#im not good with wording my feelings or thoughts

[moontabi]

MELTED KISSES

kwon jiyong x fem! reader

summary: you made a promise to your best friend seunghyun to join him on his long-awaited summer vacation after years of urging you to meet his friends. unfortunately for you, you find yourself in the company of one of those friends, jiyong, who isn't exactly thrilled about your arrival. that is, until, well, you’re receiving a drunk call or sharing an ice pop with him on a particularly hot day.

warnings: 18+ content ahead including pet names, dirty talk, masturbation, phone sex, cunnalingus, temperature/cold play, unconventional use of a popsicle, light choking, unprotected sex. enemies to situationship (?)

a/n: first fic im uploading to tumblr! with summer around the corner i wanted to kickstart my page with some good ol jiyong smut, expect more to come :) i was inspired by @loveesiren’s ‘cross my heart’ series when writing this ♡ go read if you haven’t its incredible!

You’re seated comfortably in the passenger seat of Seunghyun's car as he navigates the serpentine coastal road. The soft tunes from the radio create a warm atmosphere, and every so often, Seunghyun glances at you, his smile wide and full of anticipation.

You watch as the scenery changes from the lively city to peaceful beach town, the salty air flowing through the open windows. After years of his persistent begging, you finally agreed to join Seunghyun on his annual summer getaway.

You can't help but think about what this summer will bring. After hearing countless stories from Seunghyun over the years, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbles within you as you ponder whether you'll truly belong there or not.

"Hey, Tabi?" you call out, using Seunghyun's nickname. "Yeah?" he replies, the sun glinting off of his sunglasses. You exhale deeply, contemplating whether to voice the concern that's been lingering in your thoughts. "Do you really think this is a good idea? "Me going on vacation with all your friends like this?"

Seunghyun's brows knit together as he considers your question, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

“What do you mean? You're my best friend; it’s definitely a good idea for you to join me."

He pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “Unless…"

You raise an eyebrow at him, curious about how he’ll finish that thought.

"Unless what?"

Seunghyun stretches his free arm around your seat, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Unless you're worried about being alone with me for almost 2 months,” he says playfully.

You shrug his arm off, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks. “Not at all! We’re not teenagers anymore. I can handle myself, you know, and I don’t need you fussing over me the entire trip."

Seunghyun’s lips curl into a grin. "I know, you’re amazing, really.”

A soft smile passes your lips, knowing that this trip will undoubtedly deepen your bond with Seunghyun. Plus, you'll finally have the opportunity to meet his friends properly.

"I’m really looking forward to meeting your friends, Seunghyun." You can see that he's genuinely happy at your words, his expression brightening up considerably. "You'll love them, I promise.”

The rest of the car ride passes in comfortable silence with occasional small talk. Eventually, Seunghyun steers into the expansive driveway of a stunning beach house that seems to have sprung from a dream. With endless ocean waves and golden sands stretching behind it, the scene is mesmerizing.

Just as you begin to take in more of the surrounding area, you see three guys chatting and laughing outside the house. In an instant, you're out of the car, enveloped in tight hugs from Seunghyun's friends, Daesung and Youngbae, who happily share how much they've heard about you from Seunghyun.

As the conversation settles down, you look around the area, your eyes eventually settling on the last of the trio—Jiyong. Seunghyun had often spoke of him, blending his admiration with a hint of caution. "Jiyong's my closest friend, but he can be closed off. Don’t take his attitude personally," he had warned with a small smile.

Jiyong stands a bit away from the others, his dark hair falling over his face while he chats with Seunghyun. A cigarette is held between his fingers, and you notice him take a drag, tilting his head to reveal an angel tattoo at the nape of his neck. His arms and legs are adorned with intricate designs; you can’t deny it makes him look incredibly good, especially coupled with his intense gaze, full lips, and well-defined nose, making him even more appealing.

You realize you’re staring a bit too long when he suddenly catches your eye, his expression one of indifference. With a disinterested glance, he turns back to Seunghyun, and they begin to approach. You quickly shake off your thoughts, diverting your gaze away from him.

Jiyong's expression is icy and detached, showing no interest in your presence. In contrast, Seunghyun beams at you warmly. "Jiyong, this is Y/n; Y/n, this is Jiyong.”

You offer a friendly smile to Jiyong. "It's great to finally meet you."

He responds with a brief nod, his lips forming a tight line.

Well, that felt a bit dismissive.

You choose to overlook the way he scrutinizes you, as if you’re beneath his notice. When he finally speaks, his voice is flat. “Ive got somewhere to be," he mumbles, tossing his cigarette into the sand and crushing it under his sandal before walking off without a second glance.

Seunghyun gives you an apologetic shrug. "He’ll come around; he was the same with me once, believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe it," you reply with a hint of annoyance, while Youngbae offers a reassuring hand on your back. "Don’t let him bother you."

“Let’s unpack and hit the beach!" Daesung exclaims. You manage a half-smile and nod. Aside from Jiyong, you’re definitely looking forward to spending time here.

A couple of weeks have passed, and you've gotten used to living with Seunghyun and the others. Yet, Jiyong's behavior had only deteriorated—whether it's the disdainful looks, the cold shoulder, or the random fights you’d end up having. It felt like there was no way to win with him, and it bugged you even more that you couldn't understand why he hated you so much.

Your patience was wearing thin as your anger towards him continued to grow. But as unbearable as he was, you refused to let it distract you from the beautiful ocean or the late-night bonfires, or the tanning in the sun, or just the sheer happiness this place brought you. You felt a deep sense of gratitude towards Seunghyun for bringing you along.

As night approached, the heat lingered, a constant companion in this paradise, but you relished it. The boys had ventured off to some party one of the other houses was throwing, leaving you to enjoy some well-deserved solitude.

You were starting to get tired, now changing into a pair of low-cut shorts and a loose tank. You settle into bed. Honestly, you were kind of disappointed you didn’t go with them. Don’t get me wrong, alone time was needed, but now that you lay alone in bed, you were missing the lively atmosphere of the boys.

Almost on cue, your cell phone rings. You turn your phone over to see who it was: a random number. You usually didn't answer those, but the location matching made you think it could've been Seunghyun calling from a different number.

So you brought it to your ear after clicking answer.

“Hello?”

A few seconds of silence passed before the sound of muffled movement finally followed. When the movement ceased, you heard the sound of slow breathing.

"Helloooo," you drawled, already annoyed and about to hang up when a familiar voice stopped you.

"Why are you awake?"

You immediately shot up. The voice was undeniably similar to a certain, dark-haired, temperamental man you hated.

It was Jiyong.

"Jiyong?”

Silence again.

"How did you get my number?"

His voice, just above a whisper, low and raspy, he said, "Answer my question first, and I'll answer yours."

You could feel an eye roll coming on.

So annoying.

The words threatened to escape your lips, but you just sighed instead.

You leaned back against your headboard in defeat. Deciding to make this quick, you obliged.

"Well, I was asleep until some random number rudely woke me up." You lied.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you heard more muffled movement. It sounded like he was undressing. You waited silently for a response—preferably an apology with an explanation.

You could’ve easily hung up, not played whatever game Jiyong had up his sleeve this time, but

You made an excuse in your head that you just wanted the name of the person who gave him your number so you could finally hang up, block him, and deal with whoever was responsible in the morning. Your guess is it was probably Daesung…maybe even Seunghyun.

"Liar."

His low, rumbling voice gave you goosebumps. The sound of a belt buckle clicking open in the background made your eyes snap open. The image of him most likely sprawled out on some random surface, hair dishevelled, shirt discarded on the floor, and hands fumbling with his belt flashed across your mind. causing a slight red tint to appear on your cheeks.

Your voice wavers slightly as you manage to utter the words, "I'm sorry?" Your hand tightens around your thigh, your fingers digging into the soft flesh as you try to calm your beating heart.

A slow smile spreads across Jiyong’s face, and he speaks in a low purr. “You're blushing, aren't you? Even now, when I can't see your face, you can't hide it.” His voice dripped with smugness, a tone you've come to dislike over the short time you’ve known him. But there was a new edge to it, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You’re dreaming," you snap back, your voice barely above a whisper. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

He sighs dramatically, his voice laced with fake irritation. "Fine, be that way. But just know that I'm over here tormenting myself with images of how I could've been teasing you.”

He pauses for a moment, and you hear a soft groan. "If only I hadn't been dragged to that fucking party, I could've been wrapping my hand around your throat, telling you all the things I hate about you while I kiss you stupid."

You grip the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white, and press your thighs together, trying to ignore the warmth that has begun to pool between them. “You’re drunk,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He lets out a harsh laugh. "Drunk? Maybe. But I meant what I said. If I weren't so fucked up right now, I'd be there to make it happen, dollface."

You swallow hard, your mind racing with images of him doing just that. "Ji…” you breathe out, your voice barely a whisper. "And you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” You hear a rustle of fabric and a grunt. "Don't tell me you're not imagining it too.”

You bite your lip, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Jiyong, what's that sound?" You ask breathlessly as you hold the phone to your ear.

The grunt turns into a low, desperate moan, and the rustling of fabric grows louder, more frantic. A warm flush spreads across your cheeks as the realization hits you like a punch to the gut. "Y/n..." he moans again, his voice strained.

You put two and two together, making the realization that he's clearly jerking off to the thought of you, his voice thick with need and frustration. He bites out each word between moans, "Fuck, I'm imagining your face right now, scowling at me... God, you're so fucking cute when you're angry. Makes me want to piss you off some more-“

His hand moves faster, his breathing growing ragged.

“And your goddamn body princess…you have no idea how many times I've pictured those curves under me while I'm being an asshole to you.” He pauses, letting out a sharp hiss.

You sit there with your heart in your throat, moving the phone pressed to your ear onto your mattress, you turn on speaker, his heavy breathing and moans now filling the room. You can feel the warmth between your thighs growing as you imagine him.

"Spread your legs for me?" he slurrs again.

You slowly spread your legs, feeling the cool air hit your clothed center.

He swallows hard, waiting for your response. His brain barely functioning as his hand works his length. "Answer me," he growls softly, "Did you spread those pretty thighs for me?"

You bite your lip, your back arching slightly as you spread your legs wider.

“Y-yes.”

You hear him groan loudly, his voice strained as he realizes you've complied. "Fuck, yes. Just like that." He pumps his hand faster, his breath coming out in short huffs. "Now, reach down and rub your pussy f’me."

You hesitantly bring your fingers down and dip them into your shorts to cup yourself through your thin cotton panties. You let out a soft whimper as you feel how wet you are.

Jiyong hears you moan and starts to lose his composure, his head dropping onto his shoulder. His hand moves with a clumsy urgency.

"Are you touching yourself, baby?" He waits for your response, his thumb rubbing over the head of his dick, spreading his pre-cum.

You whimper softly into the phone, "Mmhm,” You answer honestly, your fingers twitching against your soaked panties. 

What would Seunghyun think of you fooling around with one of his friends like this? Deep down, you know it's not right and yet, you're touching yourself desperately, loving every filthy word that's falling from his lips. 

“We shouldn't be doing this," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of his heavy breathing. Yet, even as you say it, you press harder against your clit.

He lets out a dark chuckle, knowing exactly why you're saying those words - because it feels too good to stop. 

“Then why are your fingers still moving?” He rasps, "Why aren't you hanging up?”

You decide to ignore his question. Instead you finally move your hand into your panties to rub your raw heat more intensely. “Just s-shut up and keep going,” you beg. 

His voice is low and husky, filled with a dark satisfaction. "So easily reduced, from all those comebacks to just needy little whimpers."

Your chest heaves with ragged breaths as you frantically rub your clit, your fingers sliding easily through your soaking-wet folds. You can hear Jiyong's heavy panting at the other end of the line, his hand moving just as quickly.

You're both almost there, your bodies trembling with the need for release.

"Jiyong...m so close..." you gasp.

His voice is strained and desperate as he tries to hold back his own release. "Fuck, I can hear it in your voice...You're right there, fall apart for me baby.” He groans loudly, his hand moving blurily fast.

Your back arches sharply as your fingers swirl rapidly over your sensitive clit.

You're right on the edge, your panties twisted to the side. —one more touch, one more dirty word from him.

Thats when you hear him.

"Be a good girl and cum with me.”

With a final, desperate cry, you shatter.

Your body convulses with pleasure as waves of ecstasy wash over you. Your fingers continue to move in slow circles, drawing out your release.

On the other end of the line, you hear Jiyong’s dragged out moan of your name, his own orgasm ripping through him.

After what felt like a few minutes, You finish catching your breath, your post-orgasm fog clearing.

You lick your lips, tasting your own sweat.

“Jiyong?" You wait, hearing nothing but soft breathing.

He fucking fell asleep...

Your mouth twitches, unamused.

“Asshole." You mutter, finally hanging up.

You feel sensitive all over and with it comes a sharp pang of reality.

With a heavy sigh, you toss your phone aside and lay back on your bed. Your body is still warm, still tingling.

But your heart feels cold.

Rising from your spot outside, the sun begins to set, the sky glows orange and pink as you pull the screen door and walk yourself into the kitchen with sweat trickling down your neck from being in the hot summer sun. your taste buds were craving something sweet to cap off the blazing hot day.

You fling open the freezer door, reaching into the box of fruity ice pops, only to be met with the bitter disappointment of an empty ice cream box. You huff in frustration and grip the empty box tightly in your hand. Jiyong is perched on the windowsill, his lengthy frame silhouetted against the vibrant sunset, wearing only a pair of black board shorts.

Of course he was here.

Especially when you were desperately trying to erase the memory of that phone call from last night. You attempted to hide how your body shuddered at the thought of it.

It was a mistake; he was drunk and he probably doesn’t even remember it.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, he loudly sucks on a juicy red popsicle, his lips plump and pink, and his expression unreadable.

There was no stopping you from stomping over to him as you felt your blood run cold. You didn’t know if it was because you wanted the sweet dessert he was taunting you with or because you were trying to convince yourself that last night didn’t affect you.

Your face scrunches up in frustration. His eyes lazily drift over to you, the cold treat dangling as he takes in your irritated expression. "Out of ice cream already?" he drawls, his voice dripping with mock pity.

"What a shame."

Your eyes dart from his face to the half-eaten popsicle, then back again. "You're the one who ate the last one and didn't even bother to throw the empty box away," you accuse, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jiyong smirks infuriatingly, licking the melting droplets off the popsicle. "If you'd spent less time complaining and more time checking the freezer, you wouldn't be empty-handed now.”

Heat rises to your face at his words. "That doesn't change the fact that there's none left!" you exclaim, gesturing at the box again.

“Too bad you didn't think ahead, huh?” Jiyong says, taking a particularly slow lick as he watches your reaction. He grins at the annoyance in your eyes.

Was he seriously enjoying teasing you like this?

Your expression sours even more, and you can't help but bite down on the inside of your cheek, choosing not to respond and give him exactly what he wants.

He pushes it between his lips again, his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on it. He slowly pulls it out with a 'pop.'

“You know, if you really want a taste, you could always…” Jiyong trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before flicking back up to meet your eyes. “You could always come over here and take it from me.”

You feel your ears burn at his suggestive tone. You know he's fucking with you, but there's something in his eyes that makes your heart race. You stand there for a moment, torn between wanting to smack that smug smile off his face or give in and take what he's offering.

His smirk grows wider, resting one hand on his knee as he tilts his head to the side, the popsicle still held between his fingers. "Go on, princess.”

You didnt wanna admit how wet that made you. You forced yourself to stay in place.

Yet he continued to spur you on relentlessly, “Yell at me again," He licks the popsicle slowly, watching your expression darken. "Call me an asshole," He mumbles around the treat, smirking when you grit your teeth.

“Take what you want-”

You finally lunge at him, trying to snatch the popsicle from his hand. Jiyong anticipates your move and grabs your wrist mid-air, using your momentum to tug you towards him.

You stumble forward, landing abruptly in his lap. His other hand wraps around your waist, holding you firmly against him.

“Let go!” you try to pull away, but his hand around your hip keeps you trapped in his lap.

After some back and forth you stop struggling, your breath hitching as you look into his intense eyes. The popsicle briefly forgotten between his fingers, he mirrors your heavy breathing. You part your lips slightly without meaning to.

His gaze drops to your parted lips, his own parting as he swallows hard. The air between you crackles with tension. Slowly and deliberately, he leans in. His free hand moves from your hip to tangle in your hair, pulling you into a deep, claiming kiss.

The kiss is intense, his tongue immediately invading your mouth with all teeth and tongue. You melt against him, His lips taste like the sweet, artificial flavor of the popsicle, the cold stickiness smeared between your mouths.

You feel intoxicated, not just by the sugary sweetness but by him. He pulls away abruptly, leaving you panting and disoriented.

Did you really just kiss him?

The guy you swore you couldn't stand, the guy you shamefully had drunken phone sex with. The very same man you assumed had no interest in you, last night you convinced yourself it was him just trying to get his dick wet, that you were his only option.

But now, in a moment of clarity, he was genuinely kissing you, and you found yourself yearning for more of his sweet cherry lips.

He looks at you with satisfaction, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He brings the now-melted popsicle up to your lips, the sticky residue glistening on the tip. "Here," he says, his voice husky. "You wanted a taste."

You hesitate for a moment before tentatively sucking the melted popsicle into your lips. The sweet, icy liquid fills your mouth, mingling with the taste of him. He watches, his eyes darkening with approval.

He suddenly lifts you off his lap, his strong hands gripping your waist as he stands you up. In one fluid motion, he shifts positions, lowering himself to his knees in front of you. His hands remain on your hips, holding you steady as he looks up at you with dark eyes.

You look down at him, the world tilting as you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands on your hips tug gently, lifting the light fabric of your sundress higher and higher. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down.

The cool air hits your bare skin as he exposes you entirely. He brings the popsicle down, the cold making you gasp as he gently presses it against your sensitive slit. Your knees nearly buckle at the contact, one of his strong hands firmly holding your hip to steady you.

You look down at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The sight of him kneeling between your legs, his eyes locked on your most intimate place, sends a wave of heat through you.

You feel the cold popsicle press against your folds again and your hips jerk slightly as he rubs the frozen treat slowly up and down. It's cold, almost painfully so, but also somehow incredibly arousing. He spreads your legs wider with his free hand, making you whimper.

"Please…” you murmur, watching his head between your thighs.

He suddenly replaces the popsicle with his warm, skilled tongue, lapping at the sticky sweet juice that's dripping down your thighs. He licks the cold, sugary residue off your sensitive flesh, his hands gripping your hips to pull you closer. "So fuckin’ sweet baby.”

He smirks against your pussy, nipping lightly at your clit with his teeth before soothing it with a swirl of his tongue.

He looks up at you with a mocking glint in his eye. "So sensitive," he taunts, his breath hot on your core.

With a whine, you reach down to grab a handful of his hair.

You pull sharply, forcing his face deeper into your pussy. He growls against your wet folds at the sudden tug, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through you. His tongue delves deeper inside you. The ice pop discarded as he starts to thrust his tongue in and out, fucking you with his mouth as his tattooed hands tighten on your hips.

He continues his relentless assault on your pussy, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to drive you wild.

You can feel the pressure building, your orgasm threatening to explode as your hips grind against his face. Just as you're about to tumble over the edge, he suddenly pulls away.

He stands abruptly. He knew exactly how close you were, and now he is going to make you suffer for it. Before you can react, he spins you around and pushes you face-first against the windowsill.

He wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to leave you slightly breathless. With his other hand, he tugs his shorts down just enough to take his cock out. He kicks your legs apart with his foot, positioning himself behind you. "Just look at the view, princess.”

Your hands scrabble at the windowsill as he chokes you, the pressure on your throat dizzying you. The cool glass presses against your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, and you can feel the hard length of him pressing against your entrance from behind, and you know what's coming.

"Ji, please don’t tease me…” you manage to gasp out.

He loosens his grip on your throat slightly, allowing you to breathe shallowly as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock from behind. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, "Such pretty pleas for someone who hates me so much." Then, without warning, he slams into you hard, his thick length filling you completely in one brutal thrust. Your hands slip down the window as you cry out, your pussy stretching to accommodate his size.

He starts to fuck you relentlessly, his hips snapping against your ass as he holds your neck in a light choke.

Your body is a mess of sensations—the cold glass against your front, the brutal fucking from behind, his hand tightening ever so slightly around your throat with each thrust. You can feel your orgasm building again, faster this time, fueled by the rough treatment and the dangerous position.

He shifts his angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your knees shake. His lips trail over your shoulder, gentle kisses turning into sharp bites that will definitely leave bruises.

"So tight,” he grunts, his movements growing more erratic. His hand slides up to grip your jaw, forcing your head back and breaking your view of the beach. "Look at me when I make you come."

You moan loudly as he hits that spot again, your body betraying you by pushing back against his hips. He watches your face closely, sees your mouth open in silent cries.

His thumb presses against your lips, pushing inside your mouth as he fucks you harder. The dual penetration sends you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you as you gasp around his thumb, your eyes watering from the intensity.

He's quick to pull his thumb out of your mouth, replacing it with his lips as he swallows your screams. His own release hits him hard, his cock pulsing deep inside you. With a final thrust, he pulls out completely just as the first spurt of cum hits your lower back.

He holds you there against the window and strokes himself with tight snaps of his wrist, painting your ass and the small of your back with his hot release. His breathing is heavy, but his eyes maintain that intense dominance as he marks you with his cum.

He releases your dress, letting it fall back into place. His fingers gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the tender gesture at odds with his harsh tone. His thumb brushes your cheek briefly before he drops his hand.

"Don't tell Seunghyun about this.”

Without another word, he turns and leaves the room, leaving you standing there alone. The click of the door behind him is final, leaving you with nothing but your guilty thoughts and the feeling of his cum drying on your skin.

[seongminiz]

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ good kitty ₊˚⊹♡

. . ? boy pussy cat hybrid jungwon x gn reader – smut / minors dni ; 1135 words

cw dubcon ? , switch/sub leaning jungwon , possessive jungwon , scratching , dry humping , heats , fingering , praise , a liiiiittle tiny bit of spit .. ; very half assed n not proof read bc thats the jo seongminiz way of life , yes i did that thing where my grammar/writing gets better the further u get into the fic IM SORRY

(dont ask me how i had this idea it just spawned in my brain through the sheer power of lesbianism)

cat hybrid!jungwon was kind of shy when u first started living together , but he quickly warmed up to you n became sooo clingy, now he follows u everywhere you go n asks for cuddles n head scratches at any time of the day , no matter how busy u r ..

despite being so clingy , though , jungwon was never as desperate for your attention as he has been for the past few days : constantly sneaking up on u n wrapping his tail around your waist , or letting it snake up your leg , rubbing his nose on your neck and holding you tighter than usual when you cuddle .

jungwon has also started showing a possessive streak , wagging his tail and flattening his ears in discontent when you come home from work n your clothes smell like someone else – rationally , he knows its normal , he shouldn't be this upset by you simply going outside n interacting with other people , even other hybrids .. but there's a more irrational part of him that has started to think its not fair , n he should just keep you all to himself

this all culminated on one particular night , jungwon has been restless the whole day , waiting for you to come home more eagerly than ever because he needs to see you, to be close to you , to touch you and ... his thoughts trail off as he feels a familiar heat between his legs , one he has forced himself to ignore ever since he moved in with you , but it's been getting so much worse lately , maybe if he asked you for help you could ....

the door clicks open , n you immediately notice something is wrong , mostly because jungwon is sitting quietly by the door , slightly dozing off , the blush on his cheeks more prominent than usual and a hand absentmindedly slipped under the waistband of his sweatpants , just .. there .

'jungwon?' u call out , his ears immediately perking up and twitching as soon as he hears your voice . he should feel bad when he sees the worried expression on your face , almost scared , not knowing exactly whats going on with him – instead , jungwon is happy and , to be completely honest , slightly turned on by it .

'wonie? are you sick?' you try again , crouching next to jungwon , shaking him by his shoulder to catch his attention , but all you get from him is a pained whimper that makes you immediately retract your hand , scared that u might have hurt him in any way .

despite his condition , jungwon still has the quick reflexes of a cat , he wraps his hand around your wrist and he pulls you closer again , claws digging slightly into your skin.

''m sorry' jungwon mumbles, rubbing his nose on your hand before licking the tips of your fingers . it's then you realize his other hand is still between his legs , moving so imperceptibly you wouldn't have noticed if u were any further away . the realization finally dawns on you .

'wonie are you ..' u let the question hang as another whimper leaves the cat hybrid's parted lips . jungwon nods weakly and , before you have time to process it , he has pushed you to the floor , hips straddling yours and both hands now holding you down.

'it hurts' he confesses, not so subtly grinding his hips down on your thigh . you should push him off , help him get through his heat in an appropriate way instead of letting him do however he pleases with you – instead , you just lay there , one hand slowly slipping out of jungwon's desperate grasp and brushing on the exposed skin between his shirt and pants , despite the small feeling of insufferable guilt at the back of your head .

you hook your fingers into the waistband , and jungwon swears he could cum just from you taking his clothes off . he doesn't , but he sure as hell would if he had just a bit of self control less than he does right now .

'what do you want?' you ask , now impossibly turned on too . it would be a lie to say u never felt attracted to jungwon , but this is the first time you have to face that attraction with no other way to cope with it than to act on it . to fuck him .

jungwon doesn't answer , opting to hump your thigh again instead with a broken moan . you can feel his wetness seep through his underwear and your own clothes , and it drives you even more insane .

'jungwon.' you reprimand , voice more firm as you hold his hips still . he tries to protest , but relents once he realizes you won't let him get away with being a brat , not when he's the desperate one at least .

'need ...' he stops for a second , looking like he genuinely can't form a coherent thought – and he probably , truly can't . the blush on his cheeks deepens as he avoids your gaze , his tail twitching against your legs .

'need your fingers.' he finally mumbles , bending down so he can hide his face in the crook of your neck out of embarrassment .

'see? it wasn't that hard, was it?' you pet jungwon's hair , as your free hand finally slips past his underwear . and god , he's even more wet than you expected , completely soaking your fingers the moment they come in contact with his pussy .

jungwon moans , loud , his whole body freezing up for a split second as you immediately push two fingers in his hole , his walls contracting around them before he relaxes against you , drool dripping out of his mouth and onto the collar of your shirt .

'good kitty,' you praise as you start to move your fingers , relishing in the way jungwon twitches , and moans , and squeezes at every little movement , until he's gripping your shoulders and his claws rip through your clothes – you'll definitely make him pay for that when he's in a more sound state of mind – to mark your skin .

''m gonna cum' jungwon's voice cracks , slightly more high pitched as you add a third finger and curl them inside of him .

'you're gonna cum for me?' you push the heel of your palm on his clit 'gonna cum like a good kitty?'

'yes' jungwon whines , grinding his hips down to meet your thrusts . 'like your good kitty.'

that one self-admission is enough to send jungwon over the edge, trembling and moaning, and cumming so hard he soaks your clothes too , clenching around your fingers until he's completely spent .

you both just lay there , on the floor , too tired to move , or do anything , really – despite your own , new 'problem' between your legs . you'll take care of that later , though . for now , you stay still , petting jungwon's head as he licks and bites along your neck , mumbling 'thank you's and small apologies , and saying something about cleaning you up .

[livfastdieyoung69]

OMG THE MOODBOARD MADE ME FERAL.

GIVE ME A HEEL READER X FACE CODY AND HE SUPPORTS READERS RIGHTS AND WRONGS.

I love cody im bawling hes so pretty

(current!cody rhodes x heel!reader, warning red hot bat shit diva incoming)

(the mood board in question)

Beautiful, Violent, Vulgar

Now, you love Cody. Truly, with everything in you. But he’s too nice sometimes. Along with everything else about him, you love Cody’s compassion for the people surrounding him, but he was genuinely kind to every single person he’d ever met.

Every here and there, you tell him that. He just kind of scoffs it off though, considering your reputation of being an asshole to everyone except him (most of the time).

This new annoying ass version of John Cena trying to prove it though? That pissed you off. What pissed you off even more was the ‘proof’ he gave in his last WrestleMania match.

You had a deep, terrible gut feeling that Cody was going to lose. The two of you tell eachother everything, and he had told you the same thing in the quiet of your bedroom the night prior. You would’ve been okay with it if it was fair, however, all of this with Travis Scott was bullshit. Nothing in your entire lifetime of constant bitching and discourteous actions, could have made you angrier than the disrespect put on the one person in the world that not only you could stand, but that could stand you.

The second the ref counted to three, you flew down to the Guerrilla and tried your best not to pick any fights in the mean time. That could wait until after you knew Cody was okay.

He looked completely defeated, and it broke your heart worse than you thought it would. When Cody finally looks up, his eyes immediately lock on you. The two of you rush to eachother, the tall man folding into your embrace.

“Baby…” You pull him tighter, hand curling in his short, bleached locks, the other around his back.

“I told you,” He shakes his head against you. “I told you.”

“Codes,” You pull him up a little so you were face to face. “You’ll get it back. I swear to God you’ll get it back. The only thing you proved out there is you are too good of a man to let bottom dwelling, filthy, middle aged, Hollywood sellouts manipulate you into changing.”

He scoffs, shaking his head but you keep talking.

“That’s what he is, Cody.” You nod. “And I know you used to love him, but that was when he was a wrestler, and a good man. He is not the good man he used to be, and if he needs Rihanna’s husband to get in your face then clearly he isn’t a good fucking wrestler either.” Your voice is growing with anger, so you take a quick breath and pull yourself together. “We can talk about that later. Are you okay? No injuries?”

He nods again, lips curling in the smallest smile, but the biggest one you’d seen just about all day.

“Just sore, that’s all.” You hum at his answer, rubbing up and down his sides before you pull your hands back. “I just- I just want to get out of here.”

You’re quick to lead him to the bus, running into Cathy Kelley who you might’ve yelled at for a quick seconds after Cody basically ran up the bus’ steps. Oops. You’ll give her an offhand apology through a gift card, maybe flowers, or something later, you know Paul put her up to it. Speaking of, you needed to have some words with him.

When you clamber up the steps of the RV and find Cody sitting at the cramped table with his eyes shut and his head against the wall behind him, all bruised and bloodied, the last teensy bit of self restraint you’d managed to keep leaves you. You will be having those words with Paul, now.

“Left my water bottle back in Guerrilla, baby, i’m gonna go grab it before we take off.” You’re already shoving the door open again, yelling that you’ll be right back over your shoulder while you speed walk through the background of Cathy’s screen time. You didn’t leave your water bottle, it was sitting right next to Cody. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice for a bit.

You’re storming through the Guerrilla like a lunatic, screaming for Paul at any passing person. Some staff member ran off the scene and grabbed his attention from the social media directors, creative team, press conference, and every other thing you could imagine and he’s rounding the corner with furrowed eyebrows under the reading glasses he didn’t get the chance to take off. Paul sighs, and his eyes close when he sees you. He says your name, riddled in pure exhaustion. You don’t care.

“No.” You stick your hand out. “What in the absolute fuck was that.”

“You know how this business works,” He tells you, attaching your name to it with the shake of his head like you’re some petulant child with no reasoning behind their argument. “He had to lose it eventually.”

“That’s absolutely not what i’m talking about and you know that. You make him lose, I don’t give a fuck, he’s still the best damn man in this place without a belt. But that bullshit with Scott was embarrassing. For this company, for Cody, for, and I couldn’t care less about him, but for Cena.” He tries to interrupt you again, and you shove the hand you’d been waving around back in his face. “I know you’re money hungry, Paul, but that was a fucking disgrace.”

He lets silence blanket over, the rest of the staff in the Guerrilla finally taking the hint to leave while he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve known you for a very long time, kid.” He finally manages to start. “I know you’re very opinionated and you aren’t afraid to stand up for yourself. But I am your boss, and you can’t speak to me like that.”

“Oh, cmon, Paul,” You roll your eyes. “How many times have you threatened to fire me, huh? It’s not gonna happen. We both know that. I’m trying to bring light to the problems this company has with you running it- and you want nothing but money. Everything is a goddamn marketing scheme now, and it’s disgusting.” Stephanie rounds the corner, standing next to Paul just as you decide you’ve had enough and start to turn around.

“What’s going on here?”

“You and your husband are greedy moneybags running this company into the fucking ground!”

You hadn’t planned for all of this. All you’d wanted was to throw a couple back handed compliment around, but here you are, screaming at your bosses because you can’t help yourself, when all you want to do is get back out of the stadium to Cody.

Paul yells from behind the curtain of the Guerrilla you’d just torn through about how that was your second strike. This was your third second strike of the year, Paul really liked the idea that he had the ability to get your attitude managed with the threat of firing you. Usually, you would have rolled your eyes, maybe scoffed, and kept walking. Today, though?

Today, you may not have forgotten your water bottle, but Tiffany Stratton did, and it’s right there in all of its clunky, big-ass, bright pink, metal, Stanley cup glory. You pick it up and chuck it back through the curtain and against the wall behind him and Stephanie.

“You want to fire me, Paul? Do it! Do it!” You burst back through the curtain. “There’s your media reason.” You point to broken cup, spilling ice water everywhere on the ground. You’d buy Tiffy a new one, you were actually pretty good friends. “See where this company goes when we leave again. Back in the fucking trash.”

With your grand finale, Shawn Michaels steps in from behind you to gently lead you from the room. Though you may get on Paul’s nerves, you reminded Shawn a lot of his younger self. He was on drugs though, you’re just kind of bat shit. You finally start the dash back to the RV with no interference, walking back up the steps and plopping into the seat across from Cody with heavy breath.

He’s staring you with raised eyebrows and the gleam in his eyes tells you he’s trying not to smile. His big, veiny hand is spinning your water bottle on the table.

“What’d you do?” He tilts his head up, a tiny smile breaking through. You shrug.

“Nothing to worry about.”

“Did you get another strike?”

..

“…Maybe.”

I had absolutely no plans of doing this rn it’s so late but i miss cody so much

this is probably pretty bad i wrote it laying in bed on my phone im sorry </3

[oligbia]

Hi there! I saw your requests open and I was willing to shoot my shot (fr none of my req gets taken butttt) I was wondering if you could make an Iwaizumi x Reader fluff where basically

Iwaizumi has secretly liked the reader for a long time. Though he wrongly assumes she likes Oikawa because she's often with him (oikawa knows that she likes iwa), but gets quiet and makes excuses when Iwaizumi is around. This is because she gets shy and flustered around him—a stark contrast to her normally outgoing personality (shes basically an extrovert).

On Valentine's Day, she asks Oikawa to deliver a Valentine's gift and a love letter to Iwaizumi, explaining in the letter why she couldn't confess in person: she's too shy and flustered around him, but when Iwaizumi overheard that the reader was calling for oikawa, he assumed that she was going to confess to him instead of iwa and bros just pouty and cute.

Pls pls pure fluff, no angst im basically allergic to it, Thank you♥️♥️

OH WE'RE SO BACK!!! first lil one shot post hiatus. Thank you for the request, love! It was much appreciated and got me back in my groove. I'd like to issue my formal apology- you said no angst. Here is my thing. I also am allergic to angst. However, in my head, no man has ever yearned as hard as Iwazumi can yearn. So there's so much yearning in the beginning but I try to make up for it !!

Yearning

Hajime Iwaizumi X Reader

Tags: Hajime X fem!reader (reader is described wearing a skirt and referred to with she/her pronouns), Fluff, yearning

Word count: 2.7k

Songs I thought about while writing this: "Be Your Boy" by Medium Build, "Chateau (Fell Alright)" by Djo, "Let You Break My Heart Again" by Laufey, "Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene" by Hozier

If Iwaizumi never loved again, it would be your fault. 

That is what he told himself while staring at his ceiling at 2 a.m., bouncing a volleyball between his hands and the ceiling of his room- a noticeable wear in the tile from the continuous anxious habit he’s displaying right now. 

Really, it wasn’t your fault at all. But it was always easier for him to shift the blame a little. If he can convince himself that you’re in the wrong, then he won’t feel like such an absolute loser for being this in love with you. But he was- he was so far in love with you it was sick. He loved the little details the most- the way your hair moves when it’s windy, the way your nailbeds were a little pushed back during the weeks of big tests because you get nervous and fidget with your fingers, the way that when you laugh at Oikawa you get a little dimple in your left cheek that resembles the moon on a clear night- bright, glowing and giving him reminders that if you look for it, love can exist. 

Oikawa. Right. 

You loved Oikawa. Or that’s what he was pretty sure of at least. And to be fair, Iwazumi is used to girls liking Oikawa more. He’s the prettier one of the two boys. Oikawa had more muscle, he was taller by two inches. Iwazumi was still lanky, not as charming. It made sense to him a beautiful girl like you would like Oikawa more. It’s practically fated. 

But he loved you. He loved you even though he knew that you weren’t his and probably never could be. He loved you even though you always kept some kind of distance between the two of you- which he will never understand but will always respect. He loved you when you drew little flowers in your notes during math because you hated math. He loved when you came to volleyball matches and sat front and center of the cheer section, he could always hear your cheering. 

To Iwazumi, there was no way he could ever love again because you were always going to be the girl he wanted but couldn’t have and no one will ever be you. 

<3 <3 <3

Iwazumi was always at school before Oikawa, but always met Oikawa at his locker to give him notes from science the day before. Oikawa wasn’t good at science and always asked Iwazumi for notes, Iwazumi just got proactive. 

He’s leaning against Oikawa’s locker when he sees you. To him, you’re radiant, practically glowing. He watches the way your school uniform’s skirt moves in soft, subtle movements as you walk. He notices how you have a little bear keychain on your phone, with your fingers so daintily wrapped around. He notices how your eyelashes are curled up a little. 

and then it happens. 

You look at him. 

Iwazumi can feel his whole body get warmer, his face turning a soft pink. It feels like he’s floating when you look at him. Your lips, the soft and sweet lips he has definitely never thought about kissing, turn up into a soft smile. It feels like time stops moving when he sees you. The rest of the world fades as you look at each other, smiling in really cheesy grins. He falls harder. 

And then he’s snapped back to reality when you break the gaze, stand on your toes, and turn to whisper something in the ear of the person next to you. 

Oikawa. 

Iwazumi could throw up. He let himself pretend he didn’t know you were both neighbors for a brief second when he got to hold your eye contact. 

Oikawa says something with one of his stupid grins, which makes you smile wider than the smile you gave Iwazumi before you left his side to talk to a group of classmates. 

“Don’t go busting a nut over eye contact, Iwa-chan” Oikawa said in a teasing tone when he got closer. 

“That’s gross,” Iwazumi muttered under his breath, he’s never done something so perverted thinking of you- you’re pure, so beautiful, he worships the ground you walk on. You’re not an object of fantasy. “Stop calling me that, we’re grown.” 

“We are not grown, we are 18. I’ll just call you Mr.Iwa-Chan then.” Oikawa says with a content smile, happily taking copies of the science notes from Iwazumi’s hand and opening his locker. “She’s not scary, you know. She’s just shy.” 

Iwazumi bites the inside of his cheek to hold back from saying something unjustifiably rude. He doesn’t know why Oikawa likes to rub his relationship with her in his face.  “I don’t like her, stop acting like I do.”

“you’re a bad liar,” Oikawa says, closing his locker. “She’s not dating anyone.” 

Iwazumi blinks- Oikawa has his normal smug grin on his face, making it hard to tell if he’s serious or playing some sick game with him. But either way, Iwazumi is almost entirely convinced you could never like him. You clearly liked Oikawa. 

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Iwazumi moves his gaze away from Oikawa to look at you in the school courtyard. You so freely talk to classmates, laughing and smiling. You draw people in so naturally, you’re the sun of the school. It makes him disgustingly smitten to see you smile. It also makes him frustrated- you talk to everyone in class but him. He doesn’t get it. 

“why not, Iwa? Because I know her, and I know you have more of a shot than you think.” 

Iwazumi is more confused than he started this conversation. Which pisses him off. He doesn’t want to hear Oikawa out anymore. So he picks up his bag, throws it over his shoulder, and leaves after stealing one more glance at you. 

Later that day, after daydreaming about you all day in class, Iwazumi was hoping for alone time with his thoughts of you as he contemplated the comment Oikawa made earlier that morning. He was sitting below a tree outside the practice gym, eyes watching the clouds when he was so rudely interrupted by the asshole himself. He was about to open his mouth to say something bitter and sarcastic, but he stopped.

But his face immediately softened when saw you approaching, your cheeks pink and your smile soft- god, you’re like the definition of ethereal to Iwazumi. 

“Y/N-“ He said your name soft and gentle, like it was a prayer on his lips, genuinely surprised and thankful you were here. He was going to a shrine after school to thank the gods for blessing him with your presence. 

“Awe, what about me, your best friend, Iwa-Chan?” Iwazumi was pulled from this softened gaze directed at you to glare at Oikawa. 

He was about to say something sarcastic and witty, but he watched you sit on the on the soft grass, your own gaze lingering on him long enough it made Iwazumi’s ears turn red. 

“Oikawa-“ He said flatly, but not hostile, almost holding his tongue. He didn’t want you to find him rude. Or maybe he would be okay with it if it meant you thought about him at all. 

“Y/N-chan and I are sitting with you so you don’t look like a total loser out here alone. Not a cool look to sit alone, Iwa.” 

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Iwazumi said, almost stammering. His eyes stayed fixed on the subtle swaying of grass, focused on counting every blade because if he didn’t he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off you. 

“Y/N-chan wanted to tell you she liked your essay.” 

Iwazumi’s eyes shoot up, immediately finding yours. You looked at him, nodding softly, confirming what Oikawa said. Your eyes linger on his for just a moment before you look away, looking at a small patch of seeding dandelions. 

“if you blow them and make a wish, it’s good luck.” 

The words fell from Iwazumi’s mouth before he could realize what he said. He couldn’t help it- You were sitting on your knees, he could smell your sweet shampoo and really notice the way you have long bottom lashes. So close he could almost touch you. His brain turned off and his heart took over. 

You looked at him with wide eyes and a blush- he’d sell his car, his parent’s house, anything to see you blush like that again. But you quickly looked at Oikawa who gave you an almost pitiful and begging look. It made Iwazumi want to kill him. 

Oikawa sighs, “Welp, lunch is almost over, Y/N-chan and I are going inside. Have fun being a weirdo outside” 

Iwazumi watches you get up and follow Oikawa inside, the further you get from Iwazumi, the more you relax and come back to life- smiling wider, and talking more. It makes him want to jump the school fence, transfer schools, and never look back. 

But he doesn’t do that. He simply comes to school the next morning- and is quickly given a gross reminder of what day it is when three love letters fall out of his locker. None are from you- they’re from random underclassmen girls he really couldn’t care about. How could he ever look at another girl when he watches you walk through the courtyard? He watches you laugh and smile at peers, making small conversations, politely rejecting boy’s advances. 

And then it happens. He watches you spot Oikawa, your whole face lights up as you call out for him. He’s sick to his stomach. He watches you hand him something in a little pink heart-shaped box. He watches Oikawa look at it, sees Oikawa smile, and wrap his arms around your shoulders. 

You both look so happy that it kills Iwazumi and fills him with a great sense of guilt to be so mad at two people he loves. He’s not even mad at you, really, he’s mad at himself.

 Oikawa turns towards Iwazumi to walk his way, making short eye contact. But Iwazumi simply turns and walks off, dropping the science notes Oikawa wanted on the floor and heading straight to the gym. Classes be damned. 

Oikawa finds Iwazumi at lunchtime later. Oikawa seems more pissed than Iwazumi- he has that glare he only gets during particularly difficult matches. Iwazumi is sitting on the floor bouncing a volleyball against the wall- a nervous habit. Oikawa stands there for a moment- that pink heart-shaped box in his hands. Oikawa doesn’t immediately say anything, waiting for Iwazumi to look at him but he never does.

“You skipped class.”

Iwazumi just grunts, uninterested. 

“You’re acting like a dick, Iwazumi.” 

Iwazumi pauses, the ball falling to the ground rather than back into Iwazumi’s hands. 

“You knew I liked her.” 

Oikawa sighed, sitting down next to Iwazumi on the floor. “I still know that.” 

“Friends don’t do what you did.” Iwazumi glared at him, his voice cold.

“And what do you think it is I did?” Oikawa asks, picking the ball up from the floor, placing the pink heart box on the ground and tossing it at Iwazumi. 

Iwazumi blinks, wondering just how far Oikawa plans to take this game, Iwazumi catches the ball, holding it in his hands,”She confessed this morning. I saw it. You didn’t reject her,” he throws the ball back to Oikawa with a decent amount of force. “Friends don’t date their friend’s crush.” 

Oikawa catches the ball, it makes a loud thump in his hands. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve tried to tell you-“ 

Iwazumi stands up and balls his fists, “Then why does she talk to the entire class but me? Why won’t she sit next to me? Why can’t I get her to smile as wide as she does when she sees you?” 

Oikawa shakes his head softly and sits the ball down. He stands up, leaving the pink heart box on the ground at Iwazumi’s feet. 

“Look in the box,” is all Oikawa can say before he leaves Iwazumi alone in the gym again. 

The doors to the gym creak before crashing closed, the sound echoing. Iwazumi stares at the box, it has your handwriting. He loves your handwriting- but he stares a little harder. It’s his name. You wrote his name. If he had any less restraint he’d get it tattoed on his own chest so he could look at it every morning. 

He picks up the box and opens it- a small note falling out. 

“Iwazumi,

I am so sorry for the way I run from you. 

Every time you smile at me or try to talk to me I get this really intense feeling in my chest. 

It feels like my heart is beating so fast that I can’t think straight and I panic and run off. You make me so nervous that I can’t think straight. 

I guess what I’m trying to make clear is I really, really like you. 

But I want to try and talk to you. I want to know you, Iwazumi.

I’d like to see you at lunch today if you’d be interested. I’ll be at the tree again. 

The one you like to have lunch at. 

-Y/N <3”

Iwazumi feels sick. He had a chance and he’s about to blow it. He practically sprints across the gym and out the back door- there are only a few moments left at lunch and he’s worried you already gave up. 

He sees you standing there, and it’s like his world stops spinning again. You look absolutely divine- he notices how you fidget with the hem of your skirt when you’re nervous. It makes him smile and his face softens. 

You look at him, both of your eyes meeting. You stand up straighter, your face getting more pink with blush. He adores that blush. He practically runs over to you, his strides long. Before you can even attempt to find words, his hands are holding your face and he’s pressing a kiss to your lips. 

He didn’t think about it. When he imagined kissing you, specifically your first kiss with him,  he imagined it being pefect. He imagines he’d be a gentleman, ask you first. But he didn’t think today. He just knew you liked him, and he knew you didn’t have words, and honestly neither did he. 

The kiss is gentle, he holds back every single urge he has to kiss you deeper or move his hands to the back your neck or your waist. He doesn’t want to scare you. He wants you to understand how he’s longed for you. How he’s yearned for you. He wants you to feel it in the way he kisses firmly but gently. 

He pulls back and looks into your eyes- both of your faces red. He watches you try to say something but struggle to find the words. 

“Don’t say anything. Just let me look at you like this.” His voice is a whisper, his lips brushing against yours when he talks.

And so you don’t say anything. And he looks at you, he holds your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, and looks at you. He notices that you curl your eyelashes before school. He can smell your strawberry and cream-scented perfume. Your skin is soft, it makes him want to go to the shrine again tonight and pray to thank the gods for giving them the gift that is you. 

“Iwazumi-“ 

He pulls back a little when he hears your voice soft on your lips. He’d live life happy to never hear a single thing again if it meant he can always recall the sound of his name coming from you.  He nods softly, assuring you he’s listening and you have his full attention, you can take all the time you need. He watches you take a deep breath to reassure yourself. 

“walk me home after school today.” 

“I’ll walk you home every day.” Iwazumi responds quickly, “I’ll walk you home every day. I’ll walk you to class. You can study with me whenever you want. I’ll buy you every treat you could want, I’ll take you to dinner whenever you ask. I’ll bend over backward if you ask me to, Y/N. Please, give me a chance. I want to be yours-“ 

Iwazumi blushes harder when you surprise him by pressing a small kiss to his cheek. He touches the spot gently where you kissed him, looking at you as you smile up at him. 

Yea, Iwazumi will never love anyone else and it’s your fault. He’s smitten. 

Tag List: @pomigranit @yynumaki Want to be on my tag list? Send me a request!

I put a hozier song up top, but really, there are SOOOO many hozier yearing songs that made this story and could write soooo much yearning Iwa with Hozier song, specifically to Movment. Leave me a financial tip? (No pressure!)

I take requests! Visit my profile to submit!

[jedidragonrider]

I really could use some prayers. On one hand im in the bridal party for a good friend of mine. Should be fine right? WRONG. At her bachelorette party 6 weeks ago I not only realized that she’s a huge narcissist who likes the world to revolve around her but she’s more than willing to throw someone away like an old toy when she’s done with them. I’m the old toy right now. And I feel so drained and annoyed. If I weren’t already so committed to the wedding and spent $1000+ on dress, transportation, Airbnb, present, etc., I wouldn’t go. She has eight other bridesmaids to pull like strings. She’s made it clear to me that she doesn’t need me and she’d rather have other people do things for her.

On the other hand im going to ANOTHER wedding for a friend from college, and the best man at this wedding is my old college situationship (the only guy who has ever fallen in love with me). For reasons that are so hard to put into words, I couldn’t date him. I tried. Every single semester. And I just couldn’t. However, our situation evolved into this strange “we never dated but being away from you is so painful and hearing your voice or seeing your picture makes me YEARN and I am so attracted to you”, and I have thought in the past two years that maybe after some time out of college and maturing on both our ends it could work. But now he’s dating another girl. And I’m so incredibly distressed and anxious about seeing him because I truly don’t know how I’ll react to seeing him for the first time in over two years after begging for scraps of information about his life from other friends. Especially now that he has a girlfriend. It feels like a weird betrayal.

I’m just feeling so stressed, so used, so unseen, and so so so lonely. Losing friends is still so painful despite it happening to me many times, but these two are extra painful because the first is a friend whom I idolized and looked up to a ton (she’s a mentor in many ways and our friendship evolved from there, or so I thought) and the second is a guy whom I can’t figure out if I love or not.

[shyxcherry]

a little jealousy | keeho

summary: after having your heart broken by your ex fwb that you caught feelings for, your best friend convinces you to venture out and date again. too bad your ex fwb wont let you.

pairing: keeho x reader

genre/warning: fwb to lovers, fluff, smut (oral (female receiving), handjob, p in v, unprotected sex, lots of dirty talk from keeho), a little bit of angst if you squint, reader has social anxiety and has a panic attack, keeho is a little bit of an asshole in the beginning, he also calls reader baby a lot, drinking and partying, one stupid drunk guy

word count: 6.8k

note: my first p1harmony fic! with my bias of course. i also tried something new and added texts in with the story, and i kind of like it.

"come on (y/n). it'll be fun."

you look over at your room mate yunjin as she prances around your shared living room. she had just gotten back from her shift at the cafe on campus where she found out that there was a party on friday and she wanted to go. she was trying to convince you to go, but so far she hadn't had any luck.

it wasn't that you didn't like to party. being friends with yunjin, you found yourself going to more parties than you ever thought possible. you were just having issues doing anything social as of late, specifically partying. especially since partying is what got you into your mess.

"about as fun as me slamming my head into a wall."

"babe. as your best friend, i mean this with the most respect, you need to get over keeho."

you glare at her as she mentions his name. yoon keeho. your good friend turned fwb. it happened at a party three months ago. the two of you got too drunk and slept together. except instead of pretending it never happened, you two instead decided to keep it going. without the relationship that is.

it was keeho's idea. no strings attached. no feelings. which exactly what you thought you needed. that was until the lines became a little too blurred for you. you stopped seeing him as your friend. obviously he didn't feel the same way when you told him this, which you completely expected. but it hurt you all the same. and here you were two weeks later wishing the last three months never happened.

"im working on it." you snap, throwing your phone next to you and ignoring the message that came from mark.

yunjin was the one who convinced you to start talking with him. he was sweet and treated you well enough. even when you said you weren't looking for anything relationship wise at the moment. the only problem is he wasn't keeho. you wanted to slap yourself for thinking that.

"i know, babes." she sits next to you on the couch. "i think this may help though."

"you said that theo is throwing it." you deadpan. he was one of keeho's best friends.

"and what better way to prove that you've moved on then by going to his party." she told you. "you could also invite mark."

you met her gaze before letting out a sigh. you knew that she had a point. you needed to get over him because you know that he isn't interested in dating. he's only told you that a million times. it was your fault you didn't listen.

"fine." you jump when yunjin screams in excitement. "but you're buying me food after."

"deal."

"are you sure mark doesn't mind me riding with you two?"

you roll your eyes as you finish applying you lip gloss. you shove it into the pocket because your too lazy to carry a bag before turning to yunjin. she was laying on your bed scrolling through her phone. she had already finished getting ready and was just waiting on you.

"jin, he's the one that offered you a ride. of course he's okay with it."

before she could respond to you, your phone dinged from the night stand. you reach over and grab it to reveal a message from mark.

"he's downstairs."

you do one last once over of yourself before you head out of your room. yunjin locked the apartment before you two headed downstairs.

"i can't wait to see that asshole's reaction to you. maybe he'll realize what an idiot he is."

you look down at your outfit. you were wearing a short jean skirt along with a black tube top that exposed your stomach. you also had a gold body chain across your stomach. yunjin picked out the outfit- not that you minded. you were just scared you were showing too much skin.

"it's not to much, is it?"

"it's just enough." she answered immediately. "you look so good. you're lucky i don't swing the other way."

"shut up." you laugh as you two exit the building. you notice mark standing next to his car. you walk up first, smiling in greeting.

"ladies." he greets with a smile. "you chariot awaits."

yunjin gets in the back seat once she's close enough. you make your way to mark who was in front of the passenger's side. you tried not to stiffen when he pulled you into a friendly hug.

"you look amazing." mark tells you as you pull away.

"thank you. you do as well."

mark opens the door, allowing you to get into the car. the three of you chat as he drives you guys to the party at theo's place. well, it was more like his parent's place that theo uses for parties when they're not renting it out.

by the time you got there, the party was in full swing. cars lined the street as music came from the house. you got out of the car right as yunjin walked over to you.

"im going to split up so you can have fun with mark." she wiggled her eyebrows at you. "text me if you need me."

mark moved next to your side as yunjin disappeared into the crowd. he did tell you that his friends were here as well, so he lead you that direction. of course stopping to get the two of you drinks first. you found his friends in the living room sitting on the couches. mark introduced you to them as you sat next to him. he didn't waste any time throwing his arm around your shoulder.

you listened to them talk, inputting when you wanted to. they were all nice enough, but your thoughts drifted to keeho's friends. you had gotten used to hanging around them, and these guys didn't feel the same. but you doubt that any of his friends wanted to hang out with you anymore now that you and keeho weren't on talking terms.

you felt you phone buzz in your pocket causing you to shift in your seat. you pull out your phone thinking that yunjin was messaging you but to your surprise it wasn't her. it was in fact someone you never thought you would message again.

we'll see about that? what the hell was that supposed to mean. you look around, trying to see if you could find keeho or any of his friends. you frown when you didn't see anyone.

you also couldn't understand why he was messaging you about that. he was the one who ended things, not you. so why he was messaging you was a complete mystery.

you roll your eyes, choosing to not let it bother you. you put your phone back in your pocket before turning back to the conversation. that was until you noticed that your drink was empty. you told mark you were going to fix you another one.

you pushed past the many bodies as you make your way to the kitchen. thankfully, its not as busy as the rest of the house. you fix your drink before taking a breath of relief. even after all of these parties, you still never got used to them. you started out fine, but eventually your anxiety would start messing with you. normally, you would have yunjin, or keeho, to help you. but you didn't know where yunjin was, and you weren't talking to keeho.

all of a sudden, an arm wrapped around you- effectively scaring you. you jumped before turning, meeting a pair of warm brown eyes. the eyes of the man you were trying, and failing, to forget.

"miss me?"

"get off of me." you shrug his arm off before stepping away from him. you took a quick second to look him over, and god if he didn't look even better than he did the last time you saw him. he also wore the same smirk that he almost always had when he was with you.

"don't be like that, baby." you glare at the sweet tone of his voice.

"don't be like what?" you questioned. "i'm just following your request. what was it? oh right. stay away from you."

you watch as keeho too a deep sigh, and if you didn't know any better, you saw regret sweep past his emotions. but before he could say anything, someone calling your name got your attention. you turn to see mark making his way towards you, saving you from having to deal with keeho any longer.

you turned away as mark greeted keeho, so you missed the clench of keeho's jaw when mark's eyes were off of him. or the way that his eyes tracked mark's every movement, especially when mark got close to you. you only turned back when mark stood next to you, his hand on you lower back as he bent down to speak to you.

"yunjin was looking for you. she wanted to see if you were ready to go."

you nodded, turning away without giving keeho a second glance. "let's go. i'm hungry anyway."

you let out a tired sigh, pushing your hair back behind your ears as you continued to stock the shelves of the grocery store you work at. you made sure your headphone was hidden, the low music soothing you as you did your job.

you pass a glance at your phone, seeing that your shift was almost over. only thirty more minutes. you bend back down to grab more product when you heard someone walk up behind you.

you stiffened, knowing it was probably a customer looking for something. you turned with a small smile, but quickly dropped it when you found keeho standing in front of you. it had been nearly two weeks since you last talked to him.

"what the hell do you want?"

keeho's jaw dropped in mock shock. "now, that isn't any way to talk to a paying customer."

"paying customer, my ass." you scoff before turning back to your work. you thought he would leave since you were clearly ignoring him, but he continued to stand there. you let out a huff of air as you turned back towards him. "can i help you? or are you just trying to make me smack you with a can of peas?"

"you still get off in thirty minutes?" keeho asked.

"what's it to you?" you ask, hating that he still had your schedule memorized.

keeho turned before starting to walk away. you thought he was going to ignore your question, but he looked back over his shoulder with a smile. "i'll see you when you get off."

you roll your eyes as you watched his retreating figure before going back to work. for someone who told you to leave him alone, he sure did a shit job with following that.

you finished unpacking the box you were working on before going to clock out. you go over to your locker, opening it and throwing in your badge before putting on your hoodie. you grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulders before leaving the break room.

you nodded your head to some of the workers as you left. you didn't see any sign of keeho, so you assumed he left. that was until he showed up right in front of you, nearly making you run into him.

"are you hungry?" he asked, looking down at you.

"no." you lied. keeho scoffed at your answer.

"liar." he accused. "i know you don't eat before your shifts because coming makes you nervous, and it makes you sick if you eat before."

you stood there for a moment just staring at him. you didn't understand how he knew all of these things about you. it's not like you ever told him, or anyone else for that matter, what he just told you.

"come on." he grabbed your hand, pulling you to walk next to him. "there's this really good food truck a few blocks from here. they have great tacos."

you were quiet, allowing him to pull you along with him. you don't know why you were entertaining him. maybe you just enjoyed hurting yourself making yourself spend time with someone your completely in love with- someone who also doesn't want you.

once the two of you got to the small park, keeho led you to the sitting area. he made you sit down before he went to get you two some food. he didn't even ask what you wanted, and you had the feeling that was because he knew exactly what you wanted.

you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. you pull it out to see a text from yunjin.

you put your phone down when you heard keeho walk up to you. he set down two sets of boxes along with some drinks. you quietly thanked him as the two of you started to eat. and of course, he got you exactly what you would've gotten yourself.

"so, not that i'm complaining, because i absolutely am." keeho chuckled at your words. "but why am i here?"

"i can't come and check on you?" he asked.

you swallowed your food before looking at him. "you already know the answer to that."

"i'm not going to lie." keeho started. "i acted like an asshole."

"at least you're a self aware asshole."

"i shouldn't have acted like that. i know an apology doesn't mean much to you, but i am sorry. and i would like to try to make it up to you." you finally met keeho's gaze. you saw the regret that you saw at the party, but this time it didn't go away.

"how do you plan on making it up to me?" you ask.

"by being the best damn friend you ever had." he answered. you felt your heart drop at his answer, but you tried to not let it affect you. the quicker you learned that he doesn't feel the same, the better. "by the time i'm done, you'll be begging me to be your best friend instead of yunjin."

"i'm gonna tell her you said that."

"please don't." for the first time, you laugh at him. he held out his hand for you to shake. "so, what do you say? friends?"

you look at him for a moment before shrugging. you shake his hands. "friends, but i'm not going to make it easy. i'm hard to please."

"i won't let you down. not again."

the next time you saw keeho was at another party later that week, except it was him who brought you this time. this was only after him begging you for the past few days. the two of you started texting again, and as much as you hated to admit, you missed messaging him. before he was you fwb, he was a good friend to you over the past year. you missed his silly texts at weird hours.

currently, you along with keeho, yunjin, and theo were in the kitchen. you were perched on the counter, drink in hand while you and keeho watch yunjin and theo argue about which horror movie is the best.

"everyone knows that the exorcist is a classic." yunjin argues, slinging her arm causing alcohol to sling out of her cup.

"it's a shitty classic is what it is." theo tells her which causes her to let out a loud gasp. you let out a chuckle as you take a sip of your drink. keeho moves over, draping his arm over your legs so they weren't as exposed.

suddenly, yunjin turns her attention to the two of you. "what do you two think?"

"my favorite is nightmare on elm street." you answer first.

"of course you think a killer with kitchen knives and a christmas sweater is good." keeho spoke up. "you have horrible taste in movies."

"i do not." you argue, pushing him away from you. that didn't last long as keeho moved back to the same position he was before. "its fucking better than friday the 13th."

"apologize to me. right now." you laughed at his behavior.

you quickly turn back to yunjin and theo as they continued their argument. you met yujnin's gaze for a moment. you gave her a small nod, not forgetting your previous conversation.

she expressed a couple of times how worried she was that you were back to being his friend knowing that you still had feelings for him. you understood where she was coming from, but you still reassured her that you would be okay. that was until she asked you one question that you didn't answer. if he said he had feelings for you, would you choose to be with him.

you didn't need to answer her because the both of you already knew the answer- yes.

you shifted your weight, moving away from keeho before jumping off the counter. "i have to use the bathroom."

once keeho gave you a nod, he took your drink before you left the group. you made your way upstairs to where theo's locked room was. all of you knew the code, so you all could use his bathroom which was a lot cleaner than the one downstairs. you had just turned the corner when you ran into someone.

"i'm sorry." you apologize, looking over the man you didn't know. you figured he was a student and moved to go around him, but he moved to block you from moving down the hallway.

"what's a pretty little thing like yourself doing all alone?" you rolled your eyes at the stupid question.

"ignoring idiots like you. now move." you were able to move around him, but he moved to grab your wrist.

you turned to look at him with a look of anger. anger that was quickly turning into fear. there wasn't anyone around you on the second floor, and this guy was easily twice your weight. you knew he was probably harmless. just a drunk guy wanting to have some fun. but your mind kept going to the worst possible scenario like it normally does is causing you to panic.

"let me go."

"what's in it for me?" he asked with a smile. you opened your mouth to answer him, but your voice got caught in your throat. instead you tried to pull away from him again, but his grip tightened. "don't be like that."

you felt yourself panic even more. you didn't know what to do. you couldn't scream. no one would hear you with the music blasting from downstairs. you felt trapped. that was before your wrist was snatched away from his grip.

you watch in shock as keeho pushed the guy up against the wall. "do we have a problem here?"

"n-no." the guy stuttered, blinking quickly as he sobered up. "we were just talking."

keeho met your gaze. tears threatened to fall as your breathing sped up. he could tell that you were moments away from having a panic attack. he looked back to the guy.

"don't ever go near my girl again."

"okay. i'm sorry." keeho let him go, watching as he stumbled away before he turned back to you.

he immediately pulled you into his arms as he led you towards theo's room. he helped you sit down on the bed before he knelt in front of you. he had helped you through a couple of these, so he was familiar with helping you.

he gently grabbed your face, causing you to meet his gaze. he spoke slow and clearly, so you could understand him. "you're okay. nothing's going to happen to you now that i'm hear, okay?"

you let out a choked sob as you nodded. you burried your head in his neck as he pulled you into his arms. his hand running soothing circles as he tried to calm you down.

"i'm sorry."

"don't apologize, baby." he whispered. "i'm hear for you. i'm not going anywhere."

you don't know how long the two of you were like that, but once you calmed down mostly, you realized the position keeho was in. "you can't be comfortable like this."

"all i care about is your comfort." he answered.

you blushed at his comment before you pulled away from him. you wipe at your face as you avoid eye contact with him. that felt different than the other times he help you. normally, he would just sit next to you, rubbing your back. but this time, he held you. he's never done that, and you didn't know how you felt about that. it also didn't help that the air between the two of you felt different- heavier.

keeho stood up, going to the bathroom to get you some water. he sat next to you as you drank the entire glass. he waited until you were done before talking to you. "are you okay?"

you nod your head, not trusting your voice. you were still shaking, but it was starting to go away. all that was left was embarrassment and exhaustion.

"do you want me to take you home?"

"please."

he pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to yunjin before standing up. he helped you up, holding you as you were a little unsteady. that was when he bent down, allowing you to jump on his back, so he could carry you out of the house. you did as he said, jumping onto his back and hiding your face in his shoulder.

he carried you out of the house and to his car. he helped you in, even going as far as buckling your seatbelt before getting into the driver's side. the two of you drove to your place in a peaceful quiet, the only noise was the radio softly playing.

once he parked, you moved to get out of the car, but keeho stopped you. he walked over to your side, placing his arms under your knees and behind your back before lifting you up. you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to ignore the blush climbing up your neck.

"kee, i'm okay to walk."

"i know you are." he told you. "but i'm still going to take care of you."

he carried you up to your apartment, taking the key from you and unlocking the door. he walked you to your room, skipping the bed and bringing you to the bathroom. he sat you down on the counter before standing in front of you.

"take off your makeup while i get you some clothes, okay." you nodded your head, watching as he walked off before getting off of the counter.

while you wiped off your makeup, you tried to wrap your head around what all of this meant. you didn't understand what keeho was trying to do. he's never done this before, even when you were fwb. you just hoped that he was doing this because he wanted to, and because he felt like he had to.

keeho stuck his head in silently, handing you the clothes before leaving you again. not bothering to shut the door, you quickly changed into the small shorts and oversized shirt before stepping out of the bathroom.

keeho wasn't in your room, but you could hear him in the kitchen, so you knew he was still here. you pulled back the covers of you bed before slipping in. it wasn't long before keeho came back in your room with a glass of water and your medication that you take for your anxiety.

"thank you for doing this." you mumbled as you took your medication.

"you don't have to thank me." he told you, running his hand through your hair. "is there anything else you need?"

"can you stay the night?" you ask before you could think about it, but before you could take it back, he nodded his head.

"of course."

he got off the bed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before moving over to your closet where he knew you still had some of his clothes. you laid down, turning your back while he got changed. the light turned off before he moved to lay next to you.

and just like every other time he's spent the night, his arm wrapped around you before pulling you into him. your back pressed against his front as his leg was tucked between yours. his face is pressed against your neck as his arm moves up, resting his hand on your chest.

"why do you do that?" you ask quietly.

"do what baby?"

"your arm." you clarify. "why do you put it there?"

keeho was quiet for a moment, leading you to think he wouldn't answer, but his answer came a moment later. "so i can feel your heartbeat and make sure you don't have a panic attack."

you felt all air leave your lungs at his answer. the man clinging to you continues to confuse you the more the night goes on. you couldn't help the next statement that came out of your mouth. "and you say you don't have feelings for me."

"i lied about that." you open your eyes at his confession.

"i'm sorry- what?"

"i was scared." he admitted, holding you tighter in his arms, so you couldn't turn to look at him. "you know me. i don't commit. i never have. i thought when i set up the rules, everything would be fine. and then came the moments like this, where you slept in my arms, and i could imagine you never leaving. i felt on edge when you weren't with me because what if you had a panic attack, and i wasn't around to help you. i found myself falling for you, and it scared the hell out of me. so i pushed you away and ran."

you kept quiet with your thoughts as his words sank in. you never thought that he was running from his feelings, just that he didn't have any towards you romantically. all of the things you two did while you were fwb, you thought were normal. all of the things you questioned while you were together finally made sense.

"so, yunjin was right." you mumbled. "you were jealous at that party, weren't you?"

keeho huffed. "of course i was. i was scared that he was going to take you away from me. and that fear turned into jealousy and me trying to run mark off."

you finally shifted, turning to lay on your other side, so you could finally look at him. it was dark, but you could still see part of his face. that part that was very clearly blushing. "is that why he ghosted me? i saw him the other day, and he practically ran in the opposite direction."

"maybe." he answered you making you laugh.

"you are such an ass, you know that?"

"didn't stop you for falling for me though, did it." you roll your eyes at his answer. you almost didn't answer him.

"no it didn't. though i'm still mad you lied to me."

he moved closer to you. close enough to where you could feel his breath as he cupped your face in his hand. "i'm sorry baby. i know i'm an idiot and don't deserve a second chance, but i am asking for one."

you staying quiet for a minute. you wanted to make him wait, just like he did to you. you didn't need to think about it. you knew what you wanted, and it was him.

instead of answering him, you moved forward, pressing your lips to his. he froze for a moment before responding, pulling you closer to him. this kiss was different than the other ones you two shared. it was full of the emotions that the two of you tried to hide.

"please tell me that's a yes." keeho pleaded as he pulled away from you.

you nodded your head, lips brushing against his. "you better not fuck it up this time."

"never." he promised, kissing you once again. this one was more laid back than the first one. his hand was running along your thigh that was now draped over him. your hands gripping his shirt as your lips lazily moved with his.

keeho's hand trailed higher up your leg, brushing against your shorts before gripping your waist and pulling you closer to him. with you now flush against him, you could feel his hardened erection brush against your thigh. keeho moved away from your lips, trailing kisses down your neck.

"i've missed this. missed you." you heard him mumble as he continued to kiss your neck. "i missed you laugh. your smile. the way i could be myself around you without any judgement. but do you know what i missed the most?"

"what?" you asked, brushing the hair that fell in his face away. you met his eyes as he pulled back to look at you. you didn't fail to notice the smile on his face.

"the sounds you make when i touch you."

to prove his point, he moved forward, biting your neck where it met your shoulder. not hard enough to hurt but enough to shock you. you let out a gasp as shifted, pushing you on your back before he settled between your legs. his lips stayed attached to your neck, no doubt leaving a dark bruise. you shifted your hips as you wrap your legs around his waist, causing you to grind against him. he bit you harder making you moan in response.

"see?" he asked with a chuckle as he pulled away to look at you with dark eyes. "my baby is so responsive to me. i wonder how loud you'll get for me tonight."

he pulled away from you. his hands next to your hips on the bed while he shifted down your body. his hands toyed with the edge of your shirt before pulling it up, revealing your stomach to him. he bent down, kissing along your stomach as he made his way tortiously slow towards your chest.

"tell me baby. did you miss my touch as well?"

you lifted your head to look at him. his chin rested on your stomach as he awaited your response. "i missed everything, kee."

you thought that keeho would continue to kiss up your body, but he didn't. instead, he moved up and kissed your lips. his hands cupped your cheeks as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

"i'm going to make up for everything. i promise." he whispered as he pulled away.

he tugged on your shirt causing you to sit up. his lips found yours as soon as he took off your shirt. his hands ghosted up your sides until they reached your breast. you let out a gasp into the kiss as he squeezed your breast. you felt him smile as he pulled away from you.

he shifted back down to where he was at your chest. he started out kissing and marking your chest before he placed one of your nipples in his mouth. your hands went to the back of his neck as he sucked on your nipple. his other hand sought out the other one, making you hiss as he twisted it.

"my sweet girl." he mumbled as he moved to your other breast.

as he attacked your chest, you failed to notice his other hand moving down your body. it wasn't until his hand slipping through the front of your shorts that you noticed. his fingers teased your clit making you whine in impatience. you heard him chuckle, but he did give you what you wanted. he pressed down on you clit making you sigh in relief.

that relief was short lived once he pulled away from your breast. he removed his hand from your shorts before tapping your hips. "lift your hips for me."

you did as he said, lifting your hips so he could slide the rest of your clothes off, leaving you completely bare under him. you didn't find it fair that he was still fully clothed, so you opened your mouth to say something when keeho took his shirt of, somehow know what you wanted.

once his shirt was off, he continued to make his way down your body. a brief thought occurred when he kept marking you was that you were going to be completely covered tomorrow in bruises. that thought flew out of your head once he placed a kiss right above where you wanted him most.

"do you know how many times over the past few weeks i thought about this?" keeho questioned as his fingers trailed up your thighs.

"probably just as much as i've thought about it." you answer. keeho smiled at your answer since he knows that you missed him just as much as he missed you. and as much as he loved to tease you, he couldn't handle doing that tonight.

he gave your thigh a squeeze before he licked a long strip up your heat, making you jump. he placed a kiss on your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking harshly. you let out a moan at the action, rolling your hips up before he placed his palm on your stomach and holding you down.

you felt his finger tease your entrance causing you let out a whine. he chuckled at you before sliding his finger in. he quickly added a second as he started pumping them, curling them every so often while he watched you unravel. you had your eyes shut as you lost yourself in his touch. one hand was gripping the sheets beneath you while the other one was tangled in his hair.

"fuck keeho." you cursed as he added a third finger.

"you taste so good baby." he praised as his hand increased in speed. he was rewarded by his name coming out of your mouth in a sweet moan. "and all mine. isn't that right?"

"a-all yours." you stuttered, crying out when his lips reattached to your clit. you felt the familiar feeling of your orgasm in your stomach. keeho could also tell too since your sounds were getting louder.

"are you close, my baby?" he questioned tauntingly. "are you going to make a mess all over my fingers like a good girl? and let everyone know who's making you feel this good?"

he was answered by a loud moan coming from you as your orgasm washed over you. his fingers slowed down, but keep moving as you rode out your orgasm. keeho kept his eye on you, watching you closely as you tried to catch your breath.

he slowly removed his fingers before sticking them in his mouth, sucking them clean. your eyes met his as you watched him just as intently as he was watching you. once he was done, he crawled back up your body. as soon as he was close enough, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his lips to yours. he groaned into the kiss as his bare chest pressed against yours. his tongue slide past your lips, brushing against yours.

your hands moved from the back of his neck before trailing down his body, loving the feeling of his body beneath your fingertips. he stuttered as you hand cupped his erection over his sweats before squeezing. you didn't waste any time slipping your hand into them and wrapped your hand around him.

his lips broke from yours as you stroked him. his head fell to your shoulder, and you took the opportunity to give him a matching bruise on his neck like he did to you. he let out a groan as you squeezed him again as you other hand wrapped around to his back, pulling him closer to you as you continued your assault on his neck.

"fuck baby." keeho groaned, grabbing your wrist to stop you before pulling it out of his sweats. "you gotta stop, or i'm going to cum."

"and that's such a bad thing?" you raise your eyebrow at him.

"it is when i have even been inside you yet." he argues, pouting when you laugh at him. it was your turn to grab his cheeks. you pulled him into a kiss that caused him to almost melt into you. you tugged on the hem of his sweats making him pull away from you.

"i need you, kee." you whisper against his lips.

"fuck." he cursed, moving to pull down his sweats. "i need you too. are you still on birth control?"

"yes." you answer as he settles back between your legs. he grabs a pillow, placing it under your hips to make it more comfortable for you. your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you.

"are you ready?"

you nod. "please."

keeho lined up with your entrance, pushing in slowly. the two of you sigh of relief as he fills you completely. his hips meet yours before he stops, giving you time to adjust to him. he presses his lips all over your face while he compliments you.

"my perfect girl." he coos while he brushes your hair out of your face. "you take me so well, don't you? you fit around me like you were made for me."

you responded with a squeeze to his shoulder, signaling that he could move. he moved his hips, moving almost all the way out before thrusting his hips forward. he starts out slow, teasing you some until you whine for him to speed up.

you let out a moan as his hips snap into yours. "is that what you want baby? for me to let everyone know who this pussy belongs to?"

"yes." you moan as you dig your nails into his back, drawing a groan from him as well. after a particularly harsh thrust, you squeeze around him as you let out another moan.

"my dirty girl." he smiles down at you. "just milking me for everything i have. take it. take it all, baby."

he more he watched you, the closer he felt himself to his climax. he moved his hand down your body to where you were joined before rubbing your oversensitive clit. you let out a loud moan which keeho cut off with his lips. the way you kept squeezing him over and over were driving him mad.

"fuck." you moan when he lets your lips go. "i- i'm close, kee."

"i know baby. i am too."

after a few more thrusts, he watches you fall over the edge again. a sight he will never get tired of. he helped you through your orgasm before he let himself go. his lips met yours as he rode out his orgasm. after a few thrusts, he pulled out of you, nearly collapsing on top of you.

your forehead touched as the two of you caught your breathes. he pulls away first, pressing kiss to your forehead. "you did so good for me. perfect as always."

after he recovered, he pulled away from you before moving to help clean you up and get you dressed again. once you were dressed and comfortable, he did the same before going back to bed. as soon as he laid down, you moved over, laying your head on his chest. his arm draped over your shoulder, moving to play with your hair.

"i think the entire neighboorhood knows who you belongs to now." keeho said before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you let out an embarrassed laugh as he pinched his side as you mumbled a small 'shut up.'

a knocking at your door had both of you looking over at it. you then heard the muffle voice of yunjn. "that's an understatement. next time you two argue, please make up at your place."

your face reddened as you hid it in keeho's neck. you heard him chuckle before responding. "sorry."

"no you're not." she yelled as you heard her disappear back to her room.

"she's not wrong." you pulled away from his neck to look up at him. "i couldn't help myself though. never can with you."

you roll your eyes before you press a kiss to his jaw. "man, you must love me or something."

"i do." keeho said making you freeze. you met his gaze as he pulled you in closer to him. "you don't have to say it back because i know i don't deserve it yet, but i do love you. and i will keep working and do whatever it takes for you to trust me enough to say it back, okay?"

you nodded your head, appreciative that he wasn't going to make you say it. you knew that you did love him back. but like he said, you were still weary of trusting him because of last time. but he was a man of his word, and you knew he wouldn't stop until you trusted him with every fiber of your being. and you were okay with that.

"okay."

[loverstrings]

Project Spindle (Chapter Five) - Established Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

She’s always known about her powers, but the truth of where they come from could shatter everything.

a.n - im free from my shackles of spring semester! im glad you guys are enjoying reading this series! i enjoy writing it for you! ive been writing little drabbles of her and the team :3 those are separate from this series, it was more before we introduced them in the first chapter. but yeahhhh hope you guys enjoy this one!

| masterlist |

“Are we ready to burn it?” Steve asked quietly, eyes fixed on the bunker—on the room full of glass ghosts and broken promises.

Bucky exhaled. “Not yet. Let me lock in the coordinates to VERMA.”

He tapped his device until a soft ping confirmed the upload. Then, with a short nod to Steve, he added, “Now we’re good.”

Bucky turned to Y/N, who was leaning on Wanda. “Hon, you ready?” Her eyes were distant, clouded with fear, but she still gave him a soft nod—a small, trembling gesture that said she heard him, and that she was holding on.

That was enough. He reached for her hand and didn’t let go as they made their way to the car in silence. They watched the bunker go up in flames from the backseat of a sedan. Smoke curled into the sky, dancing in the rearview mirror as they drove away. No one said a word until the vehicle slowed at the quinjet’s ramp.

Onboard the jet, silence filled the cabin except for the hum of the engines. Bucky sat across from Steve, one arm resting along the back of the seat, fingers tapping lightly against the fabric—restless.

“You didn’t stay with Peggy,” Bucky said. His voice wasn’t accusing. Just… searching.

Steve stared ahead for a long moment, then answered quietly. “I thought that was where I belonged. But… something pulled me back. There’s more for me here than I thought.”

Bucky nodded slowly, gaze dropping to the floor. For a second, his jaw tightened—just barely. “Yeah,” he said, voice lower now. "sometimes, chasing what we think we need just leaves us more lost." Steve looked at him, concerned, but didn’t press. Bucky leaned back, eyes on the ceiling like he was trying to keep something from surfacing.

“You being here…” he paused, then swallowed. “It’s good. Just gonna take some getting used to. You were gone a long time, man. I thought I lost you for good.”

“I know,” Steve said. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky gave a tight smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s alright. Doesn’t feel real yet anyway.”

They lapsed back into silence, the kind that said more than words could.

Outside the window, the clouds moved fast beneath them. And somewhere behind Bucky’s steady breath and stillness, something unspoken curled tighter inside him—something he wasn’t ready to let go of yet.

----

When the jet touched down on the Tower's pad, the group was already waiting inside—Yelena, Bob, Ava, Walker, and Alexei all clustered together like dogs sensing something was wrong. They followed Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Y/N silently through the halls, sticking close without a word of protest.

The crowd thickened as they moved into the briefing room, where the air felt heavier, more aware.

Bucky took center, the rest fanning out around him.

“What we found…” he began, glancing toward Y/N briefly, “was a continuation facility. Not an old Hydra ruin—something new. Hidden. Modern. And designed specifically to extract from Y/N whatever they didn’t finish the first time.”

He paused as the words sank in. “It’s abandoned now, or that’s what they want us to think. But it was operational long after Hydra fell. The coordinates lead us to a remote lab—VERMA-12, buried in the Carpathians. We believe whoever took over the program is still out there. Finishing their work.”

Yelena’s jaw tensed, her arms folding tighter across her chest. Ava stared down at the floor, lips pressed into a thin line. Walker shifted his weight but said nothing, gaze flicking briefly toward Y/N, then away.

The silence lingered only a moment before they began to move—each of them propelled by purpose, by routine, by the need to keep going. Whatever waited for them at VERMA-12, they’d face it prepared.

In the mission prep room, the team spread out across a long table scattered with gear, weapons, and communication tools. They moved with methodical urgency. Ava checked the flow of her suit, making sure it was synced to the comms. Yelena ran a quick diagnostic on her wrist blasters, brows furrowed in focus. Walker stood off to the side, quietly adjusting the straps on his taco-shaped shield, his expression unreadable

Bucky paced quietly. Steve stood by the schematics, adjusting the shields given to him by the Wakandans. Wanda and Y/N were looking over coordinates, side by side.

Then Y/N turned, glancing toward Bob. “Bob… maybe you should sit this one out.”

He paused mid-check on his gear, looking up. “Why?”

“This mission isn’t like the last,” she said gently, but with a firmness that couldn’t be missed. “It’s Hydra. And whatever’s out there—I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”

Bob’s jaw tightened. “I’m not asking to be dropped into the front line. But I’m part of this team. You don’t get to decide I’m not.”

“I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself—”

“Yes, you are,” he said, not angrily, just honest. “I know what this mission means. I know what it means to you. And I still want in.”

Alexei let out a huff. “He grows stronger by fighting. You coddle him, he stays soft. You let him stand, he becomes agent. Real one.”

Y/N looked ready to fire back, but Bucky stepped in. He glanced at both of them, then looked squarely at her. No words—just a steady nod.

She sighed quietly.

Bucky turned to Bob. “You’re coming. But this isn’t full deployment. You stay on the jet, run support. Eyes, comms, tactical reads.”

Bob’s response came after a beat. “Understood.”

“No weapons yet,” Bucky added. “You want to prove something, do it by keeping us alive from the backline.”

Bob nodded once. Y/N looked at him, her tone softening. “Be safe. That’s all I care about.”

His expression eased just a bit, and he reached out, briefly squeezing her hand. “Same to you.”

As the last of the gear was packed into crates, Y/N finally spoke again. “Alright. We’re going to VERMA-12. It’s a Hydra site, still active, and based on what we’ve gathered, they were trying to continue… well, me. So whatever’s left there, we need to destroy it. Not just for me, but for everyone who might be tied to this.”

The team nodded in agreement. FShe glanced at Bucky, brushing his hand. “I know this is a big deal, and not all of us have been in the same room before, so— let’s get this out of the way. I don’t expect anyone to like each other, but I do expect respect.”

“Respect?” Walker muttered, arms folded.

“Yeah, respect,” Y/N repeated, eyeing him. “We’ve all been through things, and we’re here for a reason. So let’s focus on what’s important.”

Walker shifted, clearly uncomfortable. He looked to Sam — who wasn’t there — then back at Steve.

Steve gave him a quiet nod. “We’re all here for the same thing. No one’s alone on this.”

Ava crossed her arms and smirked. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Right,” Walker muttered.

“Hey, hey!” Alexei boomed from the back of the room. “Steve Rogers! I have waited years to meet you!”

He clapped Steve on the back hard enough to rattle bones. Steve just chuckled.

“Nice to meet you too.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, lips tugging up faintly. “You’re too much, Alexei.”

“I am Russian hero,” Alexei grinned. “But I do like big strong super soldier Steve Rogers too.”

"Alright," she said, her voice firm but warm. "We need to stick together. Stay close to each other, and don’t do anything reckless. We’re not just going to destroy files; we’re erasing everything Hydra had on me."

As the final duffels were zipped and the last coordinates loaded into the nav systems, Steve pulled Bucky aside.

“Maybe we should call in Sam and Joaquin. Just in case it’s bigger than we think.”

Bucky gave a small nod. “We might need the backup.”

----

series taglist: @rafesgurl, @seventeen-x, @moompie, @starstruckfirecat, @torntaltos, @rlphunter, @shootingstars-stuff

[devilsxxharlot]

https://www.tumblr.com/devilsxxharlot/783443187469615104/sometimes-i-have-thoughts-and-get-embarrassed-and?source=share

Frothing at the mouth. THIS IS MY FIRST IMPRESSION OF YOU AND IM HOOKED

i like to imagine tim is embarrassingly transparent.

you can gauge his mounting anger as he goes from jaw clicks to clenched hands to gravelly insults. his fingers always tap out the exact same rhythm when he's nervous, and his usual frown melts away when he's tired, replaced by drooping eyes and a distant stare. and it's so easy to tell when he's legitimately happy, because for once he's not smoking like a chimney and his face is so much more relaxed, like he's in the before; like nothing ever went wrong.

he pretends to be jaded and unreachable, but the truth is, he's a rambler. a squeaker. he gives so easy under any outside force and he never really learns how to mask the vulnerability that encases his soul. he's a bleeding hand, truly, and unfortunately for him, his companions find great amusement in exploiting this.

toby, especially.

tim would have known you were toby's from the get-go, given how obsessed he is with you. at best, toby can't go five minutes without talking to or about you; and at worst, toby's going absolutely fucking ballistic because brian smiled at you a little too long. so tim usually tunes out toby's loverboy rambles—what does he care about how pretty you are? how sweet? why does it matter what your laugh sounds like? it doesn't, unless tim's itching to be on the receiving end of a tantrum, and he's got enough to deal with as is.

or so he thought.

it would have been his first time seeing you in person. you were so much softer than he ever could have imagined. your eyes weren't dark the way all of theirs were; your hands were soft, roughened only be honest work; you were gentle. you smiled when you said hi. you said thank you when tim bought you some shitty, five dollar gas station snack. you laughed at something he said, eyes crinkling, hand over your mouth, snorting out apologies.

he understands, now, why toby covets you so. you might as well be god with the way he's willing to pray.

anything to hear you say his name again, or even to have your arm brush against his; anything to be cleansed by you.

it snowballs from there. he's too weak, and maybe too selfish, to limit himself from you like he should. he talks to you more, all rambles and tirades and rants, his heart soaring with every word you indulge him. he brings you little treats that he knows you like. he smokes less even when the withdrawal has him feeling like his head is splitting open, because he's suddenly hyperaware of how he must reek and he wants to be good for you. it's laughable. and worst of all, it's obvious.

for whatever reason, toby never says a word to him.

tim assumes it must be a moment of sadism from the younger proxy. despite how far he lets himself go, there are some lines tim only crosses in dreams. whatever it is, self-control or self-loathing, it keeps him away. you remain toby's. tim remains alone.

he was sure it'd stay that way.

but toby is... adventurous. tim would rather call it stupid, the way he risks himself so often, too cocky from a mix of his CIPA and the conditional immortality the operator grants him. with a shrug and a stupid grin, all toby ever says is:

"i-if it h-ur-hurtsss, i w-... won't feel it. if it k-kills me, it w-won't s—stick."

he's like a fucking dog, trespassing places he shouldn't, picking fights he'll lose, downing anything he can get his paws on. that includes a plethora of drugs.

you'd think someone with such an aversion to alcohol would carry maybe a fraction of the same energy for pills. if toby's not smoking something, he's swallowing pills. if he's not swallowing pills, he's eating laced edibles. rinse and repeat. of course you'd get roped into his shitty habits.

the call comes as a surprise to tim. toby, asking him for help? with you? at first, he assumes something fucking awful must have happened—which, really, is his own fault. nothing in toby's tone evidenced that you were in danger, but he got in his own head; lost his breath at the idea of being your hero, liked the idea of you clinging to him for safety so much that he was over at your and toby's cabin in record time.

so imagine. imagine tim letting himself in, heartbeat pounding in his ears as he calls for toby, and then, with a crack, you. and god, he's sure he just about has a fucking heart attack when your voice answers back a loud t-tim?, all strained and weepy. he follows the sound immediately, boots thudding way too hard against the floorboards, and opens the door to your shared bedroom without a second thought—

only to find you sprawled in bed, legs spread, sex on full display as toby's hand plays with you. toby lifts himself from your neck, tilting his head to grin at tim, and you're whimpering. trembling, whining, crying, tugging weakly at the collar of toby's shirt to bring him back to you.

"l-look, buh-baby. i t-told you timmy w-was g—gonna come help you."

tim's fucked.

[azaharinflames]

im just gonna say that i survived 6 seasons of station 19 willthey/wonthey with jack and andy and they broke up in season 1 episode 1 lol. (some people dont see the ending as endgame one but i do, the implication was there) so im good on the shipping front.

but im super frustrated on the buck front, that they have this notion that they cant have him settled for some reason, or whatever is that tim plans for him. he is 34 and see him date around at that age is boring, annoying, etc etc. and a disservice to the character not to be able to maintain a relationship. he is not 27 anymore.

Haven't seen Station 19, but I will definitely take your word for it, Nonnie! My current delulu theory is that Tim saw they could string the fans along because they will keep tuning in every time Tommy is there, and let's be honest - a happy relationship is one that people will get bored by rather quickly. He saw that giving Bucktommy drama works and that people will check it out because they are now invested. So, if he can drag this along and keep people checking in in the show's season 9? He will

But I understand your frustration, because I am right there with you. Here are my thoughts, pardon me if they are a tiny bit all over the place:

I think that, at the start, he was written to be a playful himbo with a huge heart. He was our in, the reason why we got into the world and the catalyst of the firefam becoming a family. I think Tim wanted to keep him playful and kinda immature for a long while, and I think that has stopped working as of late. Quite possibly because it's been eight seasons, and we need to see a permanent change, instead of feeling like we're going in circles. This is also an issue several other characters have, but Buck being the fan favorite makes it more obvious for him.

I think that Tim has taken Peter's departure as the golden opportunity to bring Buck back to the closest he can get to square one; just, now, he can restructure Buck to be a slightly different character from the start, where you don't necessarily expect him to continue to be the same he was in Season 1. Backed up by a loss as big as losing your mentor/father, this can serve as Buck Begins Again, to be honest. That's why I think Tim intends to do a hero's journey with Buck in Season 9, and perhaps parallel Bobby's storyline of the first season with his.

Not word for word, or storyline for storyline, but to present to us a Buck that is living in a brand new world, and kinda lost. One that has to somehow rebuild his life a little bit. This way, he can restart Buck once more, but in such different circumstances that it doesn't feel terribly repetitive. And with enough backstory now that he can pull other characters into his story (that being Tommy, or who knows), and it makes sense.

Do I make sense? Lol

[carbonfiction]

angsty frank hcs? :( i think we all have our ghosts, reader might have depressive episodes, anxiety, etc. frank obviously has ptsd and canonically pushes people away. i think them getting together will be a slow burn then they both have to get used to eo's habits. i'd love for you to explore how reader would handle frank being away, constantly being worried about his safety, him self isolating, being rough and angry, etc. i do think he's so gentle and patient in a relationship but sometimes it can get meddled with the version we create of him here. canon frank is a pain to deal with it but we love him anyway hehe.

Ohhh now this is excellent, i love these kinds of questions! Fair warning i have rambled my way through this with a slightly different approach than you asked so it could be a little less headcannony?? - that being said if you'd like dialogue moments/any more thoughts to follow up on this im completely open, just lmk and i can drop another post on this!

But god, You are so right though, frank is canonically a pain in the ass- hes rough, ragged, mentally and in alot of ways physically shattered. He's lived through trauma that no person should have to and become who he is because of that.

I do certainly think, as you said, any kind of relationship built with him is slow burnt, no matter if you also live with ghosts. Infact on his side, the start of it is almost built on a foundation of reluctance? Not exactly in the way that he doesn't want it, more that he holds such a deep rooted anxiety to anyone who gets close getting hurt.

In his mind, If you get close then what? How long does the ticking clock above your head have left?

On Franks side, He knows what he brings to the table, who is he, what he does. Every single moment of his life now is spent trying to ensure what happened to Maria, his wife, the love of his life in many ways, never ever happens again. Much like his relationship with children; frank will go to the ends of the goddamn earth to protect a child caught in crosshairs.

He'll do whatever, anytime to anyone so long as they make it out. its Frank doing what he feels everyday he didnt do for his own kids, while no fault of his own. But that sight of his son and baby girl will never ever leave him, nor will the agony of it. The blood, the damage, the damn fear on what was left of them. No. Thats never happening again, no matter whos damn kid it is.

I feel Frank also drifts off into his own mind alot, blank stares toward the wall or his boots. Lost in a time thats gone but not in the slightest forgotten. Yet Frank will hell or high water feel it an insult to call it PTSD but in near every way it is.

it would take time to understand it- understand him- as a friend or even partner. For you to process what he's been through, Learn what moments he just.. Needs to be left in it and what others he needs helping through. How to approach him in a way that doesnt make him feel a mockery to those really struggling. And its those times you have to squeeze his rough hands tight and really let him have it that he is struggling. Has been from that day at the carousel and likely will always be. And yet that does not make him any less worthy of good, or of care and attention and hell, love itself.

And yeah, those talks make Frank real grumpy. Hes sharp and he's got little filter. Words will fall from his chapped lips as easy as bullets when hes in a mood and they always have the ability to hurt. To push you away and to make you really sit and question why you love him. Fuck, sometimes if makes you question of he even does love you or want you around. It's absolutely the things that set off your own insecurities, anxieties and demons.

But thats unfortunately Frank. And while it certainly is not fair how he portrays himself sometimes it's just.. Theres alot blocking that proof of care from the surface you know? Hes always thinking of what you deserve, not perhaps what you want.

But the one way frank can and does show his care is in his actions, even if his words fall sharp and hurtful. Its the way he'll bring you a tea to apologize wordlessly as you sit curled in on yourself on the couch or bring home a pastry from that bakery you always drop into down the street. It's in your favorite meals he does his damnedest to cook and helping you fold laundry. Its in the baths he runs you after sex and in the hushed drifts of his fingertips on your skin as you drift off. He still loves, while differently now of course, intensly.

And perhaps you worry, ofcourse you do. Thats what happens when you care for someone, much more so when they do what frank does. So his whereabouts and safety is 100% an argument point, you subsequently sitting up to wait by your phone or the window is another.

Its impossible to count the amount of times hes told you not to do it, to stay away from windows and keep shit locked. To not call or text. You try, you do, to compromise, to make an effort, follow all the rules he sets. Naturally it isn't that easy, not when hes radio silent for times on end or coming home battered purple an blue all over; new bullet hole shaped scars littering his skin. He tells you, drills it even, because frank finds comfort in the controll of it all.

In a way, control keeps him afloat. Lets him monitor all that can be monitored.

But, with all of that said, Frank does become more mindful of what makes you anxious or stressed. Infact the longer your relationship with him blooms the more he.. Opens up to it? So to speak?

One way this manifestats is that Frank will never let you go to bed angry. You might fight, might say things neither of you mean in the moment, but not once will he let you walk away (and, after some effort on his part, nor will he). If you need to break down then do it beside him, if you need to slap at his chest and cuss him out? Do it, he's fine.

In the time you've spent learning all of Franks habbits and quirks, hes been learning yours albeit a little more silently. One of those lessons he's learnt is that walking away causes more harm and thats always the last thing he wants. Especially when he has to leave again.

You also begin to find post it notes scattered around, little reminders or messages. Things that fill the silence while in a communication gaps.

But I could seriously yap on this all day.. So again, if you'd like any more.. I guess more thought out?? for lack of better wording? moments, then im absolutely down for it.. I think theres a whole lot of potential there!

[returnofeternity]

BUTCH READER AND RILEY im running around the room screaminf at the top of my lungs and crying tears of joy

-🦧

warning: ed mentions!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🪂

thinking about silently scrubbing off the sharpie off of riley's body after she marks everything she hates. wanting to speak up and tell her that she's perfect, but you're afraid that if you open your mouth, you might start crying. also, you never want to invalidate how she feels.

taking her on dates at fancy restaurants and always spotting how her brain switches in the middle of eating with you. after riley comes out of the bathroom after almost 15 minutes of waiting, you've already paid and are waiting for her with her coat thrown over your arm. you tell her that you're taking her to mini golf, and that she needs to prepare to get her ass kicked. she gets sooo competitive and demands a kiss everytime she scores good.

slow dancing with her in the living room!! riley who ends up falling asleep on your shoulder because you're humming along to the song and she finds it so soothing.

being the one to cut her hair the first time :) you were playing with it when she mentioned it, and she trusted you enough to have you cut it. she had no idea what she wanted other than wanting it short, and she let you do whatever :) she thought it looked so good on her, and she kept giggling and flushing as you peppered kisses on her face while repeating how pretty she is. she did have to go get it professionally cut because you weren't so good at layering it...

butch who meets riley at the hardware store. she's always coming in, maybeee just to see if you're working there today. if you're not, she just pouts and leaves. if you are, she loves pretending to look at random shit she doesn't even need, hoping you'd come over and ask her if she needs help with anything. and of course you do! a pretty girl is in need of your expertise! she ends up leaving with tools and lightbulbs she doesn't need just because you recommended it. maybe she asks if you could come over and help her install your (the one you recommended) lightbulb into her fridge, and you can't help but laugh at how she worded it.

butch reader who starts using riley's workout equipment to bulk up during the summer and riley who always finds herself watching you while she's on the couch. riley who always makes sure you have enough water and refills your cup for you if you need it :) riley who always joins you in the shower post-workout, always praises you for how hard you went and kisses your sore muscles.

[youdontknowe]

Happy Thursday everyone!!

1. Rufus!!

2. Ehehe Bobby reading parenting books and rufus doing the classic uncle thing of don’t tell your parent I did that

3. Well I guess the winchesters can’t find you if it’s gonna take a plane to get to you 🤷🏻

4. I hope that last little bit of Jo can just stay a part of her (pls I’m begging I can’t do that again that HURT)

5. Ohhh I’m thinking the way this demons talking very accented is making me think Crowley

6. Awh no it’s just this prick again

7. I swear it’s the worst demons that just won’t die. Like damn cockroaches

8. Rattling the bars of my enclosure cus what does the sky want???? It’s happy she’s a lil crazy???

9. Holy crap also lil blue flowers for jo?

10. The silver reminds me kinda of like anger with depression? I find personally if I’m in a lower mood or grieving I get angry easier (too personal?)

11. “Every soul spilled on the ground around you is a little dented and tainted, but it’s beautiful.” She’d make a good god just cus of how appreciative she is of people

12. Oh how the irony of fate works

13. After that one shot yesterday I’m glad you mentioned Sam sending emails atleast (that boy is going through ANOTHER forced divorce era 😔 ) also in a reality where Dean and princess for whatever reason make Sam pick a parent I wonder would he pick mum or dad?

14. “they will bow at your feet for all of time to come, and you will never be a toy to those vile fucking animals again-“ oooooo I hope this is foreshadowing cus I cannot wait for her to start kicking some serious ass and making everyone scared 🥰

15. Ohhh lil theory time. she’s right tho cus it’s stated from the start they just can’t seem to stay angry at each other or even avoid each other without being miserable

16. And maybe deans different because he’s eventually micheals vessel which maybe be a mix of the righteous man and there aren’t really any other people born to be vessels (I think?)

17. lol cowboy obsessed Dean is so cute like that man is hyper fixated as fuck on them

18. Girl is HORNY

19. I can’t blame her about getting all hot n bothered by him literally talking about the wholesome version of a cream pie

20. Oh fuck not this guy again (where are these guys getting the funds to trail her over goddamn europe??)

21. Ugh she’s too damn good I would have left that assholes soul decorating the cement

22. John Winchester when I catch you.

23. “He mutters into your skin. “‘M your cowboy.” Im going feral

24. I can’t wait for them to figure out the dreams are them actually seeing each other (they should have figured that out from the hell situation but they’re already whipped without banging)

25. Bad feeling people bad feeling

26. I’m gonna get scared every time I read the words bad feeling just cus there’s never a bad feeling without something bad happening

27. I lowkey forgot about lucifer for a solid minute. But his description is so cool for a evil fucker

28. Quite the way to word it Dean “Some bullshit about Michael wanting to use me as a condom-“

29. This HAS to be Gabriel only that little freak(affectionate I find him funny) talks in riddles and flirts

30. I wonder if most angels (the nicer ones in the show) just have a soft spot and they seem to feel bad about her position especially cas and now gabe (?)

31. End note : yeah I’m definitely confused in a good way cus I get to ✨theorise ✨

32. Also how far ahead to you plan/write chapters before posting? Genuinely curious. And I loved this chapter as always both heartbreaking and thought provoking! I also really liked the whole creation thing she has going this chapter, which is leaning me more into the angels are waiting for her because she’s the new god. also that whole a little more self love comment from the archangel is dragging me further into once her and Dean can properly love each other, she’s gonna light up like the new year in the supernatural world.

Chapter 21 - If You Want To Survive

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: This week on Babylon - long distance relationships!

Chapter Title from Dog Days by Florence + the Machine

Word Count: 18.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You run, and Dean waits. Usual Warnings.

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

Chapter 20 - Chapter 22

Read on A03!

“You’re doing it wrong.”

You know you’re doing it wrong. Your feet are dangling off the edge of the bench, and your fingers are still a little swollen from when you slammed them into the door, and you’re trying but you don’t know how to do it right-

“Hey. Breathe.” Rufus grunts your name, prying your hand from the strings of the guitar. “Nothin’ bad about to kill us right now. This ain’t life and death, it’s a fuckin’ guitar-“ 

He cuts himself off, scanning over your open face with a long sigh.

“Don’t tell Bobby I swore at ya. He’s been reading a bunch of parenting books. They’re all sayin’ swearing is bad for kids.”

“I’m not a kid-“

“Yeah, you are. Or at least he’s tryin’ to let you be.”

“That’s why he won’t let me do hunts, isn’t it.”

Rufus snorts, shaking his head. “No, you’re not allowed to hunts cause no kid should be doin’ hunts.���

“What about the boys staying at home?” You raise your chin, narrowing your eyes. “John’s sons. The older one hunts. I heard Bobby complaining to you about it.”

“You eavesdroppin’ on us now?”

“I- No-“ You get a pointed look, and bow your head to frown at your feet.

You’d liked these socks. They were fuzzy and covered in little rainbows, and you’d always kept them at Rufus’ because they made you feel better. You show up at his doorstep covered in a bit of dirt, with everything prying apart in your body and something dark in your body trying to seep out of your skin into the world, but it’ll be okay. Rufus will help you inside and make you some food, you’ll get a long bath, as much chocolate as you want, and your fuzzy socks.

But it doesn’t stop hurting.

It’s never fucking stopped hurting.

“I- I was.” You swallow, grinding your fingers further into the strings of the guitar. “I’m sorry.”

Rufus only laughs. “I don’t give fu- crap. Good you got away with it, too. Doin’ better than a lot of other hunters already.”

Your eyes widen. “Other-“

“Your family is hunters. You’ve got hunter in your blood.” Rufus sighs, running a hand over his face. “If we get say in it, you’re not gonna need to hunt. But Bobby don’t listen when I tell him that might not be his choice. But-“ Rufus’ voice turns firm, his eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t try nothin’ when you still can’t touch the fu- freakin’ ground.”

He bumps your feet with a small grin, and you return it, even if it’s toothless and nervous. 

And you don’t have hunter in your blood. Rufus knows that you don’t have anything but insanity in your blood. But he’s never treated you like you’re anything less than Bobby’s daughter.

You wish you were. That you’d come from him rather than the darker, twisted horror you were born into, with too clean floors, never enough food—despite the sheets being silk and the floor being marble, you’d never had enough food—and no fuzzy socks.

Still, you didn’t know how to just wait. How to just sit in the fucking pain like it had to be a given—it might be—and wait for your feet to hit the ground. You don’t think they understand how much it hurts. And how if it doesn’t hurt, you’ll make everything else hurt instead. How you can’t be trusted anywhere, and you might not deserve this kindness, and you still have nightmares about big and smooth hands wrapping around your throat and telling you it’s time.

“John Winchester’s sons have hunting blood.” You mumble, glaring back to the carpet, and Rufus sighs, giving you an almost amused look.

“You ain’t droppin’ this, are you?”

“It’s not fair-“

“Nothin’ is fair. And those boys shouldn’t be huntin’ at all.”

“But they do-“

“Only when their Daddy’s got no one better.” Rufus mutters, and you frown at him. “John drops ‘em with Bobby when he’s not looking for company on a hunt. And if he is, he takes Dean like the boy ain’t thirteen.”

Dean. The big one is named Dean.

And somewhere through the swirling fog of the world, there’s an iridescent light that whining and howling and aching. It’s hurts almost as much as the Darkness does. 

Did. 

You’re a little dizzy, and you know that when this happened, Dean was nothing more than a name. You think he was nothing more than a name. You might have felt the White rolling and humming for him, even then. 

“I’m not that much younger-“

“That ain’t the point-“

“And John takes both of them hunting all the time! And I’d know more! I have all the lore memorized, and I- I could fight-“

“You can’t shoot.”

“I could try-“

“No, ya couldn’t. I remember when you just saw Bobby’s gun, kid.”

“But I’d get over it- And if the Winchester’s can do it-“

“It don’t matter what those boys can do. You’re not like ‘em.” Rufus mutters your name, the look on his face almost sad. “And John- You know Bobby don’t want you near him for a reason. And I agree. Even if we were pro baby-hunters, you know you can’t be out there.”

“But- I- I can’t- I don’t-“ You take a shaking breath, the dark thing starts to twist around in your body, all your skin itching with the pain of keeping it down. “It hurts-“

“I know it hurts.” Rufus sighs, guiding your fingers back to the guitar strings. “That’s why we’re doin’ this.”

You shake your head, trying to curl back into your body. “I don’t wanna-“

Rufus grunts your name, giving you a firm look. “We keep doin’ this, or I tell Bobby ‘bout the door.”

You’d swallow, your eyes wide on his and he lets out a long sigh.

“There are ways to deal with it that don’t hurt, kid. I’m just tryin’ to find you some.”

“Ways like drinking?” You wrinkle your nose at him, and Rufus lets out a dry chuckle.

“Nah. I’m not a preacher, I don’t gotta practice what I’m sellin’. Go back to g-cord.”

You shift your fingers, but pause, staring ahead as the light turns in your body. 

It still hurts. Everything always hurts, and you feel small, and you’re safe here but it still feel like you’re being ripped in half. And you love staying at Rufus’, but it hurts, and it doesn’t matter that if you go back home you might get more hurt. You’re already hurting, and you- You don’t know what to do with all this fucking pain-

“I wanna go home.” You whisper, your eyes starting to sting, and Rufus only sighs.

He’s used to the swings. To the way it becomes too much, and you grow small.

You wish you could control it. Be better. Be more than a sick fucking problem, but it’s all you are. All you’ve ever been. And you want to go home.

“I know,” Rufus mutters, squeezing your shoulder carefully. “But you can’t, kid. Not until it’s safe.”

The world starts to shift, the fog around you glowing and bathing everything in a softer light, and your feet can touch the ground again. 

When this had happened, Rufus meant safe for you. That you could go home when it wouldn’t end with John Winchester putting a bullet through your brain. 

Now John was long dead, and you- 

You were still so fucking sick. There wasn’t hunter in your blood, there was power. Power and a long, long line of horrible, wrong creatures that even Heaven hated. You may be holy, but it might be the way the plagues of Egypt were holy. Wrathful and awful and vengeful. Sick and destructive and wrong.

You’re so fucking wrong, so home isn’t safe from you.

Nothing is safe from you, and the horror you bring. 

And you want your feet to go back to being too small. To having little blisters on your fingers from holding the guitar, instead of whatever put them there now. You’d only read books because it passed the time, and you didn’t think twice about the notes you were writing, and home was somewhere you could return to.

You want to go home. 

To return to not knowing that John would’ve been right. Being afraid of him was always so much easier than being afraid of yourself. It would be so nice to go back to this. It was lonely but simple. You were filled with sickness, but it poisoned only yourself.

But Rufus would’ve always said Dean, and you would’ve always felt the White howl.

You miss him most of all. 

“Where are we?”

You sigh, dropping your head to the side on his shoulder. It’s always a little like you summon him, and then he’s there. Warm and Golden and almost real.

Almost.

“I’m learning how to play guitar.” You mumble, strumming a smooth key that comes out twangy and weak, because that’s how it had sounded when this actually happened. 

Dean chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Wow. You’re kind of shit at it.”

“That’s the learning part, Deano.” You twist to prop your chin on his shoulder, and his grin is wide. Strong. Happy. “Hi.”

His grin grows, a hand rising up to hold your face. “Hi, Princess. You look good.”

“You always say I look good.”

“Well that’s cause I’m not a liar, sweetheart.”

You snort. “Shut up.”

“So bossy,” he hums, tracing his thumb over your cheekbones, and everything but Dean is fading into the background. Even your memory of Rufus is being painted in Gold. Just to remind you.

Dean isn’t here. Not really. But you still love him. And it’s still all the way down.

“How do I look?”

You scan over his face, with heavy bags until his eyes and a slightly swollen cheek. 

When you reach up to trace a hand over it, he doesn’t flinch. Dean just lets out a soft sigh, and leans into your touch.

“Tired, De.” You whisper, and he chuckles.

“Haven’t been sleeping good. Fighting with Sammy again.” He pauses, his voice growing a little hoarse. “Miss you. Wish Cas would tell me where he dropped you, so I could come carry you home.”

“I know. I- I do too.” 

And you do. 

Because if Dean tracked you down and tried to carry you home, you’d never fight it. You’d always just go, because you love him, and it’s not indulging or making it about you if Dean’s demanding it. 

“I miss you.” You mumble, and everything is starting to wash away. Leaking with a light that hurts to look at, the bench and Rufus flickering in and out like a mirage on water.

There’s a loud, blaring sound, coming from far, far away, and you have to go. 

Dean must know it too, because his grip tightens. “Come home. I- So much shit is happening and it’s all freakin’ insane, and you’d know what to do. You always know and I fuckin’ miss you, baby, please come ho-“

The alarm rips through the world, crashing through everything you can see, and Dean vanishes.

You shoot up in your bed and let out a loud groan. The frame is so fucking small, and your legs are cramping, and the sound is still fucking going-

“Fuck.”

Your mumble is mostly to yourself.

There’s no one else to hear it anyway.

The month since you left hasn’t exactly been spent making friends. It’s been research and moving and finding ways to keep yourself afloat.

Cas had dropped you in Rome, and apparently didn’t stop to consider that you don’t fucking speak Italian. It had helped that most people here spoke English, but after about a week you’d gotten sick of not being able to read anything, and gotten—technically stolen, with Dean’s voice in your head humming I thought you weren’t a criminal, Princess—an Italian for Beginners book.

It’s mostly been tourist phrases. Where is the bathroom. How do you say taxi. I do not speak Italian.

You’ve used that last one liberally. 

And you don’t talk that much, all together. There seems to be a drastic shortage of monsters to hunt and a beautiful plenty of books to read, so you’ve focus all your energy there.

On looking for answers.

About anything. Lilith. The seals. Heaven. The Magdalenes. Witches.

You.

Everything you learn about yourself is something you had to teach. You can’t feel anything holy, but you can’t really feel a lot right now. It’s all just a lot of fucking pain. And as you force yourself out of bed for the day, your gaze falls to your hands, and you can still see it. 

Pastel blue. Glistening and crystallized on your fingers. The Gold has faded slightly, but the Blue is still clinging to you. Whenever you wash your hands, you’re afraid it’s going to run away with the water. When you wake up, there’s a dread in the pit of your stomach that you’ll glance down, it will fall off like an icicle from a roof. Maybe it will have been wiped away in your sleep, stained on the sheets, never to be returned. 

And then it’s there, and the dread shifts to just more fucking pain. Your eyes sting, and you freeze on the edge of the bed as you stare at it. The last bit of Jo, bled onto you when she-

Bile rises in your throat, and you swallow it back down. 

You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to be sad when you did this to her. Made Jo nothing more than a little bit of a mark on your fingers that no one else can see. Ellen didn’t get a little bit of Jo to carry all the time. 

Ellen didn’t even get to be there when it happened.

Jo wants you to tell Ellen something. And you’d cut her off, because you’re a fucking parasite, and you’d been so sure you could fix it. You would’ve done anything to fix it, but the Sky wouldn’t let you, and now she was gone-

A weak, sniffling noise escapes your throat, and this time there’s no bile. It’s only a heavy, crushing weight around your skull, and a searing feeling as your nails dig into your skin.

You need to move.

Most mornings, it takes too long to remember how.

And it’s never anything spurring you into action. You’re numb and hollow and breathing only because you have to, and then it all settles down and you move.

It’s mechanical. Sleep shirt off and in the backpack. Top. Bottoms. Socks and shoes and jacket. Your knife, spin it once in your hands just to move, then tuck it against your body. 

Go. 

You have to move and go, because you promised you’d be okay, and turning to stone is no way to be okay.

You don’t remember how to be okay either. 

But you’ll get through it. 

You always do.

You’d had to leave the city within a few days. There were too many people, too many colors, all of it bleeding together like a kaleidoscope or supernova and making you dizzy. Too many not-smells, giving you a migraine. The countryside was better. Quieter. Sometimes there was golden light reflecting in the rivers, and you got to pretend you could grab it and keep it. 

And there are less people to hurt, if something goes wrong. 

Because something always goes wrong. 

Even when your day is just reading and scratching notes in the corner of a library, something will find a way to go wrong.

Maybe that’s part of the Magdalene curse. Maybe angels and demons can’t kill you, but the world just shifts and rots around you from your presence. You are made of the same thing as Lilith, and she made things as wrong as they could possibly be. Maybe this ends with you either destroying the world, or imploding onto yourself. 

You’re closer to the second. You’re tired, and your teeth hurt, and every shadow is longer than you thought possible. The pencil is heavier than it should be in your hand, and you can’t tell if there’s something in the air or if your lungs simply can’t figure out how to breathe anything but iron. Your skin feels wrong on your body, but you can’t remove it or that final bit of Jo in the world will vanish.

You miss Dean. You miss him all the time. There’s no one here to hold you until you sleep, no one to calm you down when the souls start to swarm around you, and it’s like you’re being drowned. Nobody is making you drink water or eat through the grief, and some days you’ve just been forgetting until you stand up and almost fall over.

Then you have to steady yourself, but no one is as good at steadying you as Dean is. 

You love him. And every time you wake up from a dream—just like this morning—you could swear you could fucking smell him. On the air around you, stronger than the cotton and dry wood of your room. You’ve stopped wearing perfume, so that it can linger on the edge of the air through the day. 

But you’ve stopped doing a lot of things.

It’s why, when something goes wrong, nothing riots in your body to warn you. The most you get is a faint tug from the right of your chest, and then it’s too late.

“Look at what we have here.” A taunting, male voice crows over your shoulder, and your blood goes cold. 

You don’t have to turn to know that it’s something evil. You can hear it in the drawl of his words. Fucking smell it, metallic and rotten on the air, like blood and-

Sulfur.

Fuck-

Two hands close over your shoulders, pinning you down to the chair, and a cold breath fans over your neck.

“Took me so long to find you. Don’t move an inch, darling. We’re just here to have a conversation, and I might not be able to kill ya’, but I don’t think you can kill me either, can you.” The demon laughs. “I think you might be havin’ some performance issues.”

You swallow, trying to force your voice to stay even. “Would you want to bet on that?”

The demon laughs. “Why don’t we find out? I’ve been dyin’ to get my hands on you, princess.”

There’s a prickling, burning, white-hot feeling on wrong over your heart. 

Only Dean calls you that. Only Dean is allowed to call you that, because he says it with a teasing voice, but there’s always something under it that makes your body relax and the Spiderweb glow. It’s made of something soft and a little intoxicating. He says it as if he believes it. As if it’s not just a joking nickname that stuck, but a title. 

The demon says it like he knows how wrong it is. Like he’s slicing you open and driving a poker right into the Spiderweb, then laughing as it whines for something you both know it can’t have. Dean’s across the ocean, and you’re not a princess. Dean might look at you and see more than a monster, but the demon isn’t fooled. 

He knows what you are.

Like him.

Worse than him.

Demons are turned from years of torture. Demons are evil, but at least they were once human. 

You’ve never been anything but sick. You were born twisted. And you’d never asked Cas if Lilith’s daughters were born before or after she became a demon.

You don’t really want to find out.

“Calm down, sweetheart. Can fuckin’ taste your fear.” The demon sneer in your ear. “And there’s no need to get hysterical. You get to be special again. For once, I ain’t here looking for that delicious panic and pain.”

You don’t want to be special. You just want to go home. 

You just want Dean.

“What- Why are you-“

“I just thought I’d come see what all the fuss is about.” The demon hums, rising back up. “I’ve heard so much about you. And darlin’, the stories aren’t doing you justice.”

The demon rounds the table, and your nails dig into the scar on your palm. 

He’s like Lilith.

A little darker of a gray, but smooth. Refined. Nothing bursting out of where he wants it to be, and he’s fucking hideous and hateful and wearing it like a badge. Every shift of him is like a raised chin and a sneer.

You recognize him. You can’t place how, but you do.

“Dean needs to get better at tellin’ stories.” The demon hums, and even his vessel is twisted in a horrible, crude smirk. “Even all his fawnin’ and whinin’ didn’t manage to capture just how perfect you are.”

It’s so fucking wrong. In a way worse than Lilith, every fiber of your existence knows this demon is fucking wrong. And the Spiderweb hates him. It’s crawling and twisting in your body like it’s trying to fucking hide, stinging and whining as if just the demon’s presence makes it feel sick.

And he’d said Dean. 

He knows Dean. 

You do know him. 

The pieces snap together in a second, and you’re moving the next. Grabbing your knife out of your jacket and flying across the table, driving the blade right into the Alistair’s chest. 

Nothing happens. Alistair just laughs, pulling the knife out of his chest and examining it with a smirk.

“This that knife Dean got you, isn’t it.” Alistair raises his brows at you, and sighs when you only glare at him. “I’m tryin’ to have a conversation with you, you know-“

“I don’t want to have a conversation with you.” Your words are spat, and Alistair just rolls his eyes.

“There’s those dramatics I’ve heard about you havin’. Always so emotional,” he hums your name, sliding the knife back across the table. “I was building up to a compliment, sweetheart. Dean had good taste. I can feel a lot of anger and fear on that thing.”

The bile is back. It’s spilling into your voice. “What the fuck are you here for. I’ve stopped interfering-“

Alistair scoffs. “I don’t care about that. I woulda preferred you stick around, but Lilith said it wouldn’t work out in our favor if ya did. Shame. I was really lookin’ forward to killing Dean in front of you, then seeing what type of pain you’re really capable of causin’.”

“I-“ There’s something tight and horrible around your throat. “I’m not-“

“Yeah, you are.” Alistair smirks, scanning you over once more. “You want to know Dean’s worst nightmare?”

You really don’t. You’re only clinging to your knife like maybe it will summon Dean to your side, trying to wait Alistair out. 

The only other option is stirring deep, deep in your body. Starting to pick up and roll around. Shining bright enough to split through that gaping, infinite void of too much and nothing at all that seems to follow you with death.

And you can’t use the other option. So you just have to fucking hold on, and last through this new, awful thing.

“That boy has always been a little more creative than is good for him.” Alistair smiles, almost fondly, and you want to punch out his teeth. “Made him a beautiful subject, and a perfect student. But sometimes he’d get cold feet. All sad and whiny ‘bout hurtin’ people. But all I’d have to do is show him that nightmare of his. Dragged it from his head after about a year, and- Well, why don’t we just look together. Brace yourself, sweetheart. It’s a good one.”

Alistair reaches up, and before you can stop him, his hand is pressed to your brow.

You’re back in Hell. The screams and heat and colors running below your feet.

Not your feet. 

Lower than your feet. 

You’re suspend, on the same rack that you’ve seen before. And Dean’s right there. Golden, but tattered and mauled and frozen. Just staring at you, as something gray and horrible runs over your body, and you want to scream but you can’t breathe, and Dean’s still not moving.

The Gold is rioting, but Dean’s not moving.

Alistair laughs in your ear, and the Gold seems to be trying to press out, to get to you, but then it hits an invisible barrier, and Dean doesn’t move. 

You don’t think he can.

When the library comes back into focus, you’re panting. Every breath is too fast and short, your grip on the table driving splinters into your hands, and you can’t fucking breathe-

“Warned you.” Alistair hums, and his voice is driving right into your fucking brain. 

All you can see is Dean. Frozen, watching you with fear.

Dean was never afraid. He was angry and worried and stressed, but you’d never seen him look only afraid.

The Spiderweb is almost whimpering, shimmering with a soft light and still trying to bury itself deeper than Alistair can hurt it.

But the Silver-

It’s starting to move. To wake up.

Fuck.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret, darlin’. That little nightmare? It always was fun to feed, but it’s never gonna be the plan. I’m thinking, when we win and I get to take you home, we’ll find wherever the reapers stored sweet little Jo, and pull her out. To join the party, you know?”

The Silver rears its head. And you’re drawing blood on your skin, but your nails are short and chipped, and you still can’t really breathe-

“And then I’ll give Dean a choice. He can either torture Jo while you watch, or I’ll make his nightmare come true.” Alistair laughs to himself, and the Silver is starting to climb up. 

Or curve in. Building up by caving in. Like a fucking black hole, crushing down so it can-

“And he’ll choose you. He’ll hate himself for it, but you’re his girl. His Princess. He ain’t gonna do anythin’ that’ll hurt you. Not on purpose.”

The Silver is so close. But there are people here. People and animals, and a- You saw a fucking teenager, and she had a walk that kind of reminded you of Sam’s-

“But here’s the kicker,” Alistair says your name like you’re old friends. “After he finished chopping up Jo, I’d freeze him just like in his nightmare. And I wouldn’t touch you. That’s boring. If I’m makin’ art like this, I’m making it the right way.”

It’s going to fall out of your mouth. You can’t fucking control it, and all the Silver can feel is the pain of the Spiderweb, so all it knows is something’s wrong and you can’t stop it-

“No, here’s what I’ve got lined up instead. Good ol’ Sammy will be walkin’ around up here, well,” Alistair laughs. “His body will be. But point is, can’t use him. And I think what I’m left with will work better anyway.” Alistair’s smoke moves back into that ugly fucking smile, and the Silver reaches a stasis. A silence.

A split second before the storm.

“I’ll drag good ol’ Daddy Winchester out to play. Let him do whatever he wants, while Dean’s watchin’. And maybe it’ll just be what Dean did to Jo, but you never know.” Alistair smirks. “Those men of god never could resist a Magdalene.”

Everything stills. Moves to match the stasis of the Silver, and it’s almost serene. You’re everything, and it’s all waiting for you. The walls will fall to shield you. The wind will turn to a hurricane to protect you. The grass outside will grow and flourish to protect you.

And the Sky is smiling at you. You can feel it, and not just watching.

Over you. Shining with praise, because this, this is that holy wrath you’re supposed to have all the time. 

You don’t fucking want it.

You just want to go home.

Alistair smiles at you again, a second before you lose control.

“There you are.” 

You don’t know how he gets away in time. You can’t tell through how you’re everything, and you can’t see anything but the blur.

All you know is that you explode.

Detonate.

Destroy.

The Silver razes through all it can reach.The building turns to ruin, rivers of blood run under your feet—although, as far as you can see, there are no bodies—and the forests and walls start to bloom with flowers and plants you’ve never seen before. 

They’re beautiful. Strangely shaped and delicate, glowing softly and filled with an iridescent light. 

But it’s all beautiful. 

The apples hanging from the ceiling are beautiful. The small, condensed bits of life floating through the room are beautiful. The countryside, now littered with pastel blue roses, is beautiful. 

And the souls stained on the walls are beautiful, too. 

And you have to go.

The angels will be here soon.

That must be the real reason Alistair was looking for you. He’d taunted you right to the fucking edge, then pushed you over. Forced you to lose control, and send up that loud, neon signal telling Heaven I’m here! Come and get me!

And you’ve been so fucking careful not to draw attention, but it’s not really up to you anymore.

Because the Silver’s been like this since Jo. Dormant and silent until it’s forced to move, and then reactionary. Worse than a live wire, worse than a sickness, worse than a monster.

Damnation. 

That must be why the angels are still after you, even though you did what they asked. Even though you left.

Zachariah had said to muzzle you.

And you weren’t muzzled.

You were feral.

And now you have to run again.

But you don’t want to be the sickness. You don’t want to be what the Sky keeps demanding of you. Blinking down over you and asking doesn’t it feel good, to have this kind of might in your body, to not be burdened by things lower than you are?

Nothing is lower than you are. They might not be talking to the Sky, but it’s lonely. Higher than anything else, but that seems to be more of a curse than a gift. And all the things it keeps telling you are lower are made of more than the Sky is. Every soul spilled on the ground around you is a little dented and tainted, but it’s beautiful.

It’s all so beautiful. 

You need to go. It’s not safe for you to stay. 

But you do. For longer than you should allow, you grab every soul you can and shove it back into its body. And you can’t heal them. Can’t fix whatever damage the Silver has done, because you can’t call it forward to mend what it broke. They’ll be alive, but maybe different. Maybe completely morphed, maybe just a little cracked, maybe shattered beyond repair. But they’ll be alive. And even if you could fix them, the Sky might decide you were overstepping again, and rip them right back out. 

It never stops you from cleaning, though. From finishing your little ritual. It shines in warning, but you flip it off.

“You’ve got something you want from me,” you hiss, narrowing your eyes. “Come and get it your fucking self.”

It doesn’t.

It just keeps watching.

So you run.

You don’t stop until dusk. Until you’re sure you’re far enough away that whatever angels Heaven sent won’t find you. 

And this is how it is now. You move from town to town like some sort of phantom. You miss Dean every second, but you can’t go home. You dodge angels and read in the dead of night, staring at your phone and willing it to-

You jump out of your skin a little, when the screen lights up. 

Possible Spam.

You’ve never picked up the phone faster.

Dean’s shouting your name through the speaker, when the call connects. There’s something strained in his voice. Almost distressed.

You raise your voice, just enough to get through to him. “De-“

“Oh, thank fucking- Son of a bitch, sweetheart, I- Are you good? Safe?”

“I’m fine.” You draw your knees up to your chest, trying to make your voice sound light. “It’s just- Long day-“

“I know about Alistair.” 

You freeze, and Dean’s voice grows a little hoarse. 

“He admitted it. Told me he’s seen you. It’s- We’re working one of the seals and he’s here, and I- He said-“

“He didn’t hurt me.” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. “He was just taunting me. Trying to make me- You know. Do the thing.”

Dean’s silent for a long, heavy second. “Happened again, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Any progress on-“

“No.”

Dean lets out a dry laugh. “You didn’t even let me finish talking.”

“I-“ You swallow, a heavy lump starting to form in your throat. “I’m sorry-“

“Hey, wait, don’t- I’m teasing you, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice is so gentle. You can almost see the slightly panicked look on his face. “Don’t cry, it’s okay, you’re good-“

You’d been trying not to cry.

You really had. 

But you miss him. And you’re so fucking tired.

It’s impossible to swallow the choked sounds or whimpers. The sniffling as you wipe your nose with your sleeve, or the heavy breathing as a weight pressed onto your chest. You don’t want Dean to hear. You know he’s still dealing with the seals, and an angry Bobby—although Dean won’t admit they’re fighting about you, you know they are—and a Sam that’s still working with Ruby. He doesn’t need to hear you cry when you’re the one who fucking left. You’re the one who wouldn’t stay. 

You’d hated Dean so long for leaving you, so many years ago.

But then you fucking left him.

And he’s staying on the phone with you. Not speaking, but humming low and deep as your head drops to your knees, and your breathing evens out.

It’s steady.

Ragged and impossible, but steady. 

“De- I-“ You swallow, wiping your cheeks with your palm. “I wanna go home. I miss Bobby and Sam and I- I don’t know what to do. I miss you, and I can’t sleep, and I-“

I love you.

You’re not allowed to say it.

So you just strangle yourself on the sound, and hold the phone as close to your ear as you can.

“I know.” Dean’s voice is a rasp through the speaker, and it makes a new wave of tears fall. “Just come home, Princess- I- Fuck, I’ll call Cas and he’ll come get you right now-“

“I can’t.” You whisper. “You know I can’t.”

“But-“

“Please. Don’t.”

Dean can’t beg you to come home. 

If he does, just as always, you’d listen.

“Did-“ Dean clears his throat, and you’re grateful. He listened. “What did Alistair say to you? To set it off?”

You can’t tell Dean what Alistair really said. He’d drive himself mad about it. Doing something reckless, get himself hurt. And all of this is always just so Dean doesn’t get hurt.

But you can’t lie to him either. 

“Jo.” You mumble, leaning back and rubbing at your wrists. “You. Sam. Just- What he’d do, if they win.”

“Fucking bastard.” Dean mutters, and you smile into the air. 

You miss his glare. The firm one that he’s always aim at you, but never hurt you. It was always a glare that wrapped around you. Told you he was angry because he cared, and didn’t know how to do anything with it.

He still cares.

Dean knows what the past month has been for you. Nightmares and explosions, souls staining the ground and painted over your hands—although they always fade fast, as nothing but Jo seems to be clinging to you longer than it has to—and never getting more control or answers.

You only find more questions. More reasons to stay away. And Dean should give up on you, but that’s not what he does. You know how pissed he is at Sam, but he’s not giving up on dragging him away from Ruby. He wouldn’t.

Just like how he’s only ever held you when everything became too much. Only ever gone to help, whenever Sammy called. Had held you and tried to make you stay, after Jo.

And he still picks up the phone. Still calls you, even when you know that—wherever he is in America—it’s an unreasonable hour. Talks to you like nothing has ever gone wrong at all. Asks you to come home like it’s not ripping out and healing your heart all at once. 

“You know I’d never let that happen, right?”

You blink, frowning at the wall. “What?”

“Alistair.” Dean mutters. “No matter what happens. He’s never gonna touch you.”

I’ll drag good ol’ Daddy Winchester out to play.

You know. You know I love you, baby.

“I know.” You whisper, even though you both know that’s not really up to Dean. “How was your day?”

“Kinda shit. You?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Kinda shit, too.”

“You could come home, and our days could be shit together-“

“Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. Had to try.”

He did. He always does. And he’s nothing more than a voice in a box, but the Spiderweb still lights up under his attention. Still thrives from just to sound of Dean saying your name and telling you about astral projection, and you could fucking swear you smell spice-

“It felt fuckin’ weird,” Dean mutters your name, and you can hear something moving in the background. “I was solid, but it was soupy.”

You smile into the air. “Soupy?”

“Yeah, like chowder-“

“Those are two different feelings, De.”

“No they’re both globby.”

“Globby-“

“It works- Sammy!” 

You hear Sam’s voice grumble something in the background, and wait patiently.

“Being all ghost-like felt globby, right?”

“You sound insane, Dean.”

That breaks through, and you giggle.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice is a little firmer. He’s talking to you. “I heard that. It’s not my fault Sammy isn’t a poet like me-“

Sam snorts in the background. “I heard you say soupy before. Are you talking to-“

“Yes.” Dean snaps. “She’s mine, Sammy. You can’t have her.”

He means the phone. You know he means the phone. 

It still makes the Spiderweb fucking shine.

“I just wanna ask her about a seal-“

“Call her later.”

“But-“

“No. Back off, or I’ll shit on your bed.”

“That’s so gross- Dean-“

A door slams on Dean’s end, and Sam’s voice goes muffled.

“Sorry about that, Princess. Don’t know who let Bigfoot into my hotel room like that.”

You hum, smiling like an idiot at your knees. “You know, one day he’s really gonna get sick of you doing that. It’s the third time this week.”

“Nah.” There’s a pause. “Are you getting sick of me, Princess?”

Sam’s right. He’s insane. “No.”

“You sure? Not finding some other guy with a sweet ride-“

“I’m not looking, De.” You whisper before you can stop yourself. “And nobody’s got a better ride than you, car boy.”

"Thanks.” Dean mumbles, clearing his throat. “I’m taking care of the Firebird. Drive her once a week-“

“He.”

"What?”

“My car. It’s a he.”

Dean pauses. “You, uh- You named him?”

“Not yet.” You shrug. “I’m brainstorming.”

“How about Dean Junior-“

“No.”

You only get a laugh in response, and this night doesn’t hurt as much as the others. You talk to Dean until the sun rises, and he mutters that his phone is about to die, and Sam will kill him if they’re not on the road early tomorrow. You don’t say goodbye, when you hang up. You never say goodbye. 

Instead the line goes dead, you shuffle out to find coffee, and return to your room for the rest of the day. You’re in no rush. You’re safe—for now—and all your work lives in reading and researching. Going over the emails Sam has sent you and responding with what you find. Combing through your own books for some sort of fucking clue. How many other Magdalenes there were. What they brought. How they controlled it, if it was something that could be controlled. So far all you have are a big do not attempt warnings on burnt pages,  a bunch of fake Magdalene spells—like plastic knockoffs of what you’ve found in the book, and made yourself—and the Sky watching you.

Nothing ever mentions the Sky. And it’s not like you’ve found anything explicit about Magdalenes. But you’ve learned to spot patterns. Clues. Draw timelines and pour over history books until you passed out, Dean called you, or something went wrong.

It would be lovely and simple, if you’d taught yourself that.

But it isn’t. And you didn’t.

“I heard you killed an angel.”

You’d spun around, and there she’d been. Standing in the corner of your room, smiling at you with that awful affection.

“That’s impressive, little one.” Lilith had hummed, her smiling growing. “Even I could never have done that, even at my brightest.”

“Cool.” You’d mumbled, rubbing at your wrists as you watched her. “How did you find me?”

“We are the same.” Lilith had shrugged. “You might be more, and but I can still know. You’d know too, if you just thought about it. And it took a little extra effort to find you, but I had to. You put on quite a show, almost locking all the seals. If those fucking uptight featherdicks hadn’t interfered, you might have succeeded. I mean, maybe if I’d sent the cavalry, too. But Ruby was begging me not to send Alistair himself. You did quite a number on her.”

“Ruby-“

“That’s not for you to worry about.” Lilith had waved you off like it was nothing. “I’d be concerned with yourself, little one. The angels are starting to look for their master, and mine- He will be here soon. And you should be ready. And I am reaching my purpose, but I can’t wait to learn, one day, what you do”

“I-“ You’d shaken your head, walking back to the wall. The Sky had flashed out the window.

If Lilith could see or feel it, she didn’t show it.

“I don’t- I’m not going to serve-“

“No, you won’t.” Lilith had hummed. “If you’re smart, they will bow at your feet for all of time to come, and you will never be a toy to those vile fucking animals again-“

“I-“ Your voice had been so small. You’d pushed through. “I’m not a toy-“

“Not now, little one. But you’re still attached to Dean Winchester. I can see him all over you.” She’d shivered. “You’ll get through it. We all have. Even I had a Dean, but- It doesn’t matter. Men of God. Doesn’t matter which one you chose, they are all the same in the end.”

And there it is again. Your hand freezes over your notes—a mindless scribble of Dean’s name in Enochian half-written—as the memory echoes, and you put it together.

Men of God.

Alistair had said it. So had Anna, before you crushed her like some sort of bug. 

And Anna had been an angel. She knew enough to know your name was written in places in Heaven that Castiel has never seen.

Lilith had spoken of them like they were everywhere. She’s said that all of you had one. That yours was another case of being special—more complicated—but you still needed to be stronger. That they always promise freedom, only to try and cut you up and morph you and put you in a cage.

Dean would never do that. He’d set you free. 

He was waiting for you.

You’d worry about that later. Right now, for the first time since you left, you had something.

It’s a good thing Europe is full of churches.

The months start to blur together, the longer you’re away. You didn’t expect it to be immediate, but it has to be something. Lilith, Alistair, and Anna wouldn’t all say Men of God only for it to just be some kind of weird Heaven and Hell phase. It’ll only take time. And you’ll comb through every library and visit every church and do whatever the fuck you need for just one answer.

And it does seem to be a marker. Every Magdalene you’ve found—Lilith had been right, you’d just had to try, and it would call to you like some distorted song—has had someone in their orbit. And there has to be a reason. Even if no one can place what the Magdalenes are outside of danger and change, even if there’s no idea for how you were made or why you exist, it can’t just be a coincidence.

Dean says there are no coincidences in this life. 

He’s usually right about this kind of stuff. He’s usually right about most stuff. 

And whatever Men of God are, Dean isn’t one. Not the way Lilith says, at least. He’s yours, but the Magdalenes you’ve found always ended up betrayed or abandoned by theirs. Dean would never do that. Even if he doesn’t love you, he just wouldn’t. That’s another thing he doesn’t do. 

Run away.

He’s stronger than you are. It’s why, whenever you run, he really has been always so good at catching you. At wrapping you up and keeping you safe, when he should’ve put you down. 

And Lilith had said the one you chose.

Dean’s never been a choice. He just is. You love him because he’s Dean, and that’s better than anything. He’s never been just one star you picked from the sky. 

He’s been full of gravity, like a planet. Not a flower from a garden, but a strong, unbreakable tree that could be split with lightning and still be the prettiest thing you’d ever seen. Not a rock from the ocean, but an island that you’d always returned to, because there’s nowhere better to rest.

And there are more differences—between you and the other Magdalenes—the longer you look. Some of them have been labelled as crazy or hysterical, but none of them are ever mentioned talking about all the colors. None of them ever claim to see demons and angels. 

Not one mentions the Sky. 

That seems to be another horrible, awful, exhausting thing that’s just for you. 

And time keeps passing. You keep reading and reading and finding something that’s really nothing, and nothing that looks like something, but it’s just a trick of the light. Things keep going wrong—a woman grabs your wrist in a coffee shop, you walk into a church and the stained glass begins to glow, you see an angel on the street and wipe them out with the whole block—and the Sky keeps watching. 

It doesn’t seem to mind you looking for answers. It almost seems to hum whenever you find something. A tattered page in a church catacomb, that’s a similar—but less detailed—to your own notebook. Colors and names scribbled in a French, like a personal guide. And then there’s the half-burnt, Portuguese version of the Book, and another Magdalene buried Florence, Italy.

You can go to Florence. 

You can raid a grave, to see if her bones are made of anything that tells you how she controlled it. If she left you anything. She must have. 

She did.

Maps of Heaven and Hell. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do with them, or how she got them, but you know the Sky is happy you have them. 

Lately, the Sky only ever seems angry when Dean calls. 

You always pick up anyway.

“Hi, De.”

“Hey, Princess. You still in-“

“Nope. Nice try, though.”

He sighs. “Had to take the shot. How was your day?”

You smile into the air. “It was… long.”

“Did you eat?”

You’re silent for a second too long, and Dean snaps your name.

“Goddamnit, you need to-“

“I know.” You sigh. “I just- I got distracted, I promise. I got a new book, and it’s just regular witchcraft, but maybe Cas could use it-“

“Actually, uh-“ Dean clears his throat. “We kinda lost Cas.”

“You- How?”

“He’s a human again. We’re working on it, but Sammy-“ Dean lets out a long, heavy breath, and you sigh.

“Is Ruby still-“

“Yeah.”

“Did you tell him-“

“He won’t listen.” Dean mutters. “Thinks you must have misunderstood, or that Lilith was just messing with you.”

“But-“

“I know, Princess. But- I- Can you talk? Please?”

You swallow, staring up at the ceiling. You’d told Dean, what Lilith had mentioned about Ruby begging her. You’d hoped it would be some sort of evidence, to prove to Sam that Ruby can’t be trusted.

But Dean says he went a little off the deep end, after you left. That he thinks he should’ve been stronger and not gotten knocked out, or been more cautious about the ritual, or done more so you didn’t lose Jo. So you didn’t leave.

Whenever you talk to him, he never mentions it. That you left. And it’s not in the way Dean does, where he just knows you’ll come back. It’s a little hollow. His voice sounds heavier all the time, but more determined all at once.

Dean just sounds tired.

And it rips the Spiderweb in half.

“What do you wanna talk about, De?”

He lets out what might be a long breath of relief. “I, uh- I don’t know. What did you do today?”

“Read. A lot. I started looking at a map-“

“A map?” You can hear Dean’s frown in his voice. It’s adorable. “What, you hunting for treasure without me?”

“It’s a map of heaven. And,” you smile into the air, and you hope he can hear it. “I’d never hunt for treasure without you. There is no one else I’d rather treasure hunt with.”

“Damn. Not even Bobby?”

“I don’t think Bobby would be all that good at treasure hunting.” You shrug. “He’d get bored, and say that this kinda shit is pointless anyway.”

“Yeah,” Dean’s soft laugh is a little muffled through the phone. “You’re right about that. How about Sammy?”

“He’d be fine. Do you not want to go treasure hunting with me, Deano?”

He snorts. “Princess, if I ever go treasure hunting with anyone, I’d want it to you.”

“Thanks.” You mumble. “Why?”

“Cause you’re smart, and you’ve seen a billion of those freakin’ treasure movies. You’ve studied, sweetheart. You’re a nerd.”

You scoff. “Well, if I ever need to commit crimes for the good of the community, I’ll call you, Cowboy.”

“Aw, you think I’m a Cowboy-“

“Dean-“

Dean cuts you off with a tsk, and suddenly you can see him. It’s just in your head, but it’s so close to real. Standing in front of you with a boyish, cocky smirk, his eyes alight on yours, every bit of him so fucking Golden, and all focused on you. Handsome. Always handsome. His hair a little spiky and out of place, his nose a little more crooked than the last time you saw him, but his body just as broad, and-

You can feel an ache between your legs, and it only deepens when he drawls your name.

Shit.

“I gotta tell you a secret, Princess.” Dean hums, and you swallow. “Our job is doing crimes for the good of the community. And you’re the best damn criminal I know.”

You flush, and the ache gets worse. “Shut up.”

“Bossy-“

“And I’m not a criminal-“

“Yeah, you are.” Dean laughs. “But it’s okay, we’re all criminals. You and me would’ve run the wild west, sweetheart, I’ll tell you that much.”

Your ditzy, slightly stupid smile is back. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah. Sammy would be the sheriff, and Bobby would run the bar, and I’d be the awesome, lone cowboy passing through the town. I’d stop at the bar look for a drink but instead I’d find you-“ Dean cuts himself off with a cough. “And Bobby. And instead of just passin’ through, I’d plant my roots, and team up with the sheriff to take care of the town.”

He might be the most adorable person on the planet. “You’ve thought about it. Sam might be right about that cowboy fetish, De-“

“It’s not-“ He groans, and the sound doesn’t help your situation. “They’re cool. They’re really freakin’ cool, and they’ve got awesome hats. Is it so wrong to like something?”

“No.” You hum. “But that’s a fantasy, Winchester. You have a cowboy fantasy. And you call me a nerd.”

Dean’s silent. For a little too long, Dean’s silent. And right when you’re about to ask if he’s still there, he mutters your name. “’S nice to have a fantasy, Princess. Something to want. Bet you have them too.”

You do. 

You have two. 

The first one you think of is the one that always slams into you like a blow to your gut. It’s made of Jo. Of what you’d told her, the last night she was alive. Of a world where her fantasy was reality. And that’s what you think of there, and you break down on the phone with Dean—again—and he stays on the line through it. 

The second one makes you feel like a piece of fucking shit. Because you sob to Dean about how you miss Jo, and you want to come home, and you’re still looking for answers but everything still fucking hurts—it always fucking hurts, it never stops hurting, the only way to stop hurting is to stop being and you’ve never figured out how to do that—and then he goes. With a soft reminder to call him tomorrow, or text if you can’t, Dean has to leave and deal with human Cas.

And you’re worse than a monster. 

Because when you’re done sniffling into your pillow, your head wanders back to Dean’s words.

Bet you have them too.

His voice had been so deep—and it’s always been deep, but it only seems to get deeper—and a little like a lullaby. A low, soothing promise that’s vibrated in your bones when he’s held you, and still sparks in your blood whenever you hear it.

And you can still see him, in your head. Broad and strong, soft in all the right places and grinning at you. Always grinning at you, and touching you. Dean’s touched you. He’s had hands skimming right under your shirt and resting on your hips, and he’s held you by your lower back so often, but never on bare skin. 

It lights you on fire. 

And you have fantasies.

You might have a lot of fantasies.

They’re all made of the memory of Dean’s lips on yours, and his taste on your tongue, and the warmth and Gold of him being everywhere. It would feel better than heaven, if he’d hold you right against him, his palm splayed over your lower back, his voice moving right through your body as you grind down onto his thigh. Calling you Princess and his and teasing you until you’re scratching at his back, and he’s just chuckling.

C’mon, baby girl. Just a little more, I’ve got you, you’re doing so good. That’s it, scream my name-

“Dean!”

You cum with a shaking body, and short, shallow gasp.

When your eyes fly open, you realize that scream wasn’t a part of the fantasy. That was loud, for anyone to hear as you’d orgasmed, grinding onto the sheets and pretending your hands on your breast were Dean’s.

The pricking, sickening shame hits you so fast. Jo’s still gone. Dean’s not even here, and you’re turning him into something he might not even want to be. Not for you. He’d been looking for comfort, and you’d made him your fantasy.

But he is your fantasy. 

No matter how you try to push it down, now that the idea has crossed your mind, before you sleep you think of Dean.

Something must be wrong with you. Your days are spent staring at books and rubbing at your wrists, looking over your shoulder to make sure there’s no one behind you. No one to try and hurt you, only for their soul to end up splattered all over the ground. Someone tries to get your attention on the street again, and a redwood shoots out of the ground in Germany. You see a man that looks an awful lot like Ketch in a cafe—already putting you on edge—and then a little blonde girl with the same eyes Jo has starts crying, and a Javan tiger is seen running through Austria.

You don’t know how you’re doing it. Only that the Silver detonates, and everything is destroyed and remade all at once. You can’t find any records of that happening to other Magdalenes—or, really, at all—but you’re still looking.

You’ve found that Men of God is seeming to be a loose term—maybe a title—more than a solid rule. And when the trail runs dry on Magdalenes, you shift back to witchcraft. It’s easy, even without the Silver, and it makes you feel like maybe you’re being useful.

Not just running and destroying and sitting in the dirt near a river, staring at the blue on your hands.

Jo would like it here. She would like all the sun and beer, and she would like how the hotel shampoo smells, and she would love all the stray animals and stupid, fancy wines. She would drawl that all wine is wine, but this tastes like rippin’ off rich idiots. 

You stole a bottle for her, and poured it into the river. Then you just sit there. Ignoring the Sky over you, pretending that when you stand up things will be better.

They won’t.

Jo’s still gone, and it’s still so fucking hollow. You’re trying to eat more, for her. Trying to sleep more too. You’re getting better at it, as the time passes. At not dying from self-neglect.

And she would’ve wanted you to talk to Dean. To let him convince you to come home, so he could hold you until it hurt a little less.

You don’t want it to hurt less. When it hurts it means you’re thinking about her, and if you stop thinking about her—sobbing on the riverbank, watching your fingers because one day the blue will fade and you don’t know what you’ll do—then who will. Someone has to be in pain for this. Someone has to pay, you’d already killed Anna, and Zachariah seems pretty fucking occupied with Sam and Dean. 

Pain, numb and hollow and vast and fucking crushing—pressing on your lungs and head, faint in the background until it slams into you and breathing becomes a labor—is a price you deserve to pay. 

So the days pass, and they’re lonely and repetitive, as the Sky keeps watching.

But your nights are spent collapsing on the bed, and calling Dean.

“Are the souls different? Wherever you are?”

You smile at the ceiling. “I mean, they’re different soul to soul.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, sweetheart-“

“They’re the same as home, De. All souls are the same.”

“Huh. You, uh,” he clears his throat. “You see any other golden souls?”

You can’t stop your laugh. You’ve never seen another golden soul. Not like Dean’s. And even if you did, no soul is made of the same primal, pure thing his and Sam’s are. 

“What’s funny-“

“Nothing, it’s-“ You shake your head. “No. I haven’t seen any other souls like yours.”

Dean grunts, and you can picture his pouting scowl. “Alright. Good. But- I still don’t get why you were laughing, Princess.”

“It’s a soul joke. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Can you help me get it?”

“Dean-“

“C’mon. I show you stuff all the time. Taught you to drive stick, showed you how to clean a gun even though you never use them, explained all the work I did on the Firebird-“

“I didn’t ask you to do that one.”

“Yeah, but you were listening. You liked it.”

You had liked it. But that had been more to do with how—when he’d been talking—he’d been covered in grease and wearing a really tight shirt, smiling at you like there was never anything else to do and bouncing around like there’s never been any pain at all. 

Dean doesn’t need to know that.

“I- Souls are really complicated-“

“I don’t care. Just-“ Dean pauses, sighing into the speaker. “I wanna hear you talk, Princess. It’s been a long fuckin’ week, and I- How about this. If you tell me about souls, I’ll teach you whatever you want, when you get home. Pinky promise.”

You swallow, and suddenly there’s a very clear image of Dean above you, his hand in your hair and his lips curved in a wide smirk as he guides you up and down his-

Fuck.

“I, um,” You pause, trying to regain control over your voice. “What do you wanna know?”

“I dunno. Explain the joke?”

“It’s- It’s not really that funny, I’m just tired-“

“You been sleeping?”

No. You’ve been talking to Dean and drinking coffee and you’re pretty sure you can feel every single nerve in your body, but that’s not the point. “Yes.”

“Lie. You need to fuckin’ sleep-“

You cut of Dean’s snap of your name with a sigh. “Are you sleeping?”

There’s a beat, and his response is so low you almost don’t hear it. “No.”

“Then shut up and stop telling me what to do.”

Dean chuckles. “So bossy, b- Princess-“

“Do you want to hear about the souls or not?”

“Yeah, alright. Go.”

You don’t explain it all. You tell him more about how souls tend to move and blend together, twining with other souls and staining each other in more and more colors until it’s almost kaleidoscopic. You mention the elements, but you’re vague—only that they all made of different things, not that you know what those different things are—because if you explain too much, Dean will ask what element he’s made of, and you’re not even sure what an honest answer would be.

To be fair, you never explain it all. You tell Dean you’re getting more leads on Magdalenes, but not a word about the Men of God, because he’ll freak out. You’ve explained all your outbursts, but never told him about the Sky. You never tell anyone about the Sky, because it makes you sound fucking crazy. Even in this life, saying the Sky is watching me and it hates when I talk to you, Deano would end with a strange look. Just like when you were a kid, telling your mother that the Sky is watching me, and making me promises, and I don’t want them. I don’t. I’m scared and I want to go home.

“Is it ever- Can you turn it off?” You can hear Dean’s frown through the phone. “I mean, that sounds like you’re being shoved into one of the carnival funhouses all the damn time.”

“That’s… Not far off.”

“But it’s gotta hurt your eyes or some shit-“

“I’m used to it,” you mumble, running your thumb over your palm. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to-“

“Dean. It is what it is.”

“Yeah, but- It shouldn’t be.” He lets out a long breath, and tears start to prick at your eyes. “There’s gotta be something that helps.”

You. You help, Dean. You’re so Golden it’s impossible to think about anything else.

“Maybe start looking for that?” Dean hums, and the lump starts to form in your throat. “How to control the soul-vision shit?”

“Soul vision?” You smile, even though it’s crushing over your ribs. “Creative, De.”

“Shut up. You love it.”

I love you. “I don’t hate it.”

“Good. Maybe work on-“

“But I don’t want to turn it off.” You glance down at your hands, and your voice is far too soft. Dean with be able to hear. “I- I can’t turn it off, Dean.”

He mutters your name, and you shake your head. 

“I- I can’t. She’s still on me, her soul is still on me, and if I stop seeing it, she’s gone.” You’re breathing too shallow. You can’t stop. “I can’t let her be gone like this too, I couldn’t- It’s all I’ve got left, it’s the only piece of her left and only I can see it- And if- I- She can’t be gone, Dean, I can’t let her be gone-“

“I know.” Dean mutters, his voice so low and soothing, even through the choppy speaker. “I know sweetheart, I’m sorry-“

“I wanna come home.” You whisper, and Dean goes silent. “I miss you, and I don’t-“ I’m scared. I’m scared and I want to go home. “Dean, I don’t know- Please.”

You don’t know exactly what you’re asking for. But somehow, Dean does. 

“It’s gonna be okay. I promise it’s gonna be okay. I’ll send Cas out for you right now, if you want-“

You make a strangled noise, and Dean’s voice gets stronger. Firmer.

“Or we can just keep talking. You wanna keep talking, ba- Sweetheart?”

You nod, and even though he can’t see you, Dean still knows. Still understands. It rips another small, weak sound from your throat.

“I ate some pie, yesterday.” Dean hums, his voice still low and careful, and you let out a soft laugh.

“You eat pie every day, De.”

“Yeah, but this was cream pie. You’d like it, it had a bunch of chocolate on the top, and it was fucking full of that stuff they put in the donuts-“

“Cream?” You smile at the ceiling, and you don’t know how he does this. Every single time, even when he’s just a voice, Dean brings you back down. “I think it’s just cream, De.”

“Alright, whatever. Point is this thing is stuffed with cream-“

He can’t be doing this on purpose. You wouldn’t put it past Dean to do it on purpose, but this is the kind of thing he would talk about to see Sam get uncomfortable. But all you can think about is how even his voice is fucking pretty, and he keeps saying stuffed and cream and filled, and your skin is prickling with an aching, pleasant warmth, your thighs starting to press back together.

And Dean does eventually have to go. Once he’s satisfied with your lack of hyperventilation and the steadiness of your voice, he mutters that he has to go deal with Sam.

“Get some rest,” He mutters your name, and you swallow. “Or I’ll track you down and make you.”

The line cuts off before you can respond, and this is the part where something is wrong with you. You’re a fucking mess. Your cheeks are still stained with tears, and you’d been sobbing less than half an hour ago, but now you’re wet. Dripping. Your fingers trail between your legs, and over and over the sound of Dean saying you’d like the cream pie, Princess, replays in your head. The one time in his life that Dean wasn’t making an innuendo, you’re losing your mind with hunger for him.

And there are the fantasies. 

Dean over you in bed—you don’t really care which one, as long as Dean is there—and his fingers shoved into your cunt as he kisses all over your face. And you’re breathless and clinging to him, but he’s holding you just as tight, and when he buries himself fully inside of you, he lets out a low groan right in your ear-

I’ve got you. I love you, baby. You know I love you.

You don’t. Dean’s never said that. But Dean’s voice has. And it spoke with a long drawl and soft affection. Your mind is taking that and running with it. 

You cum with another gasp of Dean, your back arching off the bed, and you try not to think about it when you roll over and gather the blankets until they’re in a vague shape of Dean for you to hold all night.

And the Sky doesn’t get to see it. You always close the curtains when Dean calls, because you’re going to keep picking up the phone.

You’ll keeping missing him, too. And loving him.

And dreaming of him. 

You never stop dreaming of Dean.

“No wanderin’ off.” Bobby grunts, scanning around the room. 

It’s big. Almost as big as the rooms in your family’s house. There’s something different about it, though. Even though the air is colder, there’s a warmth to the walls and a comfort to the floor. 

You don’t tell Bobby that. Not because he wouldn’t want to know, but because he already has enough to worry about. 

“I’m not gonna wander.” You mumble, picking at the skin of your nails. “Promise.”

Bobby snorts. “I wish I believed you, kiddo.”

“Bobby-“

“I trust you.” He says your name carefully, holding your gaze. “But you like exploring and testin’ my fuckin’ blood pressure. I told you not to get distracted by the house, and what did you do?”

You pout at your shoes. “I sang on the staircase.”

“And why don’t we wanna do that.”

“Cause there’s an ubume running around.”

“Cause there’s a-“ Bobby pauses, frowning at you. “A what?”

“Ubume.”

“I ain’t sure what that is-“

“It’s the spirit of a woman who died in childbirth.” You mumble. “They’re not usually violent, but sometimes they try to steal children. And they like rocks, and there are all those rocks outside.”

Bobby blinks down at you, and shakes his has. “Fuckin’-“

“I’m sorry-“

“You’re righ-�� He cuts himself off, frowning down at you. “The hell are you sorry for?”

“I- I don’t-“ You swallow, the Darkness starting to turn out and press under your skin. “I don’t know.”

“Wel, ya shouldn’t be.” Bobby shrugs. “You’re right. The kids have been gettin’ the worst of it, so- They’re called ubumes?”

You nod, and Bobby sighs. 

“You’re not in trouble, kiddo. You can relax.”

“But I- I wasn’t supposed to get involved with the hunt-“

Bobby runs a hand over his face. “I told ya that cause I didn’t want you tryin’ to take on this shit yourself. But if you know somethin’ I might not, always say it. Deal?”

You nod nervously, and Bobby extends his hand.

“C’mon, kiddo. If we can wrap this up by the afternoon, I’ll let ya go back to the staircase.”

Your eyes widen, even as you take his hand. “But the family-“

“They ain’t home. What they don’t know ain’t gonna hurt them.”

“Who aren’t we hurting?”

You blink, and turn to see Dean next to you. 

Once again, you’re a little taller than before. And Bobby seems completely unaware of Dean’s presence, still running through the script of the memory as you walk through the house. 

“A rich family from California,” you explain, Dean trailing behind you. “Bobby heard about their haunting, and he decided to take care of it while they were out of town. I got to come because Rufus was busy, and I’d been having a lot of freak outs, so he didn’t want to leave me alone.”

“Huh.” Dean nods slowly. “Why are you holding his hand?”

“Because right now, I’m eleven.” You pause, and extend your free hand to Dean. 

He takes it without question, falling right into pace at your side and leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Where are we going?”

“To kill the ubume.”

“What the fuck is an abummy-“

“Oo-BU-me.” You hum, and when Bobby settles in the families kitchen—where you’d been keeping all the books and weapons—your hand doesn’t leave Dean’s. “Dead pregnant lady ghost.”

“Huh. And you killed it?”

“Bobby killed it.” You shrug, watching the younger version of Bobby shuffle around the room, asking you questions that in real life you’d answered, but in the dream are only met with an echo of your words as you keep talking to Dean. “I wasn’t allowed to leave the salt circle.”

“Why-“

“She was napping kids. I was a kid.” You sigh, resting your head on Dean’s shoulder. “And if he tried to take me, I would’ve lost it. And if I lost it, I probably would’ve had an even bigger freak out about losing it.”

Dean hums, keeping your hands interlocked as he slings an arm over your shoulder, pulling you right into his side. “Did you? Lose it?”

“Not today, no. This hunt ends with the ubume ganked-“

Dean smirks. “You said ganked.”

“Shut up-“

“Bossy-“

“You gonna listen, Winchester?”

“Sorry, baby.” He’s still grinning, leaning down to press a kiss to your brow. “Keep goin’.”

Baby. I love you, baby.

Fuck.

“It’s not important.” You mumble. “I get to sing the Goodnight song from the Sound of Music on the stairs.”

“Oh, I remember that.”

You frown at him. “You-“

“You told me about it. When we worked that mall case. You said you wouldn’t sing for me, cause you wouldn’t kill for me.” Dean leans down, his lips brushing over your ear, his voice sending a shiver up your spine. “Would you kill for me now, Princess?”

“I-“ You swallow, turning your head to meet his gaze.

Mistake.

He’s so close. And even though you know this is a dream, he still looks so fucking real. Golden and pretty. All you’ve ever wanted. 

All you ever could want. 

“I think I would’ve killed for you then.” You whisper, and he blinks.

“And now?”

“I’d do anything.” You can tell him that. This isn’t real, so you’re not breaking any rules by telling him. “You’re- I-“

“I know.” He mutters, and he doesn’t kiss you on the lips. Dean just wraps his arms fully around your body, pulling you right into his chest and combing his fingers through your hair. “Me too. I- I miss you, Princess. I need you to come home.”

Your fingers curl in his shirt. “I want to, De. I- I’m so tired. And it hurts. It always hurts. This fucking sucks.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “It really fucking does. But life’s a bitch, sweetheart. Always gonna hurt. Better to have each other for it.”

“Alright.” You giggle into his body. “When did you get so wise?”

“When I started missing my girl all the time.”

You sigh. “She misses you too.”

“I know. But I hope she knows-“

There’s a bang on your door, and it rips you away from your dream. Away from Dean.

And the Silver is stirring. Nothing has happened but another loud, almost violent knock, but the Silver is already starting to hum and writhe.

That can’t be anything good.

You lay flat on your back, holding your breath until you’re a little light-headed. If it’s nothing, and the Silver is just going haywire, the knocking will stop. Whoever’s on the other side of the door will give up and move on.

But you’ve never been that lucky.

A bored, taunting voice says your name, and the sound is muffled through the door, but you still recognized the fancy, stupid accent.

Fuck.

“We know you’re in there, darling.” Ketch hums from outside. “It’ll so much easier for everyone if we cut to the chase, and you let us take you in.”

You stay silent, but your hands move to your wrists. You’ve been rubbing them until your skin was a little red and raw, and it stings to the touch, and the Silver is starting to turn and turn. It might not be the worst thing to explode on Ketch and whoever else he’s brought. But you’re in a cheap inn, and you’d passed a family when you were checking in. You won’t be in enough control to stop the damage from hitting them too. 

But if Ketch tries to grab you, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself, either. 

If you were a little better of a person, you’d let Ketch take you. You should be locked up. Contained. Kept where you’ll never hurt anyone, ever again.

But you’d never see Dean again, either. And you’d vanish, and he’s think you’d abandoned him. That you’d given up, or really run away, when it was supposed to be all the way down.

You’d promised Dean all the way down.

You’d promised Jo you’d be okay.

So you can’t go without a little some sort of fight. You’ll try and keep the Silver down, but if Ketch thinks this is going to go in his favor, he’s disgustingly wrong.

God, this is still going to suck.

Ketch repeats your name, and you take a long, steadying breath.

You can do this.

“You’re just dragging it out,” he calls. “We’ve got you surrounded, and we’re well prepared. You won’t be getting away this time. I promise, darling, it will be better if you come quietly.”

You almost laugh.

He has no fucking idea what he’s in for.

“I’m busy!” You call, slowing pushing up out of bed, your knife already in your hand. You’ve been sleeping with it. Just in case.

Plus, it reminds you of Dean.

“Can you come back later?”

Ketch laughs, and Jesus, it’s not a pretty sound. “I’m afraid we’re quite busy later. And you are not the type of girl one wants to take a rain check on. You might lose her after.”

You roll your eyes, spinning your knife in your hands. “I think you’ll find that you’re going to lose me anyway.”

“Wrong. We lost you last time because you left our jurisdiction. But now? You’re in our territory. And we’ve been watching you.”

“Of course you have,” you mutter. Your jacket is on, your bag is packed, now you just need to get out.

“You’re quite the fascinating little creature,” Ketch drawls your name, and you wonder—if you punch him hard enough—if you could make all his teeth fall out. “If we can figure out how to tame you, I think Mick would be right. You’d be quite the addition to our organization.”

Organization. You’d guessed they weren’t just a team of fancy fuck hunters, but that confirms it. “I think I’ll pass. But thanks for the offer.”

“I’m afraid it’s not an offer, darling-“

“Oh, well in that case,” you swing the door open, and give Ketch a wide, mocking smile. “I’ll just say suck my dick.”

It’s good to see that he hasn’t fully recovered from the ceiling you dropped on him. He’s holding his gun differently than before, and there’s a slight, forced slump to his shoulders.

He’ll probably get better eventually. But you hope it’s a long, grueling journey until he can fully throw his shoulders back again.

“You always have been so vulgar.” Ketch sighs. “We’ll work on that.”

“No.” You shrug, keeping your smile plastered on your face, even as the Silver grows. “I’m going to recommend you let me past, Ketch. It’ll be easier for all of us.”

He laughs. “Always so overconfident, too. I told you, we’re ready. I’ve got snipers trained on you, in case you try to use that cute little blade. This place is warded, darling. Your magic tricks are useless.”

“Oh no.” You drawl. “It’s warded. What am I going to do.”

“Well, you-“ Ketch’s eyes narrow. “You are being sarcastic.”

“I have never been sarcastic in my life-“

Ketch snaps your name. “You are not working this in your favor, by being uncooperative.”

“I think you’ll find I’m being incredibly cooperative.” You shrug. “I’m trying really hard not to kill you all.”

“Oh, are you-“

“Yep.” Your eyes narrow. “Stand down. Now.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Ketch says, his voice bored, and you sigh. 

“Alright,” you swallow, glancing up to the Sky. 

Silent. Uncaring. To it, Ketch is nothing more than a firefly. More than just a bug, but still disposable. 

“Your funeral.” You give Ketch a grimacing smile. “Let’s dance.”

There’s a moment—as you watch the men behind Ketch raise their guns to your head and your spin your knife in your hands—where you think you might be able to get out of this the normal way.

Then Ketch grabs your wrist, and you’re gone. Tearing through the world once more, growing out and out and out until the Silver is satiated, and the ground doesn’t want to move up and protect you. 

It crashes back into you, the blur clears, and it’s such a fucking mess. Another building in ruin. A fucking jackalope hopping around in the strange, black and golden flowers, and a white stag prancing on the high way. 

When you sweep the damage, it looks like you got lucky. Most people were out for the day. There’s only a rose-pink receptionist to hold and push back into her body, all of Ketch’s men—they might have had guns aimed at you, but they’re still people—and Ketch himself.

A muddied orange on the pavement. And you could leave him. Dean would tell you to leave him, that he’d tried to kill you and kidnap you, and he has tortured you, so it’s not unjustifiable to just leave him for the angels to find. And they will find him. You’ve already lingered too long, and the angels will be here soon.

But you can’t stop thinking about Jo, draining of all her blue. Growing hollow, just like how Ketch’s body is passed out on the ground.

Before you can think about it too hard, you’re grabbing Ketch’s soul, and shoving it back where it belongs.

You might regret that. You know you’ll regret that.

But it’s done. You aren’t going to take it back.

And you have to go, and not look back.

You’re getting better at not looking back.

Except with Dean.

You’ll always look back for Dean.

He hasn’t seen you yet. Dean’s attention is all focused on John. Shouting at him and raising his hands, high enough that Dean flinches, but never landing a hit.

Dean looks young. Younger than you remember knowing him. His face is softer, and his nose is still crooked but his hair is a lot lighter. While John yells, he’s bowing his head in a way you’ve rarely seen before. There’s no fight in him. He seems to be absorbing every verbal blow John throws at him, only fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves as he waits for it finish. 

“He could be hurt, you fuckin’ dumbass- He could be goddamn dead and it would be your fault. I give you one fuckin’ job, and it ain’t makin' him happy-“ John groans, running a hand over his face. “If you don’t tell me where the hell your brother ran off to, Dean, it’s gonna be your fuckin’ head-“

“Why is he mad?” You whisper in Dean’s ear, and he starts slightly.

“Son a bitch, Princess. You scared the shit out of me.”

You grin at him. “Aw, are you jumpy-“

“I don’t get jumpy.” He grumbles, and before you know what’s happening, Dean’s arm is looped around your waist and his face is buried in your neck. “I’m tough, sweetheart. Just didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Right.” You let your fingers wander up to his hair, glaring as John just keeps shouting like nothing’s different at all. “Of course you’re tough, Deano. You’re a cowboy.”

“I know.” He mutters into your skin. “‘M your cowboy.”

“Yeah. You are.” You sigh, glaring at John over his head. “Why is he yelling at you?”

“I let Sammy have a sleepover, while Dad was on a hunt. He got back early. He wasn’t happy I let Sam out of my sight at all, but then I refused to say where he went. That made him pissed.”

“You lied to your dad?”

“Sometimes, yeah. When I had to.”

“This was a have to?”

Dean grunts into you. “Was a sleepover with a girl. Sammy had just turned sixteen.”

You laugh. “Right. Obviously.”

“And I lied to Dad for you, too.” He grumbles, his arms tightening around you. “Never told him about our hunts.”

“I- Why?” You ask before you can stop yourself, and Dean just shrugs.

“He woulda stopped me seeing you. Never wanted to stop seein’ you.” He takes a long breath. “You always smell so good. Drives me fucking insane.”

Jesus. “I don’t smell like anything, De-“

“Wrong. Smell like fucking heaven, I don’t even- Wish I could figure out what it was. Spent so much time trying to figure it out.”

“You lied to John to smell me?”

“Kinda.”

“Oh.“ You swallow. “Did you ever lie so you could have a sleepover?”

“A sleep- You mean to fuck someone?”

He’s so all around you. It’s just a dream, but Dean’s still Golden and surrounding you and almost folded over your body, and you’re not sure how you remember to speak. “Yeah.”

“Never needed to. Only to see you. And I didn’t get laid for that.”

“You didn’t ask to get laid.” You mumble, and Dean chuckles.

“Would you have said yes, baby?”

Baby. I love you, Baby.

“Don’t answer that.” Dean mutters before you can even open your mouth, pulling back with an almost sheepish grin. “Already know the answer.”

You don’t think he does. Even the Dean in your head doesn’t seem to know that you love him. That you’d do anything for him. But he’s holding your gaze, and he’s your Dean again. A little taller, small scars littered on his face that make him look even more like that Cowboy, skin more tanned and eyes far heavier. When his hand lifts up to trace over your features, it’s calloused and rough, and his lips have gone chapped, but he’s still so pretty. And his Gold is still strong.

“I think I woulda run away with you.” He murmurs, and his voice is like a spell. You couldn’t move away if you tried. “Met you a year after this, and- Son of a bitch, Princess, I wish I’d stayed, that night. Pushed my luck with the smartest, prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Missed you then, too. Always missed you. Shouldn’t have listened to Dad. He- I knew he didn’t like me, but I never thought he’d hate me that much. Taking you away from me.”

You let out a slow breath, and shake your head. And you hate John. You hate him more than anything, for what he’s done to you, and Sam, and Dean. But you never want Dean to think anyone hates him. If Dean thinks John did all this because he hated him, Dean will make it his own fault. Make himself a failure, when it was John who failed him. And John—in his own, horrible, selfish, fucked up way—had cared about Dean. You wish he hadn’t.

But he did.

“He didn’t hate you, Dean.” You whisper. “He was just a piece of shit, and he hated me. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, well, hating you is hating me. You the awesomest part of me.”

You flush, and Dean’s grin widens. “Awesomest isn’t a word.”

“Could be.”

“No-“

“There’s no a better word for you, Princess.” Dean swoops down, kissing your cheek and squeezing your hips until you giggle. “And I don’t care if Dad hated me. You like me.”

“I do.” You whisper, your stupid, ditzy smile returning. “I really do.”

You wake up slowly. Blinking as light seeps through the windows, your blanket still wrapped in your arms as a crude mockery of Dean.

And the better days are like this. Moving slowly through your gathered books—often finding nothing, but sometimes coming across a new spell or ritual or empty clue—and picking at your food, Dean’s voice in the back of your head humming eat, Princess. You need to eat.

You really have gotten better at it, over the months. You register when you need to go to the bathroom, and don’t fight it until it’s unavoidable. You eat less than you maybe should, but enough to not grow dizzy when you stand up. You keep water next to you all the time, and when your hand starts to cramp, you let it rest a little longer than one flex. You’d promised Jo you’d be okay.

And you’re not. You’re still tired, and breaking down, and you want to go home. But at least nobody will look at you, and see a girl that’s really more of a ghost. 

Today is one of those better days. Good might be too far a stretch, but it’s better. Simple. Read and eat and drink, go for a walk because fresh air is good for the pain over your skull, take a shower because it’s nice not to feel grime on your skin.

And you could swear the Sky is growing brighter. 

All day, it seems to be somehow building brighter and brighter. 

And growing. It seems insane, but the Sky seems to be fucking growing until it’s wrapped around more than you. Like it’s bracing you for something you don’t understand.

But everything is peaceful. No demons crashing into your motel room. Nothing from Ketch or his organization since your last detonation. The grass shifts easily in the wind, but the flowers seem to be holding their bloom. You haven’t seen a bird all day. You’ve seen people, nothing else. No bugs, no rabbits, no spiders.

Only a snake in the flower bed, and a dog who whines as he passes you.

It’s strange. Eerie.

Wrong.

Something is, in a way you don’t know how to articulate—but sits and shifts deep in your bones and intestines—wrong.

The Sky is so big. It’s still only watching, but it still seems to be reaching for you.

Not to swallow you.

To veil you. 

Hide you.

When the sun sets, the Sky is still shining. Nobody can see it but you, and it’s not making the world luminated, but the Sky is pure white and glaring with danger.

You don’t know from what.

But you know that the Silver is waking up. Nothing has even happened, but the Silver is rolling around inside of you. And you know Dean’s not picking up the phone. You try him, when you can’t sleep under the white of the Sky, but he doesn’t pick up.

He always picks up.

You’ve called him when it was the dead of night for him, and he’s answered with a muffled grumble and sleepy grunts. You’ve called him in the middle of a hunt, and he’s picked up just to tell you he’ll call you back. Once you called him during a movie, and he turned it off to talk.

Dean always picks up. 

Something is really fucking wrong.

You try Sam, and you know he’s been put in the panic room for demon blood reasons—although you’re still worried about how long the infection will take to clear his soul—but maybe he has phone privileges-

Nothing. 

Bobby. He always picks up after three rings, but this goes all the way to voicemail. You’ve never heard Bobby’s voicemail before. It’s brisk and says nothing more than if you’ve got this number, you know what to do, but Bobby has never been anything if not efficient.

You didn’t leave Sam a message. 

You leave one for Bobby.

“Hey, It- It’s me.” You mumble your name, drawing your knees up to your chest. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been calling more, but I thought you’d be mad at me for leaving. I know you’re mad at Dean about it, but he was just trying to- Please don’t be mad at him. I miss you, and-“ You swallow down a sob. The point. You need to get to the point. “I think something’s really wrong, Bobby. It’s- It’s just a feeling, but somethings wrong. And Dean’s not picking up the phone, and I’m really worried, so please just call me back and tell me everything’s okay. I need to know you’re okay, and I- I’m sorry-“

“Fifteen seconds left.” A cool, automated voice hums, and you take a sharp breath. You’re going to fucking cry again.

“I’m sorry. I miss you and I’m sorry and please tell me you’re okay. Something is really wrong, Dad, and I need to know you’re okay, I’m so-“

The machine beeps. You wipe your nose with your sleeve as the message sends, and the feeling of wrong only grows, the Silver pushing up with it. It’s shrinking, like it’s trying to hide in the darker corners of your body, but still gnashing with sharp teeth for when things go wrong.

Things are going to go wrong. Something so fucking primal is rolling over your every nerve, telling you something is wrong. And the wind is howling a warning, and the earth is pressing up to try and guard you like the Sky, and when you turn on the tap water, it’s singing you a soft song. It’s almost soothing. Not like a sedation, but a comfort. 

You hole up in your motel room, closing the curtain to try and block the Sky. You pray to Cas and he doesn’t answer, and you try Dean two more times with no luck. Your knife is clutched in your hands, and you’re curled right against the wall, and the water is still singing in all the pipes through the building, and it hurts but the comfort seems to be an anesthetic, and-

You’re not sure where you are. Only that its’s dark and cold and lonely. And high. You’re so fucking high up. 

Or low.

You can’t actually tell. 

The whole word seems like it’s folded into itself. The sky is at your feet but it’s also above you and at your side. Like an illusion, keeping you contained with smoke and mirrors and light.

There are shadows, creeping forward and trying to touch you. But something always makes them recoil, as if you’re a toxic or poison or feral or-

Silver

It’s the Silver.

You’re only the Silver, and the shadows can’t stand it. They hiss and sneer at the feeling of it, but still try to touch you. Then after they retreat, they try again, Like maybe this time, they’ll be strong enough.

Or you’ll be weaker.

But you’re not growing weaker. The more the Silver is poked at, the bigger it gets. 

The bigger you get. 

You are the Silver, and you’re more than glowing. You’re bioluminescent and blinding, but still filled with every space between the starts and all the colors colliding and shimmering through you. 

Somewhere in the shadows, there’s something red. Bloody, electric red and shining like a black light. 

It has more eyes than you can count, and a billion fists, and a million wings. But it’s not made of fire.

It’s made of the same gleaming, wrathful light as Sam and Dean.

And when it smiles at you, the earth shakes.

“Wow. You’re prettier than he deserves.” It hums. “Don’t worry. I can help you fix that.”

You swallow, but before you can respond, everything splits open. All of it. A crack leaking through the mirage, filling with light.

The light of the Sky.

“This is me.” The Red smirk at you. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry. We’ll have a lot of fun.”

The Red bursts up, and then it’s gone.

But you don’t move. You’re not trapped. You could follow the Red thing through the crack, but you don’t know how to move. You’re all Silver, and it’s too much. There’s nothing to tether too. Nothing to shrink back into. You just everything and nothing all at once, and it’s as if you’ve been turned into mist and filled with iron all at once, then told to run. 

You don’t know how to do anything but sit here. The Sky is watching you, through the crack, and you can’t tell if it’s urging you to move or demanding that you wait for it to grab you by the scruff of your neck-

It yanks you out of the paralyzing sleep. The blaring sound of some screaming part in a Led Zeppelin song. 

Sam and Dean don’t to ringtone, but they’re also both legally dead and criminals. You’re a ghost. You don’t run scams, and as far as the government is concerned, you’re a stale missing persons case. 

So you get to do ringtone. 

And you’ve never been more grateful for that than now. 

You grab the phone and answer without checking who it is. You already get to know.

“Dean, fucking- God I was so worried-“

“You were worried about me, Princess?” Dean rasps, and you don’t miss the exhaustion leaking through his voice.

“Of course I was worried about you.” I love you. “Are you okay?”

He sighs. “I’m in one piece. So is Sammy, and Bobby- He will be.”

Will be.

Your stomach twists.

“Something happened, didn’t it.” Your voice is barely a breath, and leaving was a horrible idea. You know something’s wrong, and breathing is starting to become a labor as your skin itches off your body, but there’s no one here to hold you.

Dean’s not here to hold you. 

“I-“ You take a shaking, unsteady breath. “I don’t know what’s going on, but something’s wrong. I know something’s wrong, Dean, I can feel it-“

“I know.” Dean whispers, and your hand moves up to hold your throat. 

The Silver is dormant. But it’s still too much, and old habits don’t decay when you don’t know how to plant anything new.

“It’s- We- Son of a bitch.” Dean clears his throat. “We kinda fucked up.”

You can’t breathe. “What?”

“We failed.”

“Dean-“

“The cage.” Dean mumbles. “It’s open. He’s out. Shit it- It’s bad, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” You whisper. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. It’s- Son of a bitch, you were right,” he mutters your name, his voice almost hushed. “It was Ruby. She’d been working with Lilith the whole time, and she tricked Sammy, and he’s such a fuckin’ idiot but I’m worried about him-“

“Dean.” You whisper, and you wish you could touch him. Move his face into your neck, like in your dream. Maybe fold yourself around him and be that damnation for him. “Are you okay?”

“I- Yeah. We got out, everything intact. Something sent us away. We lost Cas for a minute, but turned out something wanted him to stick around. Some demons went for us in Bobby, and he got hurt-“

“Bobby-“

“He’s fine, Princess. Gonna be fine. Stable. We’re actually about to go see him right now. And Sam’s fine too. Detoxing. He’s angry, and we’re- We’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” You take a shaking breath, keeping your eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Dean?”

He grunts, and try not to let the strain in your whole body grow audible.

“Are you okay?”

“I told you-“

“You told me Cas and Bobby and Sam are fine. I’m asking about you.”

There’s a long moment of silent static, and you know by now to wait. The line’s not dead. Dean’s just thinking. 

And when he speaks, his voice is barely a rasp.

“I- I need you to come back.” He mutters your name, and it’s too soft. “Son of a bitch, I- I can’t keep worrying about you and doing this.”

“Dean.” You sigh. “You know I can’t, they’ll-“

“I don’t give a shit what they do. Heaven or Hell or any of them. Demons rip me up and the angels will just pull me right back out. They need me. Some bullshit about Michael wanting to use me as a condom-“

“What-“

“Long story.” He mutters. “But I don’t fuckin’ care what consequences there are, Princess. Come home.”

There’s another silence as a lump forms in your throat, and you need to speak but words feel far away-

“Please.” Dean’s voice is so low and exhausted. “I need you.”

There it is. What you’ve been asking him not to do for months. 

He needs you.

Dean needs you.

And you don’t think you could say no if you tried.

“Okay.” You whisper. “Is Cas- Will he hear me?”

“Think so. Are you-“

“I’m coming home.”

You can hear Dean’s sigh, and it’s filled with relief. 

You’re really don’t think there’s anything you wouldn’t do for him.

“See you soon, Princess.”

“I- Yeah. Bye, De.”

It’s quick, to pack up. Most of your possession now are old, fragile books that better fucking survive angel travel, or you’ll punch Cas in the face. You don’t pray immediately, though. While there was no destruction, whatever had happened last night—Lucifer escaping, you’d been responding to Lucifer escaping, and you don’t know what the fuck that means—the wall are covered in vines and a little waterfall has formed from the window edge, falling down on to the floor-

Ground. You’re standing on the ground. Grass and flowers and tiny trees, and it’s buzzing with life below your feet. Like a little ecosystem, confined to your room.

That’s something the angels will probably be able to track. 

You can’t call Cas here. 

It’s a short walk than usual, and you stop at a Church. If the angels are sweeping the area, they probably won’t think to find you here. It’s hiding in plain sight.

You close your eyes, and pray. 

Cas. Help. Please.

There’s a whoosh, almost immediately. 

But it’s not Cas’ low, gravelly voice that comes from behind you.

“You should be careful, sweetheart. Praying in a church.” The bright, almost cheery voice laughs. “You might attract some unwanted attention.”

When you turn, the voice belongs to a shorter man, with longer, blond hair and bright eyes. 

But that’s not what makes you stumble back a step. 

He’s blue. 

He’s so fucking blue. 

Like the blue of Cas, turned up to a million. And he has an uncountable amount of eyes shoved into two, a billion fists curled into the same, and a million wings pressed to his back-

“You’re an archangel.” You whisper, and the Blue laughs. 

“Wow. That was fast. You know, everything I’ve ever heard about you said you’d be pretty, but smart? Don’t think he planned for that. In for a big surprise.”

You swallow. He can’t smite you. Or hurt you. Zachariah said nothing was allowed to hurt you. 

So you raise your chin, and hold the Blue’s gaze.

“What do you want?”

It doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Damn. Moxie, too? They don’t know what they’re getting with you! A little spitfire.”

You frown. “Moxie?”

“Sorry, forgot you’re only what, thirty?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Shit. Even younger. Basically a fetus.” He shrugs. “Well, kid, moxie means you’re headstrong, little bit sassy-“

“I know what moxie means.” You mutter, rubbing the scar on your palm. “And that’s not correct. I just haven’t heard anyone use the word seriously.”

“Who says I’m serious?” The Blue winks. “I’m the fun one. I’d ask if you wanted to see, but I don’t think that would end in my favor. Already pushing it just by bein’ here.”

“I-“

The Blue cuts you off with a tsk. “I’ve got something to say, sweetheart. Something you’re gonna wanna here, before you do anything stupid.”

Your eyes narrow. “I’m not doing anything-“

“You’re trying to go home.” The Blue shrugs. “And it is stupid. I know what tree you’ve been barking up, sister, and it’s not the right one.”

“Sister-“

“No.” The Blue cuts you off quickly, shaking his head. “Just a nickname. You’re not my sister. That would be…” He wrinkles his nose. “So fucking gross. Like, we’re a fucked-up family, but not that fucked up. There’s gotta be a line, y’know? I think it’s there.”

The Blue speaks in circles and riddles, and it’s worse than Cas. At least Cas is amusing, and simply doesn’t know better. This guy just seems to be trying to set you off-

“That won’t work.”

You blink at him. “Wha-“

“Your little magic trick. The bam.” He makes a crushing gesture, raising his brows. “Afraid you need to have a little more control and self-love than you’ve got now, to take me out. I mean, the other thing you’ve got, the boom-“ Another gesture. “That might work, actually. Not sure. Let’s not find out.”

Now you’re just too confused, and you’ll hand it to him. The Blue’s vagueness seems to keep the Silver only brimming in your body.

“Look, I’d love to talk with you forever, but we’re kinda on a timer.” The Blue sighs, his tone suddenly falling into something serious. “That tree? The one where you’re trying to work out what you are and how to control it? Stop it. Stop barking.”

“I-“

“You don’t understand what you’re doing.” The Blue says your name, and it’s a little distorted. Louder. Musical.

Enochian.

“You’re changing things. Things that shouldn’t be tampered with, let alone moved around and rearranged however you want.”

“No- I-“ You shake your head, your hands drifting up to rub at your wrists. “I left. I stopped interfering, I promise-“

“You already interfered.” The Blue sighs, giving you an almost sympathetic expression. “Just your existence, just by letting them into your orbit, you’ve done more than you can-“

“But I stopped.” You’re almost pleading. You’d left to stop. To make sure nothing you did hurt anyone you loved. That was the fucking point, you’d stopped-

“Look.” The Blue run a hand—hands?—over his face. “We’re behind schedule, because of you! Little Sammy Winchester actually held on longer against Ruby and the blood, because you planted a little extra doubt in his head! Because he and Dean were fighting, but they fought all the time! He just knew you’d always end up with Dean, and he didn’t want to lose you with his brother, so he held on!”

“I- I don’t-“

“They’re ahead, too! Sam and Dean aren’t fighting as much because of Sam trying longer, and Dean’s thinking about what you would do! And you turned sweet, hopeful Castiel over to their side too soon, and now they’ve got some extra steps on everyone, which is going make this drag. People are gone that should’ve stuck around, and some of them are early, and you’ve made a mess that’s going to take forever to get in order!”

The Silver is still silent, as the Blue throws his hands in the air. 

You wish it would turn in, and rip you to shreds.

“I didn’t mean to.” You whisper, your hand returning to your throat. “I promise I didn’t mean to-“

“I know you didn’t.” The Blue shakes his head, and there’s that fucking sympathy again. “But you’ve gotta stop, kid. You’re making this even more complicated than those chuckleheads ever could.”

“But I- I want to go home.” You sound like a child. You don’t care. “I’ll just lock myself in my room, I promise, I but I- I need to go home-“

“Sorry,” The Blue says your name, in Enochian once more. “No dice. He’s looking for you, and that’ll make this all worse-“

“He-“

“My brother.”

“Oh.”

The Sky flashes over you.

The Blue doesn’t seem to see it.

“It’s better if you get some sleep, I think.” The Blue frowns, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “Yeah. Sleep will be good for you.”

You don’t want to sleep. You need to get home. Back to Dean. You’d told him you’d come home, so you need to come home-

“Probably won’t hold, but it’s better than the other option.” The Blue raises one of his bursting, electric hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it feel good. Send you someone nice.”

You want to scream, to run, to fight, but the Silver hasn’t built itself up, and you’re frozen. 

And before you can call for Dean, the Blue presses to your brow, and the world goes dark. 

“What don’t you think is real?”

You blink at Dean in the dark of the Impala, and a little bit of chocolate milk is smeared on his upper lip.

He’d grabbed a beer, insisting that he didn’t want anything else. But you’d grabbed two chocolate milks, because you know him.

Love him.

Miss him. 

You know this is a dream faster than usual. The whole world—even in the dark of midnight—is bathed in gold, just like when you dream about Dean without you. You remember what’s supposed to happen here.

You don’t really want to stray from the script, though.

You love this one.

“What do you mean?” You reach up to wipe the milk off Dean’s face, and he grins at you.

“Y’know. Some of this shit has to be fake.”

You hum, watching him carefully. “Like what?”

“Unicorns.”

“Unicorns are real-“

“I- No they’re not-“

“I’ve seen one.”

“Ah.” Dean grumble, taking another large drink of his chocolate milk. “Of course you have.”

You giggle, scooting a little close to his side to grab the jerky from his lap. His arm goes around the bench. Your shoulders. Casually keeping you pressed against him. 

It had never even crossed your mind to move.

“What don’t you think is real?” You ask, and he shrugs. 

“I believe what I can see. What I can kill. Monsters, ghosts, me, you-“

“Me? Should I be worried you’re going to kill me?”

“No.” He scowls. “You know that’s not what I meant. And I’m being serious-“

“I know you are, Deano.” You give him an amused look, reaching up to wipe the milk off again. “Do you believe in me?”

“Course I believe in you-“

“Do you believe in Sam?

“I-“ He sighs. “Just say it, sweetheart.”

Okay. You’re being dramatic.”

He’s almost pouting. “No, I’m not-“

“Yes, you are.” You sigh. “It doesn’t matter what might be real or not. I’m real. You’re real. This,” you poke him, and his gaze never leaves yours. “Is real. And I know it.”

“You know it?” Dean shakes his head. “How-“

“I just do. Do you know I’m real?”

He sighs, and nods. “Yeah. Guess I do.”

“Oh, you guess-“

“Shut up.”

You giggle, and Dean grins at you again.

“I’m glad you’re real, Princess. Would suck if you weren’t.”

You smile up at him, and you look stupid, and nothing has ever felt better. “I’m glad you’re real too, De.”

What you want to say—what you always want to say—is I love you. Dean Winchester, you perfect, Golden idiot, I could never love anyone but you.

But you can’t be allowed to. Not even in a dream.

So instead you just lean press your face into his chest, breathe him in, and hope that this moment lasts forever.

End Note: introducing new lore mechanics is always very special to me because I get to share about something I’ve been keeping secret for MONTHS and also you guys get to be confused.

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

Buy me a coffee!☕️

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[dreamsy990]

drew some of my fav ody designs! wasnt originally meant to be also replicating the styles but thats sort of just how my brain works. except i didnt copy the lineart styles of anyone here so its DEFINITELY a bit uncanny for a couple of these (LOOKING AT YOU QINNY IM SO SORRY) but whatever

the designs featured here (from left to right) belong to: me, @gigizetz, @neal-illustrator, @irunaki, @bigidiotenergytm, @qinnyanimation, and @foopsie-daisy

[choccy-milky]

💖🎊the end, & thank you for reading!!🎊💖

im so thankful for all the support i got on this story, and i wouldn't have finished it if not for all of you, and for the love i got for seb and clora. so thank you again for giving me the motivation to write this 600k+ monster, and to see it through to the very end. LOVE YALL💖🫶 (ao3/wattpad)

[ganondoodle]

Hi! I absolutely love your art! I saw a post saying how demons are able to have kids by themselves. How does the whole process & the birthing process work exactly?

hello! thank you so much for this ask!!!

(i made some sketches and wrote down some notes on this but i will explain in more detail below that ... its pretty long again .. sorry qwq)

demons (in my OC story and world) are .. essentially "built" around the idea of what a natural guardian of an ecosystem could look like that is as indestructible as possible while still being very much a living being

their biology is somewhat simplified (if you want to call it that), meaning they dont have nearly as many organs as we have and it works rather 'simplistic' (like they recover their energy passively through the particles of it in the air- which is a reason why they need to breathe (other being to get the blood to the right places) and usually only eat if they had a loss of energy/blood, like a bad injury they needed to heal quickly or spending too much on magic use- and its literally just converted into magic/blood)

(truth be told i havent thought out or designed each and every organ, forgive me :V) but the main things are, four lungs, a demonic heart (the most important thing that keeps everything running), a second red blood heart (like humans have, but very small and a rather useless remnant of their evolution, sorta like the leg bones some whales still have), the reproductive organ (usually somewhat between the lungs, directly below the heart, but it depends on each demon) and a stomach which is also the dead end of their system (they are supposed to be able to digest everything that goes in there, if theres somethign they cant it has to be vomitted)

-having offspring is generally extremely rare, demons dont die of age and are (or are supposed to be) very hard to kill so its purely a deeply personal choice for them to have one- each demon can have them given the organ isnt damaged and they decide to kickstart the process (you cant really force a demon to carry a child)

-their genes work a little differently, a child from one parent isnt really a clone and inbreeding is technically nigh impossible with them in the sense that offspring wouldnt show any negative defects (culturally it would be a death sentence, as a romantic relationship that is, demons being single parents throughout generations isnt considered inbreeding) -if two or more demons are partners and want a child of them both they can exchange genetical information via heartblood (the highly concentrated blood in their hearts, which is the only thing that openly carries genes) deliberately through .. well cutting and transferring blood (alot about demons is really about their blood) which influences how much a child may resemble them for example but also mixes up the gene pool of both the parents as well as the offspring

-(important add on- this sort of blood exchange would need to happen right before kickstarting the process otherwise it would just mix with the general gene pool- a theory to explain, at least in part, why brutal fights are such a common thing in demon culture is to indirectly raise the chances of heartblood mixing in the act of fighting instead, since romantic relationships are so rare among them and most are single parents)

-once the process is started it can only be slowed down but not stopped (unless getting it out prematurely), and at reaching ca. 5% of development a demon is unable to change into humanoid/their smaller form since the fetus cant change form with them, trying it anyway is extremely dangerous

-offspring are considered to be 'full term' when they are born and can produce their own energy/digest food to gain more, though they can be born at about 50% of development without dying, then however need to cling to another demon to feed on their blood in order to reach that dev. stage

-its largely not visible when a demon is carrying a child, though it also depends on the demons 'built' and general condition (for example, Shargon is very slim and has little energy storage, depending on how long he lets it develop it might cause visible changes on top of typical behavioral ones, if Eadrya would do it they could without anything being noticable except the required refusal of changing forms really)

-a demon carrying an offspring will refuse to change form, likely refuses to engage in fights, generally retreat depending on their social status and might show shortness of breath (it puts pressure on the lungs and heart especially in the later stages and with slimmer or smaller demons), rest more and forage for things that are highly convertable to energy/blood if they cannot recover it passively evenly as it is used (a somewhat stable energy/blood/magic -sorry i still dont know what to call it so its not confusing- level is beneficial to the offspring, a lack of it can put both at risk)

-birth is generally initiated by the parent or when it has reached full term, and since its done so via the mouth it has to pass by the lungs and heart, compressing them both immensely for a short time, not being able to breathe and possibly causing the heart to stop temporarily depending on how far along the offspring is/big compared to its parent- Shargon cant carry fully to term since even an appropiately sized one has to pass through his slim body (Jyothi was born at around 90%, Tyura at roughly 56%) and it causes great stress on his system since hes chronically lacking energy in part from being hunted down alot (Tyuras early birth happened bc Shargon was critically injured by Eadrya and hunted by them during the earlier stages as well)

-it IS possible to allow it to grow to full term even when it cant pass by the lungs and heart though it involves bending or breaking bones (if he carried Jyothi the remaining percentage he would have had to do that) or in extreme cases to cut themselves open, given their healing capabilities that might sound not too bad but it is extremely painful, risks dangerous injury to both and permanent damage to the reproductive organ (also their healing is often more of an active thing rather than a passive one, especially with bigger and more dangerous wounds that need quick healing, meaning they have to actively "do" it, which is hard when you are literally dying)

-the offspring is within an translucent egg like bubble (though squishy) of ideally highly charged demonic blood, the outer layer can withstand quite a bit; ones born before reaching full term (in which case it would dissolve right away) either remain within it (if sufficiently charged with energy) or it dissolves/is cut open during or after birth and the child has to cling to another demon to feed on their blood this way

-uniquely, before reaching full term a young demon can convert any elemental type of blood to their own, losing that ability afterwards

-offspring can be of any elemental type from any parent though the likelyhood is slightly higher for ones with the same type, even moreso when it is a single parent (Shargon is thunder, his firstborn is wind, his second also thunder)

I hope this isnt too long and uuh answers that!! <3

[woolying]

am i too late do people still like maid david