be much appreciated.)

PS- @alwaysthefangirl I NEED HELPFUL CRITICISM. WAS THIS GOOD— 😭🙃✨

[beesspacedotorg]

hai bee so i know i did an ask the other day that was similar like jisung x desperate reader, both being desperate and whatnot buuuuut i want to know ur opinion onnnn minho with a very desperate reader 😔🩷🙏

hihi. Sorry this sat for so long. I was busy being mentaly ill and stuff. Uh. If this is mid. No it's not. I rewrote this twenty times and I have about 10 different versions of this in google docs.

this isn't very long, but I put it below the cut for flavor and spice. uh. degradation. spanking? idk.

The two of  you are supposed to be watching a movie.You don’t remember the name or the plot or who the lead actor is, all you do remember is that Minho sent you a picture of himself in these sinful gray sweats while he was at dance practice and you spent a good thirty minutes staring at it and drooling. The picture wasn’t even meant to be anything, he put on a stupid ass filter and was making a dumbass face but all you could see was his dick.

He’s wearing a different, clean, pair of gray sweats now, and all you can see is his dick. He taps your leg and you jump a clean 20 feet into the air.

“What the fuck was that for?!” “Jagiya,” he’s pouting at you like the baby he is, “you’re not even watching the movie. Weren’t you excited for it?” You were. But that’s in the past, currently, you’re excited for nothing but your boy’s dick. Your eyes aren’t subtle in their ogling, but unlike you, Minho was watching the movie, so it takes him a second to realize, and when he does, you can feel the smirk he aims at you even though your eyes are locked on his lower half.

“I see.” He puts his finger under your chin to tilt your head up. “Do you want something else?” You nod at him, mouth watering at the thought. He pats his lap and you move to straddle him before being adjusted.

“This isn’t-”

“Hmm? It isn’t what? Did you not want this?” He has you straddling his thigh, and you know he’s feeling particularly mean because he just laughs at your pout.

“I wanted your dick, Minho. Wanted you to fill me up.”

“And I wanted to finish this movie. I guess neither of us are gonna get what we want, jagi.” You whine at him, lip jutting forward in a move that’s only ever halfway effective, and it seems today is no different because he lands a quick swat to your ass with the command to move, and you do, because if you don’t you’re not getting anything.

He adjusts himself slightly so you have a better angle when you grind down on his thigh, but it’s not what you wanted and you can feel yourself getting more and more frustrated with each pass.

“Minho, please.”

“Please what?”

“I want your cock, please, I’ve been good.” He hums at you.

“Have you?” Your breath catches in your throat. “It seems to me that you’re a needy slut who can’t wait for a goddamned movie to finish before jumping my bones.”

“That’s not-”

“Isn’t it?” His voice is mean when he says it, and if you couldn’t see the stain he was making on his sweatpants, you would believe he’s actually unaffected. “What’s the main character’s name then, jagi? Tell me and you’ll get my cock.”

“Minho! That’s not fair, I want- I want-” He mocks you, repeating your words in a high pitched voice.

“It’s not fair? What’s not fair is me coming home from a long, long day, and you wanting me to fuck you. I’m tired, jagi.” He pouts at you, but when your knee accidentally grazes his cock he has to choke back a moan.

“I’ll ride you. I’ll- I’ll do the work. Minho, please.” Your eyes well with tears and through your blurry vision you can see him roll his eyes.

“Will you? Or will you get tired halfway through and force me to take over?”

“I won’t! I won’t!”

“I don’t believe you.” You let out a short wail, hands hitting his chest in your frustration and suddenly he has your hips in an iron grip, stopping you from moving at all.

“Wait, that was an accident, I didn’t-” Your protests fall on deaf ears because you’re being flipped onto your stomach over his knee and a hand is cracking down sharp on your ass.

“You should learn to be grateful for what I give you instead of being a desperate whore.”

[chaoticbardlady99]

OC Deep Dive

Imogen La Fey

I really enjoyed doing this for Lenore so I decided to do this for my lovely Imogen too ❤️ I adore her and her strength- she’s the embodiment of kindness and I love writing her.

(Imogen is from Floozy)- consider yourself tagged if you wanna do it 😊

She and Astarion are in a fake relationship, but are both dumbasses and fall in love with each other very quickly 🤷🏼‍♀️

What common/ Uncommon fear do they have:

She is terrified- and I mean terrified- of Ladybugs and Butterflies. It’s unfortunately due to those creatures being around when her mother was at her most manic over the summers and her Skooma addiction would make it worse. Her mother often beat and sold her off for public usage during the summers when her mood was high and she needed more of her fix.

Fun fact- Dalyria saved Imogen when she was younger from an individual who was taking it too far and damn near killed her. Dalyria took her to the Ilmater temple for help- Astarion doesn’t remember, but he helped her carry younger, beaten up Imogen back to the temple once when she was nine. Imogen thought he was an angel or a prince, but barely remembers the encounter herself.

Do they have pet peeves?

She cannot stand the way the bed in the Librarian room creaks and it bothers her when people approach her on the street and ask her on a date after they slept with her the night before. They often believe she is desperate to be saved and that isn’t true- Astarion is the first person she has been intimate with and she feels views her as an equal.

What are three things that can be found in her bedroom?

Her fluffy bedroll- a gift from a client for her birthday.

A new book from the local library- she is always reading and devours knowledge. Imogen wanted to go to school in her youth and was determined to keep up with her peers so she taught herself or asked friendly shop keepers, tavern owners, or clients questions.

Her lantern- it’s magical and changes colors. It’s a witch light and she misses having it in their tent.

What do they notice first in a person?

Their eyes- she trusts people’s eyes more than their words or actions.

On a scale of 1-10, how high is her pain tolerance?

5– she could live without it for sure, but pain and sex pays.

Fight or flight mode?

Flight before the tadpole and fight after the tadpole. Lae’zel really emboldened her and helped her feel more confident in her ability to fight back.

Do they come from a big family a big family/ are they a family person?

No- her father passed when she was younger and her mother had addiction issues which lead to the family cutting her off (Kind of like a Hawke and Amell family situation). Imogen was told she had to choose and she decided to stay with her mother. When she tried to go back home to her grandparents for help and shelter, they refused to bring her in due to her reputation as a street whore being “embarrassing” enough.

What animal represents them best?

Polar Bear- she is adorable, beautiful, and oh so kind, but mess with any of the Tadfools and she will destroy you without a second thought. She is a mama bear and if she’s on your trail, it’s too late for you.

She also reminds me of a Grey wolf, but in relation to Astarion. Wolf males are very protective of their mates and cubs (spoilers? Maybe? still undecided) and Imogen is as protective. She also has a very “mate for life” mentality and Astarion adores it because, for once, he feels the same way.

What is a smell she dislikes?

Death- while an utter cliche, she does live in the Sewers where the Bhaal Temple is hidden and the smell is less than favorable. She can tell when they’ve hung on to a few corpses for too long and silently cheers anytime the smell finally goes away.

Have they broken any bones?

Yes, but mostly just her ribs. Some people are too rough.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Traditionally feminine, kind, selfless, and brave. She is the definition of “just because I have a hard life doesn’t mean I get to be an ass.” She is often giving any extra gold she has to children on the street trying to feed their sickly parents or take care of their siblings. She becomes really protective of the Tiefling children. She is notorious to being kind to her clients and acting as their shoulder to cry on- she’s one of the few at Sharess’ Caress who has a consistent clientele.

Are they a night owl or morning bird?

Night Owl- she feels like she belongs in the night more and likes that she is less likely to be noticed by people she knows. This works out really well for Astarion- all things considered.

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

She loves brown sugar- adores it. She doesn’t really hate any flavors because she has never had that luxury.

Do they have any hobbies?

She does! Imogen loves to read and further her own education. She enjoys any type of card or board game and is excellent at cheating without being caught. Imogen really quite enjoys stealing and has very “Robin hood” vibes. Training with Lae’zel and Karlach is also a hobby of hers and she has really comes to love fighting using the Fighter style set and hand to hand combat (monk). She is also pretty good at the whole thief thing, but is terrible at stealth attacks. However, she does have a LOT of rage so she has had a few Barbarian moments. She is trained in Fey Magic and is obsessed with Fey, but she doesn’t know or care to know why.

She also gets into playing the Lute after being taught by Alfira. She finds it very relaxing and enjoys singing as well. She likes to write silly tunes to compliment Astarion- at first it was to sell their act as a couple, but now it’s just to see him smile or cheer him up or just make him feel loved.

Boom! Surprise birthday party! How do they react to the surprise?

Imogen would be ecstatic! She has always wanted to have a surprise birthday party and no one has ever celebrated her birthday with her since her father passed. It would make her emotional.

Do they have neat or messy hand writing?

Her pen ship is messy, but Astarion teachers her and eventually it becomes very pretty and unique to her.

What are two emotions she feels the most?

Shame and apathy- this changes after joining the Tadfools and having more value assigned to her existence again, but she has very low self-esteem.

Does she have a favorite fabric?

Fluffy, alpaca fur and anything Astarion is wearing. She just loves how everything feels on him- the two are disgustingly in love and she is convinced he could wear sand paper and she would still love it.

What kind of accent do they have?

American Midwest- Colorado accent. Says mountain weird as hell. Astarion often teases her mispronunciation of some common everyday words, but he follows it up with a sweet kiss so she lets it slide.

[the-dixon-effect]

When you know, you know Part 2

A/N: originally this was supposed to be a one-shot but I don't blame people for wanting a part 2 as my dumbass left it so unfinished 😭 thank you so much for requesting a part 2 my lovelies hope you enjoy it, thank you sooo much for 100 followers, it warms my heart knowing that many people enjoy my work!

era: season 10, post-Whisperers

pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: none my lovelies enjoy <3

part 1

The air was thick and balmy. It took everything you had to deliberately focus on your surroundings, knowing that if you zoned out, just for a second, your mind would corrupt over with foggy thoughts of Daryl. And you couldn't do that to yourself, not when your interaction had been so bitter, so scathingly cold. So here you sat, leant forward in your armchair with your arms crossed over your knees. You unwittingly gritted your teeth as your right leg tapped up and down at an increasing pace. Perhaps it wasn't just the knowing, it was the feeling. The feeling that things between you would never go back to the way they were. The idea that the one person who filled your heart was now breaking it. And the loss was turning into longing, a longing that stretched you out and diluted all your senses. And then, you realised why every cell in your body was overcome with Daryl, why no distraction could ever tear you apart from the idea of him.

You were in love with him.

You were in love with Daryl Dixon. And you're idly sat at home in Alexandria while he's out God knows where for God knows how much longer. There's a good chance he's not gonna come back, right? Not to you, anyway. Not with the way you ended things. He's probably walking out as far as he can go, decidedly avoiding you and your romantic crisis till he can bring himself to end things entirely. No, no. You can't think like this, it's unhealthy, you decide.

You fidgeted, wondering if it was better for you to continue your daydreams or cease them completely. Eventually, you found ways to busy yourself in and around Alexandria, however, no amount of cooking, hunting, or rebuilding could shake the unwavering heartache.

~

Daryl drifted through the remote Virginian forests without paying much attention to the direction he was travelling in. Unbeknownst to you, he had been suffering from the very same distraction and unshakeable regret. He remembered something that you said, and replayed it over and over again in his mind.

"Daryl, I'm in love with you, come home and start a family with me,"

Your tone had been distant and sarcastic, in a cold way that Daryl couldn't quite decipher. What the hell did you mean? The regrets that lingered in his mind were now telling him that he should've never left you. Not for Leah, not for nobody. He began to imagine how different his life might have been if he had made the right choices instead of the wrong ones, that led him astray from his own happiness. Waking up to you every morning, the early sunlight falling on your face and framing your pretty features. Going out hunting together, bringing Dog, maybe starting a family of your own, just like you'd said. How much you meant it, however, he didn't know. He'd have you all to himself, every day, every night. Even though he had convinced himself that he had destroyed whatever was left of your friendship, the idea of you still seemed so close, so special.

That's what happens, when you realise you love someone. No matter what happens, no amount of separation or disagreement or heartache can tear you away from the person you love. Eventually, you just make it back to them. Every time. Because the forces that bring two people together are stronger than any other force that exists. Some might call it God, others call it fate. The only thing that Daryl knew, however, was that the force that pulled him back to you was magnetic, and he could avoid it no longer.

So he set on his way, dredging in a direction that he half-guessed would bring him home. He had no idea what he would say, how he would fix things, but his pure determination rivalled that of a warrior heading to war. He gritted his teeth and failed to notice how his footsteps, that were previously quiet, were now aggressive and sharp on the forest floor. His pace quickened, and his awareness of his surroundings - and what might be lurking behind them - dropped. His mind was full of you, and though he didn't know it, his soul was too.

~

Returning to your home in Alexandria after the sun disappeared behind the walls, you flopped onto a leather armchair and rolled your head back in a state of disappointment. Not much to be done, apart from actively ignoring the one thing on your mind. Maybe you should talk to someone? Aaron, Rosita? You know they'd cheer you up, but you didn't want to talk to them right now. You only wanted Daryl. If only he was here. If only you hadn't opened your mouth that day in the cabin. You closed your eyes instinctively as images of him flashed past your eyelids-

Two knocks. Who the hell is at your door at this time of night? You repeated the sound in your mind and tried to determine who it might be, not particularly keen on dealing with other people right. It was gentle, yet resolute. Approaching the front door, you hesitated before slowly twisting the cold door knob and pulling it open. The sight you were met with had you stunned in your own doorway.

There was silence for a long moment. Daryl's blue eyes never faltered away from your own as you faced him. For a moment your mind was blank, empty of any trace of conflict with the man on your doorstep. A part of you was glad to see him, a part of you wondered if this was just a dream, and another part of you was angry. Angry that he had the nerve to show up here so bluntly. Crossbow slung over his shoulder, he towered over you with an unreadable expression. If only he would speak, you thought.

"Hey," he began. The faint glow from your porch light radiated on his face. He was half-covered in dirt and blood, but you failed to notice. All you saw were his illuminated features framed by his chocolate bangs and slightly parted lips. You could tell he had something on his lips by the way his brows furrowed and his forehead creased.

"'M sorry," he drawled, stepping a little closer to you. This was genuine. You didn't feel threatened or upset, but you realised that perhaps he needed a wake-up call and a little time alone to understand his true feelings.

"I'm sorry too.." you said quietly, not wanting to disturb the established peace by speaking too loud. "I said too much stuff that I didn't mean,"

"It's okay. Think I needed ta' hear it," his pretty eyes were gazing deeply at you now, and you bit your lip discreetly. "'M sorry I never apologised. For leavin'. Should never have left in tha' first place,"

"Thank you... for saying that. I'm glad you're home. You're my best friend, Daryl," you said softly, allowing a smile to creep on your lips.

"Best friend?" suddenly you realised just how close he was standing to you.

You stared up at him, wondering what he meant by his question and unsure of how to respond.

"Yeah... right? Or.." in that moment you trusted your gut instinct and relied on some of the earlier things he had said. His eyes widened and after a moment of staring, you leant up on your tiptoes and brushed your hand along his jaw.

"Or what?" he asked, allowing your touch and smiling a little in a way you hadn't seen before.

"You tell me," At this, he leaned into you and embraced your lips so sweetly that you'd never guess it could be hardy Daryl Dixon. He kissed you with such tenderness and passion that you could only reciprocate by snaking your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in even closer. Daryl's lips on yours felt like ecstasy and he tasted like wildfire. Sweet, sweet fire, burning you up on the inside and out. Swirling cinnamon and summer rain, it's addictive, just like the nicotine you can taste on his tongue.

Then he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. "I need ya' to tell me," you are breathless, and have to wait a moment to think, let alone respond.

"Tell you what?" you spoke, eyes narrowing in a combination of bliss and confusion.

"That ya' forgive me. I can't.. I can't do this if ya' don't forgive me.. I- I love ya Y/N..." he whispered softly, breaking eye contact and looking down at his shoes. You wanted to be surprised, to take it all in, but you had imagined him saying those things to you for so long. "'M so sorry.."

"It's... I think it's alright. I forgive you, Daryl. And for what it's worth, I liked you first," you chuckled.

"Don't bullshit me," you both laughed before he pulled you into another sweet kiss under the moonlight. You silently sighed in relief, finally glad to have him back. Glad that your prayers didn't go unanswered, glad that your instincts were right, glad to be in love with Daryl Dixon.

[farewellneverland2004]

What Do You Mean We Met Him Before He Got Punted, MAME?!

I was today years old when I realized Gun was in ep 10 of LITA!

I can't believe it completely slipped my mind for nearly two years!

like, I remember this scene so well, yet I had no idea who these guys were! I just thought they were characters from another MAME book and just made a cameo for the novel readers! like those guys in at the end of ep 5!

Seriously though, remember those dudes?

It's so funny, they're given this badass slow-motion entrance with Chai, who did actually do things(a dude who absolutely slayed btw). only for them to have no part in the show and don't even SAY ANYTHING! They were even in the opening credits, and what do they do? NOTHING! I don't even know their names! lol!!! I thought I heard they were characters in another MAME book, but I don't even have that proof! So Who Are They!? LOL!!

Anyway, when I first watched ep 10, I thought Lord S*x Crimes and his little Wormtail were just throwaway characters to reference another novel. They had so little effect on me I didn't even remember their faces when they came back in ep 13. God! My PhayuRain Bias was so big, I didn't even bother paying attention to the characters around the PrapaiSky plot!

Looking back at it, I missed so many PrapaiSky plot-related details it's insane! Like I can see how even in the beginning, before we even know their deal, just how much Gun GENUINELY HATES Pai

Like, look at this psychopath narcissist, or whatever he is just barely mask his emotion and tone behind words of modesty.

The way he barely makes eye contact with him like the jealous b*tch he is with his arms crossed, like having to be respectful toward Prapai makes him want to jump off a cliff.

(and Prapai barely gives him enough recognition to point out the fact that he's lost to him before while putting on his pretty sh*t-eating grin like the lovable scamp he is. Then when they leave just completely wipes their conversation from his memory like I did two years ago. lol)

I may have not talked about this before, but I am very open about how Gun is an arrogant Dumbass who makes way too convoluted of plans to commit a second-second s*x crime against his ex, and idk, embarrass Prapai? like I said, he's everywhere and those goons of his should have thought twice before going along with his way too convoluted plan to get away with.

But regardless of his stupidity, which makes him even better to hate, he also fits so well with the MAME Trend of Antagonists committing bodily harm to people because they feel insecure and are put in place by objectively way more competent men.

Such great acting from the dude who plays Gun. You can feel how pathetic yet also how silently enraged this dude is. and I love to hate a Villian who doesn't say his hatred out loud, but instead gives you enough passive clues through body language etc, (even if its only noticed a second time around), just how much the protagonist gets on his nerves. Give this man more roles, cause he's so good!

But please tell me if you guys also forgot they were in ep 10, cause I think I'm the only one and I'm embarrassed!

[stuckyonbucky]

I finished Veilguard - I cried ya'll.

Feelings under the cut. Major spoilers.

The revelation about Varric fucking hit me hard. I'm a dumbass bitch and I didn't pick up on any hints at all until the very last second and then I broke down while Rook was remembering what actually happened at the ritual site. I'm not mad he died, I actually thought it was done so well. Of course I'm heartbroken but I'm ok with how that played out. I love Solas, and I am a Solas apologizer but in that moment when we talked to him and found out he was using blood magic to make us believe Varric had been alive the whole time - I felt betrayed. Again. Because I already felt betrayed that he tricked us to get out of the fade prison. I never learn when it comes to him but I was so mad at him in that moment I really wanted to say fuck you - you aren't walking away from this alive.

I'm still mulling over the bit that happens after you kill Elgar'nan. I managed to convince him to be the anchor to keep the veil in place which I'm sure is the best possible outcome of everything but I was hoping for a little more between Solas and my Trevelyan Inquisitor. I know I had 10 years to build it up in my mind and I don't think they would have ever been able to fully satisfy me, and I feel like what is there is a good foundation for me to just add on a little bit extra in my head to build it out, but I dunno it just felt like it went by so fast. If there could have just been a few extra lines of dialogue between them, letting the Inquisitor touch him in some way, hug him dammit, something.

I know it all still needs to settle. I need to play the game again where I'm not eager to get to the end of the story so I know how it plays out. But fuck me if it's not going to hurt every time I replay.

I definitely have some criticisms and I feel like this is going to be a very divisive game. But I got that secret after credits ending which had me going WTF? and I'm sure is the set up for future games.

[destinygoldenstar]

🍀Welcome To My Daily Life🍀 - Total Drama Viewer Reacts to Disventure Camp Season 2 Episode 2 “Open Your Eyes”

I'm back. After... how many days since I reacted to the premiere?

I was preoccupied with a lot of stuff, okay?

I'm just gonna jump right into this.

What are they eating??

Chef isn't here. They don't have to eat that slop.

Is Nina also that bad of a cook-

No cause she made pumpkin bread the last episode-

What. What. WHAT IS THAT.

"Well, it took me a bit. In general I find it hard to fall asleep."

BRUH. SAME. OH MY GOD.

You wanna know how bad my sleeping disorder is?!

I'm getting it checked out so you know. STILL.

"Tell me a little about yourself."

"There is nothing interesting to know about me."

Okay then. 10/10 characterization. She is NOTHING.

"I have a card game that has several questions when you're getting to know someone."

Aw. That's actually sweet.

For a second I thought he just wanted to get in her pants.

"But believe me, at the end of this, we won't be friends."

Im sorry, I can't focus on this so well. THE MUSIC IS BLARING IN THIS SCENE.

I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING AT THE EPIC MUSIC PLAYING IN THIS SOLEMN SCENE XD

"HEYO WHO'S IPOD IS BLASTING IN THE MESS HALL RIGHT NOW?! TURN IT DOWN, I'M TRYING TO TALK TO A GIRL!!!"

"Since I published our photo together, you have gained a thousand followers!"

Pretty sure that's not how that works...

WAIT, I'M SORRY, YOU'RE STALKING THIS GUY'S SOCIAL MEDIA?!

"You're welcome. Its what friends do."

WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT HIM LIKE THAT?! STOP IT.

"Now come here so we can get a photo of a kiss. You'd gain a million! HASHTAG LOOK AT THIS CUTE BOY I FOUND!"

What's his name? *looks back* Aiden?

Aiden, you have my permission TO CALL THE POLICE.

"After all, we are the only guys on our team."

Are you?

Oh yeah you are! Well then.

"Oh and don't forget to finish your breakfast. Hunger can cause sleep deprivation."

Well that's subtle.

So you're gonna starve them to sleep?

"I want to do my best to look like a professional host on camera."

Aren't you an executive? Or did I read that wrong?

"I feel I get a little excited at times, and I end up saying inappropriate things."

GIRL, I FEEL YA.

"One of the reasons I let you stay here is that seeing a poor and pathetic intern so humiliated and worn out every day will help me remember what not to do to others."

Okay then...

"It's just really hard not to be a sociopath, you know?"

"I don't want to lose my humanity just to get some ratings."

You sound A LOT like you've met Chris McLean in your life.

I get it. He's iconic, but he's also a sociopath.

So it's the Awake-A-Thon.

That challenge is EVIL.

I would NEVER win it.

"This challenge has been done before."

*chokes*

WAIT THEY KNOW?!?!?!?! THEY'RE AWARE?!?!?!?!?!?

WAIT, TOTAL DRAMA IS CANON?!?!?!?

I mean, Total Drama fanfiction, but...

IT'S IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS TOTAL DRAMA?!?!?!?!

I'm only JUST NOW realizing that, TWO SEASONS IN.

I'm a dumbass...

Hang on. Let me get the time cards out...

"Hey girls, what sign are you?"

Ooh, girlie bonding!

I'm not saying mine on the Internet btw. Don't ask.

"I think it's cancer, I'm not really sure..."

You do read me as a cancer.

"Do you believe in that astrology thing?"

"It's not that I believe blindly, it's just that I like the idea of cheering people up. I always read the horoscope and try to embrace the most positive message."

Awwwwwww, I like her. She's an astrology queenie.

"Do you want me to read what the stars say about you?"

"It says... 'you are plagued with bad luck for the rest of your days, better luck next time.' Well... ain't that lovely...😅"

"If the girls are that close, it means that they will vote together."

You have not seen Total Drama. The girlies NEVER vote together.

"How about you try to talk to her about it?"

"Um, WHY ME?!"

"Because if she, say, KILLS YOU, I won't get caught in the crossfire, and better you than me. Tee hee."

"Okay. I'll try that later."

*Gets a Wawa Ad*

XD

I GUESS AIDEN AND KAROL ARE TALKING ABOUT IT BY GETTING WAWA PIZZA.

HEYO, IS THAT ALLOWED?!

That seems like cheating. You got a screen blaring in your eyes.

"All good. Playing Smash Bros."

Very nice. What's your main?

(I'm a Samus main in case you're curious. Basic, I know.)

"I'd let you play if you wanted, but the last time I lent someone my console it ended up breaking."

Oh yeah XD

"I follow your Twitch Channel."

Oh, so she has a gaming career. Gotcha.

"How many consoles did you bring with you?"

"Not enough."

"Not enough" Proceeds to pull out yet ANOTHER Switch.

Girl... you're not normal.

"Greetings partner of the mystical journey called life."

OH GOD I FORGOT ABOUT HOW BAD THIS GUY'S VOICE IS...

(No hate to the VA)

"I felt some pretty erratic vibes coming from you."

Erratic?!

I don't think you'd want to say that to someone. Maybe that's just me.

Where the hell did this crush some from?

They didn't talk ONCE last episode.

*Add that to the Total Drama Crackship List*

That contains of four categories.

Crack Ships.

Toxic Ships.

Other... Decent Ships.

And then Tom and Jake in their own little corner. ❤️ DON'T ASK WHY. THAT'S JUST HOW IT IS.

TOTAL DRAMA IS SHIPPING HELL.

"Kai, the team is gathered on this side. What were you doing with the Orange Team?"

WHO SAID THAT?!

"I hope you're not thinking of betraying our team."

HOW WOULD HE DO THAT?! HOW WOULD THAT BENEFIT HIM AT ALL?

"Betrayal is a pretty negative word."

"You have to be loyal to the team or we will eliminate you!"

Um, EXCUSE ME, ARE YOU HOLDING THE TEAM TOGETHER?!

NO? DIDN'T THINK SO. YOU'RE TOO BUSY BEING AN ASS TO EVERYONE.

"Dude, we can't be eliminated on this plain."

XD

Okay that was good XD

"Don't you DARE talk to me like that!"

About what?

YOU'RE A BRAT.

"Attention everyone! Kai is making alliances with the other team!"

AND NOW YOU'RE GONNA TATTLE ABOUT NOTHING.

Oh my god this guy is WHINY...

Ellie's probably watching this at home, like "Oh wow... I feel like I should apologize to Jake."

"Uh... it's fine with me."

"Don't look at me. I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative."

I love that they don't care.

"Just look at his junkie face! You know he can't be trusted!"

Oh my god...

He sounds like a Twitter user.

When your side of the argument doesn't get through to people as the objective fact that it obviously is, what do you do? THROW INSULTS AND ACCUSATIONS. THAT'LL SHOW THEM.

"If you don't agree with me, you're *CENSORED*"

"No man, I don't do drugs... too much..."

WHAT THE HELL?!

THE FACT THAT YOU DO DRUGS AT ALL.

"And you Yul, stop being so prejudice and whiny! Next time you want to judge someone based on their looks, do yourself a favor and say nothing!"

👏

FACTS

"I wanted to yell at him for talking to me like that, but I couldn't utter the words out of my mouth..."

Yeah I hope you get booted first from this team now.

"It's clear that Yul exaggerates and behaves like a spoiled child, but I don't want to get in trouble with anyone. Being here means a lot to me, and I don't want anything to ruin it."

Fair. I would do the same thing.

"I've never felt so out of place before somewhere."

"In the last few days, I've noticed things I hadn't noticed before."

Dude is really that insecure about his age. I get it.

He and Miriam should be besties.

"I've spent my whole life in India, trying to get my acting career off the ground. Now I'm on the other side of the world, alone in unknown territory. I feel like I'm on another planet."

"How did you do it?"

"Just trying to be myself. Because pretending to be someone else will only make people never know the real you."

Yep. Trust me, I know that.

And yet where I grew up, pretending to be someone other than yourself was 'THE COOL' thing to do, and you get a lot more respect by being someone that isn't yourself.

So sad that's how the world is.

She's interesting. I like her.

And yes, I still stand by my claim that SHE IS GORGEOUS.

Oh wow we've fast forwarded through everything, didn't we?

"I have these cards to get to know a person better."

Oh, he's actually legit about it.

This guy is so bad at socializing, holy gosh... XD

It's kinda sweet though.

ARE YOU MENDING A CROCODILE?!?!?!?!?

EYO, WHAT?!?!?

"You're good at this game."

*Cough* She got three votes last time. *Cough*

"I get along well with animals. We understand each other better."

"Have you been getting along with everyone?"

What do you think?

"I think most people don't get too close because of my character."

Yeah, cause you've been a KAREN the past episode.

"Hey James, it seems that... oh..."

XD

"GODDAMMIT, I LEAVE YOU FOR TWO SECONDS AND YOU BAIL ON ME. SOME FAKE BOYFRIEND."

"How are you guys doing?"

"We're fine."

They're fine XD

"Nah I do these kinds of shifts every day. You know. You guys aren't on your phone at four in the morning?"

"No we don't need a doctor, what are you talking about?"

"I could do this all day."

*Gets an Oreo Ad*

OVER OREOS, BABYYYYYYYYY

"I'm starting to feel my eyes getting really heavy..."

First time?

"Do you like to dance? Let's dance."

WHAT? XD

That's out of nowhere.

"I don't know if I'm gonna make it..."

"DANCE."

We're actually doing this XD

I mean does it work?

No.

He died.

Sure. Why not.

I don't hate either, so go ahead.

"He already has experience enduring sleep. Right Oliver?"

He's dying.

"Yes Mr McLean, bread and water is fine..."

He's hallucinating Total Drama. Oh no.

"I brought you a drink so you can hydrate a little."

It's poison. Bet right now.

"You haven't eaten anything for many hours."

WAIT WHOA WHAT-

HANG ON. YOU'RE STARVING THEM?! HELLO?!?!

Or am I hearing that wrong?

"Good. I'm starving."

No I heard that right.

That's more sick than anything else.

"Did I forget to mention that those juices also have strong sleeping pills?"

AND THERE IT IS. POISON.

Also, you DRUGGED THEM. YOU'RE SICK.

"How dare you drug us without our consent!"

And now I agree with her.

"I went too far?"

"No Miss Crystal. It won't hurt them."

THEY DIE.

THEY DIED.

YOU KILLED THEM.

"I'm between Karol and James. What do you think?"

Yeah. Saw that coming.

"I would vote for James. He always leaves his underwear on the floor."

NO WAY, CAN HE AND HAROLD BE FRIENDS?

"She also wants to eliminate one of the girls."

So we're even. Cool.

"Great. That's all I needed to hear."

I don't like how he said that.

What are you planning?

HEY. HEY DON'T WALK AWAY SUS. GET BACK HERE.

...lady, honestly, you freak me out too.

YOU SHOULD NOT BE AROUND THESE THINGS.

"There's something you need to know."

"What are you doing?!"

I'M WITH HIM. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. YOU HAVE A TIE SET.

"Karol proposed to Aiden to vote for one of you."

OKAY WAIT, WHAT?

So... girls alliance. You caught onto that.

So your plan is to persuade them to boot Karol? Your ONLY shot at evening those numbers???

THAT DOESN'T BENEFIT YOU AT ALL.

"I didn't tell everyone!"

YEAH. WHO IS 'EVERYONE'?

EVERYONE ON THIS TEAM, WHO ONLY JUST NOW HEARD IT FROM JAMES.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!

I mean, I don't care about Karol. But DEAR GOD...

"She cannot be trusted."

"YOU can't be trusted."

Honestly, get James out, Aiden. Do it.

He stalks you, he uses you, he lies to you, and he has NO CONSENT.

Get him out and CALL THE POLICE.

"Would a friend have used me that way?! You could've at least told me what you were going to do!"

EXACTLY.

"Look, I know it looks wrong now, but it was the right thing to do."

NO IT WAS NOT.

"I didn't have to let her down like that."

You DIDN'T. THAT'S THE THING.

"Also, how would it benefit us if Karol is eliminated?"

THANK YOU.

THIS MAN IS SPEAKING STRAIGHT FACTS.

"Right now, Lake, Rosa, and Maggy are together. It's only a matter of time before Karol joins them."

EVEN THEN, YOU'RE OUTNUMBERED.

"We could try to do something together with Karol!"

WORDS OUT OF MY MOUTH.

"You may not understand now, but you'll thank me later."

NO. YOU TELL ME NOW.

I WANT AN EXPLANATION AND I WANT IT NOOOOWWW

Poor Aiden. Seriously.

Apparently you have two brain cells.

JAMES outed you. Not him!

I SUPPORT THIS ONE.

GET THIS STALKING MANIPULATIVE ASSHOLE OUT.

'AIDEN'

'JAMES'

Get em out.

'KAROL'

Yeah. This is predictable.

'KAROL'

Dang. Didn't even need to read all of them.

"I hope you leave soon, Aiden! You are a traitor!"

🙄

I mean... at least you're happy I guess.

That was Episode 2.

I don't get James's plan. I don't. Why are you like this??

And now Aiden is against you? You screwed yourself.

I would pay the "Pick a Best Girl/Best Boy" game again, but uh... most of the boys here, at least so far, are kinda ass.

I support Aiden wanting James out though.

I don't care about Karol, or her weird... habits... but I expected her to be a lot more annoying than she was.

So... yeah. If you guys want me to continue these reactions, be sure to let me know. I'm willing to continue this show.

[dragynkeep]

v7/v8 made me dislike ruby a lot but v9 made me really side with her. i've been in her shoes, with having to put on a strong happy face for everyone because their problems always seem to be bigger than mine.

but to see yang walk ahead of blake to shield her from ruby really broke me. like?? do you not know your own sister?? do you genuinely think she'd harm her own teammate??

blake doesn’t need protection, and it’s weird how yang tries to shield her like ruby is about to hurt her. i get bumbleby's whole thing is "we're protecting each other"

but that doesn't mean go and protect blake (who has shown she can hold her own in a verbal argument anyway) against your own sister, yang!

sorry for the rant, i just am in shock that this was written and executed this way with no one thinking of how ruby would feel from this. ruby was somehow more effected by jaune's rant (which, while valid, doesn't change the fact that jaune basically held a whole town hostage for 10-20 years) than by yang shielding blake.

I really hate that scene because it just makes WBY look like clueless idiots who don't know how to actually care about other people's feelings beyond their own.

And it's worse because they SHOWED they could in the past volumes! Weiss is constantly aware of other people around her; she comforted Yang and listened in V5 when she cried about Blake abandoning them and was the only one in V9 to actually ask Ruby about Penny.

Blake saw that Ruby was stressed in V8 and tried to pick her up by admitting that she looked up to her, that she believed in Ruby and that their plan will work. Which while might've fed into Ruby's anxiety over everyone looking up to her and expecting so much from her, but it was still Blake understanding that Ruby was struggling and trying to pick her up however she could.

And Yang literally ran after her last Volume, literally one/two days prior to the events of V9, and hugged her while she cried over realising that her dead mother might not actually be dead and might even be a monster like the one she just killed.

But now they're suddenly so fucking oblivious it hurts, and it's worse because Yang is meant to be Ruby's overprotective sister. What kind of sister, who already showed that she can pick up when her sibling is struggling, now suddenly doesn't care and walks off to flirt with another girl?

What kind of sister steps in front of said girl to glare at her sister while she's clearly having a breakdown and doesn't even move when the older man is screaming at said sister not five seconds later while she's crying?

The next episode made it even worse by having Yang angry at Ruby for screaming at them and running away, with Weiss practically having to spell it out for her dumbass.

Weiss and Blake annoyed me with how shit they are as a friend, but Weiss at least tried to talk to Ruby about Penny, more than just asking if she was okay and accepting her brushing them off, and Blake just isn't Ruby's friend, those two have not developed any sort of believable relationship for these past nine volumes.

But Yang is a terrible sister, and Yang stans that project too much onto her need to accept that. She is not a good sister, and it isn't even her relationship with Blake that solely ruined it, it's the inability of the writers to remember that Yang was supposed to be Ruby's sister, not her teammate.

[tohrules]

harrison x Neil headcannons

1 Harrison will leave flowers for Neil everywhere with 0 explanation. Neil wants to do a lab well his beakers all have dandelions in them. Neil is sure this is a prank.

---

2. Harrison will just find ways to be around Neil when upset. Especially if he fights with nerris or preston.neil finds it annoying at forst but eventually (secretly) loves it

---

3. Harrison was so shocked when Neil said happy birthday to him that he almost cried. Neil thought he had done something wrong so left while Harrison was just so glad someone cared enough to remember.

---

4.neil had asked harrison to grab things for him and Harrison always will this has led to situations like

"Harrison can you hand be that beaker?" Neil points to a beaker that is currently over a flame and has been for a while and is definitely to hot for most people to hold.

"sure" Harrison grabs it with his bear hands and just walks over putting it where Neil tells him while Neil just stares because Harrison is a dumbass and forgot most people would be burned by that

---

5.neil just leans into Harrison when Harrison is scared. Not because he's scared too but because Harrison likes to cling to people to help himself feel safe and Neil wants Harrison to cling to him.

---

6. Garrisons parents actually adore Neil and find him amazing. Neil fucking hates Harrison's parents and thinks they deserve death for treating Harrison how they have though this doesn't come out till their much older.

---

7. Harrison will info dump while Neil is working and has explained the same thing to Neil 3 times. Neil doesn't care and likes the background noise so tell him again about posidons lovers he has to finish a project

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8.nerris made about 50 bi jokes to Neil regarding harrison before Neil realized they were trying to be Harrison's wingman. Neil decided not to mention him and Harrison dating because Harrison blushing in embarrassment is kinda adorable.

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9. Harrison sleeps better with Neil just in the room. He says it's just a phycology thing if anyone else asks but in al reality they both know it's because Neil with play with his hair if he's having a bad freak and hold him gently till he's ok again.

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10. This interaction has happened repeatedly

Harrison to tiers to talk: ra!

Neil: what?

Harrions doing grabby hands: ra!

Neil who hasn't slept in 3 night and knows it he cuddles with Harrison he will fall asleep: but-

Harrison who just wants his bf to nap and is to tiwrd to lecture: ra. Ra!

Neil thinking he's found a way to win: words hair

Harrison about 2 seconds from dragging Neil to bed: get over here and cuddle me before I chain you down to a bed and leave you there until you take a fucking nap.

Neil who wasn't expecting Harrison to talk: fine fine I'll take a nap hari

Harrison now ready to nap with his bf: yay!