#the ending and the second book still make me angry

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: I don't know why Flowey and Player aren't drawn together often. Flowey was literally made to be like a representation of the player when he discovered he had the power to reset because that's how the power of timetravel twist your whole morality. You can do anything, try every option, try every method, read every book or burn every book, know everything about a person. You do it so much that the world just become a repeating lines of dialogues and numbers. You feel nothing when you make people suffer because you never have to worry about consequences cause you could just load in to your last save or reset. Even though the only difference with Flowey to the Player is that he lacks a soul so he can't feel emotions, he's not any different to us. He can still get angry, annoyed, scared and longed and can still do nice things like when he tucked in Toriel when she passed out.

As an aroace person, I at least understand how Flowey feels. What it feels like to lack the emotion to be romantically or intimately interested in someone. That doesn't make me a heartless monster, I could still have relationships like having friends and family. I could still be kind and respect people. Though I don't have time travel skills to deeply understand how he turned out twisted and apathetic. I could still understand him as a player. We too, the player, mess with our power to reset, save and load just as much as him.

I played many games, especially ones that involves choices, and reset everytime I make a mistake so that I could get to a perfect ending. I skip through every dialogue I have already read so I could quickly catch up to where I was before making the mistake. Done too many times that I no longer feel for the characters anymore, they're just words to me now instead of a person and I don't just wait around so I could get to my goal as soon as possible. Once you've reach the goal and got the achievement, you'll definitely want to try things differently. See everything, do everything, breaking apart the game to find out everything they had to offer. We too grow apathetic, soulless like Flowey, to these characters.

I've seen a lot of parallels and duo fanart to characters who had meet Flowey. Like Flowey and Frisk, Flowey and Chara, Asriel and Chara, Asriel and Frisk, Flowey and Papyrus, Flowey and the rest of the main cast, but never seen fanart with Flowey and Player (more specifically, ambigious Player), the one person who would understand Flowey the most. Frisk would come second to that cause they experienced the resets differently because they were never in control, they were a victim and a vessel but still had an understanding why resets changes you so much as a person.

[tayswife]

— braid my hair, kiss my lips

☆ glinda upland x elphaba thropp

☆ summary: glinda gets frustrated with her hair. elphaba ends up braiding it for her. or, glinda spirals over not being able to braid her hair and gay witches end up kissing.

☆ a/n: when i’m talking about them getting reading for fencing training class im talking about that one clip in what is this feeling but i have no idea if that’s actually fencing or not helpppp…

glinda sat at her vanity, across the room from elphaba who was sitting on her bed with a book opened in her lap. she was waiting on her recently new friend, glinda, to finish getting reading so they could head off to fencing training class. arriving together to class had been something that they had began doing without even discussing it. they seemed to be constantly together lately.

glinda groaned, loud enough for anyone outside of their dorm room to hear, and she threw her face into her hands. elphaba looked up at her frustrated friend and closed her book. even though they were friends now, elphaba was still skeptical of glinda. she wasn’t entirely sure what the girl’s intentions were quiet yet. she didn’t hate her, she was just unsure.

elphaba stood up off of her bed and slowly walked over to her. when glinda heard the delicate clink of her heels against the wood floor, she looked up and carefully watched elphaba through her vanity mirror.

she still looks very angry but her face seemed to soften when she saw elphaba.

“you okay?” elphaba asks.

glinda sighs, and looks down. elphaba’s expecting the blonde to start yelling about whatever problem she is currently facing, but instead, her voice is quiet and defeated, “no. my stupid hair won’t braid. i don’t know what’s wrong with it today.”

elphaba closed the large distance that was between them and stood right behind glinda. glinda’s hair was unkept and messy. elphaba thought she looked most beautiful like this. it was the glory of being roommates and seeing a side of each other that nobody else gets to see.

“would you like me to braid it for you?” elphie says it quietly as if she’s still talking to the old glinda that would cringe at her offer.

instead, glinda’s eyes widened. a soft smile appears on her pink lips. she nods, “you’d do that for me?”

“of course.” glinda’s played dress up with elphaba now that they’re friends; attempting to find her a new style, but elphie hasn’t yet been the one to help out glinda. people typically don’t go to her for fashion, and makeup, and beauty. however, to their disbelief, elphie really is great at braiding hair.

glinda gave her a smile and nod of consent and hands her friend a bright pink hairbrush. elphaba brushed through the golden locks, being extra careful to not hurt her when she brushed through the knots that glinda created from her multiple attempts at braids.

“you’re really gentle,” glinda says, “i like you brushing my hair.”

elphaba blushed. and she didn’t know why she blushed at glinda’s words either, but she did, and now she needed to compliment the blonde witch back. “well your hair is very soft so that helps a lot.”

“thank you,” glinda says softly. and that’s all either of them say, but both girls sit there thinking about the exchange and how intimate this moment feels.

elphaba eventually puts down the brush when glinda’s hair is perfectly untangled. she picks up one section of her hair and, for a moment, all she can think about is how this is the first time that her hands have been on glinda’s hair and she tries to ignore the flutter feeling in her chest.

she then separates that section into three more and starts crossing them over each other. having elphaba’s hands thread through her hair makes glinda so sleepy but her heart beating a mile a second keeps her awake.

eventually, she gets to her ends and ties it off with a tiny clear elastic that glinda handed her. it’s when she’s about to go to the second section of her hair that glinda hands her a string of baby pink ribbon. of course glinda wasn’t going to not have any accessories in her hair. that would be very un-glinda like.

elphie smiles at her through her vanity mirror and glinda smiles back. “how could i forget,” elphaba says, and then ties a perfect bow at the end to hide the elastic.

she then does the exact same thing on the other side of glinda’s head; three strands, cross them, elastic, and then the pink ribbon. frankly, she wishes she wasn’t finished. she wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she enjoyed spending time like this with glinda. unbeknown to her, glinda felt the exact same feelings. unfortunately though, they had to get to class and glinda didn’t have any more hair to braid.

“for once it’s you giving me the makeover,” glinda teases and turns around in her stool to face her friend. they’re now very very close and elphaba thinks she should probably take a step back but her brain and feet seem to be unconnected right now.

“i actually didn’t mind it,” she says, and they both giggle. she wanted to say that she actually very much enjoyed it but she couldn’t blow her cover. “you look nice in braids,” she then adds and immediately regrets it right as it falls off her tongue.

“yeah?” glinda challenges with a teasing glimmer in her eyes, but tones it down once she sees elphaba’s slightly frightened face that she’s trying so hard to suppress after giving out that compliment. “thank you. i like the way you do them.”

elphaba smiles, waiting for the silence that’ll be full of tension. yet, it doesn’t happen. glinda continues on talking. “everyone expects me to be perfect. but i’m not. i can’t even braid my own hair.”

“we all have flaws,” elphaba chimes in, though thinks to herself how she has many more than others. and how glinda is completely perfect besides the fact that she struggled to braid her hair this morning.

glinda sighs and then turns back around to stare at herself in the mirror. “i gave you so much trouble when you first got here—”

“glinda…”

“no, elphie, i did and im not even perfect. i acted like i was. like i was better than you.”

“you’ve changed,” elphaba counteracts. shes still skeptical about glinda, however, her acts at the ozdust make her believe that the pink witch might truly be different than their first encounters.

“but it’s not fair,” she says louder, almost like she’s fighting with herself, “you have to deal with it! everyday! but really, i’m the imperfect one yet i’m the one everyone follows.”

elphaba then sighs. she walks away, and glinda thinks she might’ve upset elphaba and struck a nerve. but then she sees the witch pull up a chair beside her and then she’s grabbing glinda’s hand and holding them so tightly yet so gentle.

“it’s not your fault, glinda. i’ve been dealing with it since the moment i was born and i’ve mostly learned how to deal.”

“but it’s not fair,” glinda says very quietly and then looks down at her lap; at their green and pale hands intertwined. glinda thinks, they clash so nicely with each other.

“it’s not,” elphaba agrees. she doesn’t know where she’d found this current confidence deep inside her but she puts her fingers under glinda’s chin and tilts her head up so they’re face to face again. “but it’s the way it is.”

this sudden gesture from elphie sparks something in glinda. her big brown eyes are open wider than usual, and right as elphaba speaks the last syllable, glinda’s leaning forward and deeply kissing her.

elphaba’s entire body freezes and she doesn’t kiss back because, frankly, she doesn’t entirely process what’s happening at first. she actually isn’t sure it truly is happening.

glinda quickly pulls back and she’s quick to start moving her lips to speak rather than to kiss, “oh my— i’m so so sorry. i don’t know what—” glinda goes to stand up, or at least attempts to, but elphie grabs her wrists and brings her back down to her stool. at this point, glinda doesn’t even bother to finish what she was saying.

elphaba had never kissed anyone once before, but everything feels so easy with glinda. and that’s the most surprising of it all, she thinks. she leans in before glinda can say anything else and starts kissing her for real this time.

she’s impossibly close to her that she can strongly smell the sweet notes of fresh flowers and vanilla that always radiating off of glinda. the blonde witch then places her hand on elphaba’s thigh as to steady herself, or maybe to even work elphie up.

elphaba’s green lips are so incredibly soft but she really didn’t expect any less of her. despite what everyone else thinks, glinda is with her all the time and can argue that elphaba isn’t a disgusting monster but rather a beautiful girl that isn’t any different besides the green color on her flesh.

they finally pull away and stare at each other, both with puffy lips. some of glinda’s pink lipstick had rubbed off onto elphaba’s lips. pink goes well with green, she quickly thinks back to the morning after the ozdust. it so does. she doesn’t even want to tell elphaba because she looks so pretty and she doesn’t want her to wipe it off.

just then, while glinda’s reminiscing, does elphie remember the reason she has braided her hair in the first place, the reason they even ended up in this position. they had to get to class. elphaba’s never late to class but by the looks of the clock, it started five minutes ago.

“glinda,” elphaba says, as if they didn’t just practically eat each others faces off.

the blonde hums a yes, oblivious to where they should be right now.

“we were supposed to be to class five minutes ago.” glinda smirks at her, clearly not as worried. frankly, this wasn’t her favorite class and kissing elphaba seems way more important than fencing training.

“can’t we skip?” glinda asks, knowing what the answer was going to be and so she put her best puppy dog face on and continued, “i wanna keep kissing you.”

“glinda, i can’t afford to miss class. you can’t either!”

“you’ve never missed a class in your life. i think i can get us out of it.”

glinda stares at her with big pleading eyes. elphaba stares back as if though she’s internally fighting with herself. she’s a perfect student yet then again, what would missing one fencing class do?

“alright fine,” she says, and the other girl squeals in excitement, “but we aren’t making this a frequent thing.”

“can we make the kissing a frequent thing?” glinda asks, biting down on her bottom lip as if she were trying to stimulate the feeling of elphaba lips.

“i think we can make that work,” elphaba says, and once again, pulls glinda back in for more. it certainly wasn’t going to be the only time glinda’s charm made her absent for class.

[maddiesbookshelves]

Fav books of 2023 (in no particular order and not including re-reads)

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader

As much as you'd like to spend the rest of your life secluded away from the world, you need money. Conveniently enough, a new detective agency in town is hiring, and the salary is ridiculously good. The catch? Oh, you'll see once you sign the contract right...here. Congratulations! You've sealed a lifetime bond with their one and only employee, a demon from the depths of Hell!

Content: female reader, monster romance, dark humor, perverted goat demon yandere, based on ‘Yondemasuyo, Azazel-San’

[Part 2] [Monster masterlist]

There’s still enough time to go back, you think. It’s loud and crowded and you’d rather be home. The temptation is beginning to creep its tendrils over your mind, so you quickly pull out your phone and check your bank account. The numbers remind you why you’re here in the first place: if you don’t get a job soon, you’ll run out of savings.

Come on, it can’t be that bad. In fact, it’s the best offer you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Minimal interaction with humans, short hours, and absurdly good pay. A new detective agency opened in your town and they’re looking for an assistant. A regular person would most likely be put off by such shady circumstances. There must be a catch, but you couldn’t care less either way. What are they going to do, kill you? Sell your organs on the black market? They’d spare you the time to plan your own demise.

You climb the stairs and knock on the door. A deep voice tells you to enter, and you sheepishly make your entrance. The office is rather small and somewhat cramped, with stacks of papers scattered over the floor. Behind the desk sits a man – maybe in his thirties? – with messy black hair, sunken eyes, and an irked expression. Is this the detective? He looks like an angry thug. Not that you’re one to judge, given your overall gloomy aura that deters passersby with ease.

“Yes?” he asks curtly, not even looking up from his book.

“I’m here for the job offer. The assistant role?”

“Ah, yeah. Completely forgot about that.” He rummages through his drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper, slapping it on the desk. “Here’s the details. Same as in the ad. Here’s where you sign. Do you have questions?”

“Hmm, I guess not.” You hum, indifferent, and scribble your name.

The man finally glances at you, faint intrigue on his face.

“This went unexpectedly smoothly. What if it was a scam?”

“Then what?” You stare him in the eye with a flaccid smile. “There’s nothing to take from me. If it is a scam indeed, you’ll be the one disappointed in the end.”

His eyes narrow in an eerie grin, and he stands up.

“Perfect match.”

“Excuse me?”

He walks towards a secondary room and waits for you to follow him. Once you’ve joined, he turns on the lights, and you immediately notice a strange seal painted on the floor: Geometric symbols resembling a pentagram, surrounded by words in a language you don’t understand. You’re carefully observing the strange sight, so entranced that you don’t sense the detective lifting your hand and casually piercing your finger with a small scalpel.

Before you can react to the sudden attack, he presses your hand onto the contract you’d signed earlier. You wince in pain and swiftly pull your hand away, glaring at the man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand angrily.

“I thought I’d already introduce you to the main tool we use to solve our cases.”

The sigil on the ground begins to glow and the edges move in a circular motion. A black ooze erupts from the center, rapidly expanding outwards. You glue yourself to the wall for safety, unsure of what is happening.

A clawed hand emerges from the cursed muck, grabbing onto the edges for support. Within seconds, a creature crawls its way out. A humanoid figure with curled horns and long locks, its body ending with goat hooves instead of legs, stands up and stretches before your terrified self. You tighten your jaw in anticipation.

“You always summon me during my best naps, damn it!” the demon barks.

The detective approaches the monster, completely unconcerned, and slaps its horns nonchalantly, earning a groan from the demon.

“Skip the unnecessary whining. This is our new assistant and your owner as of now.” He explains, dangling the contract before the horned creature and pointing a finger in your direction.

“The fuck? You said you’d end the deal if I completed that mission. You lied to me, you-!” the beast finally notices your presence and abruptly stops. “Well then, what do we have here?”

A wide, perverted smile replaces his frown, sharp fangs glistening with malice.

“Aren’t you a miserable one! You reek of apathy”, the demon exclaims, clacking his hooves in your direction. “Boy oh boy, I could just eat you up! Tell me your name.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You wonder if this is some bizarre dream after all. The demon clamps your lips back shut.

“Tempting offer, but I don’t need head right now. Save the gesture for later, alright? Let’s try again: Name!”

Your brows furrow in disbelief at his crass insolence.

“I-it’s (Y/N).” you finally manage to blurt out.

He strokes your head lovingly, as if he’s praising some house pet.

“Good girl. You can call me Zzy.”

For a moment, you completely forgot about the detective being in the same room. He places the demon under a firm hold and shoves him away from you, then hands you a thick, leathered book.

“This is his grimoire. Read it once you’re home. First day is tomorrow unless you need more time.”

“Tomorrow is fine”, you answer in a daze, fumbling to find the exit and ignoring the horned monster waving at you enthusiastically.

You’re lying in bed, still a little shaken from the events you witnessed earlier today. A detective agency that uses a demon to solve matters, and you’ve just been coerced into selling your soul for a lifetime bond with him. You sigh in exhaustion. At least the pay is good, you tell yourself as you trace your fingers over the old text of the grimoire:

“Great President of Hell, ruling three legions of demons. Brings insanity or great sorrow to any person the conjurer wishes. Feeds on sadness and fear. Causes people to end their life.”

Hard to believe that depraved buffoon holds such power. Although it does explain, at least, why the detective was eager to use you as a replacement. Or why the demon showed such intense interest.

“Who’s a buffoon?”

The voice is so close that you feel its hot breath on your ear. You scream and jump back in panic, tumbling out of the bed and scrambling onto the floor. You rub your eyes just to make sure: the half-goat creature is lounging under your sheets, gazing at you with a bored expression.

“Christ! I thought you’re not allowed to leave the office?” you inquire, baffled.

“That’s why I snuck this in your pocket!” he says as he procures a small coin. “I can track down cursed items. Hehe~”

As if remembering a vital detail, he throws himself up and joins you on the ground:

“Oh, but don’t tell Mr. Detective about it, or he’ll feed me to the dogs. It’s our secret.” he pleads, hands put together in a praying gesture.

“What are you even doing here?”

“I figured it’d be useful if we got to know each other as soon as possible, seeing as we’ll be working together from now on.”

“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Well…I also got really horny thinking of you and decided to just visit instead. How about a quick fuck?”

“Absolutely not. Eat a raw potato or something.”

“Don’t be like that! At least let me touch your boobs. Help a partner out, eh?”

Perhaps being scammed was not the worst-case scenario. You slap the demon’s groping fingers away and return to your previous spot in bed. It will be a long night.

[multific]

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Hannibal Lecter x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Cannibalism, Smut, Murder +18!!!

Summary: You two were so different, yet still the same. 

"Mrs Lecter?" 

You turned and smiled at the woman. "Yes?" you asked with a soft tone when in reality you were fuming.

How dare she just come up to you out of the blue?!

How dare she interrupt your perfect evening?!

"Hi, My name is Lucy, and I'm a huge fan of your books." of course she was, your books are brilliant. "I truly believe you are a pioneer in the genre of horror-romance."

"Thank you very much." Of course you were, no one was as good as you.

"I was wondering if you could sign my book please?"

"No problem at all." you smiled so sweetly. Why would she even have the book with her?! You are in a restaurant! You quickly signed her book and she thanked you, with your smile still present you turned back and lifted your glass to your lips.

"No need to be angry, Darling." your husband chuckled as you looked into his eyes.

Reading the other as if you were open books was something that came to both of you naturally. 

"I'm here to celebrate our anniversary. Not at a meet and greet."

"Of course, but you have to indulge them a little. Make them think they are important so they keep coming back. You mastered that one, My Love."

"I believe it was you rubbing off on me. After all, it is 30 years we have known one another."

"And I knew you were trouble from the second I saw you. Cunning, manipulative, narcissistic, egoistic, psychotic. And yet you are stunning and mine." Hannibal lifted his glass as you clicked yours against his.

"Only yours." you smiled at him, this one, was not fake but a genuine one for your husband.

On your way home from the restaurant, it began to rain, you let out a long sigh as Hannibal was driving.

"Rain always makes me nostalgic," you said as he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it. He stopped at a red light and you looked at him. "When you killed my stepfather... for me. It was also raining."

"He had it coming, he abused you and murdered your mother. I gave him a merciful end. One he didn't deserve."

"He deserved to suffer like I did, but it was not what I meant, Hannibal."

"Please, elaborate then."

"You killed him because he was about to kill me, you became my saviour, but it is not only that. I remember you tore him apart, you kept on cutting and breaking his bones. I should have been disgusted, yet all I could think about was the way your muscles tensed and the grunts you let out."

"So, I turned you on." he spoke as he turned a corner. "I figured, from the way you acted after."

"I never got naked so fast in my life. We made love in that pool of blood in front of the fireplace. I remember we were young and unsure. It was so hot, I could taste blood on your lips." you could recall the way he moved his hips, so amazing, he reached such depths inside you that you weren't even sure existed. 

But he could also recall the way you completely submit to him. You only ever done that to him, no one else gets to have control over you, but him.

"Why are you bringing this up now? It has been a very long time ago."

"Because I want you to do the same tonight. As my gift for our wedding anniversary, I wish to watch you hunt, break and cut and then, I want you to fuck me in the blood."

"We are very similar, My Love." he stopped the car, your eyes never leaving him. "I was thinking almost the same." he smiled as the window behind you rolled down.

"Hi there, I like a three-way, 500 for an hour." the woman behind you talked and you finally turned to look at her.

Prostitutes disgusted you, the way they looked at your husband made your blood boil, but you smiled at her. 

"How about a thousand and I get to watch?" Hannibal replied and you smirked.

The woman agreed and got into the backseat, having no idea what she was in for.

"Happy anniversary."

"I love you." you said as he began to drive again.

---

The next morning you wake up in your bed, under the warm sheets with the smell of food filling the air.

You slowly woke up as the blanket fell down your naked body.

You rolled out of bed, and got dressed in one of Hannibal's shirts before heading to the kitchen.

"Good morning." you said as he had his back turned towards you. You rounded the kitchen island and hugged him.

"Morning. I made your favourite for breakfast. Bacon with eggs."

You looked at the meat sizzling in the pan before looking up at Hannibal as he leaned down to kiss you.

"She truly was a pig." 

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

A Well Deserved Grudge

Summary: You still hate them after their overblot

Notes: GN Yuu. Some based off some stuff from the light novel. Yuu is pretty evil in Jamils. General edginess that comes with angst

Based on this old post abt Yuu with scars • Part 2

Riddle Rosehearts

A familiar click of heels has you on edge. As they approach you turn around to face him, messing with some of the bandages around your neck from your last encounter. There stood Riddle, his confident stance dropping the second he meets your eyes. 

His usual piercing gaze filled with anxiety as the words he so wanted to say— needed to say— died on his tongue. He's such a coward without a rule book. He's even more cowardly under your scrutiny.

"What?” You deadpan at him and Riddle swallows, looking at the bandages on your neck and arms. He then looks at your face, covered in a few scratches from rose bushes.

“... I… am here to… ” His voice shook toward the end and he took a breath to steady himself. “I'm sorry Yuu. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

You merely raised a brow and fully turned to him. Riddle could see the gash along your neck that peeked through some of the bandages. A grim reminder on how his magic failed during his overblot. The expression you had on your face as the collar around your neck continued to tighten and cut into you haunts him.

“You’re apologizing?” A flicker of determination flashes in Riddle's eyes as he nods. 

“Yes. I know it's not enough but… I'm sorry.” The dullness of your eyes reminds the dormleader that this was far from enough to smooth things over.

“I do not forgive you.” He should have expected that, yet he winces still. What is he supposed to do in this scenario? What else does he say? There is no rule, no guide to what he has done. Deuce and Ace said that he needs to make things right, but how?

“... I understand. If there's anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, please–”

“I don't think there's anything you could do that makes this okay.” Your voice is dull as you pull at the bandages on your neck. “Shouldn't you be in the headmage's office fighting your expulsion?”

It was true. Crowley was to judge whether or not he was to be expelled for his actions. It scared him. “I… I am but–”

“Then go. We both know you won't be kicked out– Crowley doesn't have a backbone and your bitch of a mother will make sure you stay in. You want to ‘earn’ my forgiveness? Stay the hell away from me.” 

Riddle grits his teeth and closes his fist tighter. Emotions of all kinds surge through him. He's confused, he's guilty, he's angry, he's lost. 

Most of all, he's scared. Scared of your gaze, scared of how you hold yourself. Your eyes remind him so much of the ones above him he tries to please and they're boring into him with such disapproval.

“I don't want to see you around, get your shitty tantrums in check. Just because you lose your head doesn't mean others have to. Just go.”

By now you've turned away and started walking off. Riddle could only watch, unable to find the strength to move or say anything. It was probably for the better. He needs to go to the Headmage.

Jamil Viper

He hates this feeling. You have forgiven him, though and through, water under the bridge and he hates it. He hates how you shrug it off. He hates that you don't hate him. He hates this guilt.

He mind controlled you. You. A magicless and defenseless human who was already helping him. You who are in a position so similar to his. You who had no way to fight back. He kidnapped you, keeping you in Scarabia for days regardless of your own plans. If it weren't for your dorm ghosts feeding the fire fairies, Crowley would have cut off your food for the week.

Then he tried to kill you, and had the audacity to be angry at you for it. To add even more salt into the wound you were so kind with him afterwards. You didn’t seem to take it seriously. Take him seriously. Your attitude reminds him so much of Kalim which makes this even worse.

He hates your smile. He hates your attitude. He hates the way you have to walk because of your injuries. He hates seeing glimpses of the wounds on your abdomen from him.

Yet another reminder of his failures. How he hates someone that's not entirely to blame. How he hates someone that's overly nice. He avoids your gaze so often he doesn't notice the glints of satisfaction within it.

Vil Schoenheit

He could only stare at the prefect within the mirror. Their gaze so fixated on themselves and their new appearance they paid no mind to the hospital bed they should be laying in. He wants to lecture them to sit, lay back down and to stop sitting up, but he's sure they would break down if he did.

Blackened veins run along your body, your skin reddened and inflamed in random areas. Even with all the magical remedies the doctors have given you, the black tar like substance runs through you still. “Good going Vil. Really fucked that one up huh?” 

Vil’s eyes met yours in the mirror, he could see your face steel itself before you turned to him. Your eyes stood out against the inky scrawls of venom coursing through you. They were so cold, so angry.

“... I know this is something I may never be able to amend…” Vil starts, taking a breath. Fuck. Years of acting and hard work are lost on him. It is hard to keep strong when seeing how badly your own childishness, your own selfishness hurt someone this badly.

“I want to apologize. I know this is far from enough. I plan to not only cover any costs that may occur in your recovery, but to also offer my support in any way I can during your recovery.” 

Your gaze only hardens. "Bare minimum I guess…” You sniffle a bit as words slur. It was clear you were still inebriated. You weren't going to be the most logical right now, but that's fine. He will say this apology a million times over if it would make it right.

“... If there is anything you need..."

“Go away.” You sniffle again, wiping away tears. “Just leave.” Vil swallows and shuts his eyes for a moment. “I understand.” 

As he turns to leave the drugs in your system really start to kick in. “You… You really are a villain.” The words come out crude and harsh, no doubt you are speaking to hurt him. Yet as you turned away he could see your face in the mirror.

Scared. You were scared of him. You were scared and truly believed in what you were saying. And you weren't wrong. He is a villian.

Malleus Draconia

A mighty dragon places his glass heart in the hands of a human without their knowledge, and is enraged when the human breaks it. Except here Malleus broke it himself to protect himself from the possibility of the human hurting him first. Now he holds the shards of what's left and sees them stained not by his blood, but by yours.

A position he put onto you, his only friend. He does not even know if he has the right to call you that anymore. Not after his little stunt. Children of men do not deserve to be locked away in the dark, no matter how beautiful you were in it. They were to be free. Even if it hurt him. You and him could have been free together.

He looks at your expression. It still holds no fear, no anxiety, just as foolishly brave you were when he first met you. Instead it holds disappointment. Such a pathetic emotion that he would smite off anyone else if it wasn't you. 

“... You're really selfish, you know that?” You mutter and look away from him, as if not wanting to believe the words coming out of your own mouth. “Were we really friends or was I just some doll to you? Some obsession?”

A sniffle. “I wanted to be your friend…” Malleus hasn't the words to respond. He can only open his mouth then close it. “I know. I'm sorry. You made me so happy I wanted you all to myself. It's not an excuse, but when I thought I would be losing you, it was too much for me. I made… A very rash decision.”

There's silence. More deafening than the silence at his birthday parties growing up. “Is there any possibility you could forgive me?” It was a daring question, one he was afraid to know the answer to. 

“... I don't know, Tsuno. I think… I think I need some time to think about it.” You turn away from him and his heart sinks, the pet name does nothing to soothe his nerves.

He remembers all the times he's told you how his kind are born cruel and you would tell him that his actions have shown just how kind he could be. That him learning to be nice and overcoming his nature is more meaningful than anyone who was born that way. 

And he ruined that. He may not be able to choose his nature but he can choose his actions. He chose to hurt you.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Mafia!Bucky’s Girl gets Arrested

Mafia!Bucky’s Girl Arrested Moodboard

Warning:Police Brutality, DD/LG dynamics and Daddy Kink, Protective Bucky and Mafia!Bucky (which is its own warning)

She always knew that it was a possibility but it never really crossed her mind as something that was going to happen. Ever since getting with her Mob Boss boyfriend, the man who had decided she belonged to him the second he set eyes on her and stalked her relentlessly until she finally agreed to be his girl, she had almost always been right by his side.

Bucky knew that Y/n was as loyal as they come and he didn’t doubt her love for him or her dedication for even a second, but he still didn’t want her out of his sight. There are plenty of men out there who want to hurt James Barnes and he refuses to see his Princess be a victim of an idiot with a vendetta or to even see an ounce of pain on her perfect face.

This day however, it was unavoidable.

Bucky had a delivery that needed to be picked up and he had to oversee it personally, something he wouldn’t bring his girl along for and so he gave her a Black Amex that he had just for her and dropped her off at her favorite outlet. He knew that she could shop around there for hours and that she gladly would until he picked her up later that evening.

‘Stay in public Princess, don’t go anywhere outside of this outlet, understand?’ Bucky warned, opening her car door and helping her out.

‘Yes Buck, I promise I will stay here. You know I’ll shop for a few outfits before ending up in the bookstore for the rest of the time.’ She teased making the notoriously angry Mob Boss smile. He had recently cleared out an entire bedroom in his mansion and lined it with wall to wall bookshelves so that she could have her own perfect reading room. She was fixing it up exactly how she wanted to make it perfect and was spending a lot of his money to give herself a library, apparently needing 1000 books before it actually counted as one (not that he minded spending money on her, especially not for something that made her so happy and often inspired new things to try in the bedroom thanks to her Dark Romance books).

‘That’s where I will pick you up, okay? I’ll text you when I’m finished and you meet me here, okay?’

‘Yes Daddy.’ She teased, knowing how much he loved it when she called him that as she pulled him down to her by his suit jacket and pressed her lips to his. ‘You’d better make sure you’re done all your work by the time you pick me up because you’re all mine for the next 2 days.’

‘Yes ma’am. I promised you a nice, quiet weekend just the two of us and I meant it.’ With all the extra time Bucky had been working after one of his biggest allies was arrested, he needed to make it up to his Princess and he had sworn that after the delivery he was all hers for the entire weekend. ‘I’ll see you soon Babygirl.’ With that he kissed her nose and hopped back into the car, leaving his girl to shop for the afternoon.

Y/n spent about 2 hours in her favorite stores getting several outfits and even stopping to pick up a few new lingerie sets that she knew her Daddy would love before entering the bookstore. By the time she had been there for an hour she had purchased 11 books and could be found sitting in a chair by the window with a hot chocolate and a muffin, reading to her hearts content. And that is exactly where they found her.

‘Y/n L/n?’ Y/n looked up to see a small women with her hair pulled into a ponytail holding a badge out to her and couldn’t help the confused look on her face.

‘Um…can I help you officer?’ She couldn’t help her confusion, she hadn’t done anything to warrant being spoken to by the police.

‘Get up!’ The man beside her barked, pulling out handcuffs and yanking her up from her chair causing her to cry out, the scalding hot drink spilling on her hand as she was moved violently.

‘Ow! What the fuck?! You can’t treat people like this! I haven’t done anything wrong, and even if I had you didn’t even give me a chance to comply! Ow!’ The cuffs went on painfully tight as her arm was twisted at an odd angle.

‘Hey, you can’t treat her like that!’ A barista spoke up, phone in hand and recording the interaction.

‘Mind your business unless you would like to join her!’ The man barked, his partner staying quiet.

‘Okay, you need to grab my stuff at least, I have bags there. Hello?! So not only are you violent, you’re deaf and stupid, good to know.’ She groaned.

‘We’ll hold your things in the back. You come and get them whenever you can.’ The same barista said, following with her phone as she was dragged out.

‘Thank you. My boyfriend will be by looking for me when I don’t answer him, my phone is in one of the bags! I-the least you can do is let me make sure my stuff is taken care off asshole!’ The next thing Y/n knew she was slammed against the police car, her face suffering the brunt of the hit as it collided.

‘Y/n L/n, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.’ The women spoke, reading her her rights as she was put into the car. ‘Do you understand these rights as I’ve read them to you?’

‘Do I also have the right to not have your boorish partner throw me around like I’m his red headed step child? I don’t think that was in there. I’m not saying anything to you, and I haven’t done a single thing wrong.’

‘Sweetie, you’ve been doin’ shit wrong since you said “yes” to a date with James Barnes.’ The asshole spoke, starting the car and driving away from the bookstore.

‘Oh, now I understand. You don’t have shit on my boyfriend who you think is some kind of criminal for some unknown reason and so because you’re so shit at your job you violently arrest his innocent girlfriend. Gotcha.’

‘You ain’t been innocent since you started suckin’ his cock. You know it, he buys you pretty things and you stick your tongue out. You’re an expensive whore and nothing more-‘

‘That’s enough Tanner!’ His partner snapped and she listened to them argue about Bucky while trying to get feeling back into her arms and hands that she was leaning on with her knees pressed painfully to the cage between the front and back seat, all the while blood was leaking down her face and onto her sundress. It was sad, this was one of Bucky’s favorites, she only wore it because she knew he was supposed to pick her up to start their long weekend together.

She was led into the precinct pretty easily before walking through the bullpen and seeing multiple cops that she knew Bucky employed. She pushed down the instinct to smile knowing that they wouldn’t get ahold of Bucky or Steve tonight but also knowing someone would call Andy. She had met Andy several times and loved Steve’s twin brother dearly, knowing that if anything ever happened that Andy Barber would be the one getting her out of it. He had taken his wife’s name in law school to get away from his “criminal” last name of Rogers and yet he still represented them as he knew he always would.

‘Sit here, I’ll get something to wipe off your face-‘

‘No thank you, I’ll stay like this. I don’t need your help.’ Y/n told the women who looked at her sideways. ‘I’ll wait until I’m out of here and my lawyer can see the state that 2 police officers put me in just to arrest a women who was perfectly cooperative. He’s going to have a field day with your department.’ She glared, now seemingly pissed off herself, slapping a folder in front of her and opening it to show her pictures of her and Bucky together. One was him helping her out of the car, one was them walking into a premier, her boyfriends arm around her waist possessively as it was in every single picture they had.

‘Seems like he’s pretty taken with you.’ Y/n raised her eyebrows, not willing to say anything about Bucky what so ever. ‘Just like he was with this girl, and this one-‘ she showed pictures of two other girls with Bucky from before they were together. Bucky and Y/n had had the “Ex’s Talk” and they were both honest about past relationships but the thing that sealed it for Y/n right now was that seeing Bucky with these women, he didn’t hold them like he held her. It wasn’t even close to the same and if ever there was doubt that she would rat on her man (which there wasn’t) there sure as fuck wasn’t any now. ‘Let us help you get away from him, he’s a bad man. He’s killed people, God only knows how many of them.’

‘Oh My God!’ Y/n exclaimed, looking at one of the pictures and while the cop seemed to think she was getting through for a single second she was quickly proved wrong. ‘I was having a really bad hair day. Do you think we could get rid of this one? I just look awful.’

‘You’re not taking this seriously at all.’

‘No, and I’m not going to. You assaulted me, violently dragged me in here and now you’re questioning me about my boyfriend like he’s some kind of criminal! He is the sweetest man alive and he would never hurt anyone, now, I’m not going to be saying anything else without my lawyer.’ Her partner scoffed as he stood by the door watching this go on.

‘Yeah, we’ll see how quickly we get around to calling him.’ He laughed and Y/n just rolled her eyes.

‘He’ll be here soon enough.’ She mumbled.

‘What was that?! What are you mumbling you little bitch, if you think for one fucking minute that we give a shit about that murderers whore you’re wrong, and he ain’t gonna save you either! We’ll let you sit in here for days and guess what? Eventually you’re gonna give him up! Just to see daylight again!’ The officer raged before pulling his partner out and slamming the door shut, all lights but one going out and leaving Y/n in almost complete darkness.

She couldn’t tell you how long she sat there in the dark, quiet room just staring at the window mirror. It felt like hours by the time the door opened again and the lights were thrown on making her squint as her eyes adjusted to the harsh brightness. Y/n could hear a familiar voice screaming and the look of apprehension on the women’s face was fantastic after her treatment.

Suddenly a man who looked way too much like Steve stormed in and took in Y/n’s appearance. ‘Jesus! She’s fucking bloody, you have got to be fucking with me if you think this is alright Captain! Uncuff her this instant!’ Andy demanded and the large cop gave him an angry look before doing as he was told, the “discreet” look from his Captain being enough to spur him into action. ‘Are you alright Miss. L/n? Do we need to go to the ER?’ He offered but she shook her head.

‘No Andy, they offered to wash the blood off, I just wanted you to see where they had slammed me into their car.’ He nodded, making a gesture that told her to be quiet and tell him everything somewhere else.

‘I’m taking my client home. I will expect the recording of this interrogation, all of it, every second, to be sent to my office by morning. If even one second is off I won’t stop until this precinct is a fucking In-n-Out burger! Now fuck off!’ Andy took Y/n’s hand and pulled her along gently, not wanting to hurt her anymore than she already was. ‘You did well, I want to take a few pictures of you to have it documented, then we’ll get you cleaned up.’ She nodded along as they exited the building and moved to his car where he took pictures of her face at every angle as well as her bruised wrists and burned hand.

They had just gotten into the car when Andy’s phone began ringing Bucky’s tone and he put it on Speaker immediately. ‘Andy! She’s Gone! You Need To Get Her Back Andy! I Can’t-‘

‘Boss! It’s okay! I got her, I got a call from Officer Bowers when they walked her in.’ She nodded along.

‘He called right away, I saw a few cops that recognized me and the looks on their faces were priceless.’ She joked, hoping to pull a laugh from Bucky but it did not happen.

‘Princess! Are you okay? I swear to God, if they hurt you-‘

‘It’s okay Daddy. Stay at the bookstore, Andy’s dropping me off there, he wants to talk to the barista who recorded my arrest. She was nice, she promised to hold all my bags until you got there.’ She realized as she heard her Daddy’s voice how badly she had just wanted to fall into his arms and cry herself to sleep.

‘Okay Babygirl, I’ll get your stuff into the car. Get her here Andy, now!’ Her Daddy demanded before hanging up the phone, clearly upset.

It took another 10 minutes to get to the store and the second Y/n crossed the threshold she was grabbed and pulled into Bucky’s arms. He was warm and strong, just like every time he held her but this time she needed him to hold her like he never had before as she felt her mind sink back to that small, regressed place that she didn’t go to very often and it was like her Daddy physically felt it happen as her mind receded back into her safe space.

‘Daddy’s here Babygirl. Your Daddy’s got you, not a thing to worry about.’ He swore, not even caring about the fact that he’s in public as he lifted his girl into his arms and cradled her like an infant. ‘Daddy’s gonna take you home now Baby, gonna go home and get you in your jammies, and all snuggled up in the blankies.’ Bucky turned and walked back out the door from where Y/n had just come, Steve promptly opening the back door and letting his boss climb in before going back to start the SUV. ‘Is my Baby hungry? Daddy has food being made right now for my Princess’ dinner.’

‘So hungry!’ She groaned, clutching to his suit jacket and nuzzling close to his warm body.

‘We’re gonna get you all fed and snuggly warm in our bed baby, don’t you worry. I love you so much, Daddy is gonna make sure those awful cops are taken care of…do you want to talk about it?’ She pouted in response and he brushed his fingers through her hair to comfort her.

‘They were all rough and mean. Showed me pictures of us and pictures of you with your other girlfriends to make me talk bad about you.’ Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes.

‘Clearly they’re morons if they thought my Princess would turn on me.’ He chuckled at the absurdity of the idea. He knew how loyal his girl was, and he knew that (despite the fact that he would never let it happen) she would have gone to jail and kept quiet the whole time. ‘Don’t worry baby, this whole week is all about Daddy loving on you. Okay? You’re gonna be sick of my hugs by the end ‘cause I’ve rescheduled all of my meetings and appointments. It’s all about you now.’

‘Could never be sick of you, Daddy. I love you so much!’ She swore, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his heavy scent. As always he smelled like peppermint and his cologne which was very earthy and smoky which he knew his Babygirl loved, however after having been working tonight she could also smell gunpowder which would have made her ask questions and worry if she weren’t completely at the mercy of her regression right now.

Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead for several seconds as Steve pulled up the driveway and finally parked outside of the cabin style mansion in the woods. Her Daddy knew it was her favorite one of his houses to spend time at which is why he picked it for the weekend before extending it to the entire week after watching her arrest video and the interrogation video that Andy sent him just before they got to the bookstore. Some of her comments genuinely made him chuckle, and he was so proud to hear her defense of him and wonderful acting as she could have really convinced people that her boyfriend was just a sweet business man being targeted by the police maliciously. However after seeing how they treated her, Bucky knew that she would be needing his love and comfort, hating to hear that they had called her a whore and tried to make her think that he was just using her for her body.

As they laid in bed that night after her Daddy had fed her dinner and given her a bath filled with bubbles and sweet smelling bath salts he held her tightly to his chest, caressing her bare thigh as she snuggled him in her panties and one of his Henley’s (which was his favorite outfit to see her in of all time, including both fancy dresses or lingerie).

‘You know that your Daddy loves you more than anything else in this world, don’t you Princess?’

‘Mmhmm…’ she mumbled, half asleep already, Bucky’s ability to make her feel safe and comfortable enough to sleep so quickly being a subject of great pride for him.

‘And you know that you’re not a whore…I mean, sometimes I enjoy it when you’re Daddy’s good little whore but…you know you are so much more than that to me, right?’ She nodded into his chest subtly and he momentarily wondered if she even knew what he was saying.

‘Not a whore. Just Daddy’s whore…I love you Daddy.’

‘I love you too Princess. You sleep now, you can be Daddy’s good little whore in the morning…’ he promised, hearing her little moan and kissing her head before pulling the covers around her tighter, allowing himself to drift off to sleep with his Baby safe in his arms.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

[alrawabi-imagines]

Complicated

Your roommate,Glinda Upland, was the most popular girl at Shiz and she was the stereotypical rich mean girl. Somehow you found yourself roommates with her,immediately the school felt sorry for her having to give up her private room. She hated you and the feeling was mutual yet you found yourself enchanted by her. Sometimes starting fights just for her attention. 

You found yourself in another argument and as she turned her back you 

"Why did it have to be your?" You mumbled quietly.

“What did you just say?” She inquired, her head turned back towards raising a brow. 

"Nothing important,Gaaalinda" you rolled your eyes before turning your back to her. The blonde stepped closer, closing the gap between the two of you,grabbing your shoulder and turning you back to face her. The expression on her face was demanding, demanding you to repeat yourself.

“What. Did you. Say?” She repeated herself, her voice firm as she held the eye contact between you both. You pushed her hand off your shoulder 

"Don't touch me"  you walked off. She stood there for a long time, staring at you as you walked off. Glinda stared after you in shock and confusion. She was not used to people telling her what to do, especially when those people were ‘beneath’ her. She was more used to the other students tripping over themselves to get the chance to talk to her.

The rest of the day it seemed that Glinda was more distracted than usual, zoning out in class and just being all round quieter than usual. As class ended you walked over to the library.  She began to follow you, keeping a good distance between the two of you so you wouldn’t realise her footsteps following yours and avoid her again.

Hours later the other students walked out of the library,which was soon empty,making it obvious that Glinda was staring at you from across the room. She slowly strutted over to where you were sitting, standing there and waiting for you to notice her. You proceeded to ignore her. Her staring eventually got on your nerves.

"What do you want?"

“What do I want?” Glinda almost exclaimed in surprise, raising her voice in your direction, “I’ve been waiting for hours and you’re sitting there ignoring me.” She looked you up and down, her nose crinkled a little, “And for what it’s worth, those clothes are hideous.” Why did it have to be her? Why? The spoiled rich dive,who looks down on everyone and everything. Why did she have to be the one you fell for? 

"Well it's a good thing you're not the one wearing them" you said nonchalantly,still focused on writing down various notes. You could see her fuming,she was used to being the centre of attention, having everyone catering to her and giving her what she wanted. So why was it that you were immune to her charms and didn’t give her a second of your time? It seemed that every time she was around you, you managed to get under her skin in a way no one else had managed yet.

“Are you just going to keep ignoring me?” She huffed, continuing to tap her foot in irritation and growing more and more agitated.

"Just tell me what you want,I don't have all day" She huffed again, her cheeks flushing as she tried to remain angry, but the longer she went without your full undivided attention, the more she found herself feeling… insecure.

“Can you stop writing and look at me for five minutes? Seriously, what is so important in that little book that you can’t pay attention to anything else?”

"Is that what you want,attention? Seriously just go out there,they'll give you all the attention you want" 

“I don’t need attention, I get plenty of that!” She replied, her irritation only growing as the words left her mouth. You closed the book and headed out of the library. Without being able to think, purely acting on impulse, she grabbed a hold of your arm and tugged you back, forcing you to turn back and face her. In one moment you turned,freeing your hand and pushing her. Not too hard,but made her stumble a little.

"I told you not to touch me" Glinda’s face fell, 

“I don’t understand you,” She stated, shaking her head and taking a step towards you. “Everyone is always falling over themselves to give their attention to me, but you�� you’re different,” A scoff. “I hate the way you get under my skin.”

"And I hate that I love you" your anger took over fully ‘and I hate that I love you.’ Her entire face flushed red and her mouth ran dry. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t think, the words repeating themselves over and over in her head. Silence. "Seriously, why did it have to be you,the spoiled rich diva who thinks she's better than everyone else? The person who's completely blind to how much she looks down at everyone." You were still angry and just rambling. Glinda flinched at every word you spoke as if they were stabs in the chest. This wasn't the reaction she was expecting. In her mind, you were supposed to look at her and fall at her feet. You were supposed to give her the same treatment everyone else did. No, better. You were supposed to look at her like she was the centre of the universe. "You're such a selfish,egotistical vain diva. Why did it have to be you?" You saw her face and just walked away,not looking back.

Once you had walked away, Glinda felt her legs give out from under her and she dropped to the floor. No this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She was . Everyone was supposed to love, give her all the attention and affection she wanted.But you. You didn’t do that. You looked at her like everyone else. You refused to give her a second of your time or attention. And why did it hurt so much? You walked through the halls,your heels clicking against the floor as you made your way to your room. Despite this, she tried to look up and maintain a calm and collected front as she walked through the halls. Do not cry,do not cry! At least until you make it back to your room,Glinda thought.

The next morning Glinda spent a full hour at her vanity trying to conceal her red and puffy eyes,speaking out loud to herself so her voice wouldn't give away that she had been crying. No matter how much she tried to use, the redness in her eyes still showed and she huffed in frustration as she continued to try and hide the obvious signs of a sleepless night. She continued to apply copious amounts of concealer to her face in an attempt to hide the obvious signs that she had been upset. Glinda was used to using many different types of makeup, but this morning seemed to be a struggle. You had made it to class before she did,taking your usual seat. Glinda avoided looking in your direction as she headed to her seat and sat down, staring out the window instead. Glinda came in looking as flawless as ever. If anyone looked closely, however, the makeup that she had put on to cover the signs of tears was a little too heavy to be normal and the bags under her eyes would become visible on rare occasions. You overheard some of the other students talking about her,she kept an unusually cold expression on her face.

 “Did you see Glinda this morning?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about how much makeup she’s wearing,”

“Did she try to overdo the makeup to look even more attractive?”

“She looks more like a clown than usual,” The last one irked you,she was vain and a bit of a jerk but she didn't deserve that. You decided to change seats,using your books to smack the girl who said the last comment on the head. You sat down in the back corner of the room. Her eyes followed you to the back of the room. Why did you do that?

Glinda was lost in her thoughts, silently picking at her food but not actually eating any of it as her eyes darted around the hall, keeping an eye out for your entrance. Why would you, someone she had never seen do something like that, suddenly smack a girl on the head for talking about her. It just wasn’t making any sense in her mind. You walked in and were met by Madame Morrible,handing you a box before you got your lunch and sat down.Glinda’s eyes were drawn to you the moment you entered the hall. She found herself watching the interaction you had with Morrible as you were handed an unfamiliar box. Her curiosity peaked, the blonde girl picked up a slice of apple and pretended to focus on her food, not wanting to be caught looking in your direction like an idiot. The moment you stood up and left the hall, her body had the strange impulse to follow. Her eyes followed the small box clutched under your arm as she watched you leave. She quickly got up to follow you out. Glinda had no idea what compelled her to follow you, yet she still did it. Perhaps it was curiosity, or maybe something else. Either way, she was making her way through the halls, searching for you.

“Come on, where are you…” She muttered under her breath as she continued her search. It was taking a few twists and turns in the halls of Shiz, but Glinda was determined. She was used to getting what she wanted, and even if she didn’t know exactly what she wanted at that moment, she was determined to find you. She saw you turn a corner into the courtyard. You sat down on a bench in the corner,the box in your lap as you looked out over the small lake. Glinda took a moment to hide behind a nearby pillar to observe you. The blonde girl took a breath before stepping out and beginning to walk in your direction. What am I going to say? After what you said yesterday but you had also defended her today. It just didn't make sense to her. She knew she was supposed to be feeling anger or disgust after the way you spoke to her yesterday, but the fact you had defended her from those students was completely throwing her off. “Uh… hey…“ You looked up at her 

"What is it now?" You asked but not in angry way

“I, uh, I wanted to ask you something…” she mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"Yes,I did defend you and yes I still stand by what I said yesterday. I still think you're a vain and shallow spoiled little princess"

“I-I’m not that bad though, am I?” She still didn’t understand her own feelings and emotions regarding the past day, and she was especially unprepared for you defending her while simultaneously still calling her a spoiled brat.

"You're only saying that because I defended you. So,what's with all the makeup?"

“Uh, it’s…” She hesitated “Um… I… I couldn’t…” she kept stumbling over her words, not knowing how to explain the heavy makeup she had on.

"Sleep?"  Glinda nodded quietly, no longer trying to hide the fact that she had been up all night.

“It’s...it’s because of the things you said.” she mumbled, looking like she wanted the ground to swallow her up.

"At least I said it to your face,you have no idea how many people talk behind your back" Glinda felt a pang of guilt at your words, knowing you were right. She knew that many people talked about her behind her back, a small part of her just didn’t care. But for some reason it was different with you. You’d said what you thought to her face, you hadn’t put up any sort of fake mask before telling her what you thought. Like you had seen through her own mask. She remained silent. “I’m sure you followed me wanting to know what this is” You opened the box,pulling out a wand that looked to be made of blue tinted glass. With a wave of your wand a blue glow enveloping the tip,flowers started floating around in a line that you guided. Moving the flowers around Glinda for a moment before you set them down,some landing on her head and shoulders. Her eyes widened as she saw you pull the wand from the box, and a gasp left her lips as you began to control the flowers with a wave of it.Glinda stared wide-eyed at the sudden action. "Listen,not everyone is gonna to love you,as hard as that is to believe" you said,the last bit a little sarcastic. "Don't get too upset about it"

“Yeah… I know that…” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact again. Glinda knew you were right, not everyone was going to love her. Most people even hated her. But for some reason, she was hurt that you didn’t.

"So why are you so upset that I don't worship the very ground you walk on?" You asked seriously

“I’m not upset… It’s just..I’m not used to it, that’s all” she mumbled, her hands still fiddling nervously with one another. Using your wand,you formed the petals into a new flower in her hair. When you formed the petals into another flower and put it in her hair, her eyes widened slightly and she couldn’t help a small noise of wonder leaving her mouth.Normally she was looked up to as perfect and pretty, but she felt the complete opposite with you. She wondered if this is how other people felt when they stood in front of her.You watched her,wondering if she was going to say something. She didn’t know what to say. For the first time in a very long time she was lost for words. After everything that had happened in the past day, how was she supposed to respond? The silence only seemed to worsen the feeling, and the self-consciousness of having the flowers in her hair and the fact she was so tired and had so much makeup on. Glinda hated it. She didn’t like feeling this way and suddenly she hated the fact she had followed you out here. Glinda felt the first few tears fall before she could even stop them.She felt so pathetic at the moment, and the last thing she wanted was for you to see her crying. She attempted to lift the back of her hand to her eyes to stop the tears, but to no avail. The tears started flowing faster and her shoulders started shaking a little. "Hey,what's this about?" You asked,patting her shoulder. The moment your hand touched her shoulder, she only started crying more. She couldn’t do anything to stop herself from crying. Glinda, usually confident, was now breaking down in front of you. She practically shoved herself into your arms,making you hold her. Glinda continued to sob into your shoulder, clutching at the front of your clothes and holding onto you tightly. You lowered her to the ground,using your wand to make a sphere around you. It was like a night sky,dark with glittery stars. You rubbed her back,trying to calm her.Her body shuddered and her breath caught as she tried to calm down. But the moment the night sky appeared around them and her grip loosened, the tears slowed a little.The blonde didn’t say anything as you continued to rub her back, feeling her tears start to subside. The sphere combined with your gentle touch slowly began to calm her down, her eyes still red and puffy as she tried to stop herself from crying.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, feeling even more embarrassed now that she’d suddenly sobbed all over you. Even as she started to calm herself down, she didn’t let go of you. It wasn’t until she took a deep breath that she finally lifted her head to look at you, her makeup and face still a mess. You handed her your handkerchief to wipe her face,your handkerchief was surprisingly her exact color of pink. “You carry this around with you?” She mumbled, looking down at it. Glinda suddenly noticed the handkerchief was her favourite shade of light pink.

"Don't start" you shook your head. Glinda took your handkerchief and wiped away the smeared mascara and smudged makeup from crying. Glinda couldn’t help the small snort that left her as you shook your head.

Glinda let you pull her into a standing position.Her eyes were now dry, but Glinda knew her face was most likely swollen from the tears. This was completely embarrassing, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to leave or walk away. And she didn't let go of you,which made you confused. You had told her that you hated her but also that you loved her in the same sentence. You ridiculed her yet defended her when someone insulted her. The image of her perfection faded away and you had stayed now seeing the real Glinda. Despite it all you stayed,you saw her flaws and even expressed them to her. What really confused her was the fact that despite everything, you stayed and comforted her after she had completely broken down crying.Glinda was used to people sticking around her because she was pretty and popular, not to mention the amount of money her family had.But here you were in front of her, seeing all her flaws, all the mistakes, her self-obsession and still sitting with her even after she had cried and looked so messy. It dawned on her that you were the only one who told her the truth,you were practically the only real friend she had. It scared Glinda, having to face the fact that the most ‘real’ person in her life was also the same one that had insulted her. And the fact that she had suddenly cried in front of you and felt more comfortable around you than she did around any other ‘friend’ sent a wave of confusing emotions through her. And the very same person who had fallen in love with her.

“…You really fell in love with me?” She blurted out without thinking about it or attempting to hide her feelings.She then suddenly looked up at you with a serious expression.

"Unfortunately" you said with a small hint of a joke

“You don’t have to say it like that,” she pouted.Glinda stared at you for another moment as you jokingly said you ‘unfortunately’ loved her. She then smacked your arm with a huff as you laughed. “Stop laughing. I’m being serious” Glinda scolded with an embarrassed expression. She felt the colour flood into her cheeks again at the fact that you’d admitted that you were in love with her.

"I can't take you seriously" you laughed "you look like an angry pink cupcake"

“I do not-!” She suddenly stopped, realising that technically she did look a bit like a pink cupcake with a frown at the moment with all the makeup and flower decorations. Glinda’s face turned even redder at your comment and with another huff she tried to give you a glare. “Alright, I’ll admit I look ridiculous at the moment-” She mumbled “but how long have you been in love with me?” Glinda quickly tried to change the subject and avoid the fact that she did indeed look like a pink cupcake with a frown. You sighed,not wanting to answer. “Come on… tell me” she urged, leaning forward slightly.

"This is so embarrassing" you took a deep breath "Since the entrance ceremony" you confessed. Glinda stared at you in surprise as you admitted that you’d been in love with her since the very first day of her classes at Shiz.She didn’t say anything for a while, her brain still processing the fact that you’d been in love with her for months before she’d even realised it.

“How have I not noticed it before?” Glinda mumbled, her expression bewildered. She’d never thought of the fact that she might have had someone secretly in love with her.

"Again with the vain and shallow" you said as if it was the answer. "Then we became roommates and I liked you more but I got so mad at you because I couldn't stand to be that close to you"

“That’s the reason you kept insulting me and getting mad at me?” She asked, her voice and expression a little hurt. The moment you said you got mad at her because you couldn’t stand to be so close to her, Glinda felt stung.

"Yeah,I just couldn't stand to be so close to you. So I chose to hate and focus on every negative trait you had" you explained

“So let me get this straight…” her tone was cold as she spoke. “You were secretly in love with me and the only way you could deal with it was by hating me and pointing out my flaws?” The hurt on Glinda’s face suddenly turned into a frown.

"You do actually have some flaws,but yes that's the reason"

“But I’m not the only one with flaws here! You have flaws too!” You smirk 

"Go ahead" you wanted to see what she had to say,moving closer.

“You’re bossy” she started off with. “And you get angry easily. You’re rude and you can’t handle your emotions-“ her eyes then narrowed slightly. She was slightly glad that you had encouraged her and that you were now moving closer. She was right,especially about the last part. “You have a huge temper and you’re stubborn. You’re impatient and easily pissed off. And I know you have zero sense of fashion” she huffed as she named each flaw. “And don’t get me started on how you never have any idea how to dress. I can guarantee that you have no fashion sense whatsoever” She huffed again, her eyes still fixed on yours. She was now standing directly in front of you, so close that you could feel her breath on your face. She stood there breathing heavily. 

"Feel better?"

“Yes, actually. I do feel better” she said.

"We should head back,it's almost time for class"

“Why can’t we stay here and skip class?” She asked with a slight pout. You fake gasped "Glinda,how could you suggest that?"

“Come on, we’ve missed class before” she tried to make her argument, now giving you a pitiful puppy-eyed expression.

"I have,you haven't there's no we in this"

“You make it sound like I’ve never missed class before” she said in an offended voice, trying to make you think that she hadn’t.

"So what do you wanna do?"

“Actually… I have a couple of ideas of what we could do instead of going to class…”

"I swear if you suggest we go one some sort of date-" she quickly interrupted you

“I wasn’t going to suggest that!” She exclaimed. “I was going to suggest we go to the town instead of going to class. I can’t remember the last time I went to the town anyway and besides I’d rather do that then sit in a boring class for the next three hours”

"Fine,but if we get caught I'm blaming you" you joked

“Okay, deal. I’ll take the blame” she gave a small grin as she spoke, knowing that they’d likely get scolded for skipping class but not really caring.

“Let’s get going then” she said, holding back the urge to grab your arm and pull you along towards the town. Glinda walked with a slight skip to her step, feeling excited about the fact that they were skipping class. You made it to town,which was full of people walking around in and out of shops. Hanging out at cafes and restaurants,no one batted an eye at you. She was one of the most popular and recognizable people at Shiz, yet no one even looked her way.

"So,what should we do first?"

“Let’s go get something to eat” she said, her eyes fixating on a nice-looking little cafe off to the side of the street where they were walking.

"Sure,so do you have a plan for this date?"

“It’s not a date” she huffed as they started walking towards the cafe. Glinda rolled her eyes yet again as you jokingly asked if she had planned out a ‘date’.

"It's practically a date," you said,prompting her to finish her sentence.

“Well…” she looked at you once again and took a step closer, lowering her voice slightly. “Since a certain someone insists on calling it a date..”

“How do you feel about getting some lunch at this cafe and then… going somewhere private?” She suddenly said in a low tone, keeping her eyes fixed on yours and her voice now a whisper as she spoke.

"And what exactly will we do there?" You leaned closer

“I have a lot of things in mind” she answered, her voice now almost a whisper as her smirk grew even wider.

"Really? Do tell"

“I could tell you” she said, her tone now in a teasing manner, “or I could show you.” She suddenly moved her face closer to yours, looking up at you almost challengingly as if to say do you really want to know what’s on my mind? A light pink colour appeared on Glinda’s cheeks as she spoke, suddenly feeling quite flustered but trying to mask it. You smirked at how she blushed while trying to be confident. “Why’re you smirking like that?” She asked with a mixture of an indignant and playful tone.Glinda felt the heat on her cheeks increase at your smirk on your face at her flustered expression.

"You're just too cute"

“I am not cute“ she protested adamantly, her cheeks still a light pink colour as a pout appeared on her lips. Glinda suddenly decided to regain some of her confident composure as she quickly composed herself. You sat down at the cafe,both with drinks in front of you. Hers of course was pink. As you and Glinda sat in the cafe with drinks set in front of you both, Glinda took a sip of her drink through the straw. You watched her,taking a sip of your own drink. “See something you like?” She joked, taking another sip as she kept eye contact with you. You rolled your eyes at her. She felt a sense of satisfaction, realising that she was now giving you a taste of your own medicine after you’d smirked and teased her the whole morning.

"Do you always have to be so beautiful?" You whispered

“I could ask you the same thing” she whispered back, her facial expression now slightly flustered once again.

"Now you're just lying" you scoffed

“You really don’t get it yet, do you?” She asked with a slight smirk. “You’re just as beautiful to me as I am to you. It doesn’t matter that other people constantly give me compliments and not you” she said, her voice quiet but her tone firm, “to me, you are just… utterly gorgeous” You froze up not knowing what to say back. “Cat got your tongue?” She teased, leaning even closer and keeping eye contact with you.Glinda smirked seeing your reaction, noticing how you were now frozen and speechless after she had spoken her true thoughts.Her heart skipped a beat seeing how flustered you were suddenly, as she was not used to you being the flustered one.

"More like a pink witch" you chuckled

“Pink witch is slightly more accurate than calling me a cat, yes” She joked, leaning back on her seat and smiling at you as she took another sip of her pink drink. You finished up and walked around the town,dipping in and out of stores. There was a dress shot that she had dragged you into since she saw a sparkly pink dress. She had already dragged you into a jewellery store (”Which of these necklaces do you prefer?”) and even a flower shop (”Which of these would look best in my hair?”) amongst a few other shops. She immediately went to try on the dress,letting you take a minute to look around at the dresses. You stopped in your tracks at the sight of a white sparkly dress,tight and flowing sparkling from every angle like a disco ball. You hadn't even noticed Glinda behind you. She eventually appeared behind you, standing there in the dress and watching your expression, unsure of what had caught your attention.

“What’re you looking at?” She asked as she stood there silently behind you for a few moments. She walked over to the dress and picked it up, holding it up against herself to get an idea of how it’d look on her. Glinda then let out a small scoff. “White is not my colour” she said with a smile, knowing how easily the dress would get dirty.

"I know" you chuckled

She turned to face you, suddenly holding the dress against you instead.

“Try it on,” she insisted with a smirk. “I want to see if it’ll look good on you” She pushed you into the changing room before you could stop her. You changed and walked out to show her the dress. Glinda waited outside the changing room, unable to hide the amused look on her face as she pushed you into the changing room.Her gaze ran over your figure in the dress, noticing how the fabric looked against you and how the dress perfectly hugged your figure. “You look stunning” she said without looking away from you, her thoughts now consumed by the sight of you in your current state. “We have to get this for you to wear to prom” she said in a firm tone, suddenly looking you directly in the eyes.

"I don't know,I don't think I'll go" you confessed

“What? Why wouldn’t you go to prom?” She asked, seeming almost baffled by your confession. “It’s one of the most important events of the year!”

"Yeah,the event of the year and I show up without a date" you said quietly

“So you don’t want to go because you don’t have a date?” She asked, her tone now slightly softer than it had been before. Glinda now suddenly understood why you were hesitant to attend prom,the fact that you didn’t have a date to go to the event with. “I guess that does make sense…” she admitted quietly, her mind currently trying to come up with a solution.

"The biggest event of the school year and I show up without a date" you reiterated.After a few moments of silence, Glinda suddenly spoke up with a suggestion.

“Why don’t I be your date?” She blurted out.

"You wanna go with me?"

“Of course I do,” she responded without hesitation. “We are friends…” Glinda then blushed slightly as she realised how the next part of her sentence was about to sound. “… and I would like to go with you” she finished.

"So,is this official now? You know,us?"

“Well… I suppose it is now” she responded, a smile still present on her face as she looked into your eyes. “If that’s alright with you?”

"If that means I can kiss you now?" You asked

“Yes… you can kiss me now” she replied quietly, the smile on her lips growing slightly as she felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. You leaned in and kissed her,your hand gently resting your hand on her waist.A feeling of warmth spread through Glinda’s body as you gently leaned in and kissed her, your hand resting on her waist.She allowed her eyes to shut as the two of you kissed, feeling your lips on hers and the sensation of your hand on her lower waist.Glinda placed her own hand gently on your arm, almost instinctively as she deepened the kiss.You pulled away  “Wow…” she whispered breathlessly, her grip on your arm tightening a little as she didn’t want to pull away from you entirely.

"Save some for later" you chuckled "and for we're not in public"

“You’re right… I got a little carried away there” she responded, her hand still resting on your arm.Glinda suddenly realised that yes, the two of you were actually in a changing room in the middle of a public shopping area and therefore shouldn’t do anything that would cause a potential scene. She laughed lightly, amused by your words. "Let's get the dresses and head back" You made your way back to your dorm As soon as you arrived she threw herself down on the bed and kicked off her shoes, letting out a small sigh as she relaxed. Suddenly she thought about everything that happened,that you were now officially girlfriends.The fact that she was now officially your girlfriend was suddenly all that was on her mind.

‘Girlfriends’

Glinda’s heart skipped a beat as she thought about the implications and possibilities that came with now being your girlfriend. She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she thought about the fact that you were no longer just her roommate, but were also her girlfriend now.

She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and confidence as she moved to sit down next to you,on your bed. As she sat next to you, she looked at you as if she was silently contemplating something, waiting for a small moment before suddenly closing the space between the two of you and kissing you passionately. She quickly pushed you down onto your back,all without letting go.Glinda was now laying on top of you on the bed, her lips still firmly attached to yours as she continued to kiss you. Her body pressed closely against yours as she held you down against the bed. You wrapped your arms around her waist,pulling her down and closer to your body.Glinda broke the kiss for a moment, catching her breath as she looked down at you between ragged gasps.You had one arm around her. 

"We should do that again" you whispered Before you could respond, Glinda leaned down to kiss you once more, her lips finding yours and kissing you passionately. Glinda’s body was now pressed fully against yours, a feeling of heat and desire filling her body as she lay on the bed with you.Slowly, she broke the kiss, pulling away as she looked down at you, both of your breaths ragged.

“I could get used to this”

“Me too”

~~~~~

@s1xthirty

[artytaeh]

THEODORE NOTT HAS A LOT OF MONEY. and even though that's a relief that indulges his own impulsive spendings to pamper himself, it still doesn't feel like he properly makes use of it.

the large bookshelf on his bedroom, at the nott mansion, might suggest otherwise.

( what? theodore enjoys special editions; no, it's not silly to want a first edition of one of his older favorites, or a hard cover version with a better illustration, really. much less having paid more for a book on his native language, given that he's in london, a bit too far away from the city he was born, millan. )

but then, ah— there it is! the reason why his family's ridiculous wealth makes sense, now!

because what theodore nott lacks in a few matters, such as communication or spending a lot of time with you, when he needs his time alone, he'll compensate like this.

one might perceive this as a heartless, uncaring way to press bandaids over emotional wounds; believe me, it couldn't be farther than this.

theodore just likes to see you smile, and given that his black card is a means to such an end, well, why not?

things are just things; but things do bring happiness, so yes, you can buy happy feelings!

theodore would love to know if you collect something— mugs? he's bringing a new one for you, now paying extra special attention to crockery themed stores. snowglobes? there's this one he found, with a charm to it! if there's a comic series you like, theodore would discreetly surprise you every week with a new volume.

only for you to go and break his heart, standing in front of his door with his gifts in arms, extending them for theodore to take it back.

cluelessly, and looking a bit like a kicked puppy, theodore frowns. are you angry at him? isn't this the type of thing you like? should you reassure him that your only issue is the excessive money spent on you, theodore feels like a weight left his shoulders.

huff; so, he does know how to please his girlfriend and what she likes!

... but why are you rejecting him? 'hey, bella, don't offend me— this isn't going to empty nott's vault any time soon.'

should his puppy eyes work, well then, you're doomed.

because theodore will use this same excuse over and over again, when he brings another thing that reminds him of you. what? you mentioned that you like coats like these! it's a color you like to wear, and you'll need warm clothes like that in a matter of weeks!

do you not like his gifts? theodore will give you a look that, if you didn't know better about his cynical shenanigans, you'd believe that his heart was being shattered to pieces.

that's the reason why dates at hogsmeade are so dangerous. i'm being serious— you might as well keep your eyes on the road, stare at the snow beneath your feet, because if you spend more than four seconds staring at something inside a shop...

there isn't time to process anything else; theodore's mind works fast. you saw it, you seem to like it, he's buying it. in a blink of an eye, theodore already has his card between his index and middle finger, nonchalantly making his way inside.

'can't a man spoil his girl? goddamn it, dolcezza.'

clothes are almost worse. if he sees something that you're staring at, and likes it, theodore is putting so much (discreet. not so discreet,) effort into convincing you to let him buy it for you.

'you'd look good in it. see, it's a color you like, it would look really good, given your skin tone.' and then, he takes a different approach: 'trying it on doesn't hurt, right?'

a cruel plan, you see, because then you fall in love with this dress, as much as theodore fell in love with the idea of you wearing such pretty clothes.

his arms embrace your waist, like a snake slowly trapping its victim; the fabric feels right under his skin, the dress looking as if it was sketched for you, fitting better than a glove.

theodore rests his chin on your shoulder, holding back a smirk as he sees you mourning the idea of leaving the dress here— it's just so pretty! and theodore's compliments don't help!

🗯️ : but teddy, it's really cold these days. i wouldn't be able to wear it, anyways.

t : and that's why we learned simple warming charms during third year.

🗯️ : sure, but— i don't have where to use it, so it's not worth it if it's just going to look pretty in my dresser.

t : no worries, bambina. i'll think about a perfect date for you to wear this, looking so pretty for me. bellissima, la mia bella ragazza.

NO USE IN ARGUING WITH HIM; theodore nott always wins these rounds. the battle is won, and the war is benefitting his side.

even if you do not let him spoil you with such impulsive thoughts and freedom, theodore would never, for the life of him, let you pay for a single coffee or meal while you're with him.

lunches at hogsmeade are a favorite of his. obviously, he's paying. this slytherin doesn't joke about the topic; will give you the biggest side eye if you take out your wallet.

who do you think he is? his mother raised a man that knows how to treat a girl right, and a good boyfriend! no way in hell is any soul at hogsmeade, scotland, europe— hell, galaxy!— considering that he's not taking care of his amata ragazza properly.

ALL IN ALL, THEODORE FINDS IT SWEET how much you worry over it, and insist that he could spend this same money on things that he likes.

but that's what you fail to understand— what theodore likes, more than a new book with a promising synopsis, or an exquisite astrolobe— is seeing you smile for something that he got you.

﹙★﹚ won't give you gifts to earn his forgiveness earlier, though. he wants his presents to feel like he genuinely thought you'd like it, not as a bargain or bribery.

anyways, i love this man. 🌷

[edward-munson]

mess of me | S.H.

Summary: Steve breaks a promise and it ruins your friendship. He doesn't hide the frustration about the possibility of seeing you leave Hawkins.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, slight praising

Word count: 2.8k

♥

Steve likes the way you dress up when you go out with your group of friends, but this is the second time he sees you in a bikini. And it makes him want to punch his own face.

You all decided to take a small trip to a lake with a waterfall. The late spring days started to feel hotter and you just wanted to do something different. Hawkins isn't exactly the best destination to spend a day doing something good.

He watches as you swim with Robin and the other girls. She splashes water at you as you both laugh. Nancy and Jonathan are enjoying the waterfall, all while Argyle and the boys fight with water guns.

Steve is sitting next to Eddie under the sunshade, the latter reading a fictional book as he wears dark shorts, a bandana wrapped around his hair that's tied in a ponytail.

"If you keep looking at her that much, I'm pretty sure she's gonna have third degree burns from your staring" Eddie speaks up, still focused on his book.

He snaps his head to the side, scoffing at his friend's words. "M'not looking at anyone. Just watching the view from the lake"

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. "Yeah, right. The view, huh?"

"Shut up, Munson" He rolls his eyes.

They're talking about you. You are the reason why Steve keeps staring too much at the lake, not even caring to jump in the water for a refresh. His friend knows you don't get along with him ever since he broke his promise of keeping your secret safe with him.

He ended up telling everyone you were planning on going back to New York. No one knew about your plans, not even Robin who's your closest friend after him. You didn't want to tell them just yet.

They were disappointed at you at first. But then, they all seem pretty understandable. Because any other place in the country would be better than Hawkins. Even if your friends lived there, even if the man you ever really liked lived there.

Even if it meant being away from everything that made you feel safe and happy. And Steve was mad at you because of that. He was mad you were willing to get away from them. He thought you were running away from everything.

He never really meant to betray you. He was nervous, frustrated. He didn't want you to leave. He still doesn't want you to leave. If he thinks too much about it, his body starts to get rigid and tense. His fingers curl in rage.

Eddie knows all about his friend's feelings. He knows how much he cares about you, how he would fight for you to stay. But now, you can't even really look at him without feeling sad and angry. Angry because you trusted him. Sad because you thought you had his back.

You've been friends for almost a year now, but you're close enough to trust each other. That's what you actually thought until he told everyone you were leaving soon. Now you just can't stand looking at his face.

His pretty fucking face, painted with moles of various sizes. His sun-kissed skin, strong muscles and sharp jawline. Maybe this is one of the reasons you have doubts about staying. But who knows if you're his type anyway.

Through his sunglasses he can't keep his eyes off you. His jaw is clenched and his teeth are gnashing from the pressure. All he wanted to do right now was to push you against a wall and ruin you. Not even in a good way, because he can't stand the fact he has to deal with your cold shoulder.

And he knows he did wrong with you. It wasn't his intention to. And he apologized whenever he could. He would kneel in front of you at random moments and apologize. He would send you roses with small notes. Damn, he would leave letters on your doorstep. But you would never respond to them, you would never actually let him know if he was forgiven. Steve didn't want to see you leave without forgiving him. And it was chewing him alive.

He watched as you got off the lake, grabbing a towel and drying yourself before you walked back to the car to pick a snack. He took it as an opportunity to follow you. You were fumbling through the basket looking for a bag of doritos when he stood right beside you, leaning against the car.

"Fuck off, Harrington" You grumbled, not even daring to look at him.

You recognized him by his scent, and you hated that you knew him just that much.

He didn't answer. Rather, he crossed his arms and waited until you finally picked what you wanted. You gave him silence again, and he sighed.

"How many times do you still want me to apologize? Because I'll do it"

"Doesn't matter, Steve. That's the problem, you were so selfish you couldn't keep my fucking secret safe with you for more than a week!" You snapped at him. He seemed unfazed by your anger because that's how you've been treating him ever since then.

"I was desperate because how could you even do that to us? You're leaving everything and everyone behind!" He pulled back from the car, extending his arm in exasperation.

"I don't want to go through this again, especially with you. I told you why, I don't think I have to give you an explanation for my decisions"

As you tried to walk back to the lake, he gripped your forearm carefully so he wouldn't hurt you. Steve pulled you back only a few steps, hesitantly closing the distance. You didn't want to be this close to him, it was too hard to look at his face.

"You're right, you don't. But– it's hard to let you leave" He looked at your face, how you were still hurt.

You were avoiding his gaze at all costs. His hazel eyes were too intense at this point.

"We barely know each other, Harrington. We've only met months ago. Don't say things like that when you don't mean them"

"The way you think you know me is so frustrating, by the way" He places his forefinger under your chin and lifts your face so you can finally look at him. "Stop being so stubborn, please look at me"

It takes several seconds for you to give in. You're still angry at him, you still wish you could just punch his perfect face. But you stay still without saying a word. Your creased brows are the only response he gets besides your watery eyes. You obviously want to cry. You wish you had another option, but you already made peace with the fact you want to leave Hawkins.

"I'm fucking sorry I was an idiot. I never wanted to hurt you in any fucking way. And if I could actually go back in time I would shut my fucking mouth" He curses through every sentence. His irises are almost burning holes into yours from the intense staring.

You keep looking at each other. Your mouth is closed in a thin line because what else can you say? You're reluctant about forgiving him. But maybe it's time to give up on it and finally move past it.

You’re both quiet, he crosses his arms again and just stands there with his head hanging low. You’re not sure what you should do. You don’t know what’s the right thing to do right now. You hate the situation, you just didn’t want it to be like that. 

“Just-” He sighs deeply. “Think about it, alright? I’m not gonna force you into doing anything”

You nod. There’s a small tension between you two, and you the meaning of all of this conversation. 

"You know you're very obvious about the way you look at me, right?" You suddenly ask, watching his expression turn into surprise as his eyes widen. You can't help but smirk. "Everyone keeps saying you're not exactly disguising it".

"What– I never did that" He tries to be oblivious, his tone was nervous and he averted his eyes from yours.

You chuckle at his defensive response. "Come on, Steve. Let's settle something, then. I'll forgive you if you admit this as your secret".

You look at him expectantly. He's still not looking at you, holding his hips as he bites into his inner cheeks. Steve groans and throws his head back. If that's what it takes for you to stop hating him, then it's worth doing it.

"Okay. Yeah, yeah, it's true" He glances at you again and moves his hands to place them both over your face and it surprises you. "Actually, I can't help but think about you for a while. It's stupid, but it's true. I think maybe it's why I reacted so badly at the news of you leaving. Because I didn't want to believe it".

His words hit you like a punch to the guts. And everything makes sense. He was definitely desperate and he couldn't think of anything else to do. His reaction wasn't really honest. He lost a few people before, he didn't want to lose you either.

But now, the thought of leaving the town and leaving him behind is starting to lose meaning. Because yes, you also couldn't stop thinking about him either.

You're too fond of him to be honest. Your first instinct is to pull him closer and finally kiss him. He didn't expect you to do it, so he stumbles forward a little. His hands still planted on your face, now cradling it. He kisses you back, sticking his tongue out to touch yours. It's delicate, but fervent as well. You taste the gum in his mouth and it's addicting already.

He doesn't let go of you until he tries to catch his breath. He retracts his head back only a few inches so he can take a look at you again. Steve pulls you for another kiss and struggles to hold back the groans in the back of his throat. Because you're too good to actually be true. Your taste is better than anything he's had before. Your tongue is fighting for dominance and he likes the way your teeth latch onto his bottom lip and gently pull it.

Still glued to you, he guides you behind the trees and bushes until you can't see the lake. The sun is peeking through the leaves and your breath hitches at the sight of him shirtless in front of you. His hazel eyes look brighter because of the light. You feel him pushing you against the tree, one of his hands splayed against your chest as the other one he uses to hold your waist.

"Steve, what are you–"

He pecks your lip hurriedly to shush you. "Just let me, okay? I know I lost your trust, but trust me on this just for today".

Steve plants soft kisses through your skin as he goes down, leaving traces of spit against your stomach, reaching for the straps of your bikini bottom. It takes your breath away to see him undoing the knot with just his teeth, watching as he looks up at you with something different in his eyes. You've only seen him looking at you like that only a couple of times. His fingertips graze the material as he pulls it to the side, revealing your cunt to him. You thank God you've shaved it.

He breathes against your skin and it gives you goosebumps. His hands are holding your ass tightly, squeezing it hard as he looks at your glistening folds. It almost sparkles against the sunlight and he can't think of anything more admiring right now. He kissed just a few inches close to your center, leaving a wet patch on your skin. You try to hold yourself, gripping the tree with both hands. 

Steve holds your left leg high until he places it over his shoulder, opening your folds just a little. It's enough for him to grow into his shorts. He effortlessly uses his thumb to open your cunt, watching in awe the way you're soaking for him. He pecks your skin softly, just above your clit and it makes you whine.

You hear him shushing you, because no matter if you're far from the lake, you wouldn't wanna be loud. Even though your friends know that, if you're taking too long to come back, you might as well be doing something they don't even care about.

You throw your head back, holding his hair through your fingers. It sends shock waves through your body as soon as he licks your folds for the first time. He slides his tongue up and down your slick, tasting your juices, humming in appreciation. He still holds one of your inner labia with his thumb to have more access. Everything seems to fade away in front of you, the sound of the waterfall is muffled and the air becomes dense. He draws circles with the tip of his tongue over your clit and you squirm under him.

"You're too fucking sweet, fuck" He grumbles, his lips softly grazing your skin.

He licks your pussy with so much pleasure, trying to taste you as much as he can. Steve changes between licking you and flicking his tongue over your clit. He slides his thumb down your entrance, making no effort to push into your hole and he hears you whimper. His finger works its way in and out of you, sliding up and down your core, feeling your walls contracting. You pull his locks tighter, messing with his hair as you feel the knot in your stomach grow wider.

You snapped your eyes open suddenly, your lungs missing the air that left your body when Steve sucked on your clit, still fucking you with his thumb. He was humming against you, his mouth trapping your soft and sensitive skin, his tongue savoring you.

"Oh my God, Steve. That's–" You couldn't even finish your sentence because he didn't let you.

He was too focused on eating you out and fucking you mindless. You felt him shaking his head, giving you more pleasure than you thought it was possible. His thumb was quick to pump you, his lips adorning your clit in such a lustful way. His hair was so messy, it gave him the look of someone that was so pussy drunk, you throbbed against him.

Steve pulled your skin harder, feeling your body jolt in response. He took only a few seconds to look up at you, pupils dilated and blown eyes. His brows were knitted as he kept fucking you. He loved the view from down there, your chest heaving, your eyes also blown out. Mouth agape and nipples almost piercing through the fabric from being too hard.

His cock was pounding against his shorts, he could feel the burning sensation of it, because he was about to explode inside it. And he couldn't hold it back, especially because he didn't want to.

When he started to feel your pussy clenching around his finger, he slowed his pace, knowing it would give you more pleasure. He knew what he was doing. It makes your orgasm last longer too. Each second that passed, he could see how tense you were becoming. Every flick of his tongue on your clit was a jolt to your body. Your legs were trembling really bad and your mouth was dry.

You tried not to moan his name too loud, you tried to keep your whimpering down. He didn't even try to keep silent. You could hear him moaning and groaning against your core as well. You watched the moment his face contorted and he breathed heavily, hissing against your skin.

Steve sucked on your clit a few more times, circling your pussy with his thumb until you broke down on him. You throbbed and clenched, soaking his finger. He could feel you falling apart for him, pulling his hair up and forcing your cunt into his face, his nose nudging on your pubic bone. He stayed there for a while, now licking your wet pussy, gathering the rest of your juices left. He pecked on your skin gently, pulling out of you, hearing you cry out from missing his touch.

He tied the knot on your bikini back and pushed himself up. Finally meeting your flushed face after the show he just gave you. For a moment, you missed the way his shorts were wet because you could barely see it. He brushes a few strands of your sweaty hair off your face and glances at you.

"I'm really sorry I was an idiot before" He pleaded. You couldn't even process his words because you were still in a haze.

You closed the gap between you two and kissed him softly. "Please, don't leave Hawkins".

He held your waist desperately, squeezing it a little as he opened his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. You didn't answer him. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. Only right now you wanted him, just him.

"You're gonna need to refresh when we get back" You joke, feeling the wet short touching your thigh. Looking down at himself, he understands immediately and chuckles.

"You made a mess of me, in so many ways" Steve doesn't let you go out of his touch, he wants to stay there like that forever.

He holds you against his chest as you lean against the tree for several minutes. He leans on top of your head and closes his eyes. He feels his heart thumping against his chest. Steve fears he's still gonna lose you after this, but even if you go, at least he knows he's forgiven.

[sushiyuzu]

a fake relationship

nanami kento x reader

a/n: interested to read more? click here to read the book!

the school bell rings, echoing through the hallways as students spill out of classrooms, chatting, laughing, and groaning over the latest assignments. you're in no particular rush, meandering through the crowded corridor on your way to your locker. most of your friends have already left, probably heading to the café nearby or the library. but you? you have a different kind of problem to face—one that's been plaguing you all semester: math.

you open your locker with a sigh, tossing in a textbook and pulling out your crumpled math test results. a large, angry red 48/100 glares back at you from the paper, and you wince. it's the third failed math test this month. no matter how hard you try, no matter how many formulas you attempt to memorize, numbers just don't seem to click in your brain. you stuff the paper into your bag, muttering under your breath.

"great. just great."

you're not dumb—far from it. you're a pretty solid student in most subjects, but math? math is your achilles' heel. and you can already picture the conversation with your parents at dinner tonight. they've been on your case about your grades, and if they find out about another flunked exam, well... that's a disaster you're not ready to deal with.

as you slam your locker shut with more force than necessary, you catch a glimpse of nanami kento. he's standing at his locker not far from yours, his face set in that calm, unreadable expression he always wears. neat, composed, a little too perfect, really. you've never spoken more than a few words to him in class, but he's hard not to notice. he's the kind of guy who seems like he has everything figured out—top of the class, disciplined, never flustered by anything.

you're about to turn away when a shrill voice rings through the hallway.

"nanami-kun!"

a group of girls is lingering nearby, one of them stepping forward with a bright, flirtatious smile. "are you free after school? maybe we could study together?"

the girl's voice is sweet, her smile almost rehearsed, like she's done this a hundred times before. it's no secret that nanami is one of the most sought-after guys in school, and girls are always trying to get his attention.

you pause, pretending to fix your bag as you watch out of the corner of your eye, already knowing how this will go.

without even looking up from his locker, nanami replies, "i'm busy."

his voice is polite but detached, and the girl's smile falters. she quickly tries to recover. "oh, well... maybe another time?"

nanami doesn't respond, continuing to organize his books like she's not even there.

the girl fidgets awkwardly before giving up, walking back to her friends with a disappointed shrug. you can hear them whispering and giggling as they retreat down the hall. you almost feel bad for her—but at the same time, it's no surprise. nanami has this way of effortlessly deflecting attention, and yet, that only seems to make people more interested in him.

you snap out of your thoughts, turning to leave, but as you sling your bag over your shoulder, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey."

the deep, calm voice startles you, and you turn to find nanami kento standing right next to you. your heart skips a beat. you're not used to him being this close, let alone speaking to you directly.

"uh, hey?" you reply, trying not to sound as confused as you feel. why is nanami kento talking to you of all people?

he glances around briefly, then lowers his voice, his expression serious. "i need to ask you for a favor."

your eyebrows shoot up. a favor? from nanami? you're intrigued, to say the least. "what kind of favor?"

he hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking back to the group of girls still lingering at the end of the hallway. then, with that same calm composure, he says, "i need you to pretend to be my girlfriend."

what?

for a second, you're sure you misheard him. "excuse me?"

"a fake relationship," he clarifies. "it'll be temporary."

you blink at him, completely thrown off. this was not the kind of favor you were expecting.

"okay..." you say slowly. "why would you need a fake girlfriend?"

nanami's eyes shift toward the group of girls again, the faintest hint of annoyance crossing his features. "lately, i've been getting a lot of unwanted attention," he explains, his voice low but steady. "it's distracting, and i don't have the time or interest to deal with it."

you take a second to process his words, your mind still trying to catch up. the most composed, serious guy in school needs a fake girlfriend to fend off admirers? it almost sounds ridiculous. but then again... you look at him—stoic, serious, perfectly put-together. you can see why people would constantly try to break down his walls.

"and you think this'll work?" you ask, crossing your arms skeptically.

nanami's expression doesn't change. "yes. people will lose interest once they see i'm already in a relationship."

you chew your lip, still unsure. "okay, but... why me?"

he turns his gaze to you, his eyes steady. "because you're not caught up in that drama. you're not the type to spread rumors, and you're not interested in unnecessary attention."

he has a point. you've always kept a low profile, and you don't really involve yourself in school gossip. but still...

"and what's in it for me?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

nanami doesn't hesitate. "i'll help you with whatever you need—homework, projects. you need help with math, don't you?"

your stomach flips at the mention of math. of course, nanami would know that. he's in your class, after all, and you've failed more than enough tests for it to be common knowledge by now. but still, hearing it from him—someone who probably never struggles with any subject—stings a little.

"how do you know that?" you mutter, crossing your arms defensively.

nanami raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "i've seen your test results. you're not bad in other subjects, but math is holding you back."

you're about to snap something back, but you stop yourself. he's right. you've been struggling in math all semester, and it's been dragging your grades down. if you fail one more test, your parents will lose it.

"and you're offering to tutor me?" you ask, the skepticism still clear in your voice.

nanami nods. "in exchange for this arrangement."

the offer is tempting—really tempting. it's not like you have any better ideas for improving your math grades, and having nanami, the top student, help you? that could actually save your skin. but at the same time, agreeing to a fake relationship with him? it's crazy.

you glance at nanami again. his expression is calm, composed, but there's something else in his eyes—something genuine. he's not asking for this because he wants attention or drama. he just wants peace.

after a long pause, you sigh. "fine. i'll do it."

for the first time, nanami's expression softens just a little—a flicker of relief, maybe. "thank you."

you smirk, a little more at ease now. "but if you flunk me in math, this deal is off."

nanami chuckles lightly—something you've never heard from him before. "you won't."

as you walk down the hallway together, the weight of the deal you've just made starts to sink in. you're about to dive into something completely unexpected, and who knows how this will all play out?

but one thing's for sure: your school year just got a whole lot more interesting.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 3 - I Get A Little Dizzy

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Truly a disgusting amount of tabs open on my computer to research different monsters of the week for this series. Enjoy!

Chapter title from Imposter Syndrome by Abbie Roberts

Word Count: 16.8k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: For the first time, you run into Dean alone. Usual warnings, slight emphasis on self-harm.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, monster of the week.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Read on A03!

The library is quiet when you feel it. When the White starts to rear and whine inside of you, the world goes technicolor, and you feel an odd sense of unwelcome harmony. You feel Dean.

And you could’ve pretended it was nothing, that you were simply losing your mind, if he hadn’t spoken only a second later.

“Hey, sweetheart, can you point me to any books you got on ghosts?” He’s drawling—his voice is still deep and pretty and very distracting—but there’s something tight in his words. Like he’s frowning. “And, uh, a table? Might need to sit down.”

The girl at the desk starts to fawn over him—asking if he’s okay, if he needs some of their shitty earl gray tea, how it’s so cool that he’s interested in cult and theology—and you realize you’re on your knees. Just the fucking presence of Dean sent you to your knees. 

You’re fucked.

He’s not supposed to be here. This is your case. It’s the kind of case you live for. The years blur together—all covered in blood and sweat and spit—and your nightmares only get worse as the darkness grows, but these cases are easy. Not deadly, just odd. Cases no other hunter tries to touch, because everything about them is downright strange, there’s often nothing to shoot, and the solution is usually more complex than just kill the monster. That’s the other reason you love these cases. No danger. No threat of a hunter watching you bleed into the darkness, of them seeing a monster simply ignore you like you’re not even there or doing something a regular person—hunter or not—should never be able to do. 

Sometimes, on the rare occasion you do run into a hunter, and you just have to be careful. Stay out of their view, handle the case, and vanish in the dead of night without ever being seen. 

And that’s exactly why you’re so goddamn fucked.

You can’t ignore Dean. You can’t avoid Dean. It’s been two long, strange years, and seeing him isn’t any less intoxicating than before. It might even be worse. Stronger. Because you kept reminding yourself that John would kill you—not might, would—and that Dean didn’t seem to feel this baffling, magnetic connection, but that didn’t stop you from dreaming about him. It didn’t stop his name being like a shot of some sort of painful, needy, glorious drug right into your bloodstream, or your brain from searching for him in shadows.

And you’d really tried to stop that. You’d played both days over and over in your head, dissecting every reason to hate him, every reason to be angry, every reason to forget that he ever existed. And you had hundreds of them, starting and ending with he left you. He vanished without a trace, had the nerve to pretend like he cared about you, and then act like he had the right to care when he left you. He was an arrogant, charming, handsome asshole, and he left you. You were allowed to hate him, because he’d made you smile and feel like maybe you could be wanted, and then he fucking left you.

You’ve repeated it a million times. You’ve set that anger deep into your bones to try and make it stick. Carved it into your skull to try and make it real. At this point it might be, because you’ve spent two years practicing it.

But you’ve never managed to throw out his shirt, or stop your heart from twisting and withering whenever Bobby mentions that the Winchesters had a bad hunt, or extract green eyes and a boyish smile from fantasies in your sleep. 

You don’t know how to not feel like there’s saltwater on your raw skin when he indulges the girl at the desk with sweet words, say she’s too pretty to be stuck around all these books. You can’t figure out how to make the White finally realize that it’s not an option to give into its desperation to see him. To crawl around the bookshelves and just look at Dean, to make sure he’s real and this isn’t another unwelcome dream.

There are so many reasons that would be a bad idea. John might be here, ready to put a bullet in your temple. Dean might see you, and you’ll have to explain why you’re staring at him from the floor. Onceyou see Dean, you know you’ll have to talk to him, and if you talk to him the whole hunt will be ruined. It’ll become a long week of trying to figure out the case, dodge Dean, and hide what you are from him.

Maybe he already knows. Maybe John told him. Maybe he’d be just as ready to kill you, and all you’d see is cold, unwavering fury and hatred in his eyes before he killed like the monster you might be.

And you are. You’d have nothing to offer in your defense, because the darkness has only spread in your body, and you’ve only fed it. You still don’t understand exactly what it is, but you know it’s powerful. That whatever you are, you’re rare, and that’s probably for a reason. You’ve spent hours in Bobby’s library—sitting at his desk and reading until dawn cracks and Bobby half-drags you to bed—trying to just find a name for what you are, why you’re like this, but you only ever have more questions.

You can’t stop the spells and rituals from appearing in your head, but you also can’t find most of them in any books. You still call yourself a witch, but most witches spend decades studying to learn how to do things your body just does. More and more monsters respect you. More and more ghosts have burned away with only your hands. It’s grown harder and harder to stop the darkness from slipping out, and when it does it can be dangerous to everyone around you.

Dean doesn’t need to see that. You don’t need another reason to feel like you’re wrong. Just inherently wrong. 

So you should go. You need to go. If you were smart, you’d go now, and never look back.

But you haven’t learned how to do that either. Because you rise to your feet slowly, walk silently towards the door with your head down, and can’t stop your eyes from flicking to where Dean should be seated. 

His jacket is there—hanging off a wooden chair—and there are a few books on the splintering table, but there’s no Dean. 

You go rigid, a weight dropping into your lungs as you whirl around to run, and a hand catches you by the elbow. It’s big and strong and warm through your shirt, and you don’t have to be drowning in grass and spice and leather to know who it is. 

Dean pulls you right back into his chest, his grip remaining firm, and his voice near your ear is low and mocking. “Hey, Princess. Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Fuck.

You should lie. Pretend you don’t know him, wait for his grip to loosen, and run.

“Well, Winchester, I’m not sure you ever think at all.”

Fuck.

He laughs, and you also apparently haven’t learned how to not feel molten and soothed from the deep, rolling sound. “That ain’t your best,” he drawls your name, squeezing your arm lightly. “I’ll give you another shot, though. This time try to go for my looks.”

You scowl into the air. “I don’t think I could, Deano. That’s all you got left, and I’m not that mean.”

He clicks his tongue. “Ouch. You might be meaner, sweetheart. I’d say you’re a downright bitch.”

“I’d say you’re an animal in jeans and a leather jacket.”

“You’re forgetting about my boots.” Dean shrugs, and you can feel his muscles flex at the movement. “I’m an animal in jeans, boots, and a leather jacket.“

You roll your eyes, finally managing to yank your arm away from his hold and spin around. “What do you want, Dean Winchester.”

He’s grinning at you when you see him. A smug, crude smirk that tells you he’s enjoying this far too much, that he might not be trying to kill you, but he does hate you. And yet the shine in his eyes still sending you into a trance, and you’re still leaning a little forward to be closer to his body, and your nails are still digging into your skin to stop your hands from either punching him or grabbing him and never letting go. 

You hate it. You hate that he can still do this to you, that he doesn’t seem at all affected by it, and that you feel tiny fragments—catching light and scattered through your body—withering under his loathing and blooming under his attention. 

You hate that you’re staying instead of running. You’ve promised yourself over and over that, if you ever see any of the Winchester’s again, you’d run and keep yourself alive. If not for yourself, for Bobby. If not for Bobby, for Rufus, who’s told you that he had no interest in watching Bobby drink himself away if you die. 

And you’re breaking that promise. You should’ve made it an oath.

But you’d probably break that too. You might do anything to keep yourself crashing back into Dean, to stay in his shining gravity. 

You hate that most of all.

“I’m just saying hi, Princess.” He’s still grinning at you, but there’s something spiked and furious in his eyes. It’s guarded and hostile, and all aimed at you. “Am I not allowed to do that?”

“Hi.” You raise your chin, and he chuckles.

“Hey.” He scans you over, and you wish you couldn’t feel the heat of his gaze on your skin. “You look good.”

“No, I don’t.” You didn’t look bad, but you’re also sleeping in your car, so this is far from your best. “Why are you here?”

“Shit, Princess, I thought you were smart.” Dean gives you an amused, taunting look, and you want to punch him. “I mean, you can’t think I’m on vacation.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re hunting.”

“Bingo!” Dean spreads his arms wide, a shit-eating on his face. “Look at that, folks, we have a winner! The hunter is hunting-“

“Alone.” You raise your brows at him, crossing your arms. “Dean Winchester’s hunting alone.”

He falters slightly, barely a slip—his voice slightly harsher, his face a little tighter—but you catch it. “Maybe I am, but that’s not your fucking beeswax-“

That makes you stand taller, your spine snapping to attention as darkness pushes at your skin and teeth. “Is your dad here?”

He scowls. “No.”

Your grip on your own body tightens, because Dean doesn’t hunt alone. Bobby says that he’s only ever alone at all because John’s off on a hunt alone, and even then, Dean just waits. 

Briefly, you wonder if he’d wait for you. It’s a pointless hope—and you loathe your brain for thinking of it—but that doesn’t stop the idea. Dean wouldn’t wait for you. You’re not someone anyone waits for.

But you’d like to feel his pure, undying loyalty directed at you. For Dean to talk about you how he talks about John and Sam. 

He wouldn’t. And you hate him for making you want him to.

Dean must read something on your face, because he’s speaking again before you even open your mouth. “And this is a one-time thing, sweetheart, it’s not the same-“

“As me hunting alone?” You tilt your chin a little higher, holding his glare. “Why’s that?”

“Because you- You’re young and this shit isn’t a joke or game-“

“I never said it was a joke or game.” You snap. “And I’m not that much younger than you-“

“You’re young enough.” He hisses. “And you don’t get to act like you understand this life-“

You narrow your eyes. “I understand it just fine-“

“Yeah, sure you do.” Dean rolls his eyes, lowering his face to yours. You’re not sure when he got this close, or why you haven’t moved away, but he smells really good. “I actually fucking know what I’m doing, Princess. This is my life, and I’ve got people around me who-“

“You think I don’t have people?” You lean closer as you sneer, because you’ll be damned if you’re the first to cave and pull away. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing? Don’t forget, Winchester, I’m the one who got the moroi and the poltergeist-“

“But you’re still hunting alone.” Dean’s voice is stiff, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think his own words were hurting him. “Which means you don’t have people. If you did, they wouldn’t let you do this shit by yourself.”

You let out a dry laugh. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite, you’re literally hunting alone right now-“

“This is a one-time thing.” He dismisses you with a glare. “Not the same.”

And you’re back at the start. “It’s the exact same. I’m just alone by choice.”

Something pained flares in Dean’s eyes, and the guilt floods you in a second. Wrapping around your lungs like iron, churning in your stomach as your nerves start to feel raw and cower into you, because you shouldn’t have said that. He’s not alone, not at all. He has John, and John’s an asshole but he does seem to at least care about his son, as much he seems capable of caring about anything. And Dean can find company wherever he wants. He just has to weaponize that cocky, euphoria inducing charm, and you think people would give him the world. 

You are alone. You’ve been alone. You have Bobby but you’re still alone. Nobody wants to give you anything, and they shouldn’t. You’d break it. Just like how Dean’s voice is now low and strained, and the guilt is ripping at your guts, and you’re just darkness. Just dark and sick and infectious, spitting venom that erodes everything it finds. 

“I wouldn’t say you’re alone by choice either,” Dean says your name, his voice only taut anger. “You just haven’t managed to trap some sorry son of a bitch into look after you.”

Your nails break skin. “Fuck you, Winchester.”

“Right back at you, Princess.” 

There’s a long moment where neither of you move or speak,  and the only evidence you haven’t become statues is your breath. You’d been so lost in shoving down to darkness—roaring through your blood and a little electric—that you hadn’t realized Dean was walking you backwards. That you were pressed between his body and the table, or that his arms were braced on either side of your body, holding you there. And you’d been so lost in your fury at him—how it had lived in your mouth and surrounded your every thought—that you hadn’t looked at him. Really looked at him.

You’re looking now. And he’s still pretty. Somehow, he might be prettier. His eyes seem to have more shades of green, more little flecks of gold—his attention even more drug-like than before, as if you’re being dragged underwater but learning to breathe it at the same time—and there are a few freckles on his skin that weren’t there last time. His hair is a little longer than, too, but still close cut and spiky, and your fingers still remember how soft it had been. They want to touch him again. You want to touch him again, maybe shove him, maybe slap him, maybe yank him down so you can feel his lips against yours-

“You’re gonna try to do this one alone too, aren’t you.”

You blink at Dean, frowning slightly. “What?”

He sighs. “You’re gonna go off and hunt by yourself.”

“Yeah, I am.” You shift your weight on your feet, trying to not be consumed by how fucking close Dean is. “And I’m-“ You swallow, the words falling out you like vomit as the guilt gnaws at your tongue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean the shit about you being alone. You’re not.”

Dean stares at you. “You’re sorry.”

You nod—because you are, you can’t fucking live with how this is eating at you, and you really don’t need another reason to be sick—and Dean shakes his head.

“You think- forget it.” He’s scanning over your face, his expression still tight. “You’re fucking, you’re impossible.”

You frown. “What does that mean.”

Dean just hums. “That I’m not alone.”

“Yeah, I just said that-“

“No, Princess.” He grins, and it creates a tiny line on his cheek you want to touch. “I’m not alone. I got you.”

“You do not have me-“

“Why not?” 

His question sounds so genuine it makes you pause, your expression slack with confusion. “What?”

“Why don’t we hunt together? Hell of a lot safer.”

You shake your head slightly, mostly trying to destroy how the White is trying to grab your tongue and pull on your lips until you spit out yes without a thought. “Why would I do that. I’ve-“

“You got this, I know.” Dean raises his brows. “But you’ve also got me. And I can be helpful, sweetheart. We’ll be done in half the time.”

You do not have Dean. If you did, there wouldn’t be a single problem in the world. 

But you still examine his painfully sincere face, your words cautious. “How can you be helpful.”

“To start, I can use a gun.” He smirks at you. “Bet you don’t have that.”

“I can use a gun, Winchester, I just choose not to-“

“And now you don’t have to choose.” Dean wiggles his brows at you, and you feel the White flutter. “I’ll be the knight, Princess, you’ll just have to do…” he pauses, staring at you with a small frown. “Whatever you do.”

You can’t do what you do. Not anywhere near Dean. Not when he’ll freak out and leave you again, maybe this time returning with John in tow to put you down like a feral animal. You honestly don’t know why he hasn’t done that already, because there was no reason for John not to have told him about the poltergeist. 

But he’s just grinning at you, and his offer sounds genuine, and you really want him to stay. It would be really nice if—no matter what alternate intentions Dean had for you, no matter how he planned to look at you or speak to you—Dean stayed. Everything feels simpler when he’s right here against you. The White has already begun to blend and blur with the darkness, and everything already feels clean and silver under Dean’s attention—devoid of the loathing you’d expected, but still burning and wild and magnetic—and God, you’d like it to stay that way.

And you’d just been ready to fucking kill him.

And you don’t care.

“You’d listen to what I tell you to do.”

Dean shrugs. “Sure.”

“Winchester-“

“Cross my heart.” He pushes on hand off the table, holding it over his chest. “Scout’s honor.”

You snort. “Were you a scout?”

“No, but you don’t have to be a scout-“

“Yes, you do, that’s why it’s called scout’s honor-“

“Well, what the hell else am I supposed to say-“

“Pinky promise?” You suggest, your cheek painful as you bite down a grin at his adorably offended face. “All you need is a pinky.”

Dean scowls. “I am not pinky promising.”

“Fine,” you shrug. “Then we’re not hunting together.”

His face splits into a cocky, wide grin, and you realize what you’ve said too late. “So we were gonna hunt together?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, your face growing warm. “I was thinking about it-“

“You make up your mind?”

“Not yet-“

“I’ll listen to you.” 

You stare between Dean’s open gaze and his hand. Raised between your bodies, the pinky sticking out. “I don’t need you, Winchester.”

“Yeah, I bet you don’t.” He mutters, and you frown at the bitterness in his words. The way they sound sour, when Dean shouldn’tbe allowed tobe sour. He left you. “But I’m here whether you like it or not. Might as well make this easy.” 

He flexes his pinky, raising his brows expectantly, and your hand moves almost against your will. Looping your pinky with Dean’s, shaking it once, and freezing once you’re done, locked against him. It’s like you’ve been struck by lightning, and you won’t be able to pull away until you’re ash and smoke for Dean to breathe.

“Awesome.” He winks at you, but doesn’t pull away. Neither of you can pull away. “You got what we need?”

“Not yet,” you mumble. “But I’m working on it.”

He smirks. “Lucky you, Princess, I’m here to help.”

“I don’t need-“

“Yeah, you do.” He makes a wide, sweeping gesture to the table, his finger dropping from yours. “Sit down, sweetheart, cause I’m about to blow your mind.”

You roll your eyes—the loss of his finger, his fucking finger, feeling like you’ve been set adrift through space without a way to come back—and drop into the free chair.

Dean does not blow your mind. He’s adorable and charming as he explains his theory that you’re dealing with a spirit that uses madness to get to its victims, and he’s incredibly wrong, but it’s still cute. His chest is puffed like he’s just slain a dragon, he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a treat, and it breaks your heart a little to give him a close-lipped smile and shake your head.

“That’s… not correct.”

He blinks at you. “Yeah, it is. I read everything,” he slaps the pile of very closed books in front of him. “And Bobby told me that powerful ghosts can inflict madness.”

You raise your brows, twisting a ring on your finger. “I don’t know who Bobby is.”

“Oh, uh, he’s like my uncle.” Dean shrugs, dropping into his own chair. “Helped my dad out a lot, with me and Sammy. When Dad had to go off on hunts, and needed to keep us somewhere safe.”

You know that. Dean doesn’t know you know that, and something feels bitter over your heart as you lie to him, but you can’t help yourself. “You like him? Bobby?”

Dean nods. “Hell yeah, he’s awesome. And he’s a great hunter, only one almost as good as Dad. Plus he’s got this room of books that Sammy loved, all about monsters. He says this is a spirit,” Dean drums his hand on the table, giving you a pointed look. “It’s a freakin’ spirit.”

“Bobby said it’s a spirit?”

Dean nods, and you pull your lips between your teeth to stop a grin. If he wouldn’t get pissed about you hanging out with Dean—where John might arrive any second, something you know but can’t really bring yourself to care about—you’d call him right now to brag.

“Bobby’s wrong.”

“Bobby’s never wrong.” Dean frowns. “And you told me you didn’t have anything-“

“No, I told you I didn’t have what we need.” You hum, allowing your smug smile to cover your face. “But I know what we’re dealing with.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You wanna keep bragging, or-“

“It’s a pagan god.” You say, and Dean just blinks at you, so you continue. “I’m not sure which one yet, but it has to be.”

He shakes his head slightly. “It doesn’t have to be-“

“Yeah, it does. The madness is spread through the town, Deano. It can’t be a spirit.”

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “It is.”

“I know-“

“But,” he points a finger at you, his features stern, and it makes the White sing. “That doesn’t mean it has to be a pagan god, Princess. We could both be wrong.“

You give him an amused look. “What have you heard about the madness?”

“They’re basically trying to killing themselves outta nowhere. People with promotions lined up, folks with families just losing their marbles-“

“How are they losing their marbles?”

He scowls. “I dunno, I haven’t been invited to their suicide attempts-“

“They’re dancing.” You run a hand through your hair as you lean forward, your smile growing. “They start waltzing, and don’t stop until someone makes them. It’s not deadly, but-“

“It could be,” he nods slowly. “If we don’t gank it.”

“If we don’t figure out who it is,” you push a book towards him, pulling another off his pile for yourself. “And kill it.”

“That’s what I said-“

“You said gank.” You flip open your book, giving him a pointed look. “That’s not a real word.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You don’t know every word ever, sweetheart-“

“Yes, I do. Shut up and read.”

“Bossy- Shit-“ Dean swears your name as you kick him under the table. “That was my good shin.”

You giggle. You haven’t giggled in two years. “As opposed to your bad shin?”

“Yeah,” he grumbles, and you watch him settle into his book in your periphery. “I’m basically useless now, Princess. You killed me.”

“Maybe I saved you,” you shrug. “You can’t dance to death now. I think I’m the hero in this scenario, actually.”

He chuckles, poking your foot with his. “That would be a dumb way to go. I mean, what are we, in a reserve Footloose town? A handtight?” 

You glance up to see that he has the boyish grin—the one that makes you want to grab his face and hang against him because for some reason, you feel like nothing could ever hurt you as long as Dean was smiling like that—and is obviously incredibly proud of his joke. It makes something warm and gooey in your stomach, makes everything in the world smooth and illuminated. Flowing easily with the darkness, no pain required to keep yourself in control.

“Handtight?”

“Yes, opposite of footloose. Awesome, right?”

“I could do better.” You look back down to your book, and Dean scoffs.

“You’re just bitter about me getting a name for this first-“

“Vitus.”

You can hear the confused frown in his voice. “Wha-“

“Vitus.” You flip your book for him to read. “Sicilian martyr saint, who was associated with that French dancing plague in 1518.”

Dean blinks between the you and the pages. “This guy’s a saint, aren’t they kind of not supposed to kill people?”

You give him a flat look. “I don’t think anyone’s supposed to kill people-“

“Shut up, you know what I meant-“

“I don’t think I did. I think you should explain it-“

“I-“ He glares at you, and your grin is manic. “How the hell did you even find that so fast-“

“I’m good at my job, Winchester.” You flip the book closed with a half-shrug. “And this is literally just the 1518 plague, but in Texas. Which is, very famously, exactly like France.”

You grin at Dean—proud of your own, horrible joke—and he gives you a half-amused look with something in his eyes that you don’t know how to place. Not soft, but not hateful, like you’re blinding him, and he doesn’t care to look away. 

You clear your throat—he’s just looking at you, and it’s making your thinking hazy and your skin ache to touch his—and press on. “Now we just need to figure out why they’re doing-“

“A handtight?” Dean jumps in, and you give him a flat look. “I’m gonna get you to call it that, sweetheart, you’ll see.”

You ignore him, even as your smile grows. “And how to stop it.”

Dean gives you a look of mock curiosity. “Stop what, exactly?”

“I’m not calling it that.”

“C’mon, it’s good-“

“Nope.” You push up to your feet, still smiling at him as he almost pouts at you. “Never.”

“I bet I can get you to.” He rises as well, side-stepping to block your way to the door. You’re not sure if it’s on purpose. “Twenty bucks.”

You snort. “You don’t have twenty bucks.”

Dean’s jaw ticks slightly, and he almost recoils away from you. It’s a small movement, but you still see it. And it still hurts, because you don’t know why. That wasn’t too mean. Not meaner than usual. And he’s recovering quickly—his smile returning, the playful arrogance in his voice back in a heartbeat—but you’d still struck something you hadn’t meant to. And you can feel the sickness take root inside your veins at the thought. All those shattered, pretty pieces that line your whole body start to become heavy, because you hadn’t even meant to, and you’d hurt Dean. You hadn’t even be trying, and you’d still managed to show him just how horrible you were-

“I’ll find them.” Dean says, but he sounds a little far away over the ringing in your ears. “Gimme your number.”

That yanks you out of it, everything rushing back down to Dean as you gape at him. “My number?”

“On your phone, sweetheart.” He smirks at you. “I’m shocked you’ve made it this far alone if you don’t know-“

“Oh, fuck off, Winchester.” You flip him off. “I know what a number is-“

“Sure you do, Princess-“

“Shut up-“

“Here,” he leans down, scrawling his own number on a small paper and sliding it across the table. “That’s mine.” He pauses, his gaze on you suddenly weary. “For, uh, for the case.”

You nod, taking the paper with careful hands, like it might fly off and vanish. It had last time. Dean had last time. “You, um-“ You take slow breath, forcing your voice to remain firm and even. “You don’t need to give me this.”

Dean shifts in front of you, but you’re not quite strong enough to look up and meet his gaze. “Do you, uh, you don’t gotta take it, if you don’t want it-“

“No!” You flush at your high voice, staring at your fingers as you fold and unfold the paper between them. “I just already know where we’re off to next. So I don’t need it.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause, his voice dropping to a tone you wish wasn’t so cautious and soft. “You can still take it. Safety first, right?”

You glance up, and see that he’s smiling at you. He didn’t take the out you offered him, and he’s still there, and if you reached out you’d feel warm skin and lean muscles. He’s real, and he’s not flickering away. 

And that makes the Silver—the White folded and blended perfectly into the darkness—begin to bloom. Growing like ivy over the sickness, soothing it into an easy quiet. It makes you high as you smile at him, cautious but real. This might be real. You know better than to hope, but you don’t care what you know. This time, something about this glow—mending parts of you with gold, refracting light over the Silver—feels like it might not fall to ruin. Like it will remain tangible, and not shrivel under your touch.

“Okay.” You tuck Dean’s number in your pocket, standing a little taller as his own grin grows. “Can you meet me at the town hall in an hour?”

His brow furrows slightly. “The town hall? Are we interviewing the mayor or something?”

“Or something.” You hum, and Dean gives you a questioning look. “I think it might be a political thing,” you explain. “I mean, it’s not footloose-“

Dean nods. “It’s handtight-“

“Shut up. It’s not footloose but it is town wide. Targeting random citizens.” You tilt your head at Dean, raising your brows slightly. “So that could mean it’s-“

“Political?” Dean frowns, rubbing his chin. “Like a really weird power play?”

“Really weird.” You agree. “But not impossible. Fear mongering is a very real political tactic, it could be that.”

“You think it’s that?” Dean’s watching you closely, and it’s doing something to your brain. Making it fuzzy and warm. It’s not helpful.

“I think,” you say slowly, crossing your arms over your chest. “That we don’t have any other leads. And it can’t hurt to look.”

“You’re really inspiring confidence, sweetheart-“

“Do you have anything better?”

“Nope.” Dean shrugs, tucking one hand in his pocket as the other finds your back. Resting with a flat palm between your shoulder blades, seeming to suck every bit of tension from that spot, to make you almost lean into him. He pats your back once, a little awkwardly, but then he doesn’t move away. His mouth is still open, your mouth is open, and this shouldn’t feel as powerful as it does. It’s just a hand, but you feel safe and tended to, and it’s Dean’s hand but you feel wanted, and he doesn’t want you-

Dean doesn’t want you at all. He’s looking at you like he sees you—right down to the darkness, then a little further—and he’s not flinching away or revolted by it, but he doesn’t want you. He’s touching you, and maybe he’d like that, but he doesn’t want you. 

“Uh,” Dean clears his throat, his hand still flat and frozen on your back. “We should go.”

“Yeah,” you nod, your eyes seemingly trapped on his. “Figure out this reverse footloose.”

A smirk pulls at his lips. “Handtight.”

“I’m not calling it that, De.” You roll your eyes, but don’t shrug him off as he starts to guide you to the door. “Reverse footloose is already pushing it.”

He clicks his tongue, holding the door open as you walk through. “And I’m the one that’s not fun?”

You flip him off, he lets out a loud laugh, and you’re not sure what the hell is happening. He’s only looking at you, even though the lady at the desk keeps trying to get his attention with cleavage and pouting lips. He’s still touching you, even though you’re giving him no signs that you’re going to offer him what he probably wants. He’s still talking to you, walking with you, even though you’re you. Blooming with silver over your ribs but still destructive. Still sick.

“You got a car?” Dean scans over the parking lot with a small frown, and his thumb has started to trace small circles against your jacket, making it hard to think of anything but daydreams of that small motion on your bare skin.

“Um, yeah, it’s over there.” You manage to point, and Dean’s lips fall into a small, pouting frown. “I can meet you-“

“Actually, uh,” he rubs the back of his neck, his voice becoming low and sheepish. “I’d take a ride, if you’re good with that.”

You blink at him. “Do you not have your car?”

“Dad’s car.” Dean mutters. “He’s using it.”

“How’d you get here-“

“Hitchhiking,” he shrugs, not fully meeting your gaze. Like he’s worried hitchhiking will make you recoil. Like the car you hadn’t just pointed at isn’t the fifth car you’ve stolen this month. “I’m not that far, anyway. And I tried to rent a car but they only had minivans.” Dean makes a sour face, and it’s adorable, but you don’t think he’d apprentice you saying that. “I’m not driving a freakin’ minivan.”

“Alright car boy.” You give him a sweet smile, and when he finally glances up at you his eyes widen slightly. “You wanna drive?”

You might as well have offered him ice cream. All his features light up, a grin that’s sort of mind-numbing breaks out over his face, and you could swear he’s suddenly taller. Bigger. “You sure? I- It’s your car-“

“I don’t give a shit.” You shrug—it’s not your car, but he doesn’t need to know that—and push the keys into his hand. “Let’s rumble, Deano.”

You start to move, but he catches your arm, and when you look back his expression is weary. Untrusting.

“Is this…” He trails off, glancing down to the keys in his hand like they’re going to jump up and attack him. “You’re sure. You’re not- I’m not gonna get in that car and you’ll start yelling at me-“

“Why would I yell at you?” You frown at him, and his grip tightens slightly. “I mean, I will yell at you about other stuff, but not this. That would be dumb.”

He blinks at you, nods slowly, and releases your arm. He could’ve held onto it. You really wouldn’t have minded. 

You’re not sure what just happened—you’re learning that, with Dean, there never seems to be any logic to what’s happening—but you know Dean relaxes again the moment he’s in the driver’s seat. Talking about the buttons, which ones are genuine improvement to the model and awesome, and which ones are freakin’ useless, and really adorable. 

Dean’s adorable. You shouldn’t be allowing yourself to crash back into him so fast, not when you’ve spent so long teaching yourself to hate him, but it’s simple. Natural. The air feels sharper in your lungs when you breathe and he’s next to you. Everything smells like grass and spice and it’s like an anesthetic to everything in you that’s usually only pain. Every feverish and furious piece in you feels calmed, and Dean’s eyes are filled with boundless color, and it’s like you could move right into them and exist in a warm, peaceful world for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t. But you can smile and laugh with Dean on the ride to the town hall, listening to him explain something about engines that you don’t really care about, but he does, which is somehow more than enough. You work together to come up with a cover story, which mostly means shooting down Dean’s ideas about being Wilson and Wilson, no relation, or just flat out breaking into the building.

“You know city halls are public places, right?” You tilt your head at him, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice. “Anyone can be there, as long as we’re not going into private offices. We could just be two college students, looking to interview our representatives for a paper.”

Dean frowns. “Is that what college students do? You’re telling me Sammy’s off in California just talking to a bunch of nerds in offices?”

“Maybe.” You shrug, watching him carefully. You haven’t actually heard him talk about Sam that much, and everything is so precariously good right now. You refuse to be the one to blow it up. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, but you’re kinda just like that.”

It’s your turn to frown. “Like what?”

Dean waves a hand, giving you a flat look as he parks to car. “You know.”

“I don’t know-“

“You’re all books, Princess. You found that Cletus guy-“

“Vitus-“

“Yeah, whatever, you found him really fast. And you don’t use a gun.” He makes face like he’s smelt something foul. “How the hell don’t you use a gun.”

“With incredible talent and skill. And I am not all books-“

He smirks. “You’re pretty much 90% books, sweetheart.”

You glare at him. “Shut up-“

“Nah.” He turns off the engine, glancing out the windshield to the city hall. “So we’re college students?”

“Or grad students.” You tilt your head at the air, hugging your knees as you think. “Might be easier to sell.”

“Alright.” Dean claps his hands, shooting you a wink as he turns to fully face you. “I’m Robert Page, and you’re-“

“I’m me.” You let out a long sigh, giving him a flat look. “And you’re Dean Winchester. I don’t think we need aliases for this one, De, that’s the point of public places.”

“I’m trying to make it fun though-“

“It will be fun.” You smile at him as you unbuckle from the seat. “We’re going to gank a martyr who’s reverse footloosing a whole town. What’s more fun than that?”

“Handtighting a whole town,” Dean mutters, but he’s smirks again. You won. “I’m gonna get you to say it, Princess, just wait.”

“I am waiting.” You step onto the curb, grinning at him over the hood of the car. “I believe in you, buddy. You can do it.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling as you walk up the steps of the city hall, and throughout the entire, exhaustive process of combing through department after department, looking for any sign of Vitus. It’s long and boring work, but you’re both still smiling, nudging each other to whisper stupid jokes and making fun of the strange artwork lining the hallways, standing far too close together and laughing far too long at nothing at all.

It’s jarring. Frightening. You hate him. You’re supposed to hate him. He’s given you so many reasons to hate him, and he’ll give you more when he leaves again. When he presses on another raw nerve that only he seems to be able to find, and you snap because you’d crashed fully back down to him in just a few hours. 

But God, it’s so comfortable down here. Peaceful in your head and silver in your chest, everything exactly how it should be. Dean keeps placing his hand onto your back as you move through the building, and it feels like it’s burning and branding you, pressing it’s way under your skin until there will always be a place for Dean’s hand to fit. He smells so good, and you could drown in it. He looks so pretty—fidgeting with his jacket and tossing you thoughtless, charming grins that make your heart glow—and you could get lost in him. Get high on him and the deft, careful fingers that are spinning a pen and brushing against your skin. They must be filled with lighting, because they’re jumpstarting and feeding the White until it’s all just silver, and nothing is waging war inside you.

You could fall further. You could fall so much further. All the way down until you never had to be worried about being pulled back up. Until you were shining with lightning all the time.

You won’t. You’re just strong enough not to. But you’re not strong enough to not stare at him as he interviews another random secretary—pinned up gray hair and a sickly-sweet voice—or to not imagine if he’d go down with you. To fight it as everything starts to grow, and you can feel the humming joy of the electrically through the building, or the safety of the coffee in the secretary’s mug, or leather of Dean’s jacket, and how it feels like it belongs right where it is, on his body-

“Do you play the piano, Honey?” 

You blink, because the secretary’s talking to you. “Sorry?”

“I was just telling your lovely friend about how music has lost so much of its joy in these heathenistic times.” The secretary sighs, shaking her head. “No one appreciates a good classical piece anymore. It’s like water, dear, it needs to flow smoothly, in time and key. And nothing better for that than a piano.”

You glance at Dean, who shrugs and mouths crazy, just out of the secretary’s view. You give him a stern look that makes him wink at you, and turn a gentle smile to the secretary. 

“I do play, actually. Could I ask why-“

“You play the piano?” Dean’s frowning at you, and there’s something rough in his voice you don’t understand. “Like, well?”

“I’d like to think so.” You shrug, looking back to the secretary, but Dean keeps going.

“What, did you have like a freakin’ tutor-“

You shoot him a glare, because this is really not something to get stuck on. “No, my uncle. He had a piano, and I used to visit him a lot.”

You’d visit Rufus when Bobby had other hunters over—had the Winchester’s over—and eventually he got sick of you shuffling around and causing small accidents when you got lost in your own head. It became a tradition for him to sit you down and make you play until everything shrank back down to the right size.

Dean doesn’t get to know that. You have to remember that, despite every part of yourself Dean seems to be finding without effort, he can’t be allowed to find that.

“Sorry about that, ma’am.” You turn back to the secretary as Dean keeps staring at you, and she smiles.

“No worries, men can be foolish.” 

You seal your lips in a tight lip to avoid a loud snort as Dean huffs—looking like a kicked puppy in your periphery—and the secretary continues like he’s not even there.

“Do you dance?”

You nod, and Dean’s going to get stabbed later if he keeps acting like it’s shocking you could do anything at all. 

“You can dance-“

“Anyone can dance, Deano.” You shoot him a grin, and he shakes his head.

“Not everyone-“

“Not the sick.” The secretary corrects, and you feel a tendril of darkness creep up your throat, vile on your tongue. “The pious dance, boy, it is God’s will that we have music.”

Dean nods, giving you an amused look. “I’ll amen that, sister.”

You roll your eyes, looking back to the secretary. “Why do you ask?”

She hums. “You have the energy of beautiful music, honey. It would be an act of the devil if you didn’t.”

Dean was right. This lady was crazy. But you mumble your thanks, and keep your tone sweet. “What type of music do you like, ma’am?”

The secretary beams at you, and she leans forward, pulling at a charm around her neck as she speaks. “All of the classics, honey. The good, well-designed music-“

Dean nods in seeming agreement. “Like Zeppelin-“

“Dear Lord, no!” The secretary gapes at Dean, and you have to bite your tongue to stop a laugh. He looks like he’s been shot. “That’s devil music, boy! So much art has been lost to youth like you, corrupted by Satan’s song-“

You side-step, blocking Dean’s path to the secretary as his jaw clenches, holding your gaze on the secretary. “I love your necklace, ma’am, where did you get it?”

“Oh, this?” She lets out a soft laugh, running her fingers through the chain. “It’s protective, from the demons. You like it?”

“It’s very beautiful.” You say, and it’s not. It’s a large, lumpy shape and horrible, slate shade of gray, but you’re not dumb enough to say that aloud. “And thank you for your time-“

“Wait,” the secretary pulls off the necklace, grabbing your wrist and shoving it into your palm. “A lovely young woman like you should have protection for devils.” She shoots a glare over your shoulder, at Dean, and you glance back to see him scowling.

“I, um,” you turn back to the secretary, trying to return the pendant to her desk. “I appreciate it, but-“

“Take it.” Her voice is almost stern, and you feel Dean tense behind you. “And remember, no pleasure is worth more than the love of the Lord, honey. And he loves to sing for us.”

You nod slowly, backing away from the desk with the pendant still in your hand. “Of course. Love of the lord. De?”

He grunts your name from behind you, and you grab his hand without looking away from the desk. “Wha-“

“I’m hungry.”

“Well, we can get you some chips from that vending machine-“

“Yeah, let’s do that.” You drag him out of the room, down the hall—past the vending machine—and right into the women’s bathroom.

“Princess, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I don’t think I’m allowed-“

“Bigger issues.” You pull him into the large stall, dropping your voice to a hushed whisper. “It’s her.”

Dean frowns. “The mean old lady who called me a demon?”

You nod, passing him the pendant. “Cauldron. Vitus’ symbol, he was boiled alive in one-“

“Gross-“

“Yeah. And the lady’s a fanatic, so it wouldn’t be unbelievable that she thinks she’s cleansing the town of sinners or something.”

“So… she’s using this Vitus dude to what, punish those with taste?”

“Yep. Not a spirit.” You grin at him, taking the pendant back and flushing it down the toilet. There’s nothing in it that feels magical, and it’s really fucking ugly. “I love being right.”

He scoffs. “Whatever, sweetheart-“

“You were right, too.” You offer, dropping down to sit on the toilet. “It’s a handtight. Similar motivations, too.”

Dean’s eyes flash, and you think you might melt under the focus of his smug grin. “You called it handtight.”

“Yeah.”

“Because you realized I’m right?”

You give him a close-lipped, grimacing smile, and he groans.

“It doesn’t count if I didn’t earn it,” he grumbles, dropping down to sit against the wall. “You have to call it handtight because I’m a freakin’ genius.”

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll get you later.” He shoots you a half-smirk, and you roll your eyes, because he has got you. Against all odds and logic, you’re not leaving this bathroom stall unless Dean goes with you.

“You really believe that.” You give him an amused look. “That’s cute.”

“Shut up.” He mutters, scanning over your face with a frown. “Why did you say it? Cause you feel bad about saint lady calling me the devil?”

“No,” you pick at the skin around your fingernail as you sigh. “I said it because I want you in a good mood.”

Dean blinks at you. “Why?”

“Because we’re about to deal with Vitus,” you hold Dean’s gaze, leaning down until your only a breath apart, and you can see every freckle, scar, and line on his face. He’s beautiful. You can’t focus on that right now. “And we’re doing it my way.”

—————————

Her way was insane. Her way was a crime. And Dean didn’t have a problem with that—crime was hard to avoid for any good hunter—but it was fascinating to watch Her dance around the words breaking and entering. 

It would be fascinating to watch Her dance at all. Dean’s mind was stuck on that image, scratching like a vinyl record of Her siren-like voice saying De, and a stuttering film of Her dancing. Crazy Lady had been right. It didn’t make any fucking sense, but She had the energy of beautiful music. She was a melody that had engraved its way into Dean’s brain with a scalpel, too amazing for him to every really pull it out or forget it. A melody that, even after two years, he’d still known to follow down and chase to hear just a little more.

She was fucking infuriating.

He’d spent those two years pretending he’d forgotten Her. Two years with Dad on the road and in motels—as he always had been—acting like his heart didn’t do a stupid little flutter when he saw hair like Her’s in a crowd, acting like he didn’t check every palm he touched for a scar. When he didn’t pretend, he told himself he was looking for Her to shout at her. To warn Her to stay the hell away, because he wasn’t a goddamn toy to be lured and trapped and thrown out. For Her to smile at, for Her to make vast and certain that he was being looked at, only vanish. To just go, right when he’d been in pain, right when he’d been so close to placing that fruity smell and learning how to ask Her if she was sorry, if she’d start over and if she could feel this too.

But She’d gone. Dean had woken up with a spinning head and sore body, Dad had told him She’d run right after they’d ganked the poltergeist, and Dean had forced that not to matter. Dean still dreamt of brilliant eyes and a star in his hands, but that wasn’t real, and didn’t matter. Everyone left, so that didn’t matter. Mom was gone, Sam didn’t want him, and Dad would get sick of him soon.

Dad was already a little sick of him. Dean wasn’t Sammy. He wasn’t useful except as a blade or gun, and he was too fucking empty to try and be more. And nobody could be Sammy. The kid was brilliant and kind and deserved the whole world, he was made for more, and Dean was just a selfish asshole who wanted Sam to stay with him. Who wanted to stop being lonely, who’d wanted the one person he knew would always be next to him to stay next to him. 

But Sam could see the pit. She could see the pit. Dad could see the pit. The only people who couldn’t see the pit were people who passed him in the dark and never heard him speak words that were true.

They were the people Dean had planned to waste his time with while Dad was off on one of his solo hunts. He’d had a motel, a scammed credit card with a full line, and week to kill.

But he’d gotten restless. And there was some strange dancing shit going on just a town over, so Dean was technically staying put like Dad had told him to. And it was barely a case anyway. It had been more of a reason to do something. To not be flat out useless until Dad returned.

Then he’d seen Her in the library, and everything else had vanished. It had just been Her, real and touchable in front of Dean, looking like She’d landed from the sky once more for Dean to orbit around. 

And he had. Damnit, he really had. They fought, and She’d bitten him, and he’d bitten back, then the dust settled and Dean still wanted Her. He wanted to walk in Her wake wherever she went. Let Her flood him however she wanted, because at least then he’d be full of that flowing light again. Just for a day, he’d pretend he wasn’t pathetic and caked in mud and dirt under his skin, and exist in Her wake like it could be as easy as it felt. He could look into Her blinding eyes until She looked back and he felt electric and alive, he could figure out what the hell that fruit smell was, figure out if She was really just an illusion. If She was working some kind of voodoo on him, and that’s why he kept forgetting the ache of Her lying, playing, and using him when just She looked at him—truly fucking looked at him—and said Deano like it was a note in the best song she could ever sing.

Why Her leaving had left a scar a little to the left of his heart, when he’d never seen Her for more than a day. What She’d done to him to make it so that as the years had passed, he could sometimes feel Her hand in his, although it had never been there in the first place. Why She haunted in him the dead of night—lonely or filled with fake company—by calling his name. His name. Just Dean, echoing in his ears until he was driven mad.

She’d never just called him Dean, either. 

Even now, in the car, She hummed De and brushed Her skin against his like it wasn’t a searing, painfully glorious mark She was leaving on him forever. 

“You’re gonna have to leave the guns in the car.”

Dean frowned at Her. “No, I am not going in unarmed like a dumbass-“

“What did we say, Winchester?”

She raised Her smooth brows at Dean, and he rolled his eyes.

“We’re doing it your way.” He muttered. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not bringing my gun-“

“Yes, it does.” She crossed Her arms, pushing her tits a little further up her chest, and Dean needed to get a hold of himself. He’d seen boobs before, there was no reason this should be making him short-circuit.  

No reason but they were Her’s. And they looked soft. All of Her looked soft. Soft and pliable, ready to be touched and tended to, capable of Dean sinking some part of himself into until it stuck and She’d remember him forever-

Dean blinked as Her hand waved in front of his face. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, course I am-“

“What did I just say?”

Dean had no idea—his mouth slightly open and brow furrowed as he raked his brain for a guess—and She sighed.

“Guns will be useless here, Winchester.” She said, and Dean opened his mouth to protest that guns were about safety when you were a freakin’ hunter, but she pushed on. “All we need to do is destroy the alter. We can use our hands.”

“What if crazy devil lady discovers us?” Dean snapped, giving Her a pointed look. “You’re gonna ask nicely for Her not to sick that dancing son of a bitch on our asses?”

“She won’t discover us, that’s exactly why we’re waiting until she’s gone to go inside.” She paused, frowning into the air. “There is a chance she’s got Vitus patrolling her house-“

“What-“

“But it’ll be fine.” She shrugged, twisting a ring on Her finger. “We’ll get through it.”

Dean scowled. “I am not dancing to death tonight, Princess, I’m bringing my fucking gun-“

“No, just-“ She sighed. “It’s really unlikely she’s doing that, it’s just a chance-“

“I don’t know about your luck, but mine luck isn’t good enough to go on chance-“

“We don’t need guns-“

“We do.” Dean leaned over the arm rest until he could see the little bit of spit on Her lips when she pulled them between her teeth. “What if one of us is in trouble? Gunshot will let the other know.”

She gave him a flat look. “I am not using gunshots as a safety system. That’s paradoxical.”

“Well unless you’ve got something better.” Dean smirked, because he was going to win this one. They’d gone to the town hall, and he was breaking into Crazy Ladies house to destroy the alter and leave town—She said something about saints and pagan gods not liking to be caged, and how Vitus would almost certainly take care of Crazy Lady for them—but Dean would be damned if he didn’t win one thing today.

She was scanning over his face, Her eyes narrowing, and just when Dean was ready to declare victory and tell Her they were going to his motel room so they could grab Her a gun too, She turned away. Pulled fully back and started rifling through the glove compartment, Her brow in an adorable little scrunch as she searched. 

Dean watched Her, trying not to let his brain latch onto the pretty pout of Her lips from focus, or how quick and deliberate Her fingers were. “What are you-“

“Here.” She rose back up and shoved a flashlight into Dean’s hands. “We can use signals with these. Like morse code.”

Dean frowned. “Do you know morse code?”

“No-“

“Then how the hell-“

“I said like morse code, Winchester, keep up.” She angled Her own flashlight down, her mouth hanging slightly open as she thought. Dean wanted to push his thumb between Her lips. “What if-“

“What if I brought my gun-“

“Shut up. What if we did one to check in.” She flicked the light on and off,  Her words picking up pace as she continued. “Two for I’m in danger, three for I’m safe.”

“Why not one for danger, so we’re not wasting our fucking time-“

“Because if you accidentally turn the light on and off I’ll come running, you’ll be fine, and I will kill you for making me run.”

Dean pushed down how the idea of Her running to him made his head a little fuzzy, and scoffed. “You don’t run or use guns? How the hell are you still alive?”

She shrugged. “I run when I want. And I can shoot, I just choose not to.”

“What, on fucking principle-“

“On lack of necessity.” She raised Her chin slightly, an odd look flashing over Her pretty features that felt hollow. Felt bigger than the bored, amused pride in Her voice. “I told you, Deano. I’m just that good.”

Shit, She really was. She was blinding. Burning into Dean’s eyes until he’d keep seeing Her everywhere for a million years, pulling him in with that fruity smell and causing strange explosions along his ribcage and up his spine, lighting up every nerve something raw and golden, and he wasn’t alone, how could he be alone when the universe was in front of him and had all been concentrated for him to collide with-

“She’s out. Let’s go.”

Dean blinked, and pulled his gaze away from Her’s to look out the windshield, right in time to see Crazy Lady’s car pull out of the driveway. “So we’re just breaking in?”

She nodded, shooting him a small, teasing grin as she moved out of the car. “Unless you have an objection on principle-“

He couldn’t stop the low chuckle the fell from his mouth. “You’re think you’re really funny-“

“I am funny. I’m hilarious.” She ducked down to give him a mock-stern look. “Haul ass, Winchester, we got a saint to kill.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean rolled his eyes as he stepped onto the curb, smirking at Her as she rounded the car. “Bossy.”

“Suck my dick.” 

Dean laughed, and didn’t fight his hand as it found its way to Her back, resting easily between Her shoulder blades as they moved around the back of Crazy Lady’s house. He couldn’t stop doing that, but his hand felt right there. It grounded him—Dean thought it might be like waking up in your own bed—and he told him She was there. That this wasn’t another dream, and he could keep Her down here—in the blood and dirt, Her strangely ethereal presence perfectly in harmony with how fucking mortal Dean was—for as long as possible. That he could hold onto Her if the wind tried to take her away, could keep Her from bruises and pain with one strong movement.

And She wasn’t shrugging him off, and it made everything worse. Dean didn’t know how to fight this instinct to wrap Her in metal, then trail after Her like a lost puppy. He wanted Her to keep shining on him, and him alone, and stay safe but with him. She was a spoiled brat and a liar and Dean would end up alone again when this was done, but right now he felt useful. He felt wanted. 

And it was a sickness he’d never want to cure.

Not when She was smiling at Dean as she picked Crazy Lady’s lock, or flushing as he pushed open the door and guided Her through. Not when She was walking right against him, so he could feel the warmth of Her body, could brush their skin and make it look like an accident. Not when She tripped over the carpet, Dean’s arm shot out, and She was steady and safe. Pressed right against him. Squirming slightly and tilting Her head back to meet his gaze, Her eyes like a searchlight that reached right into the darkest place in Dean’s body as She—at least for now—didn’t seem to be disgusted. 

“Do you have your flashlight?” She whispered in Dean’s ear, and he held it up with a grin.

“One to check, two bad, three good.”

She nodded, her hand squeezing on Dean’s arm, and she probably hadn’t even been thinking about the movement—Her attention focused on the doors and stairs with a small frown—but it was going to haunt him for a hundred fucking years. 

“We can split floors.” She muttered, Her voice a little far away as she thought. “I’ll take up, you take down.”

Dean made a low noise of agreement, and dragged his body away from Her’s. She’d be fine. He was right down the goddamn hall, this was far better than Her hunting all by herself, and it wasn’t at all Dean’s job to protect Her. She didn’t need it. She was here by choice, She’d thrown herself into this life, and Dean had enough shit to worry about without being responsible for Her safety.

But that didn’t stop the way his stomach clenched and twisted in those brief moments when he’d angle his light out into the hallway, up the stairs, flash it, and then wait for Her response. He didn’t know why they couldn’t just fucking shout. She’d mentioned something about sound being an attractor to music-based saints and deities, but that seemed like bullshit. All of this felt like She was trying to fuck with Dean, make him get sick and tight when She’d take too long to answer, make his focus more on the heaviness over his chest between the second and third flashes. 

He wasn’t finding anything. No alter, no suspicious books, no big sign that said Go This Way To Gank Evil. Crazy Lady even seemed downright boring. She had yarn. Who the hell has yarn.

Dean groaned as he existed one of the last rooms—no summoning ritual guides next to the toilet—and sent a flash up the stairs. 

Nothing. Not one, not two, and definitely not three.  

Then there was a clattering sound, and Dean roared Her name before he could think, sprinting up the stairs and grabbing his gun out of his pants. She hadn’t fucking patted him down and checked, or asked, and he hadn’t planned to use it unless it was necessary, and it was. She was in fucking danger, and She’d thank Dean when he saved Her hot, annoying, insufferable ass-

She was not in danger. Dean burst into the room, raised the gun to eye level, and froze at sight of Her. Standing with Her hands on her hips over a flipped table, turning to look at him with raised brows.

“We said no guns.”

“You said no guns.” Dean grumbled, shoving his own pistol back into his jeans. “I never actually agreed, sweetheart. Shoulda had me shake on it.”

She rolled Her eyes as Dean moved to stand at Her side. “You’re an ass.”

“I know.” He winked at Her, and felt something at the very bottom of his gut coil and spark when She flushed. “Why the hell didn’t you flash back?”

“I didn’t see it, De.” She shrugged, surveying Her mess with a smug expression. “It’s not a great system, in a place with walls.”

“Then why the hell did you make it-“

“You looked like you’d lose your mind if I didn’t.”

Dean stared at Her for a long moment before shaking his head in slight disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smiled, Her eye barely flicking to him as she hummed, “I know.”

He scoffed, his hand returning to Her back. His hand kept returning to Her back, like a goddamn magnet, and She kept letting out a slow breath at his touch, and Dean was going to lose his goddamn mind. He might have already lost it, given how She was so close to his body, and he couldn’t think of anything outside of how every part of Her should be touching every part of him-

Every thought vanished from Dean’s head when She moved. Sent Dean stumbling behind Her as a blonde man covered in burn scars flickered into the room, his face painted in anger and his arms outstretched to grab at Dean. 

And now She was in his way.

Dean’s heart was in his ears, his blood too fast in his body, and his tongue was heavy and made of sandpaper, because She wasn’t even goddamn running-

He fumbled behind him as he regained balance, the boiled son of a bitch barely a second from grabbing Her, and fired right as grayed and jagged nails reached the space right over Her head.

Saint Ugly exploded into the air as the bullet pushed through him, and Dean lunged forward, grabbing Her wrist as she remained rooted in place.

“Why the hell did you push me-“

“I- I’m not-“ She shook her head, still rigid in Dean’s grip.  “Fuck, we’ve got to go, now, he might come back-“

Dean scowled. “You said he wouldn’t go after us!”

“I was wrong, okay!” She shouted, but she was also moving. He’d fucking take it. “Maybe he liked being trapped, I mean it’s not like a bunch of people are worshipping first century Sicilian saints right now!”

“Goddamnit, just-“ Dean’s jaw ticked, but he shook it off as he pulled Her out of the room, into the hall. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here,” he muttered. “Before that crazy music bitch gets back and Saint Ugly turns this place into a blood-“

“Wait, Dean!”

He froze at Her shout of his name—just his name, like he mattered—turned to Her as something kicked and flared near his heart, before stumbling back as the door slammed, and Saint Ugly appeared right where he’d been standing before.

“Shit-“ Dean ducked Ugly—he didn’t really seem like a saint right now—and pulled Her backwards into a bathroom, slamming the door behind them. “How the hell are we supposed to keep him-“

She let out a strangled gasp, and Dean turned to find Her back pressed to the wall, Her eyes glassy and wide as her hands curled into tight fists.

He half-shouted Her name, grabbing one of Her shoulders and holding her steady as he angled Her face around, looking for a cut or bruise or bump or evidence that Ugly had gotten to Her. “Fuck, sweetheart, you gotta talk to me-“

“I can’t- I don’t-“ She looked bloodless, Her lips pulled into a tight line. “I’m sorry-“

“You’re sorry-“ Dean shook his head. “Shit, what’s wrong with you-“

She made a choked sound, still frozen against the wall, and Dean groaned.

“Just, just fucking point to where he got you-“

“No, I-“ Her hand shot to his wrist, gripping him like iron as he stared at Her. “Deal with Vitus, I- I’m okay-“

“I’m not blind, you’re losing your fucking mind-“

“I’m just, don’t-“ She dropped Her head slightly, flinching as the lights started to flicker over Her head. “Fire, Dean, he’ll hate fire-“

Dean glanced around the bathroom. “How the hell am I supposed to torch the douchebag in here-“

She opened Her mouth to answer, and all that came out was a high noise of fear as She grabbed Dean’s arm, grabbed him forward, and he narrowly missed another attack from Ugly.

The bathroom was not a good place to fight an evil Saint, but Dean could manage. He’d kicked into high gear the moment he collided with Her body once more, found his footing, and moved. This was what he knew how to do. It didn’t matter that She kept saving his ass, or that Ugly seemed hell-bent on Dean and not Her, Dean was comfortable here. Fighting. Trusting his body—not his mind, never his mind—to know when to duck, when to pull Her to the side to keep her out of Ugly’s warpath, and knowing how to fight.

And he was fucking fighting. She’d been right, anything warm seemed to do Ugly in, because when Dean shoved him back into a heater he roared and vanished again. Dean could work with that. He could grab the thermostat dial and crank it all the way up, turn on the hot water until steam was rising from the sink, and keep his gun raised until he figured out something more permanent. Firing and swinging with his fists, unhooking to iron towel hanger and brandishing it like a blade, splashing the hot water in Ugly’s face-

The son of a bitch didn’t like that. He screeched, the scars on his skin starting to bubble and blister like they were new, and Dean felt everything settle. There it was. He had Ugly now.

Dean kept Her within arm’s reach as he grabbed the fancy, stupid little paper cups from the sink and started to fill them up.

“Dean,” She hissed, and when he glanced at Her she was hugging herself, fingers curled on her arms. “What-“

“I’ve got it Princess, just-“ Dean’s head snapped up as Ugly reappeared—seething and downright disgusting—and his face cracked into a wide grin. “Shower time, bitch.”

He threw the cups, splashing the water right on Ugly’s face, and grimaced at the sound of pain that echoed through the bathroom as Ugly melted. Turned into a puddle of slightly brown water on the floor. 

“Is it-” Her voice was soft as She grabbed the hook of Dean’s elbow, looking over his shoulder with a frown. “It’s glittering, right?”

Dean nodded, letting out a long, slow breath. “You wanna go?”

“I, uh-“ She swallow, leaning a little into Dean’s back, her breathing still shallow. “Yeah. Yes please.”

She was really quiet. As they moved out of the house, into Her car, and took off down the street, She barely said a single word. She just stared at her hands and picked at her skin, barely humming when Dean spoke and closing Her eyes for long moments when the silence stretched on. It was fraught and painful, like a live wire Dean had to brace himself against. Like something that could snap.

It was driving Dean insane. He hated it. She was downright docile, not protesting or arguing with Dean when he muttered that he was taking them back to his motel room. Not angry at him about the gun, or telling him how he could’ve handled Vitus better, or doing anything but sitting there and shutting down. 

And he had to fix it. She didn’t even have to smile, She just had to look at him, and breathe evenly, and stop making Dean feel like he was failing Her without ever having Her to begin with. 

When he parked Her car, Dean sighed, and move his hand to grab Her’s. Raising it out of her lap as She frowned at nothing, placing it carefully on the armrest.

“Stop doing that.” He muttered, tapping the raw, bloody skin around Her fingers. “You good to stay here for a minute?”

She nodded—so small he almost didn’t see it—and Dean ran a hand over his face, shaking his head before dragging himself out of the car, watching Her for a long moment through the windshield before he moved on. Her face titled down and cast in shadows, Her fingers curled on the armrest, and Her body so small he’d think she was trying to hide from something.

He wasn’t sure She’d be there when he got back. And he had to move some shit around, but he didn’t know what he’d do if he returned and She was gone. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t even glancing up to see where they were or where Dean had gone, but he didn’t trust it. It could be another con, another trick, another scam that didn’t make sense, that he was all too happy to fall for. 

But he didn’t want to drag Her inside. She looked fragile like this, and Dean was not soft or gentle. He didn’t care for things. He killed them. 

And She didn’t really look like she could afford to be handled by someone who didn’t know how to be gentle right now. 

And that made Dean sick. 

But he still, somehow, made himself turn away and walk into the motel room. She might have vanished when he returned, and Dean couldn’t know if She was truly just turning to stone and he wasn’t doing anything to fix it.

He moved faster because of that. Made sure his bed was passably made before he grabbed his bag, pushed through weapons and cassette tapes and clothing, and found what he was looking for in a matter of minutes. Stuffed all the way at the bottom, exactly where they always were.

Dean tossed Her jacket and flask into the closet, thought about it for a second longer, and tossed all of his laundry in there as well. She didn’t need to see his boxers. At least, not the dirty ones.

When he walked back outside, She was still there. She hadn’t moved an inch. Fuck, She barely even flinched when Dean knocked on the window. If he didn’t know better, Dean wouldn’t be sure she was breathing.

He opened the door, hanging off the hood of the car as he lowered himself down to Her eye level. 

“Hey,” he said Her name slowly, and She still didn’t look at him. “Are you living in here now?”

She didn’t respond, but She did move. Her eyes dragged to Dean’s, and he felt like someone was grinding his bone to dust and sticking needles into his skin. He didn’t know what the hell was up with Her, but she looked lost. Like She didn’t know where she was, why she was there, or who  She even was. She was watching Dean like he wasn’t Dean. Like he was more, and She didn’t know what that meant.

“Are you, uh…” Dean trailed off, and She still just stared at him. He didn’t have a freaking clue how to deal with this, not like She probably needed. He’d handled Sammy’s freak outs, when he was a kid. When Dad had grunted that of course you should be careful ‘round strangers, Sammy, they might try to fuckin’ kill and eat you, and the eight-year-old hadn’t taken that very well. But that had been easy. Dean knew Sam, he knew what calmed him down. 

And he didn’t know Her. He couldn’t move away from Her, and he kept liking everything he learned about Her against his best judgment, but Dean didn’t really know Her. Everything he did know was what She probably didn’t want him to, and what he wished he could unlearn. And everything else was useless here. He knew She didn’t drink. He knew She knew a lot about monsters, that she wore the best perfume he’d ever smelt. He knew She liked stupid things, and smart things, and telling Dean what to do. He knew he dreamt about dragging Her down into him and kissing Her until she was as dumb as Dean always felt in Her presence. Good dumb, where She rolled around his head and made everything illuminated so Dean knew there was something. That in his pit there was something, that She really was something, and whatever the hell he couldn’t stop feeling about Her was something.

He knew how he’d imagined Her being dumb, just for a moment, just for him. How he’d imagined Her being slack jawed and all his in a way he couldn’t afford to have, or lose. 

But that wasn’t real. Dean didn’t know which parts of Her were real. Dean didn’t know Her at all.

Yet he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move, couldn’t walk away, couldn’t let Her rot in the car. It felt unforgivable, and Dean wasn’t looking to be forgiven, but he didn’t want to be damned. 

Not for this. Not when it seemed like it might cost Her too.

“C’mon.” Dean grabbed Her carefully, helping Her out of the car and into the motel room. She didn’t fight him. She only moved with him like she was rain, and he was wind pushing Her where he wished her to fall.

Down on his bed, Her back flat on the mattress, Her chest starting to rise and fall in a slower pattern. 

Dean dropped at Her side, bracing his elbows on his knees as he cleared his throat. “So, uh, you were right. Didn’t really need the gun, I guess.”

She sighed, and when she spoke Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper. “You used the gun, De.”

“Didn’t kill the son of a bitch with it, though.” He shrugged, watching Her carefully. Her eyes were closed, her face slack, and Dean wished it didn’t make his blood flow lower than it should. “If we had just brought Hot Pocket’s we’d have ganked the asshole right off the bat.”

“You’re a genius.” She mumbled, and that sounded better. She still wasn’t moving, so Dean wasn’t sure. 

“I know, sweetheart.” He kept going. Just until She smiled, and the whole world lit up because of it, he’d keep going. “With my brains and your criminal skills, we’ll have all the boring, anti-good music puritans out of the handtighting business in a week.”

She opened Her eyes, and they were filled with something Dean didn’t recognize. “We?”

Dean blinked at Her. He hadn’t expected Her to hang on the we. He’d expected Her to tease him about being the brains, or get adorably offended over being called a criminal, or scold Dean for saying handtight again. But Her gaze was intent, and Dean had to acting like his whole body wasn’t rioting against him from it. 

“Yeah. We.” He offered Her a small grin, and hoped She’d take it. Dean really needed Her to take it. “We ganked that asshole together, Princess. We’re an okay team.”

Her eyes sparked slightly, and let out a small huff that didn’t sound like pain. “A team.”

“Think that’s what they call it, yeah.”

“What would you call it?”

Dean paused, scanning over Her features. Open. Soft but no longer fragile, and open. And he could see the universe in Her eyes again. “I’d call it a team.”

She hummed. “Good. We can make a business card. No more handtights under our watch.”

Something Dean exploded, and his grin was probably dopey and too wide, but he didn’t care. Not when he felt lit up like this. “You called it handtight again.”

“Yeah.”

“You mean it this time?”

She tilted Her head at him, and that wasn’t a smile, but it was closer. “I think so.”

Dean scoffed. “C’mon-“

“I meant it.” She said, Her smile growing slightly. “I think it’s stupid, but I meant it.”

He narrowed his eyes at Her. “And you’re not gonna try to make me go back and kill Crazy Lady-“

“No, I don’t have an ulterior- Shit!” She sat up straight on the bed, Her eyes wide. “We didn’t deal with the secretary-“

“Fuck, we didn’t.” Dean ran a hand over his face, frowning into the air. “Do you think she’ll be able to summon Vitus again?”

She shook Her head. “No, he’s dead. But she might be able to summon another saint-“

“Will she be able to do it tonight?”

“I don’t think so.” She said slowly. “I mean, he was probably like her patron or something, and that’ll take a minute to replace.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Then it can wait.”

She blinked at him. “But-“

“Look,” Dean said Her name, giving Her his best stern look. She was in no shape to confront Crazy Lady, Dean didn’t really want to leave Her here alone—He was certain She’d sneak out after him anyway—and this hadn’t been fatal. For once, there was something that could wait, and he was going to take full advantage of it. “Either I go deal with it alone, or we stay here. But you just-“ He paused, looking Her over slowly. “You need five. Take it.”

She glared at him. “You’re not in charge of me, Winchester.”

“No.” Dean winked at Her. “But if you get up, I’ll push you down, and I think we both know who will win that wrestling match. I’m warning you, Princess. I play dirty.”

He knew that flush, and he knew how to grab onto it like fuel. He hadn’t seen the hitched breath before though, or the way Her mouth parted slightly.

It made his heart volcanic in his chest.

“You’re the worst.” She mumbled, and Dean laughed.

“Sure, Princess.” Dean moved his hand to Her chest. Just the top of it, nowhere obviously inappropriate, and slow enough to give Her time to shove him away. She didn’t. “Down.”

He gave Her a light push, and She moved. Went flat on Her back with a tiny pout and glower at Dean, and he just grinned. 

“You can stay here, for the night.” Dean spoke before he could think, and didn’t know how to stop. “Just to, uh, save time. When we track down Crazy Lady in the morning. Get it over with sooner.”

She blinked at him, something glazing over Her eyes slightly as she nodded, Her voice soft once more. “Yeah. Okay.”

Dean nodded. “Awesome.”

“Sure,” She held Her hands over her head, her nails scraping at already raw skin. “For the case.”

Dean frowned, but pushed past it. “So you, uh, you want some food-“

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what-“

“Act like you want me here.” She mumbled. “Like you’re not just trying to make sure I don’t run off and handle the secretary by myself.”

Dean frowned. He wanted Her here. He wanted Her here more than he should. He just didn’t want whatever that had been to happen again, because it made him feel foul and rotten and useless, just watching Her breathe too fast and stare at nothing and pick Her skin bloody.

He didn’t know how to say that in a way that didn’t sound pathetic. 

But he also hated how She was small again. How She wasn’t looking at him. So he took a long breath, and made his words steady. Not certain—not when they weren’t the full truth—but steady.

“I’d like you here, Princess.” He lowered his back flat onto the mattress, keeping his gaze trained on the ceiling as he settled at Her side. “I’d get bored without you. And I think I owe you one question, anyway.”

She sighed. “I- I don’t want to answer questions right now.”

“Okay.” He turned to look at Her, and found her already watching him. So close. “You’re still staying, though.”

She looked at Dean like she’d never seen him before. Like he’d dragged himself up from the center of the Earth—drenched in dirt and something sticky—and she wasn’t sure what she was seeing was real.

He knew the feeling.

“Okay.” She whispered, and that was it. Dean gave Her a small smile, She returned it, and this silence didn’t feel like a live wire. It felt like the whole world, just in Dean’s shitty motel room. She turned her head back to look at the slightly stained and cracked ceiling, Dean looked at Her, and he couldn’t sit up. If he sat up, She’d find a way to leave. He didn’t want Her to leave. Breathing was easier when She was next to him. The world felt more colorful, and he felt like something had moved and found a home in a strange depression in the cavity of his chest. It washed always all the foulest parts of him and made him feel clean, shining so brightly that the remaining filth didn’t seem all that bad to live with. 

And it was fake. It was irrational and fake, another scam this enigma of a woman was probably trying to pull on him, and Dean still didn’t give a fuck. He’d believe lie after lie if he could keep feeling useful to someone like he was useful to Her. Just a voice and hands and a mouth who’d made Her smile again, and cleared that glassy look from Her eyes. 

He should ask Her now. Demand to know why the hell Dad had found all that shit on Her, demand for there to be an explanation. A reason that made him think this moment could last.

But he didn’t ask. He just basked in the glow and gravity of Her, and didn’t bother to fight his hand as if drifted across the mattress between them. Brushing his pinky with Her’s, and doing nothing more. Keeping his breathing steady as She didn’t move for a long moment, blinking at the ceiling and not looking at Dean—but not moving away either—and grinning wide and dumb when Her pinky hooked into his. 

“I can sing, too.”

Dean blinked at Her. “What?”

“You were shocked I could play the piano and dance.” She whispered, and even in side-profile Her smile was blinding. “I can sing too.”

“Your uncle also teach you that?”

“No. I taught myself.” She sighed. “Growing up I didn’t… I didn’t have much else to do.”

When She turned to look at him, Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut. All the air was gone from his body as She scanned over him, and Her eyes were made of stars, and Her face had fallen right from a heaven that wasn’t real-

“Led Zeppelin, huh?”

Dean huffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you dare trash Zeppelin, Princess-“

“That was a neutral statement.” She gave him an amused look. “I wasn’t going to make fun of you.”

He scowled. “Yeah, sure-“

“I wasn’t!” She rolled on Her side—Her pinky still locked in Dean’s—and his body was either going numb or coming alive for the first time. “I don’t make fun of things people like, De. Art is inherently subjective.”

He chuckled, ready to poke and tease Her, but she looked so goddamn sincere that the words died on his tongue, and he had to cough slightly to find his voice again. “You got thoughts on Zep, then?”

“I have thoughts on everything.”

That pulled a low laugh from Dean’s chest. “No shit, Princess-“

She scowled. “Sorry I care-“

“No, you’re not.” Dean grinned at Her. “And it’s better than being a boring fucking bum with no thoughts.”

“I guess, yeah.” She gave him an odd look, her words slow. “Do you… do you want to hear my thoughts on Led Zeppelin?”

Dean nodded, shooting Her a wink. “Be careful, sweetheart. You’re not the only one with thoughts.”

She was not careful. She spoke so fast and gestured like a mad woman, sitting up on Her knees for more dramatic motions and saying every word like a spell that just drew Dean further into Her. Her thoughts on Led Zeppelin were acceptable—there was always room for improvement, not everyone could appreciate their genius the way Dean did—but neither of them seemed to know how to finish a conversation. Dean certainly couldn’t remember. He kept following Her down every path she dragged him, until he was talking about food andcartoons, and She told him a story about making her father watch old Disney movies, and He was telling Her a story about Sammy trying to reenact a whole episode of Scooby Doo with toy soldiers for him on his birthday. 

Dad didn’t even know that story. He’d been off hunting. But She was giggling and smiling and leaning down over Dean’s body, so he’d tell it to Her a million more times.

“And Sam, he-“ She was covering Her mouth to stifled Her laugher. It wasn’t working. “He tried to make you kiss the Daphne solider?”

“He thought it was the best present he could give me.” Dean smirked up at Her. If he hooked his arm around Her waist and tugged her down, he could kiss Her. “Am I gonna lose you if I tell you I did it?”

She snorted—it was the cutest fucking thing Dean had ever seen—and gave up completely on trying to cover her sheer joy at his embarrassment. He was okay with that.

“Did you,” She took a long breath to control her laughter, Her eyes glowing on Dean’s. “Did you use tongue?”

He placed a hand over his chest, acting offended at the very question. “Course not, Princess, I don’t put out on the first kiss-“

She raised her brows. “Put out your tongue?”

“It’s my second-best limb, sweetheart.” He winked at Her, savoring every bit of Her reaction—flush, hitched breath, widened gaze—that told him She might feel this. She could, maybe, feel this, and nothing else would have to matter again. “Girl’s gotta earn it.”

She rolled Her eyes, but her voice was a little higher than before. “The tongue is a muscle, dumb dumb.”

“Huh.” Dean paused, furrowing his brow in thought. “Second best appendage?”

“I mean, I think ranking them in the first place is stupid-“

“You only say that,” Dean cut Her off with a smirk. “Because you don’t have one that’s obviously the best like I do.”

She gave him a flat look. “And what appendage would that be, Winchester.”

Dean wiggled his brows at Her. “Why don’t you guess- Ow!”

She’d shoved his arm, and Dean grabbed it as dramatically as he could, acting like She’d stabbed him.

“God, I’m dying, you’ve killed me-“

She snorted again. “Oh, fuck off, you big baby-“

He pouted at Her, barely containing his grin. “That’s no way talk to your victim-“

“Shut up- Dean!”

He grabbed Her arm, yanked Her back down to the mattress, and Dean would never allow Her to stop calling him his full name again. It sounded awesome when She said it. Not just a name, but Dean. She said Dean like it could only be him, and no one else. It was just them in the room—a little bit just them in the universe—but there could be a million other Dean’s but he’d still know She was only calling for him. 

“You’re such an asshole-“

He shrugged, not flinching as She glowered at him and slapped his hand away from Her. She was half fallen over his body, wiggling slightly but not trying to pull away, and he didn’t really have the brainpower to think about anything but that. “It’s payback, Princess.” He smirked up at Her. “Teach you to shove me.”

“Yeah,” She swallowed, and Dean was deeply aware of how She was molded perfectly into him. Too perfectly. “I learned my lesson, Winchester. Good work.”

Dean could taste the shift. It was sudden, but had still lay under everything, just waiting to be dragged back to the surface. 

And here it was. Here She was. The sugar was gone, but the fruit was strong, and Dean was intoxicated by it. Intoxicated by Her, so close and beautiful above him, beautiful in a way that made him sure She was royalty. There was no other explanation. That must be where Her wealth came from, from being created to be worship and obeyed like a living god. To be followed down, down, down, shining wherever She could be seen and coming apart only in the dark.

Dean could be Her dark. He could be the one to stand near Her in the shadows and unravel her where it was only them. The one who smirked when She told him what to do because he’d do it then and make Her scream his name later. Scream it like that. Like She had before.

And he still didn’t know where the hell that desire came from, but it didn’t matter. He felt it, more than he’d ever felt most things. And She was so fucking close, and Her eyes were wide and unreadable and infinite on his, and Her breath was warm on his face, and all it would take is a small movement to find out if he’d be worthy of being Her dark-

Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and they both tensed. She stared at Dean, he stared at Her, and he tried not to dwell on how empty he felt when She rolled away, giving him space to pull his phone out of his pocket, glance at the contact—Dad, shit—and put it to his ear.

“Hey-“

“Dean, there’s a bus down to Louisiana that should be leavin’ in about an hour. Pack up and catch it.”

Dean frowned, sitting up on the bed and adjusting his grip on the phone. “Dad, I don’t-“

“This son of a bitch is two-man job.” Dad snapped, his word clear through the phone static. “Need you here by the morning. Room’s paid for ’till next week, we’ll come back and grab everythin’ when we get this asshole.”

Dean swallowed, glancing over at where She was watching him with a far too neutral expression. “It leaves in an hour?”

“That’s what I said, boy.” Dad paused, his voice dropping in a way that Dean knew meant he was frowning. That meant he was, rightfully, sick of Dean speaking. “This gonna be a problem?”

“No, sir.” Dean muttered, running a hair through his hair, suddenly unable to meet Her gaze. “I’ll be there by morning.”

“Good. I’ll be waitin’ at the station.”

That was all Dean got before the line went dead.

“Was that your dad?” Her voice was small, back to the soft tone from before, and Dean grimaced inside as he nodded.

“Yeah, I, uh, I gotta go.” He gave Her an apologetic look, standing from the bed and pulling his shit into his bag. “Dad needs my help on his case.”

“Oh.” She nodded slowly, Her voice growing back to its usual tone, but still not easy. Still not fully Her. “Okay.”

“You can stay here.” He offered. “It’s paid for. And I’m, fuck, I’m out in an hour but we can go back to Crazy’s house now, I guess-“

She shook Her head, and something in Dean dulled at the fucking passiveness on Her face, in Her voice. “It’s fine, Winchester, I know how to handle a religious fanatic.”

He couldn’t just nod and let go. He couldn’t just walk out the door. “I’m serious, if we leave now-“

“I’m serious too.” She crossed Her arms, still watching him from the bed. “I’ve had… a lot of practice. I’ll be fine.”

He made a low, grumbling noise, and glanced at the closet. “You gonna stay here?”

“Yeah,” She said, watching Dean carefully. “I mean, if you’re really okay with it-“

“Yeah, like I said, it’s paid for.” He moved to the closet, blocking Her view of the mess inside with his body as he shoved the jacket and flask into his bag. Whatever this was felt like it was growing, and he was not about to bomb it with how much of a freaking creep he’d been for the past three years. “I, uh,” he rose back up, giving Her a small, nervous grin. “I’ll call you. To check on how dealing with Crazy went. And you need me, call me.”

She sighed. “Yeah, got it.”

Dean frowned. She didn’t believe him. “I will call you, Princess.”

“Okay, Winchester.” She gave him a close-lipped smile, and Dean’s brows furrowed. “See you in a few years, I guess.”

“You’ll see me sooner.”

“Sure-“

“Tell you what.” Dean dropped his bag, marching across the room to stand above Her at the foot of the bed, and not allowing himself to get caught up in the euphoria of standing above Her at the foot of the bed. “I’ll call, and we’ll see each other by three months.”

“De-“

“Pinky promise.”

He stuck out his pinky, and She gaped at him.

“Are you serious?”

“As cancer, sweetheart.” Dean flexed his finger, raising his brows. “I take my pinky promises very seriously.”

She rolled Her eyes, but didn’t say anything as she scanned over his face. Dean just reminded silent and still. Whatever She wanted to see She’d find, and it was all Her. Her call. Her choice if Dean remained alone until they collided again, if he’d keep forgetting, over and over and over, how to hate Her until the very idea of hating Her was just a far-off fog.

And when She raised her hand and locked her picky with his, Dean felt something settle a little to the side of his heart. Something he hadn’t felt in two years, and came back with an almost brutal force as She smiled at him, and Her voice fully regained that siren-like quality that might end up the death of him.

He’d just have to see.

“See you soon, Winchester.” She said, and he grinned.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“You gonna take my car?”

Dean blinked, realizing the keys were still in his pocket. “I was actually just gonna walk, it’s a small town-“

“Take it.” She shrugged. “You can take a long route, spend some time driving. I’ll walk and find it by the station in the morning.”

Dean stared at Her, unable to wrap his head around what exactly She could be. A princess, an angel, the hottest lady he’d ever seen, sent to tempt him and make him go goddamn mad with whatever the hell She was doing to him. 

“Are you-“

“I’m sure. Bye, Dean.” She gave him another smile, and he felt like he was drowning in the moon. 

That didn’t even make any goddamn sense.

“I, uh, bye.” He made a stuttering motion to the door, and—before he could think better—turned around, leaned down, and pressed a small kiss to the top of Her head.

And he was a goner.

Because this time as he left Her, everything was still made of color.

And nothing felt lonely at all.

End Note: John Winchester winning terrible parent of the century three chapters in a row he’s on a roll folks.

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

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[blegh-110]

iv. "i've still got you all over me"

Pairing: older brother's best friend!Sam x fem!reader

Summary: When you try to get over Sam when you were 14 and he was 16.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.9k

Your winter break was a bad time for you. There was no escape from Sam. 

It seemed like every single day he was over at your house, and what you used to think was a dream come true, it was now a slow torture. You barely saw him during those two weeks, but you heard him. His laugh in the living room, his footsteps walking down the hall, just his very presence, and it killed you for fourteen days straight.

And even when he was gone, he was still on your mind. 

You had more than enough of your own sadness by the time break was over. And after the harsh realization that you can’t live your life staying infatuated with a boy who no longer looked your way, you were ready for the upcoming semester. Your focus and undivided attention would no longer be on Sam, but on yourself because you missed being happy. 

This determination came from a sleepless night a few days before the second semester began. You were up late just reminiscing about him when you saw how truly pathetic you were being; what were you doing helping him cut his classes just so he could stay in your life? You put off so much of your own life just for him, and none of it was worth anything. 

So when school began, you immediately threw yourself back into your academics. That meant no more doing the bare minimum when it came to homework assignments, in class work, tests, quizzes, presentations. You did as much as you could for two reasons: to resort back to your studious self, and to distract yourself from any thoughts of Sam. 

Instead of spending your lunch time in the cafeteria, you either went to the library to do some work or went to your next class and ate there, plus more work. And instead of spending your Friday nights and weekends with or thinking about Sam, it became an opportunity to do any extra credit and to get a head start on any assignments. 

And in the midst of reverting back to your former self, you avoided Sam at all costs. And it wasn’t subtle. 

If you entered the living room and saw him sitting on the couch, you left. If you saw him walking in your direction in the school halls, you turned right around and took the long way to your class. If you saw him in the cafeteria, you would leave and buy a bag of chips and a soda at one of the vending machines instead of waiting in line. 

It was difficult to live this way but not abnormal. Before, you were constantly on the lookout for Sam only hoping to see him. But now, you looked around the room just to make sure he wasn’t there as well. And it made you equally anxious and frustrated. When you were actively looking for him he wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but now that you were avoiding him he seemed to be everywhere. It made respecting his wishes to stay away from him a lot harder. Then it got even worse when he suddenly took a strange interest in you, and it once again felt like all your efforts went to waste. 

The first time was when he knocked on your bedroom door to hand you your book that you’d left in the kitchen. It was an interaction that ended very quickly with you shutting the door in his face as soon as he started talking. You didn’t do it with the intention to hurt him, you were over being angry with him, mostly(if you thought about what happened too much then you’d resort to holding that grudge against him). It was because you weren’t a confrontational person and any conversation with him would only remind you of how you acted when he was with his new friends. 

Then he tried the same thing at school when you were just about to enter the library during lunch when he saw you, but he was stopped by the librarian because the last time he came in he spilled his entire bag of chips on the floor and was being extremely loud. 

“C’mon, it was only one time”

“No it was not, Sam. Now go, you’re not welcome here anymore.” She shooed him away with a scowl on her face. 

“Please, I’ll be gone in like five minutes, I just need to talk to my friend real quick.” And he gestured to you. The title made your breath hitch, his friend. Since he’d met you, he hadn’t referred to you as anything. And really you didn’t either. Even though it was nice to hear and it did give you butterflies,  you just weren’t ready for whatever conversation he wanted to have, so you shook your head before you said “I can’t, I have a test to study for.”

You almost turned back when you saw the disbelief in his face. 

Then there was the time you finally gave in to him, but only because it was pouring rain on your walk back home and you failed to bring an umbrella. 

It was hard to hear at first because it was raining so hard, but you heard the rumble of an engine next to you then saw a slightly beat up, faded red car. You would’ve ran if you hadn’t seen Sam in the driver's seat with the passenger window rolled down, when did he get a car?

“Get in.” Was all he said but you shook your head once again.

“I’m okay, Sam.” You really weren’t. You were freezing cold and your shoes were really wet, and you were pretty sure all the papers in your backpack were soaked. 

“(Y/N), I swear to god, get in the car. I’m not letting you get home like this.” It was a bit aggressive the way he said it, but he looked worried sick. And maybe you shouldn’t have felt this way, but you liked that he was so worried about you. The hope that he still cared about you never died. It was miserable at times, like how you thought he’d magically change his ways last semester and you were continuously let down. But at times like these, there was the smallest amount of faith that barely convinced you that this time would be different. Maybe he still cared about you, just a little bit. And it was that small amount of hope that was enough for you to get in. Then you immediately wished you hadn’t. 

It all would’ve been perfect; him saving you from walking in the rain, the warmth, the softest music playing. But as soon as you got in the car, the tension was there, the hurt was still there, and it stopped you from appreciating it all. 

“How’s school?” He asked and you wanted to die. Is that what you two resorted to? Small talk? Months ago you would’ve told him without him needing to ask because you wanted to. But now you were afraid to tell him anything, the fear of being annoying and a burden took all the words out of your mouth. 

“Good.” You whispered.

“That’s good.” 

It was silent the rest of the ride, which was only a few minutes but felt like an eternity. And you were ready to jump out when he parked in front of your house before he called your name.

“What?” You sighed out, exhausted and ready to forget the last seven minutes. Why wouldn’t he just let you go? Isn’t that what he wanted? You to be gone? Why the sudden change of interest? Did he know this was killing you? You just wanted to be left alone. 

“I’m really sorry,” That surprised you, very much. So much that your growing annoyance simmered away and you were left confused, “for what I said to you, and-and how I treated you.”

“Oh, okay.” You whispered the only words that made sense to say at the moment because you were at a loss for words. 

“I know that I treated you like shit, you helped me cut classes and tried to help me with school and I was acting like an asshole.”

What he said was true, but you still believed that you were bothering him and being obnoxious about it. You also thought how embarrassing it must’ve been for you, a younger girl, to be so concerned with him, an older boy. If there was a younger boy breathing down your neck like it was his job you certainly would’ve told him to go away as well. So you couldn’t really blame him for telling you to leave him alone, but Sam seemed to think the opposite when he saw you shake your head in disagreement.

“(Y/N), stop it. You did nothing wrong, I was doing some shitty things and you were just trying to bring me back. I’d do the same thing if I were you,” You got butterflies from his words, “and I promise, if that happens and you totally fall off the rails, I’ll be even worse.”

Maybe it was because you were the forgiving type, which was very unfortunate at times, and you had too big of a heart to fault anyone, but you hated to hear him talk about himself that way.

“I did those things myself though, you didn’t make me.” 

“But I let you do it fully knowing you didn’t want to,” He paused again, “and I know you’ve been avoiding me, and I thought I could ignore it but… seeing you so upset, I don’t know, I hated it.”

You were weak, or maybe you were just young and still so, so in love with Sam and liked the idea of him fighting for you, but you forgave him at that moment. And it was relieving. No more tip-toeing around him or feeling uncomfortable in your own home when he was over. Honestly, you wanted to have this talk with him, but confronting the person who hurt you is never an easy task. And you didn’t think he’d respond well to it. 

“Besides, I did miss you.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head again, but with a smile. It was a wonderful thing to hear but you didn’t believe him in the slightest. You could take his apology and his admittance to being a jerk, but that was something else. It felt too good to be true.

“No, I really did! I like talking to you. Your brother’s cool and he is my friend, but he’s not the most sympathetic person.” Now that you knew. He simply could not sit and listen for the life of him, anytime you tried to tell him about your day or how you’re feeling, he just wouldn’t care. 

It was silent for a moment after, and you resorted back to that nervousness around him that made your heart pound, but in a good way. 

“I, um, have to go now. I have a test tomorrow.” It was true, but you also needed to get out of the car because now you were starting to take in the cozy, warm atmosphere in the small space. 

“Alright.”

“Bye.”You gave a smile and a small wave when you got out of the car. 

“I’ll see you around, (y/n). Y’better not leave the room if I’m in it, okay? I’ll track you down.” He teased. Or was he being serious?

You giggled at his words, “No, I won’t, I promise.”

And with that, he drove off after you got in the house and you went back to daydreaming about him.

divider by @dollywons , next part may be shorter because this is peak drama in their blooming love story. it's all cute from here. and if you guys want to send any thoughts or anything like that to expand upon, i would love them! these two are my babies rn<333

[parkerslatte]

Ends of the Earth

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of blood and death. mentions death of children.

Summary: Azriel comes back from a mission bloodied and bruised but tries to push his wife away. Y/N doesn’t let up and refuses to leave his side.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Y/N was relaxing in her and Azriel’s bedroom when the front door opened. She pulled her eyebrows together in confusion, her husband was not meant to return until the morning. Dressed in only her nightgown and slippers, Y/N padded through the house and to the living area. Azriel stood in the doorway, his hand lingering on the handle, his gaze cast to the floor. 

“Az, honey?” Y/N said. 

Azriel didn’t respond as he slowly closed the door, locking it firmly behind him. That was when Y/N saw it, his leathers covered in blood, some of it was not even dry as it dripped onto the wooden floor below his feet. 

“Azriel,” Y/N said, stepping further into the room. 

Once again Azriel did not respond though his gaze did meet his wife’s. Y/N gasped at the sight. A large bloody gash stretched across Azriel’s cheek. Y/N rushed over and gently cupped Azriel’s uninjured cheek. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

Azriel pulled away. “It doesn’t matter.” He brushed past Y/N. “I’m taking a bath.”

For a brief moment, Y/N gaped at his cold behaviour. Usually he would welcome her with open arms, even if he was bloody and bruised. This sort of behaviour was unusual for Azriel. 

“Azriel, stop for a moment,” Y/N said, reaching to catch his hand. 

Just as her fingers brushed his, Azriel flinched away. “Please leave me alone, Y/N. I have had a long day.”

“I just want to make sure that you are okay,” Y/N said, stepping closer to her husband. “I can clean the gash on your cheek.”

“I said I’m fine,” Azriel said, his tone making Y/N flinch. 

Y/N watched him walk away and into the bathroom, the lock echoing through the house. Standing in the living room for a moment longer, Y/N returned to their bedroom. She could hear the water running into the bath before it shut off completely. Y/N wanted nothing more than to break down the door and go and wrap Azriel in her arms and pull him close to her. But she also recognised that Azriel might need some space for now. 

So Y/N picked up her discarded book and cracked it open and began to read, though her mind was faraway. 

***

It was not for another hour until Y/N heard Azriel exit the bathroom. As soon as he entered their bedroom, Y/N closed her book. She sat up from where she had been leaning against the pillows stacked against the headboard and focused on Azriel. The blood was washed from his face and body but the gash was still very prominent. The angry red surrounding it hadn’t faded even with his speedy healing. 

“Do you want to come and lay with me?” Y/N asked. “Or I could make us some dinner? I have not eaten yet.”

Azriel pulled on his pyjama bottoms, the plaid pattern was faded and worn. “I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight.”

“Why?” Y/N asked. 

Azriel did not even lift his gaze to look at her as he answered. “I do not want to sleep in here tonight.”

His words sent a dagger to her heart. However, she pushed away her own feelings as she heard the tired and defeated tone of Azriel’s voice. “Honey, you can speak to me. You do know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to speak to you,” Azriel snapped. “I don’t know why you aren’t understanding about that.”

Y/N frowned. “I know that you are hurting, Azriel, I can see that haunted look in your eyes. But I am your wife, you do not speak to me like that. All I want to do is help you.”

Azriel sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I know and I’m sorry. I did not want to snap at you.”

Y/N patted the bed next to her. “Why don’t you come and lay with me? You don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, but I can tell how much you want to rest.”

Azriel met her eyes for a split second before nodding. He shuffled over to the bed and climbed on it next to Y/N. He laid on his side, but he soon began to shuffle closer to accommodate his wings and so he could get close to Y/N. Close enough to rest his head on her lap. The moment Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair, Azriel could not fight off the tears. 

“Oh, my love, what happened?” Y/N asked softly. 

“They were dead when I got there,” Azriel whispered. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around Azriel and pulled him closer to her, not his head nestled in the crook of her neck. In the time Y/N had known Azriel and had been married to him, she had only ever seen him breakdown to quite this level only a handful of times. Of course he would always try to talk through his emotions with her to the best of his ability, but at times like these, it was difficult for him. 

“They were all slaughtered,” Azriel whispered, clutching onto Y/N like a child would clutch onto a pillow, seeking as much comfort as he could. “Women, children, elderly fae, they were dead.”

Y/N lowered her head to his, pressing her lips against his skin. She didn’t need to say anything. She knew not to say anything knowing that if she did while Azriel was in this state, he would only revert back to complete silence. 

“Before I left, I heard someone calling out,” Azriel explained. “At first I thought it could have been one of the people I was sent there to stop, but the closer I got I realised it was an older woman. She was calling out for her grandson. Her entire torso was slashed open and there was absolutely nothing I could have done. She was so desperate to get to her grandson, to see her grandson one last time, that when she looked at me-” Azriel cut himself off as a sob broke through his speech. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Y/N whispered, her own tears springing to her eyes. She hated seeing Azriel in this state, she knew what his job entailed, she always did and she was never put off by it. But the one thing she did hate was how it sometimes made Azriel feel. The few times he had come home, sobs wracking his body, she had been there to piece him back together, no matter how long it took. Y/N never wanted to think about what Azriel did before she met him. As far as she knew, Azriel had never opened up to anyone else about how he felt about particular jobs.

“When she looked at me,” Azriel continued once he calmed down, “she mistook me for her grandson. She asked me to hold her hand, to be with her when she passed. She was so happy to see her grandson alive and unharmed, I couldn’t tell her that he was laying just a few feet from her, his own torso slashed open. After she passed I found the men who did it and slaughtered all of them.”

Y/N stilled for a moment. She couldn’t begin to imagine how bad the scene must have been for Azriel not to leave anyone alive for questioning. 

“And everything got me thinking,” Azriel continued to Y/N’s surprise. “About what I would do if you were ever in that position. If you ever get hurt or killed, and I am not there to stop it. You shouldn’t be with someone like me, my presence puts you in constant danger.”

“Don’t you dare think that, not even for one second, Azriel,” Y/N said. “Yes, it is true that there will be enemies of yours that know the best way to get to you is through me. I knew the risks when I married you, but that did not stop me because I love you. And I know that if I fail to protect myself, you will fight to the ends of the earth to keep me safe no matter what.”

“I will always put you above anyone else,” Azriel said. 

“I know,” Y/N said sadly. “But for tonight, Azriel, put yourself above me. I know your self destructive behaviour, I witnessed it first hand when I first began to show interest in you. You think my need is to stay safe and to do that you believe it to be away from you. But that is where you are wrong, it is where you have always been wrong.  Never feel safer than I am with you, my love. Your number one need is to feel loved and secure, and you push it away to prioritise my safety and wellbeing. You punish yourself for not being good enough, you think you don’t deserve to be loved, to be wanted. But you are.”

Y/N paused for a moment as Azriel adjusted himself in Y/N’s arms. Favouring to rest his head on her chest instead. Y/N wrapped her arms around him tightly, making him feel secure.

“For once, Azriel. Put your needs above mine, because I know exactly what they are and I know you deserve it,” Y/N finished. 

“I don’t know how to do that,” Azriel muttered, his voice hoarse. 

“You have already started, you haven’t pushed me away yet,” Y/N whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. 

“I don’t want to push you away,” Azriel admitted. “I only ever want to pull you closer.”

“I don’t think it's possible to get any closer at this point,” Y/N said, cracking a small joke to try and get her husband to smile.

Although it didn’t make him smile, he still huffed out a small breath of air before attempting to pull her closer. His arms wrapped more securely around her waist. 

“All I want is this,” Azriel said. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“You can,” Y/N said. “ We can stay here as long as you like.”

“But my duties,” Azriel said. “I can’t abandon them.”

“You are not abandoning them. Think of it like taking a short break. Because you do need a break, my love. I’ve seen the way the light has dimmed in your eyes these past few months,” Y/N replied. 

“I don’t know how to do that,” Azriel said. “I don’t know how to relax.”

“Are you relaxed now?” Y/N questioned.

There was a small pause before Azriel answered, “Yes.”

“Then you have already made a start,” Y/N said, her nails scratching his scalp slightly. As she did so she felt even more tension leave Azriel’s body.

“I only feel relaxed when I’m with you,” Azriel confessed. 

“Well then, I guess I’m never leaving your side,” Y/N said. “I can’t see any downside to that.”

Azriel shuffled a little so he could lift his head to finally look in Y/N’s eyes. And there it was, that small bit of light that had slowly been extinguished, was being brought back to life and it flickered within the shades of brown and green that made up his beautiful hazel.

“How did I ever get so lucky to be in your life?” Azriel asked.

Y/N caressed his face, her finger lightly brushing over the gash on it. “I think you are mistaken, sweetheart. How did I get so lucky to be in your life? You may be called the shadowsinger, but you, Azriel, are the light of my whole life.”

At that statement, Azriel’s eyes seemed to water as he pressed his head back on her chest, his lips lightly grazing her collarbone.

“I know you can hear my heart,” Y/N said as she cradled his head against her chest. “And it beats only for you.”

“I love you beyond words, Y/N,” Azriel whispered as he caressed her wrist and pressed a soft kiss to it. “I don’t believe I can ever truly express how much you mean to me.”

Y/N smiled and laced her fingers with his. The wedding ring on his finger shined in the light. “You already have, and you continue to do it every day by being my husband. You are the love of my life, Az. There is no one else I have known that has ever compared to you and no one else ever will. I adore you and will for the rest of our lives.”

This time, Azriel did not try to argue anything. Though he didn’t speak any words, the soft caress of his thumb over her knuckles conveyed so much more than just a simple loving touch. Just from his silence alone and that simple touch, Y/N smiled. Azriel finally realised how loved he is. And now, after all this time, he realised that he truly deserved it.

[hiddenonyx]

Borrowing Their Clothes | Obey Me! Brothers

A/N: I have some writing done of this for the side cast, but it's not finished and I wanted to put something out. This is several months old and I think edited, but no promises lol written in second person, no mention of gender.

--------------

Lucifer honestly, didn't even notice that you had swiped something from his closet until he saw you in it. It was late at night and Lucifer, still ever working, decided to stop by the kitchen for another cup of coffee. When he saw the light already on, he had assumed it was Beel getting a head start on his midnight snacking. He was surprised to see you, getting yourself a glass of water when he turned the corner. He was even more surprised (and a bit flustered) to see that your choice of sleepwear is a too-big black dress shirt and matching underwear- wait a minute. 

You can see the gears turning in his head as he slowly (either from the late hour or being flustered or both) figures out that it's one of his dress shirts you're wearing. You have to bite the inside of your check to resist snickering as he simply stands there, looking dumbfounded. Does he chide you for taking something of his? Does he fuck you? Does he say anything at all?

Mammon is the type of person who never remembers what stuff he has or where it is until he suddenly remembers and wants to wear it. Thus he's angrily digging through his closet for this one grey long-sleeved shirt. He could've sworn that he still had it and that it was here, with all the other shirts he had barely worn. Did Asmo comb through his closet again and take stuff? After almost ten minutes of angry searching, Mammon decides to hell with it - he'll just sulk all day, it's fine. He makes his way to the music room - maybe watching some TV will make him feel better. That's when he notices you, already watching TV, wearing that same exact grey long-sleeve shirt with black leggings.

"Oi!" he snaps at you, drawing your attention to him, "That's my shirt. Where'd ya get it?!"

You tilt your head at him slightly, "Your closet?"

"And what makes you think you can just root around in the Great Mammon's closet without permission, huh?"

You shrug, "You weren't wearing it."

"So?!" He gives his dumbfounded look as if he can't believe your logic.

"Well if you want it back that bad, you can come take it off me."

Levi keeps careful track of all his anime and fandom hoodies (they are one of his top three favorite merch items after all). So one could imagine his panic at the realization that he's missing one. At first, Levi hopes that he just forgot to hang it in its proper spot. But after going through every single one, the anger of the realization that it’s actually gone sets in. Did Mammon take it and sell it? He better not have or not even Lucifer will be able to help him! He storms out of his room, his demon form standing out from the other seeming humans in the house.

"MMAAMMOONN!"

"He already left for the casino," the voice that makes him pause is yours. You look up from the sitting room couch setting your book and mug down, "What happened this time?"

"That bastard took one of my hoodies and probably sold it —" he stops mid-sentence as you stand up, wearing the very same hoodie he's been looking for, "Where did you get that?"

"Huh?" You look down at yourself, "Oh this ended up in my laundry basket. It's cute so I figured I'd wear it, but I don't know who’s...it's yours, isn't it?"

A blush starts to creep onto his face as he nods and bites at the back of his hand to stop from squealing: you look so cute in it.

Satan is used to having his clothes "borrowed" by Asmo. He's used to walking into his room and seeing Asmo going through his closet to find something to finish his outfit or to peruse the fourth born’s shocking amount of sweaters. What Satan is not used to is walking into his room and seeing you trying on a thick, oversized, woolen sweater. He stands at the entrance of his room, watching as you hum thoughtfully to yourself as you twist back and forth in his full length mirror. He holds his breath, you haven't noticed him, nor did you hear him come in, and he doesn't want to startle you. He watches on in silence, a soft smile warming his face as he takes in just how cute you look. Maybe he'll let you keep it.

Asmo has no problem sharing clothes. Any kind, any style, he has at least five options for you. Mini skirts? Check? Ripped denim jeans? What wash would you like, darling? Honestly, it feels like half your closet is his closet - he doesn't have any problem just giving you his clothes. Asmo often buys clothing that he knows that both of you would like just so you two can share. You also find yourself sharing or even wearing clothes from Satan and Solomon, and even Mammon sometimes (huh who knew Mammon owned long-sleeved shirts?)

Beel will absolutely hand you his jacket because you mention that you're a little chilly and then completely forget that he did. He frowns a little as he looks around his room, confused as to where it's gone. Belphie didn't borrow it and isn't using it as a blanket...so did Asmo take it? But why would he? Asmo said that his jacket "wasn't quite his style" so where did it end up? Perhaps he left out in one of the common spaces? Beel hunts through each room before finding you in the planetarium, sitting on the floor, looking up, and wearing his coat. He snickers quietly - it's far too big for you; it swallows you up so that only your head pokes out. He rests against the doorframe, watching you watch the stars. He'll let you wear it for a moment longer.

Belphie is a little miffed when his daily sweater goes missing. It's not the first time something like this has happened - laundry occasionally gets swapped around in the house, but he could've sworn that he had gotten his sweater back this past laundry day. Maybe he left it in the attic? One tiring climb up the stairs and search around the attic later, Belphies sighs and pulls out his phone.

[House of Lamentation]

"Hey has anyone seen my sweater? I can't find it anywhere." -Belphie

"Did you check the laundry room?" - Lucifer

"Yeah, it's not there. Checked the attic too." -Belphie

"Actually you left it in my room the other day." -MC

"Oh. I'll come get it." [Thanks sticker] -Belphie

It's only a few minutes before Belphie knocks on your door. He blushes once you open your door, surprised to find you swearing his sweater.

"Thought I'd keep it warm for you," you tease.

----------------

The Master List

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[sweetdispatch]

Take it out on me - N. Hischier

pairing: Nico Hischier x girlfriend!reader

summary: Nico's girlfriend have an idea how to help him after tough lost

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), mentions of ex boyfriend, softdom!nico, spit, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, cum play, dacryphilia, spanking, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, swearing

words: 2.4k

note: october comes to an end and i wanted to create at least one fic for kinktober! enjoy it💕

masterlist

---

Nico and Amelia met up two years ago. Since then, they were inseparable. Soon after, they became a couple. Nico was proudly showing Amelia on his games and always wanted her presence there. He truly believed that she is his soulmate. Amelia was grateful to have him. Her previous relationship has been a mess. Her ex-boyfriend was forcing her to things that she didn’t like and if she ever said no, he would punish her. With Nico, it felt different. He was caring, loving and respectful. She started to believe in love again.

One of the things Amelia adored in Nico was fact that he never pushed her to do things. He was always telling her that relationship works in both ways, and she doesn’t have to do something just to pleased him. Nico felt the need to always reassure her. He knew about her past boyfriend, and he wanted to prove her that she’s as important as he is in their relationship.

Although, there was a thing that Nico wished, Amelia could agree on. That was rough sex. He wanted to be in power over her, but he knew how fragile she is. Just for his pleasure, he didn’t want to ruin what they have. He was scared that he will do one bad move and he’s gonna hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted. Nico still loved their sex life, but he wanted more. During one of their talks, he told her truthfully about it but also told her not to pressure herself to do it for him.

The season started great for New Jersey Devils with both wins in Prague against Buffalo. Next five matches were good with only two lost games. Nico felt that he’s in a best shape that he has ever been, and it showed, but there was one game that completely broke him. His team played at home against Washington. After first period, they’ve been losing 1:3 but Nico gave them hope. Second period started and he scored two goals in 10 seconds. Thanks to him, scoreboard showed 3:3 but again, before the end, New Jersey was losing by two goals.

Last period, the most crucial one. Nico scored another point, and it was 4:5. Almost ten minutes later, Hamilton scored, and the scoreboard showed 5:5. They got into overtime which sadly they lost. Nico was blaming himself for the goal. Even though he played incredibly, he was sad and fuming over the result. Amelia was on this game, she saw how Nico was reacting. Even if he weren’t showing it, she could read him like a book. In that moment, she had an idea how to help him with his anger.

The car drive was silent. Amelia tried to approach Nico with conversation, but he hasn’t spoken to her. It was more like a monologue from her side. When she realized it’s pointless, she decided to keep her mouth shut. All the ride back home, Nico had hand on her thigh squeezing it. The fact that she was next to him, and he could touch her calmed him down.

When they arrived home, Nico wanted to go straight to bed but Amelia stopped him.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think I have a solution for your anger”.

“I’m not angry”. He answered.

“Baby, I know you. You won’t hide it from me”. She grabbed his hand.

“Okay, fine. What’s the solution?” He asked curious.

“Take it out on me”.

“Absolutely no”.

“Nico, I get it that you are scared but I trust you”. She put her hands behind his neck and continued. “It’s something that you would like, and you’ve been always saying that relationship works both ways. I want to be there for you to help you”.

“What if I hurt you? I would never forgive myself that”. He said and grabbed her waist.

“Let’s make a safe word. If you do something that I won’t be enjoying or will cause me a pain, I’ll say it”. Amelia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Nico kissed her back.

“You say that I can take my anger out on you? So, I can do whatever I want and however I want?” She nodded her head, but he spoke again. “Words doll. If you want this to work, I need to hear it to be 100% sure”.

“Yes Nico, you can do whatever and however you want”.

“What word did you pick as a safe word?” He asked.

“Red or stop are boring. I was thinking about something random like watermelon”.

“Your safe word is watermelon?” He laughed.

“In my defense, watermelon is not the word that you are associate with sex so if you hear it from me, then you’ll be know that something is wrong”.

“Fair, so watermelon it is”. He kissed her again but this time, it was possessive kiss.

When they pulled apart from each other, Nico put his thumb on her bottom lip and told her to open her mouth. Amelia obeyed him and he spit into her mouth. He saw the spark in her eyes when he done it. She gladly accepted it and swallowed.

“Go to the bedroom. I want you naked there sitting pretty on the bed. I’ll give you a moment to rethink if you really want this”. She hasn’t answered him. She turned her back and started going to the bedroom when he slapped her ass.

Couple minutes later, Nico walked to their shared bedroom. Amelia was sitting on the bed as he told her, but he saw that she’s thinking over something. He placed finger under her chin so she could face him.

“About what you are thinking?”

“I’m scared”. She said.

“Doll, we don’t have to do it. I told you. We can…” Before he could finish, he interrupted him.

“I’m not scared about this. I’m scared that I’ll disappoint you. What if I say safe word in the middle? That’s gonna be super awkward”.

“We made the safe word for this exact purpose. You could never disappoint me doll. Are you sure you want to do it?”

“Yes”. She said confidently.

“On your knees”. She listened to him and kneeled in front of him. He undressed himself so both were naked now, then he spoke again. “If you feel that’s too much for you, hit my thigh three times, understood?” She nodded her again. “What I told you about words?”

“Yes Nico, I understood.”

“Good girl, now spit on my cock and use your hand to spread it. Don’t use your mouth yet”.

Amelia did what he told her. She spat on his dick and started to use her hand over his length until he stopped her. Nico grabbed her hair and pulled them, so she was facing him.

“Open your mouth and relax your throat. Remember about the thigh”. She opened her mouth, and he couldn’t help himself and spit into her mouth again. She closed her mouth to swallow and opened again. Nico pushed his dick into her mouth. At first, he was gentle in his moves but with time he set rough pace. He was pushing himself deeper into her throat and kept her in place by pulling her hair. He was ruthless towards her.

Amelia loved every minute of the way Nico was abusing her throat. He never been so rough with her, but she enjoyed it. When he was hitting her throat deeper with the tip of his cock, tears were falling from her eyes. She was gagging over his length and grabbed his thighs to steady herself. Amelia could feel how wet she got from this act and placed her right hand on her cunt to touch herself. Nico saw it.

“Take your hand from your greedy pussy. I’ll take care of you”. He said firmly and she decided to listen to him.

Nico could swear that he never saw something hotter than Amelia on her knees taking him so well. He was close to release, and he didn’t want to stop. It felt too good for him. He cum inside her mouth and she swallowed it. She looked at him. Her makeup was ruined. Mascara with tears was falling on her cheeks. He helped her stand up and kissed her deeply.

“You want to continue?” Even though Nico knew the answer, he preferred to ask for her permission.

“Yes, please”.

“On the bed. Face down, ass up”. Amelia has positioned like he wanted.

While she was waiting for him to do something, Nico was admiring her in this position. He loved seeing her so submissive for him. After couple of seconds, he spanked her.

“That’s for touching something that’s not yours”. He growled into her ear. “Am I not enough that you had to do it?”

“No Nico, you are more than enough”. She moaned when another slap hit her ass.

“Good fucking girl. Now take your punishment like one”. He said and spanked her couple more times. After Nico was done with her, he leaned over and his chest hit her back. “You will cum twice today. I’m not gonna stop until you use your word. Understood?”

“Yes Nico. Please, just fuck me already”. Amelia was desperate for his touch.

“Your wish is my command”.

Nico started teasing her entry with the tip of his cock. Before she could react, he put all his length inside of her. He gave her couple seconds so she could adjust to his big dick. When he felt like she’s ready, he started pounding roughly into her. He grabbed her hips to keep her steady while he was merciless for her pussy.

Amelia felt incredible. She felt so full and at his mercy. Even though Nico was rough with her, she could feel his affection during the act. She started moan his name loudly. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her to his body. Her back hit his chest. While one hand was still in her hair, Nico used the second one to play with her nipples. He was twisting and pulling them.

“Nico, I’m gonna cum”. She moaned.

He took off his hand from her tits and placed it on her clit. He started rubbing circles on her pussy. She was shaking from this stimulation. Her orgasm hit her hard. She screamed his name so loudly that she was sure neighbours could hear her. Nico haven’t stopped, he fucked her through her orgasm.

Nico manhandled her so she could lay on her back. He looked at her dizzy state.

“You sure you can continue?” He asked concerned.

“Yes”. She whispered like it was a secret.

“Spread your legs for me”.

Amelia did it but Nico pushed her legs, so her knees were laying on the bed. He looked on her drippy cunt and traded his fingers over it. When she moaned, he spanked her pussy. She closed her legs, but Nico told her to open them again. She obeyed him and he positioned himself in her entrance.

Again, he pushed all his length into her but this time, he didn’t get her time to adjust. He grabbed her by her thighs started fucking her. She arched her back from the pleasure. He leaned over to kiss her. It was sloppy kiss. Amelia moaned into his mouth when he pulled away. She was getting so loud. Nico put his hand on her throat. He squeezed his fingers on the sides of her throat.

She felt overwhelmed by all the stimulation, but she didn’t wanted to stop. It felt so good for her. While one of Nico’s hands was still on her throat, the other one started playing with her boobs. He could feel that she’s close to her release and started fucking her harder and faster. When he knew, she’s seconds from her orgasm, he pulled hand from her throat and placed on her other boob.

“Nico, fuck, I’m gonna cum”.

“I know doll. Cum for me”. Her second climax hit her. She screamed his name and soon after, he released inside of her.

Nico fell on her chest, and they laid like that for couple of minutes. When he recovered, he pulled out of her and went to the bathroom to run a bath for her. He put all her fancy salts and essential oils into the bath. When he returned to the bedroom, he could see her all fucked. Amelia turned her head to look at him.

“Hey, how are you feel?”

“Amazing, thank you Nico. That was the most mind-blowing sex I ever had”. He laughed at her words.

“Can you stand up or do you want me to carry you?”

“Carry me please”. She pulled her arms towards him. He leaned down and she placed her arms around his neck. Nico grabbed her under her knees and carried into the bathroom. He put her in a bathtub.

“Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute”. Nico left the bathroom and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water and snacks. He returned and handed it to her. “Eat it, you need it. Also, drink the water, you might feel dehydrated”. He said firmly.

Amelia drank the water while still laying in the bath. She opened a bag of chips and started eating them, handing them to Nico who was sitting next to the bathtub. He helped her wash herself. After an hour, he took the towel and he dry her off. Again, he carried her to the bedroom, placed her on bed and tucked her under the covers.

“I’m going to take a shower, go to sleep”. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Nico left her and went to clean himself. He felt bad for leaving her, but he knew he must do it. Amelia couldn’t sleep. She was laying in the bed and waited for him to return. Ten minutes later, he was back. He saw that she’s still awake.

“I told you to sleep doll”. Nico said lying next to her. He pulled her into his arms, so her head was resting on his chest. After couple minutes of silence, he spoke again.

“Thank you so much for doing this for me. I really appreciate it and I hope I wasn’t too rough on you”. He kissed her head.

“It was amazing Nico. You’ve been incredible. You haven’t been too rough. I told you that I trust you”. She snuggled into his chest even more. “If you ever feel anger again, just know that I’m right here to help”. He pulled her on his body, and they’ve been lying now chest to chest.

“You are gonna be a death to me woman. I love you doll”. He kissed her.

“I love you too Nico. Now let’s sleep, you have a practice tomorrow and deserve a good rest”. She said and both of them fall asleep.