#yes the title is chapter one. it's chapter one because this was such a huge break for me and it's the beginning of a whole new arc in SR | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cadelinhadaromanoff · 2 months ago

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𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

Summary: Natasha finds herself sinking into the quiet storm of her own insecurities—trapped in the uncertainty of her almost-relationship. Though deeply in love, she struggles with the fear that something so good can’t last. She worries she’s temporary, that she’s not enough, that she’ll be left behind. The lack of a clear title between them—no “girlfriend,” no labels—only feeds her anxiety. Despite knowing deep down that she’s loved, the ache of not hearing it aloud, of not being certain where she stands, begins to unravel her from within… until all of it changed.

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Platonic Clint Barton.

Word count: 11615

Warnings: Emotional Insecurity & Anxiety, Mentions of Trauma (Red Room), Mild Language, Implied Nudity/Intimacy, Age Gap Relationship (33 and 23)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Author's Notes: Hey guys! Just wanted to say a huge thank you for all the love and support you’ve been giving this story—it honestly means so much to me. I’m sorry it took a little longer to post this one, but I promise it was worth the wait (yes, it got long, I know, but I couldn’t help myself). As always, feel free to drop a comment or send me a message—I absolutely love talking with you all about the story!Hope you enjoy the chapter… especially now that they’re finally, finally official!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Natasha had always believed that solitude was safety. That the quiet after a mission, the dim silence of her apartment, the untouched corner of a bed meant she was doing it right. Keeping the world at bay. But lately—no, ever since you—solitude didn’t taste like peace anymore. It tasted like absence. It tasted like something she wasn’t supposed to swallow down anymore. Because now she knew what it felt like to be held. And God, she craved it. Every cell in her body missed you when you weren’t there. It was like her skin had developed a memory, a longing—your fingers stroking through her hair, the solid weight of your arms around her, the way your voice softened when you said her name. She wasn’t built for needing people, but somehow, she needed you.

It was worse on nights like this, when the plan had been simple. Just bed. Just cuddles. You, her, and Ana—wrapped up like a secret in soft sheets and warm limbs, safe from the world. That was all she wanted. No espionage, no world-threatening disasters, no coded briefings. Just domestic silence broken by the gentle hiccup of Ana’s giggle or your breath whispering across her neck. And when it didn’t happen, when the world pried you away again with one more emergency or one more delay, something inside her clenched with a quiet, aching frustration.

She never expected this. She never expected to become this… touch-starved. Not her. Not the Black Widow, trained to endure, to resist, to suppress. But every time you left, she felt like her skin was betraying her, screaming for your touch. Her body missed you like a second heartbeat gone quiet. She found herself counting the hours, the minutes, the weight of time unbearable until she could feel your warmth pressed against her again. You didn’t just touch her skin—you calmed the war beneath it. The war that had never really stopped since she was a child.

She sleeps better now. That’s something she can’t even say aloud without her voice cracking. Before you, sleep was something she survived. A minefield of memories, of missions, of screams that were never hers but still lived in her head. The Red Room was always there—just under her eyelids. But with you… it’s different. When she lies beside you, her body folds into yours with such aching relief it almost breaks her. And on the nights when the dreams still come—because they do, not as often, but still—you never even hesitate. You just reach for her. Sometimes you wake up to the sound of her breath hitching, and you’re already there, pulling her into your arms before she can even open her eyes. Her face tucked against your chest, breathing in the scent of your perfume like it’s a tether. It makes her feel safe. Not just safe from danger—but safe from herself.

You never ask her to explain. You never demand the shape of her fear or the color of her scars. You just hold her. Stroke her hair. Whisper to her. And it’s not even always words—sometimes it’s the quiet rhythm of a song you love, hummed against her temple, the vibrations sinking into her bones. Sometimes it’s a story, one of your myths or legends you adore, soft and slow like a lullaby. You talk about Persephone’s garden, or Selene’s moonlight, or the stars that guide lost souls home. And slowly, slowly, the war in her chest dies down. She breathes. She lets go.

And sometimes—her favorite times—you say nothing at all. You just stay. Stay with her. Stay present. Stay real. Your fingers weaving through her hair, your heart steady against her back. That’s how she heals. Not in grand gestures or loud declarations—but in these quiet nights where you remind her, without ever needing to say it, that the Red Room can’t reach her anymore. That Ana is safe. That she is loved. Fully. Completely. Unconditionally.

She never thought she’d have this. Never thought she’d be someone’s comfort, someone’s world. Never thought anyone would be hers. But you are. And she’s yours. And tonight, even if you’re not here, she holds onto that. Holds onto you. Because she knows that when the door finally opens, when your shoes are kicked off at the entrance, when you finally come to her again, you’ll climb into bed and fold yourself around her like you always do. And she’ll sleep. Truly sleep. Because you exist. Because you love her. And because somehow, impossibly, she’s allowed to love you back.

The text had barely finished delivering when Natasha’s heart leapt. “Coming home soon, love. Ana picked out a little bunny she refused to let go of. We miss you.” It was nothing extraordinary, just a simple message. But for Natasha, it lit her from within. She stared at the words until the letters blurred slightly, her chest warming with something fierce and tender and almost too much to hold. She could already picture it—the jingle of keys at the door, the sound of Ana’s babbling, your voice calling softly through the apartment, and then, finally, your arms around her. Your warmth at her back, your scent in her lungs, your presence like a balm to the always-too-tight coil in her chest. And Ana, her sweet little girl, pressed between you both like a heartbeat.

That had been the plan. The only plan Natasha cared about today.

She had tidied the room three times, not because it needed it, but because she needed to stay busy. She had fluffed the pillows, pulled out the softest blankets, even changed into your favorite hoodie—the one that still faintly smelled like you. The one she never admitted she slept in whenever you were gone too long. Her whole body was ready to melt into yours. Her mind was already there, halfway between your laugh and Ana’s cheek squished against her chest. That was her safe place now. That was everything.

But then her phone rang.

And everything—everything—shifted.

She stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed her. Clint. The only person she might’ve answered for tonight. The only one who knew her long enough to still pull her back into the life she thought she was beginning to leave behind. She pressed answer, already sighing.

“Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say,” she muttered before he could even speak.

“I wouldn’t if I had a choice,” Clint’s voice replied, casual but carrying that slight edge she recognized instantly—he was serious. “I need backup at the compound. New recruits are crashing hard. They’re not listening, not responding. They need someone who scares them straight.”

“They’re not my problem,” she said flatly, her jaw already tightening. “Not tonight.”

There was a pause.

“You said you were easing back in. This is easing. I wouldn’t call if I didn’t really need you.”

And there it was—that tug, that guilt-laced thread woven into years of loyalty and battles and blood. He knew it. He used it. And she hated that it still worked. But even as the pressure behind her eyes built, her voice snapped back, sharper this time. “Clint, I haven’t seen them all day. She’s been gone since morning. I just—” her voice cracked, barely, “—I just want to hold my family. I was going to hold them and breathe, and not think about combat posture or tactical breakdowns or angry kids trying to prove they’re bulletproof.”

“I get it,” he said gently. “But this is one of those nights I can’t handle it alone.”

She wanted to scream. Throw the phone. Anything. But instead, she clenched her teeth until her jaw ached. Her free hand twisted into the hem of your hoodie, holding on like she was bracing for impact. Her silence dragged long enough that Clint said her name.

“I’ll go,” she said, bitterly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“I know.”

And with that, she ended the call and stood there, motionless, the echo of her own frustration boiling beneath her skin. Her body physically hurt from how much it had wanted to be touched. Held. She could almost feel the phantom of your arms around her already, like her body had preemptively exhaled—and now that touch wouldn’t come. Not yet.

She peeled the hoodie off like it burned her, tossing it onto the bed with a sound that wasn’t quite a sob and not quite a growl. She hadn’t felt this moody in years. This let down. It wasn’t just the cuddle. It was the hope she’d let herself build. The sacredness of such a quiet plan. The simplicity of love, denied.

She didn’t bother looking in the mirror as she tied her boots and clipped her hair back. The woman staring back would be one she barely recognized tonight. All sharp edges again. All steel and cold breath and detachment. She hated it. Hated how easily the armor still fit.

Before she left, she glanced at the phone again, almost against her will. No new texts yet. You were probably driving, Ana babbling in the backseat. The image made her eyes sting.

She typed quickly, furiously, deleting twice before finally sending:

|Me: Clint called. Going to the compound. I’m sorry. I wanted tonight so badly.

She didn’t wait for the reply. She couldn’t. If you told her it was okay, she’d hate herself more. If you told her you missed her too, she’d fall apart.

She stepped out into the night with her fists clenched in her coat pockets and a weight in her chest that made her feel like she’d left her soul back in that bed, still waiting for your aren't .

The elevator hummed with sterile efficiency, bright lights buzzing above her head as Natasha stood with her arms crossed, back pressed into the cool metal wall. Her jaw was tight, ticking faintly as she stared blankly at the floor numbers ticking upward. The ride felt slower than usual, and she hated how her foot kept bouncing with impatience. She was still thinking about the bed, about you. About Ana’s little hand probably gripping that bunny you mentioned. About the warmth she was supposed to be folded into by now. Instead, she was in a steel box, dressed for war, on her way to babysit rookies who probably couldn’t tell the difference between real fear and adrenaline.

Damn Clint.

The doors opened with a pneumatic sigh, releasing her into the training sector’s lower level—a new wing Stark had greenlit, full of sleek equipment, minimalist black panels, and eerily quiet lighting. The second she stepped out, the air changed. It was cooler here, laced with the faint scent of sterilized tech and recently dried sweat. Ahead of her, through the glass wall, she could see them—six newbies strapped into individual chairs, motionless, eyes twitching beneath closed lids. Each one connected to the simulation grid via a thin neural band wrapped at the base of the skull. A glowing interface pulsed beside each chair, tracking vital signs and neurological responses.

Great. They’re using the Divergent crap tonight.

.Natasha muttered it under her breath as she stepped into the observation deck, her tone soaked in irritation, though the flicker of reluctant admiration lingered beneath. Her eyes swept over the simulation chairs lined in two perfect rows, each rookie hooked up to the neural bands you had personally helped design. A sleek web of bio-responsive tech wound from scalp to spine, and beneath the blinking lights and soft whirring of the monitors, she could practically hear your voice in her head explaining it all—every circuit, every serum compound, every neural feedback loop.

She hated how good the tech was. Hated how brilliant you were. Because tonight, that brilliance had stolen you from her arms.

This wasn’t some off-the-shelf copy of what the Divergent factions once used. No, this was yours—your creation. A modified, perfected version of the concept. Inspired by the movie, sure, but completely reimagined under your touch. Instead of fearscapes, you built a neural simulation that generated complex, high-risk, hyperrealistic fake missions. Rescue ops. Espionage trials. Ambush recoveries. Each one designed to push recruits to their limits—not by terrifying them, but by testing them. Every scenario was tailored based on psychological profiling, combat scores, and instinctive behaviors. And unlike the fear tests, the recruits were fully aware they were inside a sim.

That was the genius of it—it wasn’t about whether they could survive. It was whether they would choose to keep going even when it felt hopeless. They knew it was fake. Their minds still reacted like it was real.

Natasha folded her arms and exhaled sharply as one of the screens flickered to show a recruit crawling through smoke and glass, her simulated arm “injured,” her path blocked by simulated debris. Natasha recognized the scenario. A building collapse, with two civilian hostages on opposite ends of the structure. One had to be sacrificed. Classic moral tension. A test of choice, not strength.

She clenched her jaw.

It was brilliant. Brutal. Effective.

And right now?

It was a colossal pain in the ass.

She should be home. Curled into your chest with Ana asleep between you, your heartbeat beneath her ear and your perfume weaving through her senses like safety incarnate. She should be buried in warmth and peace and the sacred comfort she only ever found in your touch. But instead, she was standing here, cold and tense, watching over recruits struggle inside a world you built, your fingerprints in every line of code.

A quiet pang stirred in her chest. Not jealousy. Just longing. The ache of missing you while being surrounded by pieces of you.

She glanced at the chair nearest her. The young man strapped in was shaking, sweat beading along his temple. His simulation feed showed him breaching a hostile compound, wounded and alone, with a timer ticking down until the bomb exploded. Natasha watched his eyes twitch beneath their lids, watched his hands grip the armrests like they were the last lifeline he had.

It was working. Too well.

Clint appeared beside her, arms crossed like he’d been watching her rather than the recruits.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

Natasha didn’t answer right away. Her eyes lingered on the screen, on the chaos within the simulation.

“She built this,” she said finally. “Twisted it from some dystopian crap into a full-on psychological battlefield. It’s smarter than most field ops I’ve seen.”

Clint nodded. “She’s scary when she wants to be.”

“She’s brilliant when she wants to be.”

And then softer, bitter under her breath: “And I was supposed to be holding her right now.”

Clint winced.

“And then you called.” she added, sharp.

He raised his hands defensively. “And I said I was sorry.”

She turned away from the screens, tired of watching ghosts. “Let’s just finish this. I want to go home.”

Back to you. To warmth. To your arms and the scent of that bunny Ana refused to let go of. Back to what was real. Because no matter how convincing these simulations were—no matter how much of your brilliance hummed inside every byte—nothing in this cold, tech-lit room could compare to the life you’d built with her. Nothing could replace the soft gravity of your touch.

And when this was over, she’d crawl into bed no matter the hour, pull you against her, and breathe you in like a woman resurfacing from the deep.

The minutes dragged by like hours.

Natasha leaned against the edge of the control console, arms folded, posture tense but practiced. Beside her, Clint clicked between feeds on the main monitor, pulling up different simulation views. The room was quiet aside from the soft hum of processors and the occasional groan or muttered curse from one of the strapped-in recruits. The feeds flickered and changed—different scenarios, different reactions—and most of them, Natasha had to admit, were either absurd or just plain painful to watch.

“Did he seriously just run at the sniper with a knife?” she muttered, eyes narrowing at one of the panels.

“Yup,” Clint said with a grin, leaning in. “Didn’t even try cover. Full-blown hero charge.”

“He has a grenade on his belt.”

“I think he forgot.”

Natasha dragged a hand down her face. “That’s not forgetting. That’s suicidal optimism.”

Another screen showed a recruit trying to sneak through a corridor with absolutely no spatial awareness. He knocked over a chair, then tripped on it, then somehow managed to drop his weapon in the most exaggerated, dramatic tumble Clint had ever seen. Natasha didn’t say anything—just blinked slowly, her expression blank.

Clint laughed, loud and unfiltered. “That kid’s not even fighting the mission. He’s fighting gravity.”

On the far right panel, another recruit surprised them both. She rewired a security terminal in under thirty seconds using a snapped wire and part of her earpiece mic. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“That one’s sharp,” she admitted.

Clint whistled. “That’s your girl’s tech, too. Interface adapted mid-sim. Pretty sure the sim actually improved her hacking instincts.”

“Good. Maybe someone here will make it past next month without getting themself killed.”

The next screen showed a recruit tossing his weapon to a simulated hostage and yelling, “Cover me!”

Natasha stared.

Clint choked on his laughter. “Oh my God.”

“He armed the hostage.”

“Strategic empowerment?”

Natasha shot him a dry look. “Strategic idiocy.”

They both laughed—hers short and bitter, his open and entertained. For a moment, the weight on her chest eased.

But only for a moment.

Clint glanced sideways at her when her smile faded. Her shoulders sank back into that familiar coil of silence, her expression hardening again as the recruits continued their digital trials. He studied her for a beat, then turned slightly toward her with that familiar smirk—the one he always wore when he was about to start poking the bear.

“You’re unusually grumpy tonight.”

She didn’t look at him. “Am I.”

He leaned on the console next to her, nudging her with an elbow. “C’mon. Even you usually enjoy mocking the next generation of idiots. What gives?”

Natasha sighed through her nose, eyes glued to the screen. “I had plans.”

“Oh no.” Clint gasped with mock horror. “Plans. Were they dangerous? Illegal? Food-related?”

“They were quiet,” she snapped. “They were warm. And soft. And involved zero morons giving weapons to fake hostages.”

Clint grinned. “So, cuddles?”

Her glare was pure ice. “Yes. Cuddles. That’s the mission you dragged me away from. The real one.”

Clint pressed a hand to his heart. “Heartbreaking.”

She didn’t respond, just clenched her jaw tighter.

Clint waited a second, then added with a mischievous glint, “You’re mad because you didn’t get to spoon your girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Natasha shot him a sideways glare sharp enough to cut through armor. “Say that again and I’ll throw you into the sim.”

Clint chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “You’d need a whole custom scenario. ‘The Training of Barton: How to Shut Up and Let Natasha Cuddle in Peace.’”

She turned away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. The irritation was real, yes, but even now, she could feel the edges of it softening around Clint’s usual nonsense. Still, it didn’t fix the ache—didn’t dull the image of what she could be doing. The gentle weight of Ana in her arms. Your body wrapped around her back. Your voice, soft and teasing against her neck. Her bed. Her home. You.

And here she was instead. Watching twenty-year-olds try not to shoot themselves in the foot.

Clint nudged her again. “Seriously though. You okay?”

For a while, she didn’t say anything. The screen in front of them flickered, throwing a cold blue glow across her face. A recruit stumbled through a simulated blizzard, searching for a beacon he’d never find, and Natasha’s expression was unreadable, carved from quiet tension. Her fingers tapped idly against her arm, then stilled.

“I’m trying to enjoy it,” she finally said, voice low. “Her. Us. Every second we get.”

Clint’s brow furrowed. He didn’t interrupt.

Natasha’s eyes softened a fraction, but her shoulders stayed drawn tight. “It’s been… good. Too good. So good it makes my skin crawl some nights. Not because I don’t want it—because I do. God, I do. But something in me keeps whispering that it’s not going to last.”

Her throat worked, like the words were digging themselves out against her will. “I keep getting this… this feeling. Like I’m losing her. Like she’s slipping through my fingers and I don’t even know why. Like this—whatever this is—has an expiration date and I just haven’t been told when yet.”

Clint’s voice came quieter. “She give you any reason to think that?”

Natasha shook her head. “No. That’s the worst part. She doesn’t lie to me. She holds me like she means it. Like she’s never letting go. But I can’t shake it. I wake up sometimes and I look at her and I think, this can’t be real. Life doesn’t give me this. Not for long. Not without taking it back.”

Clint exhaled slowly. “You’ve been through hell, Nat. Of course your brain doesn’t know what to do with softness.”

She looked away. Her jaw clenched hard. “It’s not just that.”

There was a beat of silence.

“She hasn’t asked,” Natasha said finally, quieter this time. “We’re not… anything. Not officially. Not girlfriends. Not friends-with-benefits. We’re just… something.”

She let the word hang, fragile and heavy.

“I think about it more than I want to admit,” she continued. “I keep wondering why she hasn’t asked. If it’s because she’s not sure. Or if it’s because she’s already decided and just doesn’t want to say it. What if she didn’t ask because she’s planning to leave? What if she’s just waiting for the right moment to end it clean?”

Clint frowned. “Do you really think she’d do that to you?”

“No.” Natasha’s answer was instant. She blinked hard, jaw still tight. “No. She wouldn’t. That’s the part that messes with my head. I know she wouldn’t. But it’s like my body doesn’t believe it. Like every scar in me is screaming that love is a trick, and safety’s just a lie waiting to collapse.”

Her voice cracked, barely.

“I hold her and I’m happy. She kisses my forehead and I want to cry because it feels so damn real. And then the voice comes in. The one that says, you don’t get forever. You don’t even get ‘official.’ You just get this borrowed time until she figures out she deserves someone better. Someone whole.”

Clint was quiet for a long moment. The sim monitors flickered in silence behind them, each recruit caught in their own temporary hell.

He shifted beside her, then leaned forward on the console with a sigh. “You wanna know what I think?”

Natasha didn’t look at him, but she didn’t tell him to shut up either. So he took that as permission.

“I think you’re scared out of your mind,” Clint said, not unkindly. “And I don’t blame you. You’ve never had anything like this before. Not really. Not where you could breathe in it. Where you could stay. Where no one was going to be dragged away or shot in the dark or pulled out of your arms while you watched helpless.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. Just a second. That soft tremble in her lashes said enough.

“But Nat,” he continued, gently now, “you’re not in the Red Room anymore. You’re not in a cage. You’re not some shadow they trained to be disposable. You’re home. You built something. With her. With your kid. You think that’s an accident? You think someone like you—someone who’s lived through fire and came out human—doesn’t deserve this?”

She clenched her jaw again. “It’s not about what I deserve.”

“No. It’s about what you’re terrified to hope for.”

Natasha looked at him then. Really looked at him. And for a moment, there was nothing but years between them—wars survived, trust earned, quiet confessions passed like thread between wounds.

“I’m not good at soft,” she said finally. “I never was.”

“No one’s asking you to be good at it,” he replied. “Just don’t run from it.”

She went quiet again, but the air between them had shifted—thick with the weight of things unspoken and the quiet, aching truth she’d been too afraid to say out loud.

“I just…” Her voice faltered, then steadied again, low and raw. “I want her to want me forever. Not just now. Not just while it’s new, or easy, or exciting. I want her to choose me. Name me. Claim me. Because this… something… it feels like everything, but I keep waiting for her to say it out loud.”

“And until she does, you’re stuck in limbo.”

She nodded, once. Slow. Painfully slow.

Clint tilted his head. “Then ask her.”

She blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. “Ask her. Be brave, Romanoff. You’ve taken down gods and dictators. You think you can’t survive asking the girl you love where you stand?”

“It’s not about surviving,” she said quietly. “It’s about what it’ll feel like if I’m right.”

Clint studied her for a beat, his expression softening. “And what if you’re wrong? What if she’s just scared, too? Or waiting for you to ask because she doesn’t want to pressure you? What if she’s lying awake at night, wondering why you haven’t said anything?”

Natasha looked down at her hands. The scar across her knuckles. The place where you kissed when you thought she was asleep.

“She holds me like she’s afraid I’ll vanish,” Natasha whispered. “But I hold her like I’m already losing her.”

Clint didn’t have an answer for that. Not one he could speak, anyway.

So he reached out and gently bumped her shoulder. A wordless reassurance. A tether.

“You’re not losing her, Nat. You’re just scared.”

She gave a short, bitter laugh. “A spy afraid of love. That’s original.”

“Hey,” he smirked. “Even assassins get hearts. Yours just took a while to remember how to beat.”

She didn’t reply, but her eyes flicked to one of the monitors without really seeing it. And Clint watched her, watched the way her mouth pressed into a thin line, the way her fingers dug slightly into her arms like she was holding herself together by will alone. He knew that posture. Knew it from rooftops and bunkers and long silences between missions. It was the way Natasha braced when something inside her was louder than anything outside.

“Nat,” he said, voice quieter now, less teasing, more solid, “she’s not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t,” he admitted. “But you do. You do, and that’s what’s killing you. You know she loves you. You know she’s not lying, not playing, not keeping you around out of convenience. And that scares the hell out of you because the only thing more terrifying than losing her… is believing she might stay.”

She exhaled, sharp and shaky, and suddenly the room felt too small. Like the walls were pressing in with all the things she never let herself feel. All the quiet dreams she’d folded into the corners of her mind. All the hope she never gave herself permission to want.

“I’ve lost so much,” she murmured, eyes still fixed somewhere far beyond the monitors. “More than I ever let myself count. And now I have her. And Ana. And I keep thinking… what if this is just the calm before the storm? What if the universe is just fattening me up before it rips it all away again?”

Clint didn’t scoff. Didn’t try to joke it off. He just let her say it, let the words crack open between them like raw nerve.

“I think,” he said softly, “that maybe this time… the storm already passed. And this isn’t the before. Maybe it’s the after. Maybe you’re already standing in what’s left, and instead of ash, it gave you something to live for.”

That made her look at him. Her throat bobbed, her eyes glassy but refusing to spill. She wasn’t a crier. Not even when she wanted to be.

“I’m scared,” she said again, like it was a confession.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Then don’t,” he said gently. “Just… tell her. Tell her you want more. Tell her this in-between isn’t enough. That you want to be hers. For real. She’ll listen. She’s not like the others.”

Natasha didn’t speak, but something inside her shifted. You could almost see it—like a wall cracking, just a little. Letting the light in.Natasha didn’t speak, but something inside her shifted. You could almost see it—like a wall cracking, just a little. Letting the light in.

She exhaled slowly, almost as if the weight on her ribs had grown too heavy to carry in silence. Her voice came softer this time, stripped down, the edge dulled by something more fragile. “I never really noticed how hard it is… being a single mom. Not until I wasn’t doing it alone.”

Clint turned toward her, careful not to speak, just letting her unravel.

“I mean, I knew it’d be hard. Of course I did. Late nights, the crying, the routines, the guilt. But I thought I had it under control. I thought I was doing okay.” She paused, eyes fixed somewhere vague, like she was watching a reel of half-remembered mornings and chaotic afternoons. “And then she came in.”

Her voice thickened—not with regret, but awe.

“She didn’t just help me. She showed up. She saw me. She saw Ana. And it was like…” Her lips curved, barely, aching. “Like she’d always been meant to be there. Like Ana was waiting for her too.”

Natasha swallowed hard. “Damn it, Clint. It’s like she was made for us. Like some piece I didn’t know I was missing finally clicked into place. She’s a breeze of fresh air in a house that forgot how to breathe.”

She looked down at her lap, fingers clenching and unclenching like she was trying to hold on to something intangible. “Ana adores her. She laughs differently when she’s around. Softer. Freer. Like she feels we are safe, it's like she can see that I am better. like she already knows who her home is.”

Clint watched her, eyes warm, but said nothing. Letting her get to it.

Natasha leaned forward, elbows on her knees, voice dipping low again. “And that’s what terrifies me. Because she’s ten years younger than me. Ten years of freedom. Ten years of unburned skin. She could have anything. Anyone. And I’m just… me.”

Her jaw clenched. The words tasted bitter coming out. “What if one day she realizes she wants someone her own age? Someone without baggage? Without trauma layered under every smile?”

Clint’s lips pressed together, but he still said nothing. He knew too much now. Knew more than he was allowed to say. And even if the box was burning a hole in his pocket, even if he could already hear your nervous voice rehearsing the proposal over and over again… this moment wasn’t his to interrupt.

Natasha sat there, voice barely above a whisper now. “I don’t want Ana to lose her. I don’t want to lose her either. But I can’t stop thinking… why would she stay with me? Why not someone easier? Someone who didn’t come with a whole damn history of blood and ghosts?”

Her hands moved to cover her face for a second, as if she could scrub the vulnerability out of her pores.

Clint finally leaned back with a small sigh. “You’re asking all the wrong questions.”

Natasha peeked at him through her fingers.

“You’re thinking about why she shouldn’t love you. But have you looked at how she does? She’s not with you because of what you’re not, Nat. She’s with you because of everything you are. The fact you care this much? That’s not weakness. That’s proof.”

Natasha blinked, slowly.

“You and Ana aren’t just a chapter in her life,” Clint added, softer now. “You are her life. She made you part of her story. And she’s not walking away.”

He paused, the hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Just trust me on that, okay?”

And Natasha… didn’t argue. She didn’t fight it. Not this time.

Instead, she looked down at her hands again, and let herself feel the full weight of what she’d built. What she stood to lose. And maybe—what she’d never have to.

They kept watching the simulations as the room buzzed with artificial chaos—guns fired, teammates failed, a building in one of the fake missions collapsed because someone forgot to check structural integrity. Idiots. Clint muttered something under his breath, scribbled a note about better obstacle training, and sighed heavily as a recruit ran into his own reflection thinking it was a teammate.

Natasha didn’t even blink.

Her eyes were on the screens, but she wasn’t watching. Not really. She was somewhere far away—somewhere quiet, warm, and filled with the faint scent of your perfume. Somewhere Ana was babbling in the background, dragging books across the living room carpet, while your fingers brushed Natasha’s hair back from her temple and your lips pressed to her shoulder without needing a reason. She could almost feel the weight of you behind her, arm snug around her waist, breathing synced with hers.

Her brow was furrowed, though her body was still. She was thinking too much again. Drowning in it. All those sharp edges of self-doubt scraping against everything she wanted. Everything she had no idea how to ask for.

Clint watched her out of the corner of his eye, occasionally glancing between her and the recruits as another poor kid accidentally set off a chain reaction that ended with simulated civilian casualties. They’d laugh about it later, probably. But he couldn’t even get a smile out of her now.

Then his phone buzzed.

He checked it, and when he read the message, his face changed. Something settled behind his eyes—a flicker of amused satisfaction—and he slowly tucked the phone away like it wasn’t burning in his hand.

He leaned in, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, I’ve seen enough bad decisions to last me the rest of the week. And you—” he pointed at Natasha without looking at her. “You’re done here.”

She didn’t look away from the monitors. “What?”

“I’m kicking you out.”

She raised a brow, just a little. “You’re kicking me out?”

“Yep. You’re useless like this,” he said, standing up and stretching his arms behind his head. “You’re not paying attention, you’ve been staring through the screen for the last fifteen minutes, and if I have to watch you sit there and stew in existential dread one second longer, I’m gonna throw myself into the next sim.”

She gave him a look—flat, unamused.

Clint grinned. “Go home, Nat.”

“Clint—”

He put a hand up. “Nope. No arguments. I’m the boss tonight. Go.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even like being in charge.”

“Well, tonight I do. Because it means I get to tell you to get out of here, go home, and stop being a haunted, brooding mess.”

She stared at him. He stared right back.

Then, slowly, her body shifted. Like a tired weight was finally giving up resistance.

“…Fine,” she muttered, dragging herself up from the chair.

Clint tossed her a mock salute. “Tell her hi for me.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but he caught the way her fingers twitched slightly at the mention of you. The way her spine straightened Natasha stepped into the elevator, her body moving on autopilot, but her senses already alert—trained, sharp, impossible to fool. Something was in the air. Not the kind of tension that came before a fight, not the weight of danger—this was quieter. Warmer. Thicker, almost. Like anticipation had taken shape in the oxygen itself.

She narrowed her eyes slightly.

She passed her keycard across the scanner. Beep. The familiar green light lit up, and the doors slid closed behind her. As the elevator began its descent, her fingers flexed against her thigh. Something was going on. Not a threat. No—she would’ve smelled that. But something… intentional. Delicate. And no one had said a word.

When the doors opened, her brows furrowed instinctively.

Her living room.

Soft amber light bathed the space in a gentle hush, like the entire apartment was holding its breath. No mission debris. No toys scattered from a wild Ana afternoon. Just… peace. Her eyes scanned quickly—then landed on the dining table.

Two plates. Steam rising. The scent of tomato and garlic filled the air like a memory.

Italian takeout.

Her lips parted just slightly. Her bag slid from her shoulder, hitting the floor without thought. She took a slow step in, like she was afraid the quiet might shatter if she moved too fast.

And then she felt it—before you touched her.

Your warmth behind her. That familiar hum that her body recognized before her mind could catch up. It wasn’t noise. It was presence. You.

Your arms slipped around her waist like they belonged there—like they’d always belonged there—and pulled her against you with a gentleness that made her breath catch. Her back met your chest, her hands instinctively finding yours. Her eyes closed.

You rocked her softly, slowly, swaying the way she might soothe Ana when she couldn’t sleep. “Good night,” you whispered, your lips brushing her hairline. “I missed you.”

The sound of your voice in that low, loving hush hit something deep. Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, grounding herself in the reality of it—of you. Your arms. Your smell. Your heartbeat against her spine.

She wanted to ask what all this was for. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

She just stood there in the quiet, still as a statue, letting herself be held.

Letting herself believe—for this moment—that maybe this wasn’t too good to last.

Your arms tightened around her just a little, pulling her closer, your presence now not just behind her—but wrapped into her. Natasha didn’t move, didn’t speak. She simply let herself be held, her body still tense with that faint echo of disbelief, like she didn’t quite trust that something this warm could be hers.

You leaned in, soft and slow, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder through the fabric of her shirt. It was small, nothing grand, but it made her shiver—made her heart stutter in her chest. You stayed there for a moment, your lips resting against her like they belonged there, then moved higher, burying your nose gently against the crook of her neck.

You nuzzled her, slow and affectionate, like you were breathing her in—like the scent of her skin, her warmth, the quiet strength she carried, was enough to steady your soul. Natasha let out the softest exhale, something closer to a sigh, her hand instinctively rising to rest over yours where it lay across her stomach.

Her walls didn’t fall all at once.

But they shifted.

Bit by bit, you were undoing her—not with force, but with love. Quiet, patient, steady love

.As you nuzzled into the soft curve of her neck, Natasha let out a slow breath, one hand rising to lightly curl around your wrist. Her voice came quiet—barely more than a whisper, like she didn’t want to break the spell.

“Where’s Ana…?”

You smiled against her skin, lips brushing her gently before you answered, your voice warm and full of affection.

“She was out like a light,” you murmured. “Didn’t even make it through the car ride. I tucked her into the crib—she’s sleeping like a little log, all bundled up in her blanket.”

Natasha exhaled a soft chuckle, the sound barely there but rich with relief.

You pulled back just enough to catch her eyes, brushing your knuckles along her cheek. “So tonight?” you added with a teasing smile, “You have my full, undivided attention. Every second of it.”

That earned you a look. Soft. Unreadable. But the corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly, the tiredness in her eyes replaced with something gentler.

You slid your hand into hers and guided her toward the couch. The moment she sat, you were already pouring her a glass of wine—her favorite kind, the one you always remembered.

She took it with a small nod of approval, swirling the liquid lazily in the glass before taking a sip. Her head leaned back with a quiet sound of satisfaction, the day melting off her shoulders.

Then she tugged at your wrist again, wordless and sure. You didn’t need an invitation—you curled into her side easily, letting her arm drape around you as you snuggled against her, your cheek pressing to her shoulder.

“This,” she murmured, almost like she was admitting a secret to herself. “This is what I was waiting for.”

You nestled deeper into her side, the wine glass balanced in her hand while her other arm stayed wrapped around you. The low light flickered across her face, casting soft shadows over her cheekbones, but her expression had softened into something that felt… private. Vulnerable. At ease.

Your hand slipped under her shirt—slowly, reverently—finding the warm skin just above her hip. You didn’t rush, didn’t push. You just stroked her in slow, affectionate circles with your fingertips, letting her body adjust to the intimacy not of passion, but of peace. Of being wanted like this. Of being held.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense. She simply breathed out, deeper this time, the kind of breath that meant home.

You shifted slightly, brushing your lips along her jawline, feather-light kisses tracing their way upward until you found the hollow just beneath her ear. You kissed her there too, the rhythm unhurried, almost reverent.

Natasha tilted her head ever so slightly, giving you access without a word. That small surrender said more than she ever could out loud.

She took another sip of wine, her fingers tightening slightly in your hair as she leaned her temple against yours.

“You’re dangerous,” she whispered finally, voice husky and low, not from seduction but from truth. “You make this feel so easy.”

You smiled into her skin, your hand continuing its slow, grounding motion against her waist. “It is easy,” you murmured, lips brushing her jaw again. “With you, it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Natasha didn’t answer, but her thumb began tracing small circles on your shoulder, mirroring the way you touched her—as if learning your rhythm in return. And in that quiet, in that warmth, the silence said everything.

You pulled back just a fraction, your fingers still lingering on her skin, and raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. “So, we’re not eating yet?” you asked, your voice laced with playful curiosity. “I mean, the Italian’s just sitting there, getting cold… but I guess I can let it slide if you’re not in the mood.”

She shifted just slightly, turning her head to catch your eyes, her gaze soft yet filled with a playful challenge. “Right now, I’m more in the mood for cuddles than anything else,” she said, her voice low and tired in the way that only came when she’d been running on fumes all day, but somehow it sounded like the most honest confession. “We can eat later.”

You couldn’t help but smile, that familiar warmth curling in your chest as you leaned in a little closer. “Oh, is that so?” you teased, your lips brushing the edge of her ear as you whispered. “And here I thought I was going to have to convince you to eat. But… if it’s cuddles you want…” You let the sentence trail off, your fingers making their slow journey back up her side, brushing the fabric of her shirt.

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips, but her face was still soft, relaxed. “Yeah, that’s right,” she murmured. “Cuddles. No distractions. Just us.”

You pretended to consider it for a second before leaning in just a little more, your lips now a breath away from her ear. “Hmm… So, you’re telling me you want me to just sit here, and you don’t want me to make sure you’re properly taken care of?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, a playful fire lighting in her gaze. “What are you implying?” she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

A smirk spread across your lips as you held her gaze, knowing full well where you were going with this. “Oh, I don’t know,” you began slowly, your hand now slipping just a bit lower, tracing the curve of her waist. “You’ve seen how I feed Ana. I could be your personal chef too, you know. Maybe you’d like that? I could feed you, just like I do with her. Spoon you some pasta, maybe?”

She let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking her head at you as she tried to suppress a smile. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, but her eyes softened, clearly entertained by the thought.

“Oh, I could make it happen,” you said, completely unphased by her teasing. “I’d even cut your food into little pieces and feed it to you bite by bite. Keep your hands free for… cuddling,” you added with a wink, your finger tapping her chin gently.

She rolled her eyes again, but this time she wasn’t able to keep the grin from breaking through. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You grinned back, leaning in to brush your lips over hers, just a light kiss, but one that lingered for a moment longer than usual. “I’m just saying, if you want me to treat you like I treat Ana, I’m happy to spoil you, too.”

Natasha let out a long, drawn-out sigh of mock exasperation, but her arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as she rested her head against your chest. “You’re impossible,” she murmured, her voice softened by the exhaustion that had been following her all day. “But, fine. Maybe you can feed me later. For now… just stay here with me.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against her hair. “Anything you want, babe,” you said softly, letting your hands find their place on her body again, just holding her as the moment wrapped around the two of you like a blanket.

The two of you stayed nestled together, your fingers tracing slow, invisible patterns over her skin—soft lines, gentle spirals that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Each touch was an unspoken expression of care, of reassurance, as if you were reminding her that, even in the stillness, you were there. The warmth between you both created a safe little world that wrapped itself around your hearts like a blanket, and for a moment, it felt as though nothing else existed.

Natasha finished her glass of wine, placing it on the coffee table with a soft clink that broke the silence, but only slightly. She sighed softly, her head still resting against your chest, feeling the rise and fall of your breath beneath her. Her body relaxed into yours, the tension of the day dissipating slowly, but there was something new in the air now—a shift that neither of you could quite pinpoint.

You paused your gentle movements, fingers hovering above her skin for a heartbeat longer than usual. The atmosphere in the room felt thicker now, a quiet anticipation hanging between you, pulling your thoughts into focus. It was time.

“Natasha…” Your voice was soft, hesitant, and she could feel the change, the weight of it pressing against her chest.

She tilted her head just slightly, her hand curling against yours as she looked up at you, eyes warm but attentive. “What is it?” Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her gaze.

You took a deep breath, the words feeling heavier than you thought they would. “I… I need to say something important. Something that will change everything for us.”

Her heartbeat shifted slightly beneath her ribs, her hand instinctively squeezing yours as she waited, her attention sharp, her usual warrior’s demeanor softened in the quiet of the moment.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice low, laced with a vulnerability you rarely let show. “I’m afraid of doing this… afraid of what it might do to us.” You paused, looking down into her eyes as if searching for some sign, any sign, that she was ready for this, that she wouldn’t pull away. “I’m scared because I don’t know what I’ll do if you… if you run away. I don’t know how to handle it if you decide I’m pushing you too hard, or if I make you feel trapped in some way.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed, a small flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she said nothing, simply letting you continue.

“I never want to pressure you, Natasha. I never want you to feel like you’re being forced into something you’re not ready for. But this… what we have—it’s more than just something to me. It’s everything.” Your voice broke for a moment, that rawness creeping through, the emotion you’d tried to keep at bay spilling over in the quietest of ways. “I just… I’m afraid. I want this to be real. I want us to be real. But I need to know that we’re on the same page. I need to know that you want this, that you’re not just here because it’s easy or because I’ve been too blind to see your hesitation.”

You paused, biting your lip slightly as your hand found her cheek, cupping it gently. “Please, just… don’t walk away from me, not when I’m starting to believe this could be everything I’ve always wanted.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just watched you with those unyielding eyes, but the weight of her gaze seemed to wrap itself around your heart in a way that was both comforting and terrifying.

Then, with a deep exhale, she spoke, her voice gentle but filled with that quiet understanding. “You think I’m going to run?” she asked, her tone soft but sharp with sincerity.

You nodded slowly, unable to mask the nervousness that lingered in your chest. “I don’t know what else to think. I… I don’t know how to balance this, the fear of losing you, with the need to tell you how I feel.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips, and she leaned forward just enough to press her forehead against yours, soft and slow, as if grounding you both in the moment. “You’re not going to lose me,” she said simply, her voice a steady anchor. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

You closed your eyes, letting her words wash over you. Her hands reached up to touch your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw, and it was like the whole world stopped in that one soft connection.

“But I can’t promise things won’t change,” Natasha continued, her eyes locking onto yours with a quiet, honest gaze. “I can’t tell you I won’t be scared too. But I’m here. And that’s what matters.”

You swallowed, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little. “I just needed to hear that.”

She smiled again, a little brighter now, and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “You have me. Just don’t worry so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words were quiet, but they held an unspoken promise. And for the first time in a long while, you felt the weight of your own fears begin to lift, even if just a little

The quiet that followed was heavy, but not in a burdensome way—it was the kind of silence that wrapped around the room like velvet, soft and full of meaning. You could hear the hum of the city outside, but it felt a thousand miles away. Natasha was still curled against you, her fingers absentmindedly brushing your arm, but your thoughts were no longer calm. They were storming in the most beautiful, terrifying way.

You sat up slowly, careful not to startle her, and then stood. Natasha blinked, looking up in confusion as her body instinctively followed your movement. But then you moved—slow, intentional—and lowered yourself to one knee in front of her. Her breath caught. Her lips parted. And she froze, just like that, staring down at you as if the world had slipped off its axis.

You held the ring box in your hand, but it stayed closed for now. Your eyes didn’t leave hers.

“Natasha,” you began, your voice trembling with everything you’d been holding in for too long, “I love you.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but the words never came. Her eyes were locked onto yours, wide, stunned, as you continued.

“I love all of you. The parts the world has seen. The ones they’ve judged. The ones they’ll never understand.” You took a breath, slow and shaking. “I love the fire in you, the way you stand unshaken when everything’s falling apart. I love the way you fight, not just in battle, but for people—for Ana, for me, for everyone who’s ever had the chance to be loved by you.”

Her chest rose slowly, her lips tightening as emotion began to blur her vision, but you weren’t done. Not yet.

“You’re brilliant. The smartest woman I’ve ever known. Strategic, sharp, deadly. You walk into a room and shift the balance of it without even trying. But when Ana cries, you drop everything, and you hold her like she’s your whole world. And she is, isn’t she?”

A tear slipped down Natasha’s cheek. She didn’t move to wipe it.

“I see the way she looks at you, Tasha. Like you hung the stars. But you know something else?” You swallowed, emotion clawing up your throat. “She looks at me that way too. Because you let me be part of her world. Because you let me in. And God, I don’t even know how to thank you for that.”

Her hand came up to her mouth now, covering her lips as the weight of your words hit her. Her shoulders trembled slightly, but she didn’t look away.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” you whispered. “Not just because of what you do. But who you are. When you stroke Ana’s hair while she’s falling asleep. When you cry in your sleep and bury your face in my chest and let yourself be small with me. When you don’t speak, but hum those lullabies under your breath just so your brain stays quiet. I see you, Natasha. All of you. And I still fall.”

Your hands opened the ring box slowly, revealing the simple, elegant band inside. Her eyes flicked down to it—and she audibly gasped.

“I don’t want you to be just my girlfriend,” you said, your voice now thick and raw. “That word—it doesn’t come close to what you mean to me. I want you to be my fiancée. I want to skip that middle step because it feels too small for us. I want to wake up every day knowing I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you how deeply I love you.”

The silence that followed was devastating and breathtaking all at once. Natasha’s face had completely crumbled, her lips trembling, her breath shallow, her eyes spilling quiet tears. She looked at you like you were breaking her open—in the most healing, impossible way.

You held the ring toward her with a trembling hand. “Will you marry me, Natasha Romanoff?”

She didn’t speak. She just stared at you for a long moment, then slowly brought her hand to her chest, as if trying to physically hold herself together. And then she nodded. Slowly at first. Then fiercely, with a choked laugh through her tears.

“Yes,” she whispered, the word so soft you could’ve missed it.

But you didn’t.

You rose slowly, carefully, your fingers still trembling as you slipped the ring onto her finger. She looked down at it in disbelief, her hands shaking, then reached for you with sudden urgency, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you down into her, kissing you through laughter, through tears, through every wall that had ever tried to stand between you.

The kiss lingered—not rushed, not fiery, but slow and trembling, the kind that reached down into bone and stayed there. Natasha clung to you like her life depended on it, one hand buried in your hair, the other pressed against your lower back as if anchoring herself in the moment. You could feel her pulse racing beneath her skin, her breath stuttering between kisses, her body shaking not from fear, but from sheer, unfiltered emotion. It was rare to see her like this—unguarded, unraveling, but safe.

When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, her forehead rested against yours. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes still damp, and she gave a tiny, broken laugh that made your heart clench.

“I was not ready for that,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “You ambushed me.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against hers. “You’re a master spy, Romanoff. If I can ambush you, then I’ve earned the right to keep you.”

She let out a shaky breath, that little upward pull of her lips returning—but softer, quieter, the kind of smile she gave only when she felt completely, painfully vulnerable. “God,” she murmured, almost to herself, “I never thought someone would want this… not for a lifetime.”

“I want you,” you said, firm and low, your hand coming to rest over her heart. “Not the legend. Not the assassin. Not the perfect mom. Just you. The woman who watches documentaries about space at three in the morning. The woman who cries when she thinks no one can hear. The one who hums lullabies she doesn’t remember learning. That’s who I want to grow old with.”

Her eyes opened again, blinking through tears. “I’m so scared,” she admitted, barely above a breath. “You’re so young. You could have anyone. You could still change your mind.”

You cupped her face with both hands now, firm and warm. “I don’t want anyone else. I can’t imagine waking up next to anyone else. I choose you. Every single day. Even when you’re grumpy. Even when you push me away. Even when the world tries to pull you back into old ghosts. I will choose you.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and she closed her eyes again, the weight of your words washing over her like a wave she didn’t even try to fight. She leaned into your hands, into your love, as if some part of her still couldn’t believe it was real.

You kissed her again—soft, reverent—then guided her gently to sit with you on the couch. She nestled into your side, her legs tangled with yours, her hand clutching yours tightly as if afraid you might vanish if she let go.

“I don’t know how to be a fiancée,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, more contemplative than unsure.

“That’s okay,” you said, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know either. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

She turned her head slightly, resting her cheek against your shoulder. “I’m going to mess up.”

“So will I.”

“You’ll get tired of me.”

“I won’t.”

She looked up at you, her expression so open it nearly broke you. “Promise?”

You kissed her gently, pressing your lips to the corner of her mouth like a vow. “I promise. Every day. Every night. Every breath. You and Ana… you’re my home, Natasha. There’s no version of my future without you in it.”

Her chest rose and fell in a deep, shaking breath, and finally… finally… she relaxed. Completely. The last pieces of armor she had left seemed to fall quietly to the floor, leaving behind only Natasha—raw, trembling, loved.

She leaned her head back against your shoulder, lifting her hand to admire the ring through glistening eyes. A soft, wistful smile tugged at her lips.

“Damn it,” she whispered. “I never thought I’d get this.”

You held her tighter. “You deserve more than this. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Outside, the city went on—unaware, uncaring—but inside this tiny apartment, two broken souls had found each other in the rubble, and built something beautiful from it.

The silence between you stretched again, not heavy this time, but shimmering—thick with meaning, with emotion neither of you had words for yet. Natasha’s head rested on your shoulder, her hand still delicately gripping yours, her thumb tracing lazy lines over your knuckles. The ring on her finger caught the light—a soft gleam of diamond and sapphire—and her breath hitched when she looked at it again, as if it reminded her that this was real. That she hadn’t just dreamed it.

She pulled away just enough to look at you fully.

And then, with her voice trembling, she whispered, “I love you.”

You blinked, stunned for a second—not because you didn’t know, not because you hadn’t felt it in every gesture, every stolen glance, every sigh against your chest at night—but because hearing it out loud from her, this woman carved from shadow and survival, was something else entirely.

“I love you,” she said again, firmer now, like she needed you to believe it. Her eyes shimmered, green glass pooling over with tears. “Not in some fragile, half-hearted way. I love you with every part of me I never thought could still feel. With every part that forgot how to be soft.”

Your lips parted, the lump rising in your throat cutting off your breath, your thoughts, everything.

She reached for your face, her palm brushing against your cheek, her thumb catching the tear that had just started to fall. “You broke through walls I forgot I even had up,” she continued, her voice trembling. “You made me feel safe without asking me to be small. You loved Ana without asking anything in return. You let me be me—not Black Widow, not some haunted mess of a woman… just Natasha. And I never thought anyone would love her.”

Tears ran freely down your cheeks now, your vision blurring, your body shaking. She kept wiping them away with trembling fingers, but it didn’t matter—you were crying, both of you were, in this fragile, raw, unguarded moment that neither of you could’ve prepared for, but both of you desperately needed.

“I was afraid,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “Terrified. That this wouldn’t last. That you’d wake up one day and realize I’m too heavy, too broken. That someone younger, softer, less… haunted would come along and you’d go.”

“I would never,” you managed to say, voice cracking.

“I know,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against yours, noses brushing. “I know. But it still scares me. Because you matter that much.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, breathing each other in, tears mingling quietly between kisses that weren’t about passion, but presence. Kisses that said I’m here. I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.

You reached for the small velvet box that had been resting on the couch and opened it again, your own ring sitting there—simple, elegant, with delicate green peridots set into the band like stardust. Natasha gently took it from the box with shaking hands and slid it onto your finger, her own breath faltering as she did.

You smiled through tears, and then it was your turn. You picked up hers—the one you’d chosen so carefully—the central diamond catching the warm glow of the apartment lights, flanked by the two deep sapphires. A past. A future. And a present that gleamed like a promise.

Your fingers trembled as you slid it onto hers, and she watched every motion with eyes full of awe, reverence, disbelief.

“It’s really happening,” she murmured, as if saying it would anchor it into reality.

You looked at her through watery eyes, heart bursting at the seams. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It is.”

And then she leaned forward, slow and deliberate, and kissed you—deep and slow and forever. The world had fallen away. The only thing that existed now was the soft hush of your apartment, the glow of warm lamplight casting gentle shadows on the walls, and the steady rhythm of Natasha’s breath against your chest. Her weight on you was grounding, like gravity had chosen to settle in the shape of her body. Her legs tangled lazily with yours, her cheek resting just above your heart, and her fingers—those calloused, deadly, impossibly gentle fingers—were laced with yours.

She lifted your joined hands slowly, letting them hover just above her face as she looked at them. The rings caught the low light and shimmered, side by side, like matching vows made metal. Her eyes softened as she stared at them—your delicate band of peridots nestled in gold, and her ring, bold and graceful with its diamond and twin sapphires.

“I still can’t believe it,” she whispered, voice thick with wonder. “They look… real. Like this actually happened.”

You smiled and kissed the top of her head, your fingers squeezing hers. “It did.”

She studied your ring a moment longer, brows drawing together in curiosity. “Why peridots?” she asked, tilting her head just enough to look up at you. “I mean… it’s beautiful. But I wanna know what you were thinking.”

You hesitated, just a second, brushing your thumb across her knuckles before answering. “Because they remind me of your eyes. Not just the color… the way they glow when you’re calm. When you’re watching Ana sleep. When you’re at peace. There’s this light in you, Nat… something soft and green and alive, even after everything. I wanted it close to me.”

She went quiet, lips parting just slightly. Her eyes fluttered closed for a beat, and when they opened again they were glistening.

“And Ana’s eyes too,” you added gently, pressing a kiss to her temple. “When I see the ring, I see both of you.”

Natasha didn’t speak for a moment, and you felt her body press closer, her hand gripping yours like it hurt to let go. Her throat bobbed with emotion as she stared at your ring again. “You’re a sap,” she murmured, her voice cracking just a little.

You smiled. “Yeah. But only for you.”

She laughed softly, and then turned her gaze toward her own ring, letting her thumb trace the edge of the diamond, then the sapphires flanking it. “Okay, in mine. Why sapphires?”

You shifted just enough to look down at her, your voice quieter now. “Because sapphires are about truth. Loyalty. Protection. They’re ancient—some of the oldest stones on Earth. They’re strong. Fierce. Just like you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at her lips. “So I’m carrying a gemstone legacy on my hand now?”

You leaned in, your nose brushing her hair as you chuckled. “Exactly.”

She looked back at the ring, still stunned, still somehow disbelieving. Then, with a crooked smile and a shake of her head, she muttered, “Why am I so sure I’m carrying a fortune on my finger?”

“Because you are,” you said without hesitation, your voice suddenly quieter, more reverent. “But not just in gems.”

Her smile faltered, lips trembling, and she buried her face against your chest again.

And in that moment—wrapped up together, rings gleaming, bodies intertwined and hearts unguarded—there was no past. No mission. No Red Room. No fear.

Eventually, the pull to move became too gentle to ignore. Not rushed, not urgent—just the quiet desire to be even closer. You both rose from the couch hand in hand, still wrapped in the softest silence, and made your way to the bedroom, the food already forgotten on the table. There were no words exchanged, no need. Just the unspoken rhythm between two hearts that had finally said what they’d been holding in for so long.

The shower was slow and warm, steam curling around your bodies like a cocoon. Fingers traced over skin not with hunger, but with reverence—soapy touches turning to quiet caresses, washing away the weight of everything that had come before. Water dripped from her hair as she leaned her forehead to yours, smiling in that quiet, content way she only ever did with you. You ran your hands down her back, held her close, and she just let herself be held.

When you emerged, you were both damp and glowing, wrapped in soft towels and softer smiles. Natasha pulled you into bed without hesitation, her arms instinctively curling around your waist, your legs tangled up beneath the sheets as if they’d always belonged that way.

She rested her head on your shoulder, one hand on your stomach, and you traced slow, loving circles on her spine. The only sound was the soft whirr of the fan above, and your breaths syncing into a shared lullaby. Her fingers found yours again under the blanket, twisting together, rings catching the moonlight that spilled faintly through the window.

There were no more confessions needed. No more questions. Just the weight of her against you, the smell of her damp hair, the solid truth of the rings on your fingers and the unspoken vow between your hearts.

And in that quiet, sacred stillness—wrapped in warmth, love, and the life you were building together—you both finally rested.

Not as a spy and her secret.

Not as a single mother and a girl who wandered in.

But as fiancées.

As home

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godmadeaterribleerror · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 4 - You Bleed Like Me

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Starting a tradition for my long series when chapter 4 is just love interest bonding. Enjoy!

Chapter title from clementine by Halsey

Word Count: 16.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have an arrangement. Usual warnings, extra graphic violence warning.

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

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Read on A03!

“This doesn’t really seem like an us case, De-“

“There are us cases?”

She glared up at Dean, her eyes narrowed. “Yes. And this isn’t one.”

“Why not?” He propped his elbows on the table, smirking at Her as he picked up his burger. “What’s an us case, sweetheart? So I know what I should be looking for-“

She snorted. “You’re full of shit, Winchester.”

“Oh, yeah, but that’s not going to get you out of this.” Dean took a large bite, grinning at Her expectantly, and she sighed.

“It’s something that goes fast. That’s strange enough to be interesting, but not dangerous enough that, if one of us has to go early, the other is left dead in the water. And it should play off of our strengths, to make it easier.”

“Huh.” Dean swallowed his food, watching Her carefully. “What’s my strength?”

She gave him an amused look. “What do you think your strength is?”

“I think it’s my huge, thick, throbbing…” He leaned forward, wigging his brows. “Brain.”

Her bright eyes rolled, but Dean didn’t miss the way there was no venom behind her annoyed groan, or how her lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “You proud of that one?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, shooting Her a wink. “What do you think it is?”

She hummed, tilting Her head at him. “You want the honest answer, or the flattering one?”

Dean frowned. “Both?”

“Cool. You’re the face.”

“I’m…” Dean trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m the face?”

“Uh huh.” She grinned at him, poking Her own food with a plastic fork. “You get us in the door, so I can do all the work.”

“You do not do all the work-“

She gave him a flat look. “Who’s higher up on the kill scoreboard?”

“You. But,” he pointed an accusing finger at Her. “Only because I’ve have to leave early for the past three hunts.”

“And I’m up by nine, dumb dumb.” She sat up a little straighter, pride written all over her gorgeous face, and it made Dean feel all soft and gooey. “And that’s exactly why I should get to veto this hunt-“

Dean clicked his tongue, not even trying to fight his smile. “We’ll get back to this hunt in a second, sweetheart, you need to explain the face thing.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I already did-“

“Well, was that the flattering one or the honest one? Cause if it’s the honest one, you need to start appreciating me more-“

“I appreciate you plenty.” She snapped, flushing slightly. “And that was the flattering one.”

“Alright, what’s the honest one?”

“I’m not telling you.”

Dean gave Her his best puppy-dog eyes—nothing compared to Sammy’s, but he was getting better, at least with Her—and a pout that he hoped made him look adorable and not constipated. “C’mon, I can take it-“

“No. You’ll have to earn it.”

He scowled. “How the hell am I supposed to earn it-“

“Good question.” She gave him a teasing grin, Her eyelashes fluttering slightly, and Dean’s pout turned a little more real as warmth settled in his gut. “But that does sound like a you problem, Deano.”

Dean leaned back in his seat, rolling his eyes. “You suck.”

“I know.” Her smile grew, lips full and wide and slightly parted and fuck, Dean wanted her to suck on them- “You’re still here, though.”

“I am.” Dean stomped down his pathetic, unreasonable need for Her and took another bite of his burger. “But that’s just cause I don’t know how to leave, Princess.”

She flipped him off, returning the conversation to the hunt, and Dean wasn’t sure if the flash in Her eyes was from amusement or hurt. It shouldn’t be hurt. He hadn’t meant to hurt Her. He never wanted to hurt Her, it always made him feel ill. Hell, it had been three years since the poltergeist—three years since he’d seen real, pure hatred for him on Her pretty face—and Her expression before she stormed out of the bar was still shifting like ash inside that pit in Dean’s body, reminding him what a piece of fucking shit he was. He’d never apologized for that. He wasn’t sure how he would, because that would require a longer conversation to explain himself, where he finally demanded answers for what Dad had found on Her during the moroi hunt.

And he wasn’t fucking strong enough to have that conversation. Not now. Not when he finally had Her in the loosest possible way, and he didn’t want to screw it up. Didn’t want to open his mouth and poke and prod Her—demand more than he deserved to have—until she left him, like everyone else did. Dean would not whine about his feelings like a little girl. Not when he knew it would drive his only friend away. Not when it would ruin whatever this was with Her.

He wasn’t really sure what this actually was, but he knew it was something. Friendship seemed to be the easiest thing to call it, but there was more than that. It was over a year of meeting up for hunts, hanging out a little while after—laying on a bed or sitting on the floor or leaning across a table—before parting with grins and promises to call and meet up again. And they always did. There were always weeks where Dad was away, Dean was left alone, and he’d kill that time with Her. With another case that they handled together, as a team, and another week of falling into this enigma of a woman he couldn’t avoid if he tried.

Because there had been truth in the joke that he didn’t know how to leave. He’d tried. He’d gotten messages for hunts that were a little further away from his motel then was smart, and still gone to meet Her because it was Her. It was a chance to see Her and talk to her and watch her move through the world as if it had been designed for Her. The idea that Dean was the face was baffling, because She was the one who turned heads wherever they went. Backwater dive bars and small farm towns, crowded cities when they walked down the street and roadside diners where they met up, fancy gated communities where people made odd faces at Dean because they could see that he didn’t belong, but smiled at Her because she was meant to be there. She was beautiful, walked with a purpose—Her steps certain, her chin raised high—and said every word like it was a privilege to hear her voice.

And dammit, it was. In the weeks between seeing Her, Dean would be haunted by her voice. It hadn’t stopped following him into dreams, but now it surrounded him on the wind. Every other voice sounded crude and grating compared to Her’s, to the point that Dean had to tune out every woman he slept with, because their moans were like chalk screeching and scraping on his ears.

He’d started to imagine Her moans. When Dad was gone, and She wasn’t available for a hunt—too far across the country or busy with something else She didn’t need Dean for, although nobody ever really needed Dean for anything—he would wrap his hand around his cock and lose his mind to her in the dark. He thought, if She did moan for him, She’d say his name and smile at him, looking at him like he was the only person in the whole universe. And the longer he indulged those fantasies, the more they spiraled out of control. He had to fuck women on their stomachs, because it was easier to pretend that it was Her beneath him. He’d started to fucking look for chicks that had similar features to Her at bars, started to smell them like a goddamn creep, because if there was a fruity smell it turned him on all the more.

But even when there was, it wasn’t Her smell. None of them were ever exactly like Her, not enough for Dean to find real satisfaction. Their hair was the right texture, but not as shiny. Their eyes were the same color, but they weren’t bright. They seemed passionate, but they didn’t seem like the universe. She was the universe. She was bigger than the universe. She was some sort of ethereal royalty sent to test Dean’s self-control, all laughter and teasing and sharp words in a siren voice, pulling Dean into Her orbit without ever letting him collide.

And that wasn’t something friends were supposed to feel about friends. Which was the more part. Dean wanted more. He wanted Her under him, against him, around him, his skin slapping on Her’s until she moaned and Her smile became blissful and calm. He wanted to pull her into a long kiss until she sighed his name, wanted to have an excuse to see Her that didn’t involve death or blood, wanted to know everything about Her until he either held Her for as long as she’d allow or he found a reason to hate Her again.

Because so far, he wasn’t really having much luck on that last thing. He couldn’t work out how to ask what the hell was up with Her family—her past, her lies, or the way She seemed to shut down at odd moments—without ruining this. And he really didn’t want to ruin this. Even without that more, even without the explanation, this was good. This was the sole constant in Dean’s life. She was the only person who looked at Dean and saw him, the only person who didn’t seem sick of him, the only person he sat with in silence without ever feeling the need to speak.

Dean wanted to know every fucking thing about Her—beautiful, horrible, and twisted—but he also refused to be the one to fuck a good thing up. If She felt the same blinding, consuming pull to Dean that he felt to Her she would’ve mentioned it by now, because son of a bitch it was impossible to ignore. Dean had to spend active effort in Her presence to not touch her, to not blurt that she was the hottest woman he’d ever seen, to not pick Her up and fold her into his chest or fall to his knees and wrap his arms around Her waist, pleading with Her to just stay all the time.

He was pathetic. She was awesome. And he’d have to be insane to mention the pull, because She’d look at him like he was worthless and horrible for even thinking he could ever deserve to be the one she allowed protect her, then he’d be alone again.

It didn’t stop him from imaging a world where he was allowed to be Her knight. Be Her dark, following Her like a shadow and pulling her apart where only he was allowed to see. Which was, again, insane. But Dean had already lost his mind to Her enough.

Because he’d been lying. To Dad.

Dad didn’t have a clue Dean was doing this. Worse, Dean had no plans to tell him. And Dean fucking sucked for lying to Dad when all Dad did was help and protect him, but Dad was also stronger and smarter than Dean, and knew how not to fall for Her entrancing smile and words and face. Dad knew how to hate Her, and Dean didn’t really want to see the disappointment on his face when he found out how Dean would actively look for cases to work with Her, call Her whenever he could, and take any excuse to be in Her presence.

Dean didn’t need the extra shame, because it already flailed around that pit inside of him and ate at his bones. He didn’t need to be reminded of how easily this arrangement with Her could come crashing down, because the thought had been buried deep in his skull, but still managed to worm out whenever he was really, truly alone. Whenever he’d cum in his hand to the thought of Her, or squeeze his eyes shut to imagine that she was the one under him, and then realize was a perverted asshole he was. Whenever She’d look at him too long and he’d wonder if she was seeing that pit inside of him, seeing how hollow and disgusting he was, how he was never fully able to wash the mud off his skin to match the way She seemed to glow. If She was realizing that no matter what lies or tricks she pulled on Dean, he was so worthless that he’d always fall for her, so he wasn’t worth her time.

Even now, in a white tile food court of a florescent mall, She looked a flower growing in a junkyard. Not out of place, but strange. Too beautiful for a place where anything could be, too delicate and natural for anywhere at all. And She wasn’t delicate, but she was something a little to the side of it. She didn’t flinch at blood, and she didn’t balk at challenge, but She didn’t belong at Dean’s side. She was worth more than that. Worth more than the way he wore out everything around him.

And he hoped She never realized that.

Because he was a selfish piece of shit.

“I just think this case is too big.” She was watching Dean with a hesitant gaze, fidgeting with Her own fingers. “We don’t have any real leads, except this,” She made a loose gesture around the mall. “Is the epicenter. No connections between the vics, and most of them aren’t even from this town, which mean no feuds. There’re no connections between the ways they’re dying, either, and no reported odd events-”

“I’d call five random deaths an odd event-“

“But nobody’s ever died at this mall before.” She propped Her chin on her hand, a small, pretty frown on her face. “Which means it’s not a vengeful spirit, and that’s the only thing that would make sense here.”

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, putting down his burger. “It’s a puzzle! Which mean it’ll feel so much more awesome when we solve it, right?”

“What if we don’t solve it? What if this is above our pay grade?”

“Nothing’s above our pay grade, Princess, we don’t get paid-“

She rolled Her eyes. “You know what I mean. These deaths are violent, random, and without any sort of monster or spirit MO. Hearts stay in the chests, no blood drained from the body, no EMF or temperature drops. Nothing.”

“So we’ll find something.”

“What if we don’t.”

“We will.” Dean grinned at Her, leaning a little forward. “That’s your strength, sweetheart. You’re the puzzle master.”

She snorted. “Puzzle master implies I create the puzzles, Deano. Not solve them.”

“Whatever.” He waved Her off, holding her gaze. “Still your strength.”

“If it’s my strength, why did you say we’ll find something-“

“Because that’s how teams work,” Dean drawled Her name with a smirk. “One person does all the work, and the other,” he gestured to himself, puffing out his chest slightly. “Gives the presentation. That’s my strength, right? I’m the face and the muscle?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

Dean raised his brows. “Really?”

“Nope. And I’m not telling you.”

He frowned. “Would you tell me if I guessed right?”

“Probably not,” She hummed, glancing around the food court with a frown, then looking back to Dean. “Do you really think we can handle this case?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, watching Her carefully. “I think we’ve got this, Princess. We’re gonna kick ass.”

She hummed, and Dean could read the hesitation behind Her eyes. Clouding over the usual light, Her brain obviously spinning as she weighed whatever doubts she had against Dean’s faith that they could handle this.

He hoped they weren’t doubts against him. He always fucking worried She’d get sick of dumbing herself down to his level, of slowing Her pace to match his. This case was right up Her ally—Dean knew how much She loved weird shit—but it wasn’t up Dean’s. Hell, he didn’t even have an alley, he just fought whatever he was pointed at. He knew he was only here because She allowed him to be, because She had, for some unexplainable reason, decided that Dean didn’t get in Her way like other hunters did.

He didn’t think that was true. And this was evidence of it.

But She still sighed and nodded, and Dean felt something tight around his lungs go slack.

“Fine.” She said, running a hand through her hair. Dean wished She’d let him do that. “How long have I got you for?”

Dean blinked at Her. “I, uh, what?”

“For the hunt.” She raised Her brows, giving him an odd look. “How long until your Dad is expecting you back?”

“Oh.” Dean felt his face heat slightly, and prayed She hadn’t caught how he’d short-circuited at the thought of Her having him. “Uh, Dad’s in Arizona, so at least a week and a half with the drive back.”

“Okay,” She ran Her thumb over that scar on her palm, her brow furrowed in thought. “Then I’ll give us a week to get it ourselves, but if we don’t get it by then, or the deaths get out of hand, we call in backup. Deal?”

“Sure, but-” Dean frowned. “Backup? You have backup?”

“You’re not the only one who knows other hunters, Deano.” She shrugged, shooting Dean a teasing grin that didn’t help him collect himself at all. “Let’s get moving, we’ve got some investigating to do.”

Dean muttered an agreement, shoving the rest of his burger into his mouth in one movement, and tried not to let the sore thought of who the fuck else does She know circle around his skull as he stood up. Dean wasn’t Her keeper or guard or partner. He wasn’t Her anything. He didn’t have a right to get pissed off and possessive over the very idea that She might think there were other hunters she’d want to handle this. Hunters She’d chose over Dean. Hunters She’d trust over Dean.

He could handle this. He could prove to Her that he could handle this. He could focus, and be serious, and work this case until they solved it—together, not just Her being cool and smart and Dean trailing in Her wake—so that She’d never worry about needing backup again.

Dean reminded himself as he watched Her comb over the mall map—Her nose adorably scrunched in thought and her tongue tracing over her slightly parted lips—that She only hunted with him. She might know other hunters, but Dean was the only one She sought out for cases. The only one She asked to work with her.

He was pretty sure he was the only one. She might be lying about that, but he didn’t think She was. She was still lying about Her past—Dean had only tried to learn more with careful, casual questions, but she always kept Her answers vague, and Dean didn’t know how to flat out ask—but he’d grown less and less certain that She was, in any way, a manipulative bitch. She’d gotten uncomfortable stealing a pencil from a diner once. That didn’t scream master thief and con woman, and Dean couldn’t understand how what Dad had showed him was the same person before him. Especially because everything She did say about her past seemed to be true. Most everything she said, ever, seemed to be true, despite Dean’s direct knowledge that should tell him it wasn’t.

But he’d developed a sense for when She was lying. Something would scratch at his head and he’d know that She did care that he was leaving a case early, She did think Dean’s joke was funny, and She didn’t actually care about cars, but She did want to hear Dean talk about them.

Which clashed with what Dad had told him all the more. Dad had repeatedly painted a picture of a spoiled brat, who didn’t care about people like them. That’s what he’d said when She left after the poltergeist. That Dean couldn’t have expected her to stay, because She’d never be able to even pretend to give a shit about people she saw as lower than Her. But then She’d watch Dean with an unwavering attention and soft amusement as he told Her about cowboys and cars and other stuff she obviously didn’t give a fuck about, but listened without ever complaining or trying to shut him up.

She seemed like that with almost everyone. Dean conducted the interviews at Her side—moving through store after store to ask about the various deaths—and watched Her look at everyone with a similar open, gentle interest in what they told her. At the Radio Shack a tall man with long, ratty hair somehow ended up talking about how his wife loved those solve the crime shows, saying that she would be thrilled he got to act as a witness, and She let out an intoxicating, sweet laugh before telling the man that, while She wasn’t a fan of those shows herself, she’d once been thrilled to be let into a big house like the one in the Sound of Music, so she understood. She said Her dad had to threaten to leave because they were the for work, and She shouldn’t be singing on the staircase.

Dean had frowned for a brief second after, because She should’ve been raised in a big house.

“Did you do the dancing too?” He asked as they walked out of the store, leaning down to mutter in Her ear. “On the staircase?”

She nodded. “Oh yeah. I even got to go back and do a different song after he was done with the case.”

Dean blinked. “Your dad let you do that?”

“His idea.” She looked back to give Dean an easy, mind-numbing smile. “He’ll never admit it, but he enjoyed it more than I did. He said I was big screen talented.”

She wasn’t lying. He didn’t get that story at all—not only the house thing, but Her dad letting her waste time on something pointless, let alone enjoying it—but She wasn’t lying, so Dean’s returning grin was wide.

“You think you’ll ever sing for me, Princess?”

“I don’t sing in front of people.”

“You just said you sang for your dad-“

“I’d kill someone for my dad.” She shrugged, waving Dean off with a casual hand. “He doesn’t count.”

“You wound me,” Dean mock-whined Her name, and She wrinkled her nose at him. “You wouldn’t kill someone for me?”

She hummed. “Night’s young.”

Dean’s heart almost stumbled to a halt as She just kept moving, and he had to physically shake himself to jumpstart his brain. She wouldn’t kill for him, or sing for him, but the night was young. Dean could jog after Her and walk by her side with the hope of being important enough to Her—Dean would like to be important to anybody, but being important to Her would be awesome—that she’s kill for him. That She’d sing for him.

Walking at Her side, though, was just as awfully simple as speaking to Her. Just as contradictory to everything about Her Dean was supposed to hate. He knew that already—from hunting and walking with Her for a year—but the force of that fact still shocked him. The person Dad said She was wouldn’t toss strangers genuine smiles as they passed each other in the crowd. Those smiles wouldn’t be softer for children, wide regardless of if people smiled back, and somehow bigger when aimed at Dean. She wouldn’t smile at Dean in the crowd like he was the only one she was truly happy to see. She wouldn’t walked so close to him, and look around the world as it parted for Her like it might cave in just as fast.

The person Dean should hate wouldn’t look so entranced by the dirty, loud mall around Her. Wouldn’t watch everyone with a fasciation that didn’t seem to come from watching animals in a zoo—caged and lower, made only for Her amusement—but like they were beautiful. Like She was water in a bottle watching the river flow, and longer to be a part of it.

Hanging out with Her was making Dean smarter. He wasn’t even sure what that meant, but it sounded pretty. And it felt right. That was how She watched people laugh with each other, how She looked at the clothing in the stores, and how She stared at all the little pastries in the bakery.

“Do you want one?”

She looked up at Dean with wide eyes, shaking Her head with a nervous laugh. “No, I’m- I don’t need one.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s food, ‘course you need one. C’mon, we can get one of the small ones, they’re like, two bucks-“

“Dean, I’m fine.” Her voice was firm, Her back a little straighter, and Dean frowned. She had called him Dean. That meant she was serious.

“Whatever,” he shrugged it off, watching Her carefully as he continued. “I’ll get one, I’m fucking starving-“

“You just had a burger-“

“Two hours ago,” Dean drawled Her name, lowering down to examine the display case. “I’m gonna get that one, it looks like a tiny pie-“

“This isn’t going to work, Winchester.” She snapped, and Dean glanced up to see Her glaring down at him, arms folded over her chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.“

“This.” She made a circling gesture over Dean’s hunched body. “You can’t guilt me into splitting one with you.”

Dean grinned at Her. “I’m not trying to guilt anyone-“

“Good. Because it’s not working.”

“Yeah, I don’t care, cause I’m not trying to do anything.” Dean turned back to the display, flagging down the chick behind the counter to grab four of those awesome mini pies, ignoring Her glare behind him. “You got something you wanna say, Princess?”

He could easily picture Her glare deepening. “Why’d you get four.”

“I’m a growing boy.”

She snorted. “You’re twenty-five.”

“Well, you’re not a doctor. I could grow some more.” Dean turned with his bag in hand, guiding Her out of the shop—they’d already decided it was a dead end, and Dean had pies to eat and a point to prove—with a smirk. “Never know.”

“I do know.” She mumbled. “You won’t.”

“Not if you don’t believe in yourself. That mindset, you’ll never get anywhere in life-“

“Shut up.”

Dean tossed the first mini pie into his mouth. “Bossy-“

“I’ll hit you, Winchester.”

He winked at Her, speaking through his half-chewed mouthful. “Promise?”

He dodged Her kick to his shins, only to fall right onto Her elbow in his gut, spluttering up some of his pie.

“Shit!” She grabbed his arm to steady him, Her eyes wide. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to get you that bad-“

“Nah, ’s fine.” Dean dusted himself off, pulling himself back to full height, giving Her his best winning smile. “You warned me, that one’s a freebie.”

“I’m still sorry-“

“Don’t be.” He winked at Her. “I’m careful, sweetheart. That’s why I got four.”

She flushed, mumbling another apology, and Dean really didn’t care. He still had three pies, She was adorable when she was embarrassed, and it was kinda funny. He’d spat that up like a cartoon.

He did only get two of those pies, but that was because he won the previous argument, so all was right in the world. Dean made it through his first whole one with dramatic and vulgar sounds of pleasure, watching Her scowl at the air, then flush, then start to glance at Dean with hungry eyes.

He was unable to hide the smug glee in his voice when he raised his brows at Her.

“Hey, Princess.”

She glared at him, Her lips in a pretty pout, and Dean’s smirk grew as he dug around through the bag, pulled out one of the pies, and offered it to Her.

She looked between Dean and the pie, snatched it like She was worried it was a bomb set to go off, and marched away as she shoved it in Her mouth.

Dean didn’t understand Her at all.

He didn’t really care.

Most of the stores were dead end leads—everyone they interviewed not able to mention anything strange about the mall or off about their store the day before someone was literally murdered in it—so they ended up fucking around more than any two hunters on a case probably should. Dean was cracking more jokes than Dad would usually allow, but She was a receptive audience, and Her giggle was like lightning through Dean’s blood. She kept watching everything with that same fasciation, and the pie had seemed to open some sort of dam in Her as the afternoon crept on. She spent the half the time in Yankee Candle smelling things, inspected over the stuffed animals in a toy store like she was choosing a counsel, and spent so long starting at books in Barnes and Noble that Dean decided it was fine for him to take an hour in the vinyl store.

“Of course you like vinyl.”

Dean frowned at Her. “Yeah, I’m not a freakin’ heathen-“

“I know.” She said the words simply, like they were obvious, and Dean felt something hum happily in his chest, just to the right of his heart. “But it’s been an hour, De, and I know for a fact you already have that album as a cassette tape-“

“It’s about appreciating art, Princess.” Dean shrugged Her off, turning back to the shelves. “You can head out whenever you want. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

She scowled, but didn’t leave. She stayed right at Dean’s side, even asking him a few questions about the albums and not acting like She regretted it when his answers were long and detailed. She scanned over the store with a small, thoughtful furrow in Her brow as Dean spoke, but he knew She was listening because then she’d ask fucking follow up questions. She must have been looking for a clue or lead, because halfway through talking about Metallica She grabbed his arm and dragged him to a corner of the store, crouching down to run a hand over a crack in the wall, and looked up at Dean with a sigh.

“Sorry, I thought I-“ She shook her head, frowning at the crack. “Never mind.”

“You thought it was something for the case?” Dean dropped at Her side, not really caring to examine the crack. It was a plaster wall, there were going to be cracks and he didn’t really think it was anything at all.

But She had. And Dean always wanted to know why she thought something.

“I’m not sure, I just-” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, twisting a ring on Her finger. “I don’t know.”

Dean frowned. Lie. “Don’t know what.”

“What we’re looking for.” She muttered, her voice lined with frustration. Truth. “I don’t have a fucking clue, De, and I don’t like it. I mean, we can interview the victims’ families again, but they’re all different demographics, and I don’t- I don’t know-“

Dean said Her name cautiously, placing his hand on Her back, but She just kept talking.

“I don’t know, this, it feels bad.”

He frowned. “Yeah, it’s a bunch of gruesome murders-“

“No, I mean- I know you can’t- Only I- It’s just bad. It’s really bad and I can, I can feel- it’s like-” She sighed, slumping slightly into Dean’s touch, which made him feel like he was flying. “It’s wrong, Dean. It’s dark.”

Dean didn’t have a goddamn clue what She was talking about, or why She was watching the crack like it might spread up and collapse the building, but She looked really worried. He’d never seen that on Her before, and it felt like a blaring alarm in his chest, demanding Dean listen to Her. That he fix this.

“Look, Princess, I’m not sure what you’re talking about-“

“I know. I sound insane.”

“Yeah, you do, but-“ He offered Her a small grin, even though her attention was still fixed on the crack. “We’ve still got a few more stores to go, and we’re going to find something. No funny business on our watch, right?”

“No, but,” Her tongue peeked out between her lips as she let out a long breath. Dean wanted to pull it between his teeth. “This… I don’t really want to know what it is.” She finally looked to Dean, and there was something nervous in Her eyes that made his whole body tight.

“We can’t just give up,” Dean said Her name carefully, rubbing his hand in a careful circle. “We deal in the nasty and bad, that’s the job-“

“I’m not saying we give up, De.” She mumbled. “We’re going to fix this, but I’m saying I really don’t like this. I can’t describe why, but I don’t, and maybe we should call in the backup now-“

Dean shook his head. “You promised me a week-“

“I know, I’m just saying we don’t have anything. Not even a real lead.”

He shrugged, rising up and offering Her his hand. “We’ll find one. It’s about attitude,Princess. Fake it till you make it.”

“I don’t think you can fake evidence. I think that’s actually a felony.” Her voice was a little lighter as Dean helped Her to her feet, and it made him feel hot, bright pride. He’d cheered Her up. Just Dean.

“Lucky we’re not real cops then, right?” He winked at Her, and she snorted.

“No, that’s actually also a felony-“

“You’re focusing on the negative,” Dean drawled Her name, guiding Her out of the store with a hand on her back. “Remember. Attitude.”

She rolled Her eyes. “You’re a dork.”

“I’m hilarious and charming.” He corrected, trying not let Her small smile move too deep into his heart. “That’s my strength, sweetheart, I keep the spirits up while you get all emotional-“

She whacked his chest, giggling as Dean took a large, dramatic step back. “I am not emotional-“

“You just hit me because I hurt your feelings- Shit!”

He barely dodged the kick to his shins, taking a large step back to avoid the elbow.

“Ha,” he let out a loud, triumphant laugh. “I’ve learned all your tricks- fuck!”

Dean did not dodge the tackle. She side-slammed into him with a light force that Dean should’ve been able to absorb, but still sent him stumbling. Not because he was hurt—She never actually hurt him, her every hit controlled and delivered with a gleam in Her eyes that made Dean grin—but because She seemed to not anticipated catching him off guard, and ended up pressing Her whole body to Dean’s and setting him on fire. She fit there, soft and warm and natural, and Dean couldn’t stop his arms from flying to wrap around Her, to take her down with him.

Landing them both on the floor of the mall, looking more like teenagers than the official police investigators they were supposed to be. But if people were staring, he couldn’t see them. He could only see Her. Beautiful and consuming in his lap, his arms around Her torso and her hands braced on his chest. Smothering him with the smell of fruit and sugar, drawing him in closer as they just stared at each other.

He was blinded. Her eyes were wide and vast and seemed to be wrapping around Dean until everything in the universe was one color, and that color was Her. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing down to Her lips. Slightly parted, the feeling of them still branded onto his cheek, just as bright as the rest of Her and luring him closer like he was only moth-

She swallowed, shifting slightly above him, and it broke him out of the spell. She could not be squirming above him in public. Not when they had a job to do and Dean wasn’t sure She’d like or want the consequences of that action.

“We should, um-“ Her words were slow, as if she had to think every single one out. “Case. Evidence.”

“Right, yeah. Case.” Dean stood carefully, helping Her to her own feet. “What, uh, where are we-“

“Macy’s.” She mumbled. She was still standing too close, where Dean could feel the heat of her body. “It’s actually the last stop.”

“Good, awesome-“

“No, not awesome.” She gave Dean a flat look. “This is our last store, and we have nothing.”

“I told you, Princess, we’ll find something.” He trailed at Her side as they began walking, staring at Her as they moved through the crowd. She’d stop him from hitting anyone, and she was so much better look at than a bunch of random strangers and shops. “It’s all about the attitude and teamwork, about playing to our strengths. My strength is, of course, being the level-headed decision maker-“

She laughed. “No.”

“Alright, but you gotta tell me-“

“I don’t have to do anything.”

He sighed. “You’re so mean to me.”

“That’s because you’re a loser, Winchester.”

“If I am, you’re losing with me.” He grinned at Her, she glanced at him with a light in Her eyes, and those words didn’t stab him deep in the soft tissue of his stomach like they should’ve. Dean was a loser, but she didn’t say it the way most people would’ve. She said it like it was endearing. Like She wouldn’t want Dean any other way.

He hoped She wanted him at all. The most evidence he had that She did was that she was here. Hunting with Dean, talking to the cashiers and walking by his side. Giggling as he made stupid jokes about the glittering heels in the shoe isle, making Her own jokes about a rack of hideous dresses, watching Dean with amusement as he glared at a bedazzled belt in the men’s isle.

“What would you even use that for?” He asked Her, turning it over in his hand. “It’s all freakin’ sparkly-“

“I think that’s the point, De.” She shrugged, standing right at Dean’s shoulder as he continued to glower at the belt. “Sparkly cowboy belt, who wouldn’t want one?”

Dean scoffed. “This is not a cowboy belt-“

“Yeah, it is.” Her arm brushed over Dean’s as she grabbed the tag, and he almost completely forgot what they were talking about as every bit of his existence flew to that touch. “Bling Western Belt, Men’s.”

“That’s… that’s fucking dumb as hell, cowboys don’t wear glitter-“

“Fun cowboy’s wear glitter.” She nudged her shoulder with his, Her smile brighter than every stupid rhinestone on the belt. “Maybe you’re just a boring cowboy.”

Dean raised his brows at Her. “So I’m a cowboy? Is that my strength?”

She wrinkled Her nose at him. “That’s not a strength, it’s a characterization-“

“But I am a cowboy-“

“A boring one.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take it.”

“You do that.” She hummed, looking over Her shoulder with a frown—that little furrow in Her brow deep, her eyes focused—and Dean paused, letting the belt drop from his hands.

“You good, Princess?”

“Huh?” She looked back to him with an open expression, the wrinkle still there, and God, he wanted to touch it. “What’d you say?”

He scanned over Her carefully, looking for any sign of distress, anything he needed to fix. “I asked if you’re good-“

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She grabbed Dean’s arm and tugged him away from the belt, down the aisle. “Let’s keep moving.”

She didn’t seem fine, but she also wasn’t frantic or edged enough for pushing Her to be worth it. Dean had a feeling She’d just bristle and snap, or shut down completely, and he didn’t know how to the hell to fix it if She did. He didn’t want to ruin this. He couldn’t ruin this. He had Her as close as she’d allow, and he wanted to keep her there until he was forced away. Dean wanted to keep listening to Her speak about things he normally wouldn’t care about, but felt fascinating when She said them. He wanted to know Her every thought on this case, understand what she meant by it feeling bad, and maybe learn enough that, if She tested him, he’d pass and be allowed closer. Close enough that She’d explain herself without Dean ever needing to ask.

Close enough that he might be able to spend whole days with Her walking through a mall, no threat of death hanging over their heads. Just Dean making dumb jokes, Her explaining things to him, and Dean telling Her his opinions and kissing Her on the head when she hit his chest, both of them smiling and their hands tangled perfectly together-

Dean did not need to hold Her hand. He was not a toddler. His fingers might be aching to touch Her skin and his body might be straining to press against Her’s, but that was just his body. His body that didn’t seem to care that She was, still, lying to him. That Dean should be a lot more focused on the people being murdered part of this rather than lost these countless fantasies of Her. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t dream of them tonight, where they couldn’t affect anyone but Dean. Where all they did was carve into his resolve and pull him further down into Her, where he couldn’t afford to be.

Where he didn’t have the will to leave.

It was why he kept trying to get his head in the case, but couldn’t. He just kept thinking of Her in front of him, kept getting lost in Her voice with no need to be found.

“God, this shit is expensive.” She mumbled at Dean’s side, her eyes scanning over the price tags of various perfume bottles as she fidgeted with the EMF reader. “I mean, I use that one, and it is not worth a hundred bucks.”

Dean mumbles a passive agreement, glancing at the bottle She’d nodded to. Fancy and crystal looking, filled with golden liquid and labeled with a French word he couldn’t pronounce. He almost looked away—he didn’t really care about perfume at all—but then he realized that could be it. That could be the fruit smell.

He grabbed the bottle, turning it in his hands, and She gave him an amused look.

“You looking for a new perfume, Deano?”

“Shut up.” He muttered. “What’s a keynote.”

“It’s like the main smell of something.” She hummed, and Dean frowned between Her and the label.

“This says the keynote is vanilla.”

“Uh huh.” She looked back to the EMF reader. “I think this area is clear, which means we still have-“

“And you’re sure you wear this?”

“Pretty sure, considering I got it for myself-“

“This.” Dean held it up for Her to see. “Vanilla. You wear the vanilla.”

“Yep.” She gave him an odd look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,“ Dean placed the bottle back on the shelf, shooting Her his best winning grin. “I’m fantastic, Princess, just didn’t pin you for the vanilla type.”

She raised Her brows. “What did you pin me for?”

Dean couldn’t answer that, because he’d sound like an insane person. He already felt like an insane person, because every time he’d been near Her, he’d smelled fruit. He was goddamn certain of that, because it drove him out of him mind and made him feel like a giddy, dumbass teenage boy. And there was no universe where Dean would be able to look her in the eyes and say well, I think about how you smell all the time, sweetheart. And you do not smell like vanilla.

So he just winked, shoving his hand in the pockets of his jacket and moving right back to Her side. “I’ll tell you if you tell me my strength.”

She sighed. “Nice try.”

“Did it work?”

“Nope.” She was scanning the store around them, and Dean was about to ask what would work when She did a double take, grabbed his arm, and yanked him down to the floor.

Dean’s balance stuttered slightly as he went down, and he flinched as he landed flat on his ass. “Damnit,” he grunted Her name, rubbing his tailbone. “What the hell was that for-“

Her hand shot out to cover his mouth, Her voice falling to a whisper. “Quiet, I need to-“ She cut herself off, craning her neck up, then ducking back down a second later. “Fuck.”

Dean raised his brows at Her, and she glanced at him with a that little furrow between her brows.

“What?”

He gave Her a flat glare, pointing to her hand, and she flushed.

“Shit, sorry-“ She pulled Her hand away and Dean glowered her, his voice rising to a hushed shout.

“Why’d you do that-“

She covered his mouth again, giving him a stern glare. “Quiet.” She hissed. “I think we’re being followed.”

Dean blinked at Her, dragging her hand off of his face. “By who?”

“Tall, hot lady with the dark hair.” She whispered. “She’s been right behind us through the whole store, she was at the food court, and in almost all the shops-“ She paused, giving Dean an odd look. “You haven’t noticed?”

“No, uh, not really-“

“She tried to hit on you, De. Like, five times.“

Dean frowned. Nobody had hit on him today, let alone multiple times. It had just been Her and Dean the whole day, only ever speaking to other people when they were doing the interviews or getting food. He’d remember if a tall chick had been coming onto him. He’d remember if he’d spoken to a hot lady at all.

But he only remembered talking to Her.

“You said she’s has been following us all day?”

“She called you cute in the bakery, Dean. And complimented your music taste in the vinyl shop.”

Dean frowned into the air, trying to will the memory into existence, and came up blank. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She snapped, glancing over Her shoulder wearily. “I was right next to you.”

She sounded sour. Like the words tasted bitter on Her tongue. Shit, even Her pretty face was scrunched slightly, Her nails scratching at her skin and her body tensed.

Dean’s face broke out in a wide grin. “Holy shit,” he leaned a little closer to Her, dropping his voice into a loud whisper. “You’re jealous.”

She looked back to him with that gorgeous flush and wide eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

“You’re all pissy because I might have not been paying attention to you-“

She rolled Her eyes. “You literally don’t remember her. And even if you did, I would not be jealous.”

Dean knew She wouldn’t be. The sour thing was probably more from Her overall worry about them being followed. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep taunting Her until she shoved him, not when he got to see her all adorably and mumbly and embarrassed.

“It’s okay, I get it. You don’t have anything to worry though.” Dean’s grin was probably shit-eating, and he took the risk to lean in closer, until his body was almost covering Her’s. “I only got eyes for one lady to stick around in my life.“

She raised Her brows at him, her voice dry. “Your dads car?”

He shrugged. “Two ladies.”

“You don’t know two ladies.”

“You’re a lady, genius-“

She snorted. “I am not a lady.”

Dean waved Her off, bracing his other hand on the perfume self. “You’re the most lady lady I know, you use perfume-“

“Because I like smells, Winchester, not because I’m a lady.”

“You can dance-“

“I’ve told you, anyone with legs can dance.”

“Not me.”

“You can rodeo, cowboy.”

Dean gaped at Her for a long second—still scanning around them for his alleged stalker—and he couldn’t really remember how to speak. She’d called him cowboy. She’d said it like it was plain and obvious and shouldn’t set off fireworks along his ribs. Like it shouldn’t suddenly be incredibly important to Dean that she call him that again very soon, ideally now-

“Our shadow’s gone.” She muttered, looking back to Dean with a small frown. “I still think we should be careful.”

Dean shook himself out of the gaze, giving Her a lazy grin in the hope She hadn’t noticed his almost drunken daze. “I’m always careful, sweetheart-“

“Says the guy who didn’t even notice he was being followed-“

“I can’t be expected to remember every chick that hits on me, Princess.” He spread his arms wide, smirking as She rolled her eyes. “I mean, look at me. C’mon.”

She gave him a dry look, opened Her mouth to spar back at him, but froze with a gape and flash of Her eyes.

“Uh,” Dean waved his hand in Her face, saying Her name. “You good in- damnit-“

He lost his balance as She grabbed his hand out of the air, turning it palm up and running a light touch over his fingertips. Small sparks of electricity flew over his skin at the contact, at how feather like and gentle it was, like Dean was worth being touched carefully, and fuck, he wanted to hold Her hand so bad-

“What are you-“

She raised one finger, and Dean fell silent, watching Her examine his skin like it was priceless. Turning it between Her hands, leaning down to look closer, really touching Dean, lighting him up golden from inside-

“Hey, uh-“

“Dean.” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’ve got it.”

He blinked at Her stupidly. “Got what.”

“What we’re after.” She dragged two fingers over the pad of Dean’s thumb, then held them up for him to see. “Sulfur.”

His brain still wasn’t back to normal. Not while She was still holding his hand. “Huh?”

“There’s sulfur.” Her grin was almost manic, and Dean would be a little freaked out if it wasn’t Her, and he didn’t recognize that as Her I’m about to be right about something smile. “Which means…?”

She was prompting him, and Dean had to rub his head slightly to remember. “Uh, demons, right? They-“ His eyes widened as he finally caught up, all the pieces—violent murders, random victims, no normal leads—fell into place. “Shit. That’s not good.”

“No,” She hummed, squeezing Dean’s hand slightly. “But it’s something.”

——————

You can’t keep living like this. You can’t keep crashing into Dean over and over, expecting it not to leave a mark. It does. It always does. He keeps sinking into you in ways you don’t expect, until your back feels bare without his hand and everything is worse when he’s not there with you. You’ve spent the past year running your fingers over cassette tapes and fighting to urge to get one for him, lost money to buying food because you think Dean would like it, and wasted time staring at your phone and willing it to ring so you could hear his voice. It’s gotten worse the longer your arrangement has gone on. You still don’t know what it is, but you know it’s all only gotten worse.

It’s not a maintainable way to live. Dean has only left you in your motel room, and you already miss him. It’s been ten fucking minutes and you’re uneasy, the White twisting and coiling because Dean’s not next to you and it seems to believe that he’s a given. Everything falls into smooth harmony when he’s there, and when you separate it’s like being doused in ice water that grips your throat and drags the world to press against your skull. He’d walked you to your room with a wink and reminder that he was just down the strip, and you waved him off and told him you were a big girl who wasn’t going to hurt herself changing her shirt. Then he’d shrugged, you’d closed the door, and everything had been worse.

It all felt smaller. The room was too narrow, the ceiling too short, the mirror too close and its reflection too sharp.

And that’s not Dean. That’s just you. That’s how it always is, how it’s always been. The White glows and the darkness eats you and everything is too small until it’s not. Until the darkness makes you not only you, and it’s all vast and infectious until you drag yourself back down and it’s all small again. It’s dangerous. You’re dangerous. The darkness has gotten stronger in this past year, and you’ve grown sicker, and it’s dangerous. You can’t control it, and the old ways don’t work as well as they did before.

“I had another one,” you’d mumbled at few weeks ago, glancing up at Bobby from across the table. “Wendigo hunt, in Oregon.”

Bobby had grunted, running a hand over his beard as he watched you carefully. “You alright?”

“Yeah. But I,” you’d swallowed, a foul stench still trapped in your nose. “I ruined a creek.”

“Whatdy’a mean, ruined.”

“I mean the water flew out of it.”

Bobby had blinked at you. “Out of- out the whole damn creek?”

You’d nodded, and he’d leaned forward in his chair, his voice low and cautious.

“You’re still tryin’ to remember what sets them off, yeah?”

“I was…” You’d swallowed, because you couldn’t tell Bobby the full truth.

You’d been hunting with Dean. He hadn’t been answering your messages, and the darkness had started to expanded until you were the dirt and the leaves and the mud and the water, and the water had felt distressed, and you’d been falling apart and Dean wasn’t there and then-

He’d been fine. His stupid, dollar store pager had been snapped in his backpack while he was pissing, he hadn’t had signal to call you, and he’d just laughed and brushed you off when you’d shoved him and shouted that he couldn’t just vanish on a hunt when he was the asshole who insisted you hunt together in the first place. If he’d noticed the suddenly dry creek bed, he hadn’t said anything. If Dean has noticed any of the real outbursts—the ones you don’t catch before you lose control—he hasn’t mentioned it, or even given you an odd look.

But Bobby didn’t know you were hunting with Dean. He still doesn’t.

So you’d said you were afraid, because it wasn’t a lie.

“The… the wendigo was near me, I could feel it, and I freaked out.” You’d sighed, twisting a ring on your finger. “And that was it. No deaths.”

“Good.” Bobby had muttered, glancing down to your hands. “Any injuries I need to know about?”

“No, I got the wendigo-“

“Injuries on you,” Bobby had said your name with a knowing look. “I know how you handle this shit, kiddo, and it ain’t my place to tell you how to deal with it, but if ya’ got anythin’ I need to patch up-“

“No.” You’d whispered, hanging your head slightly. “Nothing.”

Nothing visible. Nothing Bobby could see. He knows about the scratching and biting and picking, but he doesn’t know about the iron. He still thinks you wear the rings because they’re fashionable. He doesn’t know about how they crush the darkness further down by force, or how they leave stains along your bones and over the White.

He doesn’t know how they seem to be fucking useless lately. How the blowups have not only been more powerful, but the darkness has risen with more ease.

You think that’s Dean. You’re not sure why, but when you’re with Dean with darkness and the White seem to meld peacefully, right up until they don’t. Right up until you’re in another situation like Vitus last year, and Dean’s by your side, and it’s all suddenly devouring. Over and over the blowouts have been bigger when you’re hunting with Dean, over and over you’ve had more… episodes when you’re together. When there’s a monster you know wouldn’t look or lunge at you, but now Dean’s here and he’s in danger.

Danger from the monster.

Danger from you.

Because you really can’t control it, and if you have a real blowup—not just everything being too big as you cling to a little bit of control with your teeth—Dean will pay the price. He hasn’t asked much about the episodes, only given you strange looks after and patted your head awkwardly when they linger a little longer, cracking soft jokes and refusing to leave your side. Thankfully, he just seems to think it a girl thing, because he’s an adorable dumbass who mostly hangs out with his dad.

Which is another problem. Every time you indulge yourself—every time you cave into this strange need to be wherever Dean is—you’re a step closer to a death at John Winchester’s hands. All it would take is one easy case, one slip up where he finds out what Dean does when he’s left alone, and you’d be fucked.

But you’re already fucked. Because you really don’t care. You don’t care that John might find out what’s happening and try to kill you, because you’re faster than that asshole, and you know how to disappear. You don’t care that Bobby will kick your ass when he finds out what an idjit you’re being. You only care about the way the world seems to fall into place when Dean greets you with a wide grin and shout of your name across a parking lot. You care about how he’s still here, and he hasn’t gone anywhere, and you don’t think he will. You don’t know if he’s grown blind to what you are, or forgotten, or simply isn’t bothered by it anymore, but you know he’s here.

In the same motel, just a few rooms down.

He’s tried to convince you to share a room—it’s just a room, Princess, and if I was gonna stab you, I’d have done it by now—but that’s where you draw the line. You simply cannot put yourself in that situation. Where Dean showers and you can hear the water, where you wake up and he’s sleeping across the room. You can’t allow yourself to find out whether or not he wears a shirt to sleep, or what side of the bed he prefers, or if he tosses and turns through the night.

You’ll get weird. You’ll be tending to a part of this desire for him that will consume you if you’re not careful. It’s already pathetic and strange that the White is always tugging you to his side. That you always smell grass and spice, even when Dean must be states away. It’s bad enough that you dream about him, that his touch is like a cure to the pain that lives in you, that it feels like you’re growing and for once it’s not malignant. It’s already too much how the darkness is soothed into the White when he’s there, that those fractured pieces scattered through your body always grow towards each other like a spiderweb that’s learned to mend itself. That when Dean smiles at you all those pieces start to catch light and throw it across the darkest, deepest corners of your innards.

It’s worrying that when Dean’s gone, they curl and fester until he returns.

It’s the fucking worst that whenever he’s even near you, you want… more. Not just his hands on your bare skin or his lips wherever he wants to put them, but all of him.

So you can’t share a room with Dean. Because if he wanted all of you, if he had even a sliver of what kept calling you back to him, he would’ve mentioned it. He would’ve had to, because the words tell me you feel this too, please, just so I know I haven’t lost my mind always live on your tongue.

But he hasn’t said anything.

And you don’t want to destroy this. If it breaks, you won’t know how to live with only the pieces left in your hands.

Not when it’s been this good.

Because you’re crashing into Dean every single moment, but you’re bending to him too. You’re allowing him to be something you’ve never really had.

He’s your friend.

He looks out for you. He talks to you like you’re not only ever speaking out of turn. He’s even convinced you to start hunting with a weapon.

“What’s this?” You’d asked him, and he’d shrugged, a wide grin on his face.

“It’s a knife, Princess, it goes chop-“

You’d rolled your eyes. “I know what a knife is, I’m asking what this one is doing here.”

“It’s for you.” His voice had dropped slightly, his eyes scanning over your face slowly. “So you don’t get yourself killed when you hunt alone.”

“Dean, I’ve never gotten killed before-“

“Yeah, it’s kind of a one-time thing,” he’d drawled your name, his hands in his pockets so you couldn’t shove the knife into them. “And now I’m not gonna have to worry about you-“

“Aw,” you’d grinned at him. “You worry about me?“

“No, I-“ He’d scowled. “Just take the goddamn knife.”

“Say you worry about me.”

He’d swallowed, his eyes narrowing, and grumbled so low you’d barely heard it. “I worry about you. Pinky promise you’ll actually use that thing.”

Dean had raise his pinky, you’d beamed at him as you locked it with yours, and now that knife stayed under your pillow when you slept. And Dean worried about you. As a hunting partner. As a friend.

You think that’s what this will have to be. It doesn’t seem to be enough for any singular part of you, but it’s more than you’ve ever had before.

It’s poking fun at each other in a way that doesn’t bite and sharing amused looks when someone says something dumb. It’s telling him most everything about yourself and him acting like you’re the most fascinating person in the world. Him doing the same to you, and you hanging onto his every word like they’re the most important things you’ll ever know. It’s not as if you never tell people about yourself, but you really like telling Dean things. He only looks at you when you’re speaking, then he makes stupid jokes that pull a giggle from your lips, and his face wears a shit-eating, prideful grin that makes you want to touch his lips to check that he’s real.

If you don’t count Bobby—and you usually do—Dean might be the only person in the world that knows you and likes you.

Mostly knows you.

Knows everything but that one last, foul truth. And sometimes, you do want to tell him about you being… whatever you are. A witch, a monster, something bigger, something worse. Times like when he sits with you after one of your episodes and you want to explain. Times like when he seems to think you’re more important than you are, when he makes a passing remark about you being fancy.

Times like at the mall, when you’d felt something sicker and darker than you in that crack on the wall. Rotting and molding inside of and around it, reaching out to you and trying to wrap around your skin.

It had felt like you, but with nothing colorful cast around it. The whole mall had felt like that, but that crack had been worse. Focused.

You’d checked your notes when you’d gotten back to the motel. Checked what you’d gotten on the vic in the vinyl shop.

A lumberjack who’d had skin under his nails, like he’d fought back. Bruising on his ankles like he’d been yanked down by them.

So now you’re bent over the sink, trying not to choke on bile or look in the mirror. Because unless you’re wrong—and you don’t think you are—that had been damage left by the demon’s anger and pain. Damage that had been like you.

You pull it together. You run a shower that burns your skin, sit in the tub with your knees folded into your chest, and pull it together. Dean will be here soon, so you have to fucking pull it together.

But you take off the rings. They’re not nearly enough to stop anything, and even when you stop feeling the suffocation of your tangled sheets, pure pain is still wrapped around your skull like a halo. You know taking the rings off won’t heal or mend it, but at least it will lessen the agony.

And that will have to be enough.

Dean knocks on your door with a wide grin and dramatic bow, and from here the night should be simple. You’ll go to a bar, Dean will get a beer, you’ll get what he calls a girly drink, and you’ll figure out the Demon’s pattern so you can kill it. You’ll lean back in your booth as he leans forward, and you’ll laugh and talk until you realize it’s almost midnight, then you’ll have to actually work on the case.

From there it will be easy. For you. You’ll lay out all the pieces—it’s a demon, Dean’s pointed out that all the killings seem to happen at night, and you’ve been caught on the fact that over half of the victims seemed to live outside the county—while Dean offers adorable and mostly useless comments. He’s not dumb, but he seems to think he is, and likes playing it up for the bit. And White always sings when you tell him he put something together and his grin becomes toothy and boyish, so you never bother telling him to shut up in a way that you mean.

And that is how the night goes. Dean’s foot keeps pressing against yours—making everything silver and your body melt closer to his—and he orders a lot of food when you finally get to work, but you’re still thinking aloud and Dean’s still cracking dumb jokes, so it’s easy.

Right until around 1am, it’s easy.

“I don’t understand why all the murders are different.” You lean your head back onto the booth, keeping your eyes on Dean’s. “It’s not just the different stores. There’s never the same kind of murder. One blunt-force, one neck snapped, one hanging, and one girl’s report said she was flayed-“

“Hey,” Dean points to his burger, raising his brows. “As much as I love your dirty talk, Princess, I’m kinda eating.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just…” You trailed off, frowning at the ceiling and rubbing your palm with your thumb. “Demons don’t always follow a pattern, but they usual have an MO. A favorite type of victim, a favorite way to kill them, something that can be used to figure out where they’ll strike next.”

Dean shrugs, speaking through a mouth full of fries. “You’ll find it. I’m gonna get more fries, you wanna basket?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes as Dean shuffles out of the booth and racking your brain for anything you can use. Night killings, never in the same store. Inconsistent timeframes, too, because it seems to have been two nights since the last murder. But that means there’s probably a new one coming, and if it’s nighttime right now-

“Hey, baby, what’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by herself?”

You open your eyes to see a man that’s definitely not Dean dropping across from you. He’s a litter shorter, a little more wiry, with gelled hair and a smirk that crawls on your skin instead of sparks on it.

“Uh, I’m not by myself.” You glance over to the bar, your eyes finding Dean in a second. His back is to you as he leans over the counter, and you can easily imagine his wide grin as he watches the bartended collect his fries. “My friend’s just getting food.”

“Well,” the man settles into the booth, leaning forward with a wink. It’s not as pretty as Dean’s. “I can keep you company until she gets back.”

“Actually-“

“Name’s Frank.” He extends his hand, and when you shake it, his hands are clammy. “Pretty girl got a pretty name?”

You say your name, watching him wearily. “And I’m kind of working-“

Frank laughs. “It’s one in the morning, baby, you should take a break-“

“I got two, ‘cause you always say you don’t want any then you try to fucking eat mine-“ Dean cuts himself off with a scowl when he sees Frank, and you think he’s suddenly standing a little taller. “Hey, buddy, you’re in my seat.”

Frank shrugs. “Sorry, man, I got here first-“

“You did not.” Dean snaps, dropping the fries down on the table. “Cause that’s my seat.”

“Didn’t see your name on anything, bro. And she,” Frank gestures to you, and you blink. “Is way out of your league, so beat it.”

“Beat it?” Dean laughs, and that’s his hunter laugh. You’ve mostly heard it right before he kills something. “Listen, bro, I’m asking one more time before your ugly mug and my fist have a chat-“

You grab Dean’s wrist—you’re in no position to get in a bar fight, especially not over a seat—and give him a pointed look. “De, my root beer is empty, I’m gonna go get another.”

He frowns at you. “That’s your fourth one-“

“And?” You squeeze Dean’s wrist slightly as you rise out of your seat. “You’re not my dad, Winchester. I’m a grown woman, I’ll have fifteen if I want.”

“Damn right you’re a grown woman, baby-“

Dean shoots Frank the most venomous glare you’ve ever seen. “Shut it, haircut. And you,” he turns back to scan over your face. “I can go get your root beer, you eat the fries-“

“I’m not hungry.” You nod to your booth. “And you can have my seat. Compromise.”

Dean stares at you, an emotion you can’t read painted over his every feature, and shakes his head slightly. “No, I’ll, uh, I’ll come with you.”

“Sure.” You shrug, giving Frank a sweet, polite smile. “Nice to meet you. Sorry, we have to go-“

Frank frowns, his words clipped as he cuts you off. “So you are with pretty boy over here-“

“Yes.” Dean snaps. “We’re partners, douchebag. C’mon.”

You don’t get another word in before Dean’s pulling you to the bar, sitting you on a barstool and dropping at your side.

“Are you okay?” You ask, watching him scowl at the bartender. “You look like someone shat on your burger.”

“I’m fine.” He grunts, giving you another odd look. “Did you give him your number?”

“No, why would I have done that-“

“Good. Wouldn’t be safe.” Dean turns back to the bar, ordering your root beer as you stare at him.

“Yeah, I know.” You tilt your head at his bitter expression, and let it go for now. Dean can be strange, and you’ve learned to mostly ignore it. Besides, you have bigger things to worry about. “I had an idea by the way, while you were getting the food-“

“Before or after Slimy McHairgel sat down-“

“Before.” You shrug, giving the bartender a full-lipped smile as she passes you your root beer. “I got distracted after, but-“

“You got distracted-“

“Yeah, he was talking to me. But look, all the murders have been happening at night, it’s been a minute since the last one, and they’ve never hit the same store twice, so, if we patrol the mall tonight-“

“We might catch the demon in action.” Dean finishes your thought, turning his own beer in his hands. “Good plan, Princess. See that’s your greatest strength-“

“You’re really hung up on that, huh.”

Dean throws up his hands, his voice almost a whine. “Sue me for wanting to know what my-“

“Is this seat taken?”

You and Dean blink at each other as a silky voice cuts him off, and you turn to see a tall, hot woman with dark hair smiling at you.

The lady from the mall. Who’d been following you all day, and Dean apparently had never seen.

You didn’t go insane.

“No.” Your hand shoots out to grab Dean’s on instinct, and he tenses, sitting a little taller. “We’re actually talking-“

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I saw you at the booth with him,” Mall Lady points back to Frank, still wallowing in Dean’s seat. “And thought you were together, so-“

“They’re not.” Dean snaps. “We are.”

You’re going to kill him later. He can’t just say shit like that, because he means you’re at the bar together, physically, but the White grabs those words and flies away with them. You’re together. You’re two things, but now you’re one because you’re together, and that’s not true but it doesn’t stop the bellowing of your whole body to move further down into Dean. It’s annoying.

Mall Lady said something to you. You didn’t hear it.

“Sorry, can you-“

“Oh, I was asking where you’re from.” Mall Lady doesn’t even seem to be looking at Dean, her eyes focused on you with a strange glint that makes your skin crawl.

“America.” You keep your voice flat, raising your brows at Dean in a silent confusion. He just shrugs.

“Where in America?“

“The part with land.”

Dean snorts, and you kick him under the table.

“I see.” Mall Lady still won’t look away from you. “And have you always been… on the land part-“

“I dunno, I’ve on a boat a few times-“

Dean says your name as he stands, and you realize you’re still holding his arm. “I’m getting tired, you wanna get out of here?”

He’s squeezed himself between you and Mall Lady. You’re not sure he knows he did that. It still makes you smile.

“Yeah,” you rise up, linking your arm through his. “Let’s go.”

Dean drops his voice as you move out to the parking lot. “That was weird.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You glance at him. “Are you actually tired, or are we ready to look at the mall.”

“You mean break in-“

“It’s not a break in. I’m picking the lock, nothing’s getting broken. So,” you raise a finger at him with your best stern glare. “Shut up.”

Dean chuckles. “Bossy.”

This time, he dodges your every hit, laughing the whole time.

It’s not a big mall, but there’s still a lot of space to cover, and Dean flat out refuses to let you split up. You suggest it three times on the drive and twice as you pick the lock, giving it one last shot as you scan over the colorful, peeling map, and he’s just pretending he doesn’t hear you.

“Real mature, Winchester-“

“I’m not trying to be mature.” He grumbles, watching you pull out your knife out of your bag. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t get killed.”

“I am not going to get killed-“

“Yeah, you’re not. Because we’re not splitting up.”

You’d lost the argument, and now you’re wandering through the mall in the dead of night—Dean only a pace behind you—finding absolutely nothing and only listening to Dean’s slow breath.

“You breathe really loud,” you grumble, and he scoffs.

“Yeah, well, you breathe really quiet.”

You shoot him an amused look over your shoulder. “Good one.”

“Shut up.”

You hum, turning around and scanning over the empty halls. The darkness feels hot. The air is heavy and burning in your lungs, your skin is covered in a phantom cold sweat, and everything is so quiet. Too quiet. Quiet in a way that buzzes in your ears and rattles your head.

“Something’s wrong.” You whisper, your voice sounding small in your own ears.

“I’d say, this whole place is freakin’ freezing-“

“No, I’m worried-“ You stop, turning to face Dean with a frown. “No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is, look,“ Dean lets out another loud breath, and it clouds the air around him. “And my fingers are like damn ice, can we stop at a gas station for hot chocolate when we’re done-“

“No, we’re not getting hot ch-“ You cut yourself off with a sigh, another flash of heat hitting your body.

You’re losing your mind.

Dean says your name slowly, taking a tentative step forward. “Are you feeling alright-“

“Yeah.” Your voice is tight and clipped, every breath scraping at your throat, and you don’t sound fine. “I, uh, c’mon. If it hits dawn and nothing happens, we’ll go get hot chocolate.“

You turn on your heels and march away, Dean’s voice slightly out of breath as he jogs after you.

“Wait, you said no hot chocolate-“

“Don’t question me, Winchester.”

He laughs as he lands back at that pace behind you, and you feel dizzy. “Yes, ma’am.”

You waste another hour, finding nothing. Hearing nothing. Doing nothing. You’ve checked all the spots that haven’t been hit yet multiple times, nothing. Not even a drop of blood.

“I need to pee,” you mumble, and Dean grunts from behind you.

“Let’s go to the bathroom-“ You turn to frown at him. “Let’s?”

He nods, and you give him a flat glare.

“You’re not going to the bathroom with me, Dean.”

“We’re hunting a freakin’ demon, Princess, I’m not leaving you alone-“

“You are so I can pee!”

He shakes his head. You’re going to punch him. “No, it’s not safe-“ “What if you stand outside?” You offer, because he’s a fucking toddler you have to barter with. “And I get to piss alone.”

He scowls, but gives in, and you go into the bathroom alone.

You don’t see it until you’re at the sink. And even then, you feel it first. Dark without any reprieve all around you, withering and drenching your head in something spiked and heavy.

The sink cracks, but your hands are by your side. There’s a feeling like you’re underwater, you see your reflection grow jagged in the mirror as it shatters from the edges, and when you turn, she’s there.

Mall Lady.

And you’ve seen dead bodies before.

But something about this one is worse.

It’s filled with that same rot that was in the crack. Her eyes are bloodied, and her arms and chest are covered in scratches, and her fingers are missing nails and her teeth have little bits of something soft and sickening caught in the gaps. Like she’d fought for her life.

Then, she’d lost.

And now she’s strung up by her neck for you to see, and you can feel the strain of the rope to hold her up and the suffocation of the water trapped in pipes over your head and it’s too big, this is all too big-

You think you screamed, because suddenly Dean’s there and his hand is in yours, but he can’t be here right now, because this is too big and you don’t want to hurt him-

Something strong wraps around you, and it doesn’t drag you back down, but it keeps all the darkness inside you. Not soothed, not pushed, but just down. Pressing at the edge of everything but not trying to explode.

You’re not at ease until cold, untainted air hits your lungs. Until something steady grabs your head and brushes sticky hair from your eyes, and you know that you’re you. You’re not the coldness of the building behind you, or the wear of the concrete under your feet. You’re just you, sitting on the curb of the parking lot as Dean tries to talk to you, his thumb running down the bridge of your nose.

He looks worried. He looks panicked. Eyes wide on yours, his grip nervous—like he’s worried he’ll make one wrong twitch and you’ll burst apart—and he keeps muttering your name in a tone that’s almost too low to hear.

“Hey.” You whisper, and Dean lets out a long breath, dropping his head.

“Shit,” he mutters, looking up at you under hooded eyes. “You good?”

You nod, unable to break his gaze. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you petting my nose?”

He stares at you, then at his thumb. “I dunno.”

“Oh.” You swallow. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna, um,” Dean’s grip on your face tightens slightly, his expression filled with something you don’t understand. “I’m gonna go get the car.”

You nod, and Dean still doesn’t move. He just watches you in the dark, his thumb still pressed to your nose, and neither of you move.

Then he leans forward and kisses the top of your head, and the world does a strange sort of stutter. Like a vinyl scratch or static on the TV, all color and noise when Dean’s lips press against your skin, leaving a glowing stain you know will linger when he’s gone.

It had been like that last time too. The same feeling, the same tattoo, the same burst of silver over your ribs, blooming and twining through your body as the fractured pieces on your body begin to grow back together.

It lasts only an infinite second, and then Dean’s gone. Walking away to get the car, with one last glance at you over his shoulder.

You don’t want him to go. You can walk. You can go get the car with him, then drive somewhere that’s not horrible to work out your next steps. You really don’t need to wait here. You really don’t want to be alone. You should stay with him, just so you can see him and know he’s real and you’re you enough to touch him-

A hand lands on your shoulder, and you flinch as someone says your name over your head. “Funny meeting you here!”

You glance back and it’s Frank. In the parking lot. At almost 4am.

“Uh, hi.”

“Small world, right?” Frank grins at you, leering above you. “First the bar, now here. Some might call it fate!”

“Yeah, sure.” You glance around the lot, entirely empty. You’d made Dean park off to the side. You’d been a fucking idiot. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Just out for a walk.”

“At 4am?”

Frank laughs. It’s bone-chilling strange, and it’s a little harsher than it had been in the bar. “I like to get a head start on my day, babe. What are you doing here?”

You push down the bile in your throat from babe. “I’m, um, waiting. For my friend.”

“What, your partner who talks like he thinks he’s some big shot?”

You frown. “No. I mean, yeah, but-“

“I don’t see him.” Frank does a dramatic sweep of the abandoned lot, then grins at you. “How could anyone stand a pretty thing like you up-“

“I’m not a thing.” You snap, your nails digging into your skin. “And he didn’t stand me up.”

Frank shrugs. “I mean, you could do better.”

“No,” you mumble, trying to curve your body away from where Frank’s still touching you. “I don’t think I could.”

“You could. With someone better.” Frank’s hand creeps over to your neck, and you freeze, looking up to see a strange glint in his eyes. It was the same one Mall Lady had, before her eyes were only blood.

And something snaps into place in your brain.

Fuck.

“Like…” You trail off with your best innocent look, letting the pain of Frank’s grip hold the darkness down for you. “You?”

“Oh yeah, babe.” He says, and you think it’s meant to be charming. “I know a back entrance in there,” he jerks his head to the mall. “And we could have a little fun, get some privacy. What’d you say?”

There it is. You’ve got it. And this time, when you narrow your eyes and focus all the darkness with a deep scratch on your skin, you can see something revolting and glinting roll around inside Frank, leaving the same horrible imprint on him it had left on Mall Lady.

The demon. Trying to lure you as he had lured all the other victims, like he had probably meant to lure Dean with Mall Lady.

A date or hookup, a strange, interesting spot to explore. People from out of town who won’t know about all the previous murders. The most horrific death the demon can think of in the moment, probably for some sort of sick sport.

You don’t really want to be a part of his score. You don’t want to know why he’d switched from Dean to you so quickly, why he was so set that he’d follow you. Why he’d still target you like this, when he must know that you’re a hunter.

When he might know that you’re something like him. Something wrong.

“So?” The demon leans down, barely a breath away. “Wanna have some fun?”

You open your mouth—hoping you figure out how to talk yourself out of this one when you start speaking—and feel relief wash over your body as headlights blind your vision and Dean screeches to a stop right before you.

“Hey!” You almost melt at the sound of his voice. He can never know. “What the fuck are you doing here, bitch-“

“I’m talking to your bitch.” The demon sounds proud of his not-joke, and you scrunch your face. “You dropped a hot piece of ass, bro, sorry she’s moving onto bigger things. Right, babe?”

The demon squeezes your neck right as Dean looks to you with a deep glare. “Right,” you whisper, holding Dean’s gaze as he blinks at you.

He’s only blinking at you.

And you blink back. Two firm times, keeping your eyes wide otherwise.

He catches it instantly, his eyes flicking down to the demon’s hand near your throat, then back to yours. Blinking once. Check in.

And you blink twice. Not safe.

Dean’s moving in a flash. Gunshots echo around the lot, and you duck and roll as Dean charges forward. When you push yourself to your feet he’s already trading blows with the demon, but they’re not even. The demon is stronger, far stronger, and you think the only thing that’s keeping Dean matched is all his pure fury. You can see it covering the profile of his face, cast in the shadows of the streetlamps, but there’s already blood on his lip and a swelling mark on his cheek and he can’t keep this up-

You fumble for your knife, but Dean must have taken it and put it in the car. You can feel the darkness crashing back up and out, but you can’t detonate, not here, not now-

The demon raises Dean up by his neck, you hear a strangled sound that might have been a scream leave your throat, and there’s a crunch when Dean falls down.

And there’s the rush. Big and not all yours to control, the darkness all around you and a little more, but aimed where it needs be. Over Dean’s slumped body, and right at the demon.

Your hands don’t move this time, but the demon still implodes. You’re everything around you—chilling wind and cracked sidewalks and chipped paint on the pavement—and it’s crushing the demon, folding and caving it in inside of Frank, gathering it into a tiny ball before bursting like a nebula out of his body. Frank’s eyes flash with gold and orange and red light, his mouth opens in a distorted roar, and then the darkness sucks itself back into your body, and it’s over.

You fall to Dean’s side, barely feeling the scrape of your knees of concrete. He’s groaning, eyes fluttering slightly, but you’re certain he’s survived worse. This just needs rest and water. The crunch looks to be only his hand—at an odd angle and completely slack—and there is a larger bruise near his temple, but he’ll be alright. You will make it so he’s alright. You’ll move his big-ass body as carefully as you can into the car and ensure that he’s comfortable in the passenger’s seat before you set off to the motel. You’ll keep careful attention on him as you call 911 for the real Frank, who will be traumatized, but live. You’ll keep a hand on Dean’s chest as you drive, because he keeps slumping forward and it makes your blood cold.

When you park, you’ll run to unlock your room before lugging him inside. You’ll lay him on your bed and take his hand in yours, wincing slightly as you hold his hand and feel the cracks in his bones.

This is the first time since the poltergeist that you’ve seen him knocked down like this. The first time since the poltergeist that the darkness has felt like it could fix something. Fix Dean. It’s right at the tips of your fingers, moving in an odd harmony with the White, and you could fix this.

You let a little of it out. Just a drop, moving from your hand to Dean’s, and you might chew through your lip because what if this just hurts him, what if this makes it worse-

Dean’s fingers flex. And when you trace over his hand, there’s nothing. Not even a fracture.

It worked. You fixed him.

And it hurts. The White and darkness are starting to clash against each other, and every part of them that touches seems frayed and fragile. It hurts just as much as when the darkness gets the better of you, but this is somewhat worse, because it’s just you hurting. Just you caving in on yourself, and just you deserving it because what if you hadn’t healed Dean. What if you’d infected him, and now he was going to be in pain like this too.

You fist your hands, tuck them behind your back, and move to your couch. You can’t be close enough to Dean that you could touch him. You might make all of this worse if you touch him again. But you can’t leave him, not when he might need something.

So, couch.

You track Dean’s every, even but slow breath as he lays on your bed, and your own exhaustion begins to catch you. It creeps over your eyes until you’re eased down into soft, dreamless sleep. You’re not sure when you fall fully under, but you blink and suddenly there’s light leaking through the slats of the motel shades, and Dean’s not passed out on the mattress.

He’s sitting up on the headboard, his jacket discarded to the side, watching you with another one of his unreadable expressions.

“Morning, Princess.” He mutters, and his voice is low and rough and still filled with sleep.

This is exactly why you hadn’t allowed yourself to sleep in the same room as him. His hair is messy and sticking up at funny angles, and there’s still some dried blood on his chin and a bruise on his cheek, but he’s also relaxed. Splayed out on the bed, his eyes softer than you usually see them, and it’s really amazing how the universe keeps finding new ways to fuck you. New reasons to crash and bend and mold further and further into Dean, until you’re all the way down and there’s no turning back.

So all you can do is rub your face clear of your own sleep, and give him a small smile. “Are you feeling okay?”

He raises his brows. “No morning back?”

“You know what time it is,” you sit up a little straighter, studying his face for any further evidence of injury. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I’m feeling like I want you to say good morning-“

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Good morning, Dean Winchester.”

He clicks his tongue. “Shit, full name, I’m in trouble-“

“You will be,” you give him a pointed look. “If you don’t answer my fucking question.”

“Bossy,” he mumbles, his eyes glimmering as he tries to coax you further down. Even if he doesn’t know it, he’s trying to make you crash fully into him.

You’re going to re-break his hand.

“Dean-“

“Jesus, alright, I’m okay.” Dean gives you his wide, winning grin that’s usually designed to make you roll your eyes and giggle, but right now just makes you scowl. “See, barely a scratch. All that’s left of that demon douchebag is a headache.” Dean pauses, his grin faltering slightly. “Shit, what happened to the demon.”

“I exorcized it,” you lie through your teeth—he can’t know the truth, he’ll either call you crazy or try to kill you—twisting your skin on your finger as you watch his reaction. “We’re good.”

Dean’s face drops into a frown. “You’re lying.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“You didn’t exorcize the demon.” He mutters, watching you through narrowed eyes. “I know you didn’t.”

“You do not know-“

“Yeah, I do.” He snaps, sitting up a little higher in the bed. “I’m goddamn certain, sweetheart, so tell me the truth.”

“Dean-“

“Truth.” He spits, and you might be drawing blood on your skin with your nails.

He’d called your bluff, and it might just be luck, but it doesn’t seem like it. He didn’t sound like he was making a gamble. He sounded like he was taking a shot a foot in front of him. But you can’ttell him the truth. The truth will take him away from you forever. The truth is building wider and wider around you, all while strangling your throat, and your tongue always hates lying to Dean but everything else in you doesn’t want to lose him-

“I didn’t-“ You try to swallow the words, but you can’t seem to keep them down. “I didn’t exorcize it, I-“

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouts your name, running a hand over his face. “You just like the asshole get away! Just because I was injured?”

Your brow furrows as you gape at him. “You were passed out, Dean-“

“And that was a goddamn demon, who’s killed over half a dozen people in two weeks! You always prioritize the hunt-“

“Over your life?!” You rise up on your knees, glowering at Dean, the darkness starting to rumble as he glares back. “We’re partners, Dean, my job is to have your back, that’s the whole point of hunting together-“

“Not over the case.” He pushes off the bed and moving to tower over you, his hand braced on the couch. “Other people are going to die because you decided to play hero for me-“

You laugh up at him. “Like you never play hero, Dean. Dragging me out of the building like I’m little damsel for you to save, like you’re rescuing me and I’m just too fucking pathetic without a big, strong, white knight serving me.”

The words hit their mark. Hit deeper than you’d meant them to. You don’t even know where you were aiming, or why you’d fired, or when you’d found the bullet, but you’d hit Dean so far down, you can almost see him flinch.

He doesn’t say anything. His jaw ticks, and his fists clench and unclench, but he won’t just say something and you’re losing your mind because you didn’t mean it, the darkness had just been everywhere and it had all been too much but Dean had felt real. He’d still felt real and it all hurt because you’d always prioritize him over some stupid demon, and you were still lying to him, and you hadn’t played hero. You’d just matched the demon, and gone darker. You were the monster, and you’d always save Dean-

Suddenly he’s moving. Hunching down to grab his jacket and stomping to the door.

Going away.

You don’t want him to go away.

“Dean, wait please-“ You know sound pathetic. You don’t really care. “Just- I’m sorry-“

You’re faster than he is, and you manage to fly over the couch and move in front of the door before he can reach it.

“Wait, I’m sorry, I-“ You shouldn’t be about to cry over this, but you’re clenching your jaw until your teeth break to stop the tears. “Dean, I’m sorry, I-“ He tries to move around you, and you shift to block his path once more. “Just wait-“

“Why, you still need a hero?” He sneers, leering down at you

“No, I didn’t- I didn’t mean-“ You take a long, shaking breath, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “I don’t think you’re trying to play hero, Dean, I just, I think you’re-“

“Your knight?” He sneers, raising his browns. “Your fucking bodyguard or toy-“

“I think you’re my partner!” You shout, because even calling him your friend feels like it’s too much right now, because it would make this need for him all little more real. Something that you really could break. “I think I’d probably have been fucked without you, and I didn’t- I didn’t mean to- You’re-“

You run a hand over your face, scratching slightly to try and drag the words together, and Dean’s frown almost seems to falter.

He mutters your name, but you push on.

“Your strength is that you’re a fighter, Dean.” You snap, and his eyes widen slightly. “But not just in a muscle way, you’re… smart. Under pressure. Any pressure. I freak out but I get to freak out because I know you’ve got me. I don’t think you’re trying to play hero. I think you’ve got my back.”

“Oh.” He blinks, and all the electrically in the room seems to dissipate as he just looks at you. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” You whisper. “No problem.”

Neither of you move for a long moment. The darkness is settled back down, and the White is straining for Dean, but it’s always doing that so everything is back where it’s meant to be. But you’re still watching Dean to make sure he doesn’t flicker and vanish. To check that you’re not asleep, or this isn’t an odd torture from the demon or your own mind.

Dean looks like he’s watching you the same.

And he’s really close. You’re drowning in him. In grass and spice and gunpowder, in his eyes on yours and the warmth that radiates off his body.

You can’t touch him.

You really want to.

“Are we-“ You rub your arms as you hug your body, and it’s a dumb question but you have to know. “Are we good?”

“Yeah.” He gives you an odd look, but his words sound like the truth. And if they’re not, you’ll just pretend they are. “We’re good.” “Cool.” You mumble, trying not to lean forward as Dean takes a step back. “Do you, um, do you want hot chocolate?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Aren’t we gonna look for the demon?”

He won’t find the demon. The demon’s gone.

But you can waste a little more time looking for it. Eventually you’ll suggest that maybe it just skipped town, and if you see another series of mall killings, you’ll know exactly what’s going on.

And you’ll get to stay next to Dean a while long. Talk to him. Laugh with him until you forget the look of real, hateful pain on his face.

“Yeah.” You shrug, offering him a small smile. “After hot chocolate?”

Dean chuckles. “I think I can live with that.”

“Good.”

You’re watching each other, and it’s not angry, but it’s tense. Dean looks like he wants to say something. You know that you want to say a million things, and you’re not even sure where to start. Another apology, an explanation of your episode in the bathroom, the truth about the demon, a scream of can he feel this, is that why he’s staying, he shouldn’t stay, he should run and never look back because you’re stuck with you, but he can go-

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod, and Dean’s lips drawn into a small pout.

“You, uh, you talk about your dad a lot.” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “Are you guys still close?”

“Yeah, we are. He, um,” you glance down at your hand, running your thumb over your palm. “I visit him all the time-“

“Where does he live?”

“North.” You keep your words simple and vague, and Dean gives you an odd look. “But when I visit him, we always try to do something that isn’t…”

“Fucking depressing?” Dean offers, and you let out a small laugh.

“Yeah. Fucking depressing.” You let out a long breath. “Usually it’s just going grocery shopping and not buying doomsday bunker food, eating something sugary and stupid, and sitting out in his yard to, um, watch the stars and talk. I tease him about the cashier that flirted with him at the grocery store, how his best friend pulls more that he does, and he tells me that I shouldn’t talk when I-“ You cut yourself off, flushing slightly. Dean does not need to know that you’re worse at flirting than Bobby is. And you’ve seen Bobby try. It’s horrific. “I- uh- I need his house and food for the next week. Then we go inside and watch a really old movie, then go to bed.”

You glance up at Dean, and find his mouth slightly open.

“That’s… awesome.”

You look up at Dean’s open expression, so pretty, and real, and here. Dean’s still here. Not touching you, but close to it. Not trying to push past you anymore. He’s staying.

And you smile at him. “Yeah. It is.”

End Note: I love leaving little clues for things that won't be evident until chapters later.

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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anotherjheastan · 4 months ago

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This Will Be Our Year - A Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley FanFic

CW: suggestive

Chapter 12 | Chapter List

Epilogue: Love You a Little Bit

March 11, 2025

Rhea glanced at Jey. He was driving them to Dave and Buster’s for a day date. They liked to go as soon as they opened because no one was there. They could hog their favorite machines. And today would be a great way to blow off steam before they headed out for the European tour.

She reached out and touched his hair. He was growing it out a little, getting back into crash out mode. She was considering crashing out herself. She had lost her title to Iyo and Bianca was calling her childish and crazy for being mad at her for cheering on Iyo. Rhea had just wanted her dream WrestleMania match. And now it was gone. She wasn’t sure if she would participate in any matches at WrestleMania. But she would be there to cheer on Jey.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it, glancing at her. She smiled and pushed all her negative thoughts out of her mind. The past five months have been overall wonderful. Of course, they had their ups and downs, but they had worked through them.

January 27, 2025

During rehearsal, Naomi came and got Rhea before her call time.

“Yeah, they need you now. Come on,” Naomi said.

Rhea sighed and put down her colored pencils. She closed her coloring book and walked out with Naomi. They ran into Bianca in gorilla. She waved, looking extra excited. Rhea smiled and waved back even though she had seen her earlier.

She walked down the ramp and looked around the empty arena. She got into the ring and was surprised to see a heart.

“Are those rose petals?” she asked. She stood in the middle of the heart and picked up a note. She unfolded it.

“Look up?” she read, turning the statement into a question.

She looked up and gasped. Jey was in the audience, close to the ring. He was holding up a sign that said, “Will You Be My Valentine?” in red letters.

She laughed. “Yes, of course.”

He looked like he bent down to get something. He put the sign down and hopped over the barrier. He made his way into the ring with a gift bag. It was black and had an anatomical heart on the outside.

She hugged and kissed him.

“I have one more question to ask you,” he said. The serious tone in his voice unsettled her a little.

“What is it?” she asked, holding her hands tightly.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Rhea smiled, relieved. “Yes.”

She heard screams erupt from down the ramp and saw Naomi and Bianca cheering. She laughed. Jey shook his head at them.

“Here, I got you something,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Ooo a girlfriend gift?” Rhea said, taking it and reaching into the bag.

“Oh wow, Jey,” she said, her voice full of awe. She pulled out a charm bracelet with some of her favorite horror movie characters.

She slipped on the bracelet. She had joked saying she’d only wear a charm bracelet if she could get horror charms on them, not even believing that was a thing. He had asked her what kind of jewelry she liked some time after her birthday.

“Thank you, babe,” Rhea said, gently grabbing his face and kissing him. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

Jey smiled and shrugged. “No big deal. I got you something you’d like.”

“False. Big deal. Huge deal!”

She hugged him tightly. He squeezed her back and kissed her forehead.

“Alright lovebirds,” Naomi said. “We’ve gotta clean this up now.”

“Yeah, time’s up,” Bianca said.

Rhea looked over them as they climbed into the ring.

“No, you guys don’t have to do that,” Rhea said.

“It’s okay. We wanna help,” Naomi said.

“Thanks y’all,” Jey said. “Come on, boo.”

“Aww boo!” Naomi gushed.

“Ugh they’re so cute,” Bianca said.

Rhea blushed and followed Jey out of the ring.

On February 1st, she made a video titled “POV when your boyfriend wins the Royal Rumble.” Kayden had recorded her reaction. And it was the first public mention of them being together. She had to turn her phone off.

Valentine’s Day weekend had been fun…even if it did include a late night delivery of Plan B.

And March didn’t have a great start. Jey’s confidence about beating Gunther at Mania was floundering; especially with Gunther jumping him every week. And Rhea had been his rock, but losing her title to Iyo was a dropkick to her confidence. But they still managed to lean on each other. Jey suggested they go to a rage room. It was more fun than either of them could have imagined. They worked out together more often and pushed each other, reminding themselves that they would both be holding gold soon.

Jey parked at Dave and Buster’s and leaned over for a kiss. She kissed him, touching his face. He started to rub noses with her and she pulled away, gagging. He laughed and they got out of the car. They walked hand in hand. Jey checked their cards when they got inside and they went straight to their favorite game: The Walking Dead.

They bounced all around the arcade for a few hours. Jey used his points to get Rhea a plush Jack Skellington and Rhea got him a ukulele.

“Don’t be mad when I learn to play this forreal,” he said, strumming on it.

Rhea smiled and shook her head. She watched him as they sat down to eat. He had opened the menu and glanced at it, strumming his ukulele. A warm feeling settled in her chest. She smiled. She had gotten this feeling a few times, just watching him be himself around her. She wasn’t sure if it was comfort or affection…

He looked at her, their eyes meeting. She felt her heart skip a beat.

Or love. Maybe it was love.

“Why you watching me?” Jey asked, smiling.

“I’m just so impressed with your ukulele skills,” Rhea said, enthusiasm laced with sarcasm.

Jey burst out laughing and Rhea joined him. And as their laughter died down and they redirected their attention back to the menus, Rhea actually looking this time, she felt that warm feeling again. She looked up and met his eyes. He winked at her and smiled.

Yeah, now she was sure. That feeling was love.

Previous Chapter

#the end #thanks for reading #rhea ripley #jey uso #rhea x jey #wwe fanfiction #jhea #jhea fanfiction #rhea and jey #jey x rhea #Spotify #cw suggestive

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m4tthewmurd0ck · 1 year ago

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stand and fight

── jacaerys velaryon x fem!targaryen reader

surprise i can’t contain myself so this is a series shdbxndjfvnsj

little a/n before we begin ── CHANGING AGES!! jace is only 13 when aegon is crowned king but in this, you and he are both 18. as with my aegon piece, i know everyone’s long names and titles but for the sake of not typing it out each time i use first names (i.e. criston instead of ser criston cole). reader is alicent and viserys’ child, but is living with rhaenyra and her family because she was always of the opinion that her father wanted rhaenyra to be queen. even once aegon was crowned, she refused to refer to him as king. as a result this caused a huge feud with reader against alicent, aegon, and aemond and she was all but banished from her home. about 2 weeks after aegon is crowned, reader and dragon (stormfyre) ran away and have been with rhaenyra and fam ever since. of everyone on team black, you’re closest with jace. everyone suspects something romantic between you both, but nothing has happened as of the start of this. takes place before, and during season 2 episode 4. you’ve been warned

wc: 1.6k (future chapters will be much longer and feature a lot more of jace, promise!)

PART ONE

Your relationship with Jacaerys (not that you could really call it a relationship), wasn’t always how it is now. He wasn’t the one you sought out when you wanted quiet but not alone time, and you weren’t the first person he searched for when he entered the room. Certainly not when you first arrived and Rhaenyra announced that you’d be staying with them.

In fact, in the beginning, you were sure he hated you.

Being on opposing sides of this ‘war’, part of the reason why he took such a strong disliking to you was because he thought he had to. You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite. You’d long since grown tired of hating people simply because you were told to.

On the evening you and Stormfyre ran away, the entire time you were flying was spent worrying and just praying to the Gods that you wouldn’t be turned away, or killed.

Rhaenyra was there to greet you when Stormfyre finally landed, and once you told her how bad things had gotten at home and that you didn’t know where else to go, she immediately offered you a room. Though you were Alicent’s daughter, you were still her half sister and had always been kind to her and her children. She knew you wanted no part in this feud, that you and Helaena were innocent in all of it.

After you wrote a note and Rhaenyra sent a raven to deliver it to Alicent, she informed you that they were just about to sit down and have dinner and she’d love for you to join them.

The first thing you noticed as you took your seat across from Lucerys, was how Jacaerys was glaring at you.

No one had taken more than a few bites before he put his fork down and loudly stood up.

“Why is she here?” He pointed at you, not even bothering to hide his anger.

“Jacaerys sit down,” Rhaenyra shook her head. “You know as well as I do that she is innocent in all of this. I have invited her—”

“To stay with us? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, she’s one of them! How do you know—”

Hearing that last part, Rhaenyra pushed her chair back and stood up. “Do not speak to me in that way, I will not tolerate it. I have invited her to stay for as long as she’d like and that is final. Now sit down.”

“Yes Your Grace.” The sarcasm was loud and clear, but Rhaenyra opted to ignore it since he did in fact sit down again.

You had your worries, but this confirmed it. You couldn’t stay. On the way over you told yourself that if anyone showed hesitation or anger at you being there, you’d leave as soon as you felt safe to do so. To live in a place where you were in fear of saying the wrong thing or suddenly being asked to leave, was no different than if you’d remained at home.

“Your Grace, I am a bit tired. Thank you for the lovely meal but if it’s alright I’d like to retire for the evening.”

Jacaerys once again didn’t even attempt to hide his anger. He rolled his eyes as he continued to eat.

“Of course, please don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything you need.” She gave you a small smile, and as soon as you turned the corner you could hear her beginning to bicker with her eldest son.

After you’d been in your room about an hour, there was a series of soft knocks at your door. If you’d been doing anything other than laying in bed, you probably wouldn’t have heard.

When you opened the door and were greeted by Lucerys, to say you were surprised was an understatement.

“My Prince, I —”

He gave you that look, the I’m a kid please don’t use my title it’s weird look, and when you tried again and called him by his first name, he smiled. His hands had previously been behind his back and when he brought them forward, in each was a small plate with what appeared to be some sort of cake.

“Jace was rude and I know that’s why you didn’t finish dinner,” he said simply.

You opened your mouth to say that wasn’t true, but when he gave you that look again you couldn’t help but laugh.

“For being so young, you’re quite perceptive.”

He nodded as he sat down and handed you a plate. “Mom says I’m good at reading people. I forgot forks so we’ll have to use our hands.”

“You wish to stay and eat with me?”

Again, the young boy nodded. “It’s not fun to eat alone.”

The first few minutes, the 2 of you simply enjoyed the desserts in silence. You were relieved to find that it was a comfortable silence. When you were both finished, Lucerys, who insisted you call him Luke, took the plates and said he’d be right back. When he returned only a moment later, his first question surprised you.

“Why did you run away?”

“I — it’s complicated. Since Aegon was crowned king, there have been a lot of… fights.”

“You don’t think he should be king?”

You wondered how much to tell him, seeing as he was only 11. “No,” you decided to just tell the truth. “I think your mom should be.”

“She’s your… half sister, right?”

You nodded. “Yes, she’s my half sister. The same way that Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond are her other half siblings.”

“Do you not like them?”

“My other siblings?”

He nodded.

“I’m using this word too much, but it’s complicated. My relationship with each of them is different. Or was, before things went bad. Aegon and I used to be inseparable when we were really little. Everyone used to joke that we were twins. Though I’m a year older than Aemond, I always looked up to him. He’s the one who taught me how to use a sword, and I will always be grateful for that. Helaena and I are still close, she understands why I left. In fact that reminds me I need to ask your mom if I may send a raven to her tomorrow.”

“Even if you don’t think he should be king, why did you leave? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not yet anyway,” you gave a sad smile. “But it wasn’t just them that made me fearful. Other people haven’t been so kind. It’s why I’m so grateful that I’m allowed to be here, even if it’s only temporary.”

Luke looked surprised, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that you’d leave. “But you’ll stay with us for a while right? I’ll talk to Jace, I swear it.”

You quickly wiped a tear and smiled at the young boy in front of you. “That means a lot to me, truly. But please don’t talk to your brother on my behalf. He has made it clear I’m unwelcome and I fear that anything you say will make him angry with you as well.”

“If you don’t stay, will you have to return home?”

That was something you hadn’t even thought about. Initially while flying you feared being rejected. But even if that did happen, what would your plan have been?

“Possibly. I do not know where else I would go.”

“Jacer— there you are, you’ve had us searching everywhere,” Rhaenyra smiling as she saw how comfortable her son was around you. “Why don’t you let her get some sleep, hmm? You can see her in the morning.”

He groaned, but Luke did give you a hug and a “goodnight” before heading out of your room.

Rhaenyra turned to follow her son, then turned back around to face you again as she thought of something she wanted to say.

“I’d just like to apologize for my older son. I do not know what has gotten into him as of late but he had no right to speak to or about you that way. I will see to it that he—”

“Please, Your Grace—” she gives you that same look that Luke did, and you smile at how similar they look. “Rhaenyra, you and he have nothing to apologize for. I am technically one of them, and I’m intruding on your home.”

She is quick to shake her head. “You’re not intruding. I know what it can be like over there, and for your wellbeing I am glad that you felt safe enough to come here. We will think of next steps for tomorrow, although I really do hope you’ll stay a while. It seems Luke does too. I’ll let you get some rest now.”

“Thank you, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you,” you get off of the bed and embrace your sister for the first time in who knows how long. She rubs circles on your back and it brings tears to your eyes, your own mom wouldn’t ever embrace you like this.

Rhaenyra leaves a few minutes later, and you finally crawl into bed.

As you lay there and wait for sleep to come, you think about the events of today. And you can’t help it, eventually your mind drifts to the boy who sat across from you.

With the dirty looks he gave you, how he spoke about you as if you weren’t there, there’s no doubt in your mind that he hates you.

It’s hard to believe that if Aegon weren’t crowned King, and Rhaenyra held her place on the iron throne, that Jacaerys would’ve been the next heir.

Even harder to believe is that to ensure both families remained united, you and he would’ve already gotten married.

You finally start to feel sleepy, and just before you drift off, your final thoughts are of Jacerys. If you do end up staying, you wonder if things will always be like this.

TAGLIST ──

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twice-inamillion · 2 years ago

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Family Trip

Fluff and Smut (adventure, family time)(teasing, sex, dom Jihyo, cowgirl riding, creampie, talking about breeding)

Chapter 214

2124 Words

(The first trip as a married couple with Jisoo. Some fluff moment and with a happy ending. 😏)

After your honeymoon, the two of you decide on a family trip with Jisoo. “Are you excited to go on a trip with mommy and daddy?” asks Jihyo. Jisoo nods and smiles. “Okay, then you will need your sweater and your toy.” Jisoo makes her way down the bed, runs to get her sweater and stuffed toy, and puts it inside her backpack.

You leave just before sunrise for a morning hike to Diamond Head State Park. Jisoo tries her best to make the hike but can only walk on flat surfaces. “Daddy, up,” says Jisoo, who puts her hands up. You put her inside her baby carrier and climb up the stairs to the top of the mountain. When you arrive at the top, the sun rises, “We made it just in time." Jihyo takes a photo of you and Jisoo with the sunrise in the background.

“Say cheese!”

Jisoo smiles and holds a heart sign, which makes Jihyo laugh. You then take a picture of Jihyo and Jisoo and a family photo of the beautiful background.

After the hike, the three of you enjoy a light breakfast before going to the second stop of your trip. Jisoo can’t help but be excited to go whale watching. Before arriving in Hawaii, the two of you would read Jisoo, a book on whales, before going to sleep. When she was asked what she wanted to do while she was in Hawaii, she immediately replied, “Big whale, big whale!”

The three of you arrive at the port and are the first trip of the day. You board the large boat and take your seats inside. The ship departs from the port, as Jisoo is glued to the window trying to look for the whales.

“Jisoo, there are no whales here.”

“No?” Titling her head in confusion.

“We need to be in the middle of the ocean because the whales are so big,” says Jihyo.

“Whale, big?”

“Yes, some whales are bigger than this boat.”

“Whale eat?” as she points at the two of you.

“Ohh no, the whale doesn’t eat people. Remember how the book said it eats small creatures called krill.” Jisoo nods her head and stares back at the window.

About an hour into the boat ride, there is an announcement that there has been a site of a pod of whales nearby. Jisoo’s ear perks up and asks you to go outside.

The three of you head out and walk to where the captain points. Jihyo takes out a pair of binoculars for the two of you to use. It doesn’t take long before you get a glimpse of the whale’s fin, “Look, Jisoo, it's right in front of you.” Jisoo lifts her binoculars and sees the whale showing its head, “ama, whale!”

Jisoo turns to Jihyo and points out, “Look, whale!” You hand over the binoculars to Jihyo, “You’re right; good job, Jisoo, you found the whale.” Jisoo can’t help but feel proud of her finding.

The captain steers the boat closer to where the whale was sighted. “Right before us is a humpback whale in its feeding ground. One of our deckhands communicated with us that they have also caught sight of a calf, so we need to be extra careful.”

“Did you hear that Jisoo? The captain said that they saw a calf, a baby whale.”

“Baby whale? Jisoo?” pointing at herself.

Jihyo responds, “Yes, a baby just like Jisoo.”

“I see, baby.”

“Ohh, we need to be extra careful. We don’t want to scare the calf away.”

The three of you wait for a few minutes until the water bubbles up. The whale jumps out of the water and crashes down, causing a huge splash. Jisoo points and laughs out loud, “Whale jump, whale jump!”

Before the whale came out, Jihyo took out her phone to record Jisoo’s reaction. She knew Jisoo would go crazy if the whale came out jumping from the water. Jisoo moves her hands excitedly as the whale leaps from the water. Jihyo can’t believe she caught this beautiful moment.

The whale stays afloat for a few minutes, eating the large amount of krill that swarms on the surface. Out of nowhere, Jisoo sees the calf pop its head, “Baby, baby!”

“You’re right; the baby saw you and wanted to say hi.”

“Baby, hi?”

“Yes, baby, wanted to say hi to Jisoo.”

Jisoo laughs, “Hug, baby!”

“Ohh, you can’t hug the baby; it's too big. Maybe when you’re older, you can swim with it.”

After going back and forth, Jisoo is convinced and understands that she can not hug the calf.

The boat arrives at the port, and the three of you give your thanks to the captain. “Bye-bye!” Jisoo turns around to Jihyo, says, “Jisoo hungry,” and rubs her belly.

You stop at a local Hawaiian shop and get some food before heading to the beach. When you arrive at the beach, Jihyo walks to a good spot with some shade as you carry your belongings. Jisoo watches and eats her pineapple ice cream and shouts, “Apa, tent!” rushing you to hurry with setting up the tent. “Okay, okay, I got it.”

After setting up the tent, you all enjoy some ice cream and food as you watch the waves crash to the shore. Jisoo extends her arms, “Ama, boobs, boobs!” Jisoo crawls to her mother and lifts up her shirt, exposing her bra. “Okay, okay, you want to drink mommy’s milk,” as she releases her breasts from her bra.

Jisoo immediately positions her head and attaches her mouth to Jihyo’s nipple. She starts to suck on Jihyo’s breast aggressively, causing her to moan slightly. You can’t help but laugh at Jihyo for her sudden reaction. She throws her bra, which hits your face. Jihyo laughs at you, but instead, you take her bra and give it a sniff, to which she says, “Babe, you’re gross.”

“Haha, you know we’ve done worse,” giving her a smirk.

“Haha, that’s true.”

After a few minutes of breastfeeding, Jisoo falls asleep, attached to her mother’s breast. Jihyo places her on the floor of the tent and covers Jisoo with her blanket. “Aww, she looks cute, doesn’t she.”

Suddenly, she feels your head on her lap, and you say, “Mommy, I’m hungry too,” giving her a pair of puppy dog eyes. She gives you an annoyed face before you attach your mouth to her breast. You slowly begin to suckle on her nipple, causing her to release a slow moan, “Ahh… babe. That feels nice.” You increase the pace of your sucking, which increases her cry. She can feel herself getting wet but then hears Jisoo whine in her sleep, making her release her nipple from your mouth.

“Why did you stop?”

“She’s going to wake up.”

“Dang, okay,” you pout.

The two of you instead lay next to Jisoo and talk about the past few days. The ups and downs and what is on the schedule for the next few weeks. She also asks you for an update on the house, which there is some process but is still a few months away from completion. Eventually, she falls asleep like Jisoo, and you decide to enjoy your time at this very moment.

You return to the house and have a light dinner before showering. Jihyo decides to bathe with Jisoo as you clean up the kitchen and get your items ready for tomorrow. After you are finished, you hop into the shower as Jihyo gets Jisoo ready for bed. With the water muffling any outside noise, you clear your head and enjoy your time alone.

Done with your shower, you see Jihyo covering Jisoo with her blanket. “She fell asleep so fast; she must have been so tired.”

“We did wake up earlier than usual. She didn’t even complain one bit throughout the day.”

“Our baby is growing up,” says Jihyo with a warm smile.”

“You’re right; our baby is growing up so fast.”

Jihyo then turns around and touches your chest, “Let’s continue where we left off.” She stares at you with lustful eyes and pushes you onto the couch.

“Wait… what are you doing?”

“I said I want to continue where we left off.”

“But Jisoo is here.”

“So, she’s asleep, and I don’t think she’ll wake up until tomorrow.” She undoes your towel and pulls out your limp cock, and gives it a few strokes. Jihyo lifts her oversized shirt and aligns your cock to her entrance, slowly lowering herself into your cock, causing her to moan.

With your cock between her walls, she slowly rides you. You can feel your core burning up and your cock throbbing due to her tightness.

She whispers in your ear, “I can feel your cock getting bigger inside of me,” which makes you immediately go to full size. Now, at full length, she increases the pace as she rides you like one of her toys.

You try not to make any noise and not wake up Jisoo, and you bite your lip and try your hardest not to make a sound. The only sound in the room is of flesh slapping against each other as Jihyo rides you like a mating bull.

You don’t want to be the only one nude, so you lift up Jihyo’s oversized shirt and toss it on the floor. With your hands on her ass, she begins to thrust harder, causing your thighs to turn red. To what seems like thirty minutes of pure riding, Jihyo knows you are at your limit. She comes closer to your ear and whispers, “I know you’re about to cum just like I am. So where do you want to shoot it? Inside or outside?”

It’s a no-brainer, and respond, “You know the only choice is inside.”

“Why did I even ask? You’re always one to get a girl dirty right after they get cleaned.”

“What can I say? I like marking my girls with my seed.”

Teasing you, she says, “And what do you like doing to your girls with your seed?”

“I like breeding them.”

“Ohh, you like breeding us?”

“Yes, just like right now. I want to breed you all night and give our daughter another sibling.”

“If you want to, do it.”

“Really?”

“No. You know how busy we are with the tour.”

“Fuck, you’re right.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can't just fuck me here and there. I’m on the pill, so you can cum inside of me as much as you want.”

“You really know how to make a guy happy, huh.”

“I know you like the back of my hand. I know you’re about to burst at any moment, so let me give you a push,” and lifts herself once more before slamming herself with full force.

Both of your floodgates burst wide open, releasing your orgasms at once. Her love juice and your thick cum collide with one another, mixing into something new. Jihyo spasms as she rides her orgasm, tightening her walls around your cock and milking you of all you’re worth.

After a few minutes, she regains her composure and asks you to bring her to bed. “You don’t want to clean yourself first?”

“No, why would I? I love the feeling of hot baby batter in my tummy.” You can't help but get turned on again. “I see our little friend here is still full of energy. How about you go clean up the mess, and if you’re still hard, I’ll let you sleep with your cock inside of me.”

You try your best to clean yourself and the mess before going to bed. Luckily, your friend didn’t disappoint and stood tall and proud the whole time.

You climb onto the bed slowly, not to wake Jisoo from her sleep. Jihyo turns around and whispers, "I guess you’re still hard. A promise is a promise," and turns around with her back facing you. She sticks her but out, teasing you as you get closer to her. She grabs your hard cock and aligns it to her entrance before taking in the first two inches of your meat. “It’s in, you can put in the rest.”

You grab her waist and shove your whole length inside her womb, causing her to moan slowly. Jihyo, in a spooning position with you, grinds herself onto you and makes sure that every inch of “you” is warm. She slowly falls asleep with your embrace and her baby next to her.

#twice smut #kpop smut #twice #twice fluff #kpop fluff #twice jihyo #jihyo x m reader #jihyo fluff #jihyo smut #jihyo x reader #park jihyo #jihyo #TM smut

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beegomess · 2 months ago

Text

Hearts woven in threads || Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

A/N: English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for any typos. I hope you enjoy!

masterlist || Hearts woven in threads

Chapter 07

Every day, since the conversation with your mother, it seemed like a small farewell disguised as a routine.

You never told her about what happened on the last patrol. You hid the details as if they were invisible wounds. You just said that Sam gave you a few days off because of her change, and that was enough. It wasn't a lie... but it wasn't true either.

It's not that you were afraid to worry her. Or maybe it was. But more than that, you just didn't want to see that look again - the same one she gave the day she knew you were no longer just human. That look between fright and care, as if she tried to remember that you were still the same person. That hurt more than any broken bone. And if you're honest with yourself, it never passed.

Still, she seemed excited about the new phase. You spent your days between boxes, donations and memories. With each emptied closet, a small museum was revealed: drawings of his with huge eyes and scribbled titles, bracelets of beads that barely fit more on the wrist, tickets folded with silly and naive phrases. It was funny and beautiful at the same time.

Maybe it would be even better that way. Maybe she deserved days when the biggest problem was which curtain to match the new sofa, and not if her daughter would come back whole after a night in the middle of the forest. She had already lived worried enough, with her father, then with you. It was fair that now she lived something that was only hers.

And you were already used to the idea. Her absence didn't hurt you like before, it was more like an anticipated longing, which you had already been feeling before it even happened.

Still, it wasn't easy. The house now had the sound of a cardboard box and the smell of adhesive tape. There was something loose in the air, as if time was waiting for the exact moment to dismantle what was left of stability.

Paul showed up a few times in the last few days.

Sometimes with practical excuses - help your mother with something heavy or ask if you were better. Others, he just appeared, as if the path to his door was a muscular memory. And when that happened, the air between you seemed to change density.

There were no fights or stamped hurt. But there was a space between you that no one knew how to cross. You greeted him with a brief look, a contained word. He, in turn, remained calmer than usual. Measured. As if any more intense gesture could push you further away.

It was strange for you to see him interacting with his mother, as if nothing had happened. The charismatic way, the easy laugh, the unexpected kindness. You watched from afar, trying to understand what he might be thinking.

In some moments, when the eyes met unintentionally, you saw something in his eyes. A sweet tiredness. A contained longing. Or just the reflection of your own silence.

He didn't press, but you could feel the way he took a long time to leave, the way he kept looking at the door even after he said "bye" - that he wanted more. Even if he didn't say it. Even if he didn't dare to ask.

And that confused you. Because yes, there was a part of you that wanted too - you wanted the familiar touch of his hands, the comforting weight of his body on the couch, the comfortable silence that only happened between two souls that recognize each other. But there was another part, as alive as that, that spent days chewing memories and swallowing doubts.

You were never one to ruminate too much, but these days...

While helping his mother with boxes, clothes and donations, his head was still busy with unanswered questions.

The truth is that you used that time to hide behind the chaos of the change, your mother's distracted affection, the excuse of recovering - which, in part, was true. His body had already returned to normal. The pain in the ribs had dissolved into an uncomfortable memory, and a week away from patrols had given his physique the necessary rest.

But there was something else.

Something that time, by itself, could not cure. A raw and silent feeling still vibrated inside you - not anger, exactly, but a difficult mess to name. It was a mixture of longing and uncertainty, as if something had been left behind without being said. And maybe that was what hurt the most: the lack of clarity. You knew you felt what he felt - imprinting made a point of it - but even that couldn't order what was going on inside you. Was it regret? Missing? Or just the memory of something that could have been different? As much as he tried to follow, this doubt flowed into the gaps of his silence. In the way you hesitated before speaking, in the way your fingers hovered over the cell phone and went back

And that's how reality knocked on the door.

You had been avoiding it for too long and felt, like a call coming from within, that you could no longer postpone. Emily's house seemed like the first step. Not only because you needed to see them - the others, the pack, the world that was still spinning - but because deep down you knew that that night would bring something different or that maybe it was the moment.

It was almost a mandatory stop after the days you were away. The sky was still covered by heavy clouds, but from time to time the sun infiltrated through them, throwing golden spots on the wet asphalt. The air seemed suspended between the stuffy and the cold. A strange climate, tailor-made for that feeling that you also didn't know what it was.

Emily's house was still the same refuge as always, but it looked different that day. There was no smell of fresh food, this was replaced by something more subtle.

The front door, as always, was open. Practically wide open.

You smiled and went to her. Emily was on her back, stirring two mugs on the counter. Chamomile tea, for the smell.

- Trying to sleep earlier? - you asked with a half smile, leaning on the door frame.

Emily raised her face from whatever she was moving, with a tired glow in her eyes.

- You're back! - he said, surprised and happy. - Actually... I'm just trying to maintain sanity with this pack invading my kitchen every morning.

She poured the hot water into the mug, sighing with that air of someone who was exhausted, but had already accepted the routine.

You laughed low, approaching.

- I can imagine. And they don't even know what silence is, right?

She laughed back, taking another mug from the closet and giving it to you.

- Neither in human form, nor in wolf form.

You accepted the tea and leaned sideways on the bench, looking around. The house still had that good smell and that kettle noise that always gave you a feeling of normality.

- So, how are you? - Emily asked, after a sip.

- I'm fine - you said, shrugging your shoulders. - I mean... well enough.

- Is your mother really going?

- Okay. Only a few boxes are missing. And some things she wants to see if she throws away or not. - You gave a corner smile. - But the house is already getting weird. Half empty.

Emily nodded, resting her elbows on the bench.

- It will be good for her.

- Yeah.

She looked at you carefully for a few seconds, as if she was waiting for the right moment.

- And you two?

You didn't even pretend not to know who she was talking about.

- Honestly, I don't know - he said, letting out a weak laugh. - Maybe you know more than me.

- He's kind of quiet - Emily answered sincerely. - Stay here from time to time, help with some things. But... it's different. Half in his corner.

You looked at her with slight curiosity. He didn't use to stay in his "corner".

- I haven't seen him that much lately - you said, looking away and pretending to suddenly focus on the mug itself.

Emily watched you for a moment and then commented, with that light tone that disguised more accurate intentions:

- Maybe you're the one who's getting too far away.

You laughed, kind of incredulous, blowing the tea vapor as if it could push the conversation away. But he didn't answer. It was a simple comment, almost played... and even so, it hit somewhere deeper.

- Besides, things have changed around here - she continued, absently stirring the liquid in her own mug. - A certain person hasn't appeared that often.

You looked up again, now with a more open smile. Emily also smiled - not in a provocative way, but complicit. Like someone who holds a silly secret and likes the idea of seeing it reveal itself.

- What is this? Did Paul ask you to say these things? - you joked, half laughing.

- Someone has to do the dirty work - she replied with a fun shrug.

He didn't ask for much, he just let slip that maybe it would be good, if she could... remind you of some things. Show, with skill, what people sometimes pretend not to see out of pride.

But before anything could go too deep, the wood creaked under something and Jared appeared, with the usual energy, leaning on the stop as if he were already part of the house.

- Did I interrupt the tea club? - he joked, and you laughed.

- Yes. - he replied, still with a half smile on his face.

- Great, so I arrived at the right time - Jared replied, approaching and pulling one of the chairs without ceremony. - I needed a place to escape from Sam's closed face.

Emily let out a sigh, already opening her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a faster, urgent sound.

The door was crossed with loud footsteps once again and Embry appeared, breathing heavier than usual.

- We need to go. Now. - he warned directly. - Sam, Paul and Jacob are following a trail. One of the leeches passed by the trail that goes to a hill nearby.

You didn't hesitate.

The cup was left on the counter in an automatic gesture, almost abrupt - the sound of the ceramics touching the wood echoed dry, cutting the light climate that existed there a few seconds ago. In an impulse, his feet were already moving along with Embry and Jared towards the door, as if his body knew exactly what to do before you even thought.

On the short way to the interior of the forest, his heart was already beating faster - not out of fear, but out of urgency.

In a few seconds, the world fell undone in fabrics and heat - his body giving in to the instinct that pulsated under the skin. The sounds became clearer, the smells more vivid, and the moist ground under his paws seemed to pulsate along with the tension in his chest.

You and Jared followed Embry in silence, an agile trio moving in the middle of the closed forest. He ran in front, focused on the tracks left by Sam, Jacob and Paul.

Further ahead, the smell of the vampire became stronger, recent, marked as an open cut in the air. The pace of the race intensified, his muscles already burning, but his mind focused on the smell and the trail - just a smell.

You began to see the other three wolves - Jacob, Sam and Paul - running in formation. They were close. The mental connection was established, more intense, clearer.

But then, in a burst, Embry changed direction to his left. Jared followed right behind.

You stopped for a second. Enough for the impulse to collide with logic. Your eyes followed the trail they left, and, by instinct, you ran after you. As he approached, he launched the thought:

"Why are you guys going this way?"

Embry answered, without stopping:

"Sam's order. The red-haired vampire may be hiding in that direction."

You didn't answer.

But it was impossible to ignore: her smell was not there. No trace, not the slightest trace. Only the vampire who was still going ahead.

Still, you followed Embry and Jared.

Until, at some point, you had moved so far away that the smell of the persecution seemed to have already dissipated into the air. The trail that was so clear before, had almost completely disappeared. There was nothing left, not even the slightest trace of any vampire.

The sounds of the forest, previously marked by the sound of the branches breaking under its paws, were now muffled. The darkness had fallen silently and heavily. Only the sound of his breaths and the snaps of the ground under his feet broke the silence.

The back trail seemed longer than before. The smell of the forest was no longer alert, it was just a reminder of lost time. Your muscles burned with the effort of the day, but what really bothered you was something else. A nuisance inside, trapped in the place where instinct and reason collided.

You arrived at Emily's house in silence. Jared passed by you, and before climbing the steps, he stopped:

- Aren't you going in?

You shook your head, your eyes fixed anywhere other than the house.

- I'm tired - I just said, going around the house next.

The air was cooler back there, and the sound of the conversations was extinguished at every step. It was only when he folded the side of the house that you saw him.

Paul, leaning against the hood of his car, as if he had been waiting for a long time - although he seemed casual. Dark shirt, crossed arms, the weight of the body distributed as if nothing was wrong.

But his eyes said something else.

As soon as you appeared, he straightened up subtly. Not surprisingly, he just felt you before seeing you. The distance between you seemed smaller than in recent days, but it still carried the weight of what had not been said.

You approached slowly, while Paul kept his eyes on you the whole time, but said nothing. Whatever he had thought of saying, he stayed there, between his teeth clenched and the slight movement of his throat when he swallowed dry.

You just reached out and put the car keys in his palm. A simple gesture. Almost automatic. But full of everything that was not yet resolved between you.

He took it without hesitation. His thumb lightly touched his fingers - just for a second.

Without a single comment, you bypassed the car. He opened the driver's door. You entered on the other side.

The silence that came after was not uncomfortable, it was just the kind of silence that exists between two people who know each other too well.

The car was already moving when you finally released the air trapped in your lungs. His smell filled the confined space - familiar, hot, disturbing. The open window let the wind in, but nothing removed the feeling that that silence said more than any conversation could.

You looked away to the road, then to his hand firm on the steering wheel. Only then did he break the silence, without staring at him:

- I don't want to go home today.

The voice came out low, almost as if it hadn't been made to be heard. But he heard.

Paul didn't say anything right away. He just looked quickly in your direction, his lips parted, and turned his eyes to the road. You didn't expect an answer.

Without thinking too much, he leaned his head on his shoulder. It wasn't an attempt to resume whatever it was. It was just... a gesture. A rest. As if that were the only possible place to breathe properly.

Paul remained motionless for a second, as if he was trying to understand if that was real. Then he relaxed, just enough to let his shoulder mold better to the curve of his head.

His heat was constant. And you stayed there, for a few seconds too long to be just polite silence.

- Do you want to go to my house? - he suggested, his voice hoarse, low, almost cautious. - Or somewhere else?

You didn't answer right away. The car's engine vibrated under the feet, the night outside was humid, dense. That was security, but also a memory.

Only then did you nod, almost imperceptible.

- Your house.

None of you said anything along the way. But the silence had changed. It looked like another - loaded, full of everything that still hovered between you and that, for some reason, no longer seemed urgent or chaotic.

His house was silent when they arrived.

You entered slowly. The weight on the shoulders was not only the long day or the meaningless run in the woods - it was the quiet longing, the feeling of having been too far from a place that, despite everything, still seemed like yours.

Paul came in behind you. He didn't turn on all the lights, he just followed you, who went straight to the room.

You entered and, for a moment, just stood at the door. The room was dark, except for the dim light of the lamp on in the corner. It was still the same place, but with something different - as if the time you spent away had changed the way things occupied the space.

You took off your coat slowly, dropping it on the armchair next to the bed. The fingers worked on the hem of his blouse, without haste, almost as if they needed time to feel the comfort of being there again.

Paul appeared leaning against the door frame a few seconds later, silent, as if he didn't want to interrupt anything. He watched you for a moment and then went to the dresser, taking a wide T-shirt from inside the drawer, throwing it to you, without saying anything, while you picked it up still in the air.

- Are you going to take a shower first? - he asked, his voice low, scratched by the tiredness of the day.

- No... I just need to lie down - you replied, and he nodded as if he had already expected this.

While you put on the T-shirt, he took off his own clothes, throwing them in the basket in the corner of the room. He took any other one in the drawer and dressed her without haste. Then he moved something on the bedside table before approaching the bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress, with his back to you.

That's when you said:

- I really didn't want to go home - the voice came out lower than you expected, but firm.

He didn't answer right away. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he had been waiting for that moment for days.

- I noticed - he replied, still not facing you.

You kept looking at him there, standing still, so close and still so contained. Part of you wanted to reach out and touch him. Your other part was just too tired for any sudden movement.

- But I didn't want to come either... If everything was to remain the same - you said, now more firmly, although the lump in your throat still weighed.

Paul was quiet for another second. Then he released the air slowly, getting up.

- I know - he said, and there was something in the tone that was not defensive. Just... sincere. A little hurt, maybe. - It won't stay the same.

He said that walking to the other side of the bed and pulling the blanket before lying down next to you. The mattress sank gently, and now he was there - This time, he didn't respect the space as before. Paul turned sideways, one arm bent under his head, and the other stretched until he found his hand. The fingers touched his first carefully, then more firmly.

- I missed you - he said, his eyes fixed on your intertwined fingers, not on your face. But his touch was direct. And there was something in the way his thumb slid lightly on the back of his hand that said everything he still couldn't.

You looked at him, feeling a soft squeeze in your chest.

- Me too - he replied, his voice lower now, as if he didn't want to break whatever was forming there.

Paul nodded, almost imperceptible, before looking away. But he didn't move away. And you didn't insist.

The silence extended like a light blanket, and little by little the world became quieter. None of you noticed exactly when sleep arrived, but it came easily - wrapped in the warm truce of two bodies that no longer knew very well what they were, but still found shelter in each other.

Hours later, you woke up. The room was dark, even more than before, and the sound of his breathing was constant and close.

Paul had an arm around him, firm and natural, as if he had always been there. The chin rested on your head, and its warmth enveloped you in a calm - protective way, even sleeping. There was no tension in his body, only presence.

You didn't move. You didn't want to. Likewise, you stood there motionless, feeling the silent security of that touch. Just close your eyes again, letting the sound of his heart — strong, rhythmic, constant — cradle you back to sleep.

And maybe that was it: Allowing him to taste, over time, what was his and what came from the imprinting. You didn't know how to separate one thing from the other, but you were willing to find out.

For now, you didn't need to understand everything. You just need to breathe there, where everything seemed possible.

When the day came, it was slow. Paul was still asleep. His arm was still there, around your waist, as if the world hadn't moved since the last time you opened your eyes.

You didn't say anything. Just observed. He had a peace that didn't seem to match anything you had lived in recent days. And, for a small and precious moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe there was still room for that.

When he moved, it was just enough to squeeze you lightly against him, as if unconsciously confirming that you were still there.

- You're thinking too much for those who just woke up - he murmured, without opening his eyes.

- I think so.

Paul opened his eyes slowly and looked at you side by, his face still crushed from the pillow.

He watched you for a few seconds, quiet. It was just him trying to understand you.

- Was it yesterday's patrol? - he asked, straight, but carefully.

You nodded slowly, taking a while to explain. He, on the other hand, seemed to have all the time in the world when he said to wait for you.

- It just... it didn't make sense. The direction we took. There was no trace, no sign that the redhead was there. And even so, Sam told me to look for it.

Paul was silent for a moment. Part of him just wanted to say that orders are orders. That Sam has his reasons. But there was something in his tone - something contained, which did not come from disobedience, but from a real discomfort.

- We don't always understand everything... but sometimes, just following is already what we can do.

- Do you really think so? To follow without questioning? - you asked, not in a provocative tone, but genuine.

Paul didn't answer right away. The loyalty to Sam was almost instinctive. The leader. The alpha. But you... you weren't driven by rebellion. It was something else. Something he still couldn't name.

- I trust Sam - he replied, firm. - I think he just... wanted to give you a lighter return - he said finally, carefully. - It was your first patrol after days of standing still. Maybe it was a way to protect you a little.

You turned your face to him, staring head-on. There was no irritation, just an honest doubt.

- And do you think I needed that?

He let out a low sigh. Not because you disagreed, but because it was complicated. The line between protecting and underestimating was sometimes too thin.

- I don't know. Maybe he thinks so. Sam has the habit of deciding what is best for everyone. He doesn't always get it right... but he's almost always trying.

Paul shrugged, as if he didn't want to turn it into a bigger issue than it was - but still respected what you were feeling.

- And, well... anyway, the dreads vampire didn't escape this. - He let out a half smile. - No wonning.

You let out a low sound, between a short laugh and a skeptical sigh.

- Yeah. I don't think so.

You stretched slowly, letting out a low murmur when you felt your shoulder muscle protest.

- What time is it?

Paul turned his face on the pillow, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

- Ideal time not to get up.

You let out a sound between laughter and tiredness, pulling the sheet up to your chin.

- I think my mother finishes packing everything today.

He was silent for a moment, as if considering something before speaking.

- She texted me yesterday - she said, without fussing. - She asked for help again.

You looked away for a moment, staring at the ceiling. It was strange to think that that chapter of your life was really coming to an end. Paul, in turn, just ran his hand slowly on his arm, the unhurried gesture, as if silence was also a form of response.

- She cares about you - he said, finally, with a low voice.

You nodded, almost imperceptibly.

- I know.

A moment extended between you two. No hurry, no tension. Only that kind of silence that comes when words are no longer urgent.

The soft beat interrupted the calm weather.

- Paul? - his sister's voice sounded outside. - Can I come in?

- Yes - you answered first, turning your head slightly in the direction of the door.

Paul let out a low sound, almost a grumble, and turned slowly until he was on his stomach, his face sunk in the pillow, one of his arms hanging out of bed. His hand began to slide lazily down his back, in a distracted caress. You leaned against the headboard yourself, your legs covered up to your waist by the light blanket, your body relaxed against the stacked pillows.

The door creached slightly when it opened, and his sister entered with calm steps, like someone who already knew the way even with her eyes closed. Without ceremony, she sat on the end of the bed, pulling her legs naturally, as if that were a place that never stopped belonging to her.

- I thought Paul had done something stupid, since you didn't show up here anymore - she said, looking between you two with a half smile.

You laughed, keeping your fingers in slow movement on his back.

- No, I was just in a hurry with my mother.

She nodded, as if she had waited exactly for this answer, and without wasting time, she went straight to the point:

- So... I wanted to know if you could help me with my birthday.

Paul grumbled again, as if the simple mention of that was too exhausting to be heard so soon.

- She's been filling me with this for days - he murmured, his voice dragged with sleep.

The girl rolled her eyes, but the gesture was more affectionate than impatient.

- Because you're useless with these things - he replied, throwing a brief look in his direction before turning his eyes to you. - But you have good taste. It's common sense. Different from him.

Paul muttered something unintelligible against the pillow, which only made you smile slightly.

- Of course, I'll help. Do you already have any idea?

She cheered up a little, as if she was just waiting for the green light.

- More or less - she said, pulling her legs up the bed naturally. - I wanted to do something simple, but not boring, you know? Only with those who really matter. I thought about doing it right here... if you're up for help me with things.

You smiled, tilting your head a little.

- I think I can handle it.

She smiled, excited by the idea.

- So it's okay. When I get back from school, can we arrange everything?

- Actually, I don't think I'll be here. My mother is going for good tomorrow morning.

She nodded slowly, the smile diminishing a little.

- Oh... I got it.

A brief silence settled, but it was not uncomfortable. It only said more than any long sentence.

- But tomorrow I'll be back - you said, trying to soften the weight. - I can come here in the late afternoon, if you want. We sit down and see everything.

- Agreed.

She got up, fixing her sweatshirt with a distracted gesture.

The rest of the day passed at a strange pace, between boxes being closed and doors being opened for the last time. You tried to help as you could, but the truth is that Paul ended up doing almost everything. He was the one who lifted the heavy furniture, organized the bigger things in the truck he parked in front of his house, who answered patiently when his mother asked for the fifth time where they had put something she lost.

When it got dark, the plan was simple: ready-made food, a movie that neither of them would watch properly and Oliver wringing himself between you on the couch until sleep came. And, as banal as it seemed, it was the kind of night you knew you would keep all.

Neither of you two said much afterward—you two didn't need to. Your mother leaned against you in silence, her fingers running slowly through the sleeping cat's hair, her eyes almost closed. You stood there motionless, feeling the time pass in small waves.

She would leave early, even before the day really started. She didn't want anyone to accompany her. “Better this way,” she said with a half smile, trying to look practical — as if she didn't want to weigh, as if it were no big deal.

The next morning, you helped fit the last blanket in the back seat of her car. Her hands carefully passed through the corners, fixing everything with silent precision, as if that gesture was the last way to take care of something in that place.

When she closed the door, the keys tinked softly. The sound sounded too loud in the still air.

- Take it easy on the road - you said. Something that preceded her last sentence to you.

The look lingering a little longer on your face. One of those looks that don't have a right phrase to fit them. Her hand touched yours, warm despite the cold morning wind.

- You'll be fine - she said, but she seemed to be telling herself too.

You just smiled lightly, swallowing the tight knot of your throat.

The sky was still a pale and bluish stripe when the car began to move away, the tires making a subtle sound over the still damp street of the serene. You stood on the balcony, motionless, watching the car around the corner and disappear.

And even after that, you continued there. It was like a kind of respectful emptiness, the kind that comes when someone really leaves.

You didn't go back inside.

You sat on the steps of the balcony, hugging your knees, feeling the cold morning air slowly reach the exposed skin. Oliver came to you in silence, tangling up next to you. His smell was familiar, almost like the one in the house. Maybe more.

You didn't cry. But you weren't breathing properly, either.

The sun was slow to come out completely, as if it was ashamed to start the day.

When he finally got up, it was for lack of option.

_________________________________

A few days had passed since his mother's departure, and although the silence of the house still sounded strange, there was something comforting about having voices and movement back there. That's why, when the idea of having Lexie's party there came up - and you offered it yourself - no one was surprised. It was a practical solution, of course. More space, a larger kitchen, a room that accommodated more people. But deep down, you knew you wanted to fill that void that had spread around the corners of the house since your mother left.

It was late afternoon when you arrived. The cloudy sky seemed suspended, as if the weather was holding its breath for a moment. You rushed in, already knowing that you were late - the patrol had been extended longer than expected, and there were still things to fix and you needed to get ready yourself minimally.

Kim was in the center of the room, frowning while trying to attach a silver band to the wall. "Happy Birthday, Lexie" trembled between his fingers, and Jared held the other end, visibly impatient.

- Finally! - Jared exclaimed as soon as he saw you coming in with the bags. - I thought it was going to become part of the decoration.

- Sam is already waiting - you replied, dropping the bags on the bench.

Jared didn't expect anything else. He let go of the band with an almost theatrical relief, kissed Kim's cheek and disappeared out the door as if he were running away from a fire.

- Fearful - Kim murmured, getting off the chair with the tape still in her hand. - But anyway, you've arrived. Thank goodness, a thousand things are missing. Emily called and said that the cake is ready, but we still have to set the table, put the drinks, hide the adult ones, clean the bathroom and... - she stopped, looking at you more closely. - Are you okay?

You nodded with a slight smile, even though the exhaustion was hard to hide.

- I'm fine. Just tired. Pulled patrol.

Kim let out an understanding sound, taking one of the bags to help you.

- Sam is getting heavy with you, right? Jared commented that you've barely been sleeping.

- Only when you can. And when I can, I sleep like a rock.

- And yet she decides to have a party - she said, laughing and shaking her head.

You shrugged, starting to stack the sodas on the counter.

- The house was too quiet. And Lexie was excited. Just... it grew up more than I imagined.

Kim looked at you with a little smile.

- Maybe you need to put "don't overtake" banners on the stairs.

You laughed.

- I wouldn't doubt it.

There was a brief moment of silence, comfortable. You finished separating the drinks, leaving the alcohol ones more hidden in the lower cupboard, while Kim looked for glasses.

- She invited a lot of people - you commented then, casually. - A boy from her school will come... She likes him.

Kim raised her eyebrows, interested.

- Really? I thought she was one of those who only rolled their eyes when someone talks about dating.

- Yeah, it usually is. But I think this one she wants to impress - you said, with a corner smile. - And asked with all the letters not to tell Paul anything.

Kim laughed low.

- The famous look of an older brother.

You nodded, taking the glasses and starting to set the table. The environment was full, even too much - the kitchen, the living room, the backyard, everything began to take shape like one of those parties that no one plans big, but that ends up gathering half the city.

The following hours passed at an almost chaotic pace - people coming in and out, music being exchanged, someone always looking for an outlet to turn on something. In a short time, his house had become a perfect mix between real party and last-minute teenage improvisation: lights hanging from the ceiling and windows, hitting softly against the walls; lively music echoing through the rooms; smell of pizza mixed with the cake candy and some freshly sprayed perfume.

There were cushions on the floor, colorful glasses everywhere and a constant coming and going of teenagers laughing out loud, trying to look more adult than they were. In the kitchen, some drinks had already mysteriously disappeared from the top shelf, which made you sigh with a half smile - Nothing you didn't expect anymore.

Upstairs, his room had turned into an improvised dressing room. Lexie and her best friend occupied every corner with makeup, brushes and small pieces of contained anxiety.

You hadn't promised just the house. Somehow, she had also promised the hair, makeup and calmness that Lexie tried to maintain from an early age. And even if it was exhausting, you were there - fulfilling what you had said, making sure that everything went the way she imagined.

- Okay, I'm freaking out - Lexie said suddenly, facing the mirror. - Like, not really, but almost. I shouldn't have called him.

You held a loose strand of her hair with a clip, without stopping.

- Lex, breathe. You look beautiful. Everything will be fine.

- But what if he doesn't even talk to me? What if he just... stay there? - She turned on her heels, her eyes wide. - I should have canceled. Is there still time?

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

- Can you calm down?

Lexie snorted, walking from one side of the room to the other, clearly on the border between anxiety and collapse.

- That was a terrible idea. I'm an idiot.

- No. You are a fifteen-year-old girl who invited the boy you love to your party. It's like... the basic plot of any teenage life.

She laughed nervously, shaking her hands.

- And you won't even be with me! It will be down there, I don't know, with Paul, as always... - She said rolling her eyes and you didn't avoid a laugh.

- I'm here now. And, if you need, I'll run away to save you, I promise.

The door opened without ceremony, interrupting the teenage despair at the exact moment when Lexie almost dropped the toiletry bag on the bed.

Paul entered the room with the expression of someone who was not in a hurry - which, considering the generalized chaos of the house, was already saying a lot.

- There's a boy downstairs asking about you. The one in the blue sweatshirt - Paul said as he entered, leaning on the door with that way too direct to be neutral.

Lexie froze for half a second.

- My God, already?

She got up so fast that the brush almost fell off her lap.

- I'm not ready! Where are my white sneakers?

The two ran towards the closet, the door getting ajar while you bent down to gather some makeup from the desk.

That's when Paul approached. Silent, like someone who doesn't want to interrupt, but also has no intention of leaving.

- Will you still take long? - he asked, in a tone that seemed innocent, but the look left no doubt.

You raised your face, and he was already closer than he should. His eyes passed over his face, the corner of his mouth, and then landed on yours. There was something else there - something that was not only in the last weeks without contact, but in the way he saw you now. As if he missed what was only him.

- I'm almost ready - you replied, the voice too flawed to convince anyone.

- Almost? - He smiled and took another step, his hands going straight to his waist. The touch was slow, firm, as if it was remembering the way.

You stayed where you were, your heart beating in your chest with a silent urgency. He leaned his forehead against yours, his fingers walking through the curve of his waist until they met the bare skin of his rib, just a quick touch - enough to make you hold your breath.

- I missed that - he said, and his lips touched his slowly, in a mixture of calm and need.

The kiss was intimate, hot, a little more than it should, considering the open closet and two teenagers a few meters away.

You answered with equal intensity, but it was you who put your hand on his chest, slowly, moving away enough to face his gaze.

- They'll come back - you said, trying to sound firm, but it didn't seem like much.

Paul gave a half smile, and as if you had predicted, Lexie came out of the closet with her friend, carrying a pair of sneakers and a crossed comment:

- Oh, you two could at least try to wait for people to leave the room, right?

You let out a clumsy laugh, fixing your hair. Her friend just looked away, bushing.

Lexie put on her sneakers in a hurry and was already heading to the door when she stopped and turned around.

- Paul, are you coming?

He raised his eyebrows, as if considering the idea for a second.

- I think I'll stay. Your hostess needs help to change.

Lexie rolled her eyes so hard that she almost turned inside out.

You laughed, pushed his shoulder with your hand and went to the door.

- Yes, he will, Lexie.

- I'm going, I'm going - Paul replied, raising his hands like someone who surrendered, but the smile on the corner of his mouth revealed that he still had plans.

When he passed by you, he paused briefly, just enough to lean over and steal another kiss - fast, but cheeky. A hot snat against your mouth, more to provoke than anything else.

Lexie let out a sound of pure disgust from the bottom of the corridor.

- Argh, you're disgusting!

- That's why we do it - Paul replied, already walking after the two girls, clearly satisfied with the reaction.

You just shook your head, laughing, and closed the door slowly, with your breathing a little lighter.

On the one hand, you needed to thank Lexie for dragging her brother with you. Why, honestly? If he had stayed there for another second... you weren't so sure they would have been fast enough to arrive in time to see her blow out the candles on the cake.

But alone, you managed to be fast. In a few minutes, I was already downstairs.

That's when Kim appeared in her field of vision, with her eyes slightly wide and the expression of someone who saw something wrong.

- The drink is gone - she said directly, without preamble.

- What drink?

- The drink. The one you left separate for us. It's simply... missing.

You blinked, absorbing the information, while the first chords of some pop song exploded from the speakers.

- Really?

- Seriously. I went to look to get a glass and... nothing. Only the soda and that flavored water that no one wants remained.

You sighed, crossing your arms.

- And do you think they were...?

- Teenagers? Probably. But how did they find it? I hid it with you!

- Kim, we hid it behind empty pizza boxes. They're 14 years old, they're not that innocent. - You gave a corner smile, giving a dramatic pause. - But if you really need it, there are some bottles in the trunk of my car.

Her eyes shone with surprise.

- You think of everything!

That's when Lexie appeared out of nowhere, pulling her arm with energy.

- Come on, you have to meet the guys!

You were pulled by Lexie to the middle of the group, a lively circle of teenagers who laugh out loud. You tried to pay attention to the names, but everything seemed to spin too fast to memorize - it was a cacophony of voices, songs and laughter that made you a little dizzy.

While Lexie was talking excitedly with one of her friends, a boy with messy hair and a shy smile turned to you, his eyes shining with that clumsy curiosity.

- So, do you have a boyfriend? - he asked, a little disconcerted, as if he was trying to be kind.

Before you could answer, Lexie shot, without wasting time:

- She's dating my brother, you idiot.

The boy blinked, a little awkwardly, and another, who seemed even more relaxed, took the opportunity to comment:

- Wow, Paul is lucky, huh?

You almost choked on the comment, the dubious tone resoning too strange for your taste. She looked at Lexie, confused, and asked:

- Where do you know these guys from?

- Oh, you're not going to be Paul's now, are you? - Lexie replied with a light tone and you just accepted.

You let out a muffled laugh, raising your hands in a surrendered gesture.

- All right - he murmured, without great conviction.

Still, it was not your mission to become the party inspector. So you sighed, murmured something to Lexie and walked away from the wheel, sneaking among the teenagers who were already dancing and laughing in the room - some in choreographed steps, others just jumping to the rhythm of the music.

He crossed the corridor to the kitchen, where he found Paul leaning against the counter, covering a box with some of the bottles that Kim probably took from the trunk of his car.

You approached with a half smile and an arched eyebrow.

- So that's it? Have you become the drink security guard now?

Paul gave a short giggle, but didn't answer right away. He just looked at you - that kind of serious, kind of fun way - and when you stopped in front of him, his hands met your hip almost as if they already knew the way. A light, carefree touch, but firm enough to make you aware that he was there. Very there.

- Someone needs to keep order, right? - he said, his voice low, almost hoarse. - Especially when there are people hiding drinks in the trunk.

You laughed, trying to keep the tone light, but your breathing had already changed a little.

The party continued on the other side of the door - screams, hurried steps, loud music. But there, between you two, there was a silent bubble just the two of you.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, kind of without thinking, and let out a short sigh.

- I'm tired - she murmured, without moving away.

Paul passed one of his hands down his back, slowly, as if he were drawing invisible circles.

- Do you want to get away from here? - he asked, almost in a joking tone. But only almost.

- Yes, as soon as possible - you answer, laughing lightly against the skin of his neck.

The laughter turned into a sigh, and for a moment the two stayed there, in the corner of the kitchen, as if the party had given a break just for you. But it was just an impression - because the house was pulsating with life outside. Loud music, too many people, laughter echoing down the corridor. Everything working in "excited teenager" mode.

And then, the reality of the party hit back.

The light in the corridor was flashing, someone was shouting "be careful!" There from the backyard, and you heard your own name being called from three different places. In the time it took to cross the room, you found a glass of soda abandoned on the floor, saw a group reorganizing the speaker playlist and noticed that someone had already stuck a "truth or dare" post-it on the wall.

Classic.

Congratulations came like a buoy in the sea of chaos. Someone shouted that it was time, and soon the whole room gathered, pushing furniture and lighting candles. Lexie appeared in the middle of the mess like the star of the night - nervous, but radiant, with a sparkle in her eyes that you recognized.

The cake was already positioned, the candles lit, some cameras ready to register. You barely remembered which part of the song you were in when you started singing, and worse: there were so many people who no longer had any idea who was Lexie's guest, friend of her friend or some lost neighbor.

Kim appeared out of nowhere with a paper crown on her head and offered you a glass of something unidentified.

- You totally lost control of the party, you know? - she said, smiling as if it were a compliment.

- And I had control at some point? - You raised the glass and toasted her.

The rest of the party passed like a blur, and at that time the room was at another stage of the night: that of the early emotional hangover. The guests had already left - well, not all of them. Lexie's friends seemed to have made a silent pact to turn her house into unofficial accommodation. Backpacks appeared on the floor like mushrooms. Pillows, blankets, sleeping bags... one of them crossed the corridor dragging a mat, another asked you if you could use the upstairs bathroom, and a third... was wearing her robe. Yours. Preferred.

- I don't remember Lexie mentioning that they would sleep here. - You commented, while stacking empty glasses next to Kim, in the kitchen.

- Because she didn't mention it. - Kim replied, shrugging her shoulders. - I found out when I saw a girl with a toothbrush in her hand.

You laughed low, already accepting the chaos.

That's when Paul appeared, coming from the corridor as if he was finishing a patrol.

- I checked the rooms and bathrooms, without teenagers clinging to each other or feeling sick. - he said, leaning against the door frame with an arched eyebrow, his gaze fixed on you.

- At the moment, yes. But we still don't know what the morning will be like.

Kim appeared right behind you with a bottle of tequila and three glasses.

- Anyway, I think now is the time for adults to have fun. - She said with that smile of someone who was about to make bad decisions.

- You know this doesn't work for me. - You let me know.

- Oh, what is it? Don't be boring. - Kim replied, already filling the cups with exaggerated care, as if they were in a sacred ritual.

Paul let out a hoarse laugh and gave you a biased look, one of those that seemed to say "just join the joke". When Kim finished filling the cups and raised hers to toast, Paul did something unexpected: he took her glass from her hand.

- Hey! - Kim widened her eyes. - That's mine! I can fill another one if you want.

- You're not going to drink - Paul said with all the calmness in the world, while putting his arm around your waist. - There will be about fifteen teenagers sleeping here... it doesn't seem wise for you to be drunk.

- What? - Kim asked, a little confused and slightly offended.

Paul pulled you closer, with that lazy half smile that made everything worse - or rather, depending on the perspective.

- Both of us. - He looked at you. - We're leaving in a little while.

- Although? And me? - Kim protested, blinking in false shock.

You exchanged a quick look with Paul, still smiling from your comment half playful, half sincere.

- How romantic - you said, with a hint of mockery, but the truth is that you liked the way he took care of things.

Kim, who was next to her, chuckled, but rolled her eyes and soon walked away.

That's when Lexie's friend showed up, you recognized her, she still wore some of your accessories that you lent her. She came slowly, a little shy, her gaze oscillated nervously between you and Paul, but it always took a second more in him - as if she were seeing someone out of a movie.

She fixed her blouse unnecessarily, ran her hand through her hair and then stopped in front of you two with an expression of someone who was trying to look natural... and failing.

- Hi... so... Lexie asked you to go to the bathroom - she said, her eyes fixed on Paul's face, even if the phrase was clearly for you. - But... like, just you.

Her voice was low, with that typical intonation of someone who still doesn't know exactly how to dose nervousness - almost sweet, almost studied. She bit the corner of her lip and, for a second, looked at her feet, as if she was trying to remember what came next.

Paul raised an eyebrow, looking first at you, then at the girl.

- Is everything okay with her?

- Okay, yes - she answered quickly, and for the first time she really looked into your eyes, as if she remembered that you were there too. - It's just that... I don't know, she said it's a matter of girls.

- All right. I see. - you said, offering a little smile and walking away... only then realizing that the girl didn't follow you. She stood there, static, as if she had completely forgotten the "mission" that she herself tasked to deliver.

When you disappeared in the hallway, she turned to Paul with a posture that tried to imitate some maturity, but that could not hide the teenage glow in her eyes.

- I like your hair like this... kind of messy - she commented out of nowhere, with a meeke voice, almost rehearsed, as if she had repeated the phrase a thousand times in front of the mirror.

Paul, who was distracted by putting some empty glasses in a box, raised an eyebrow and replied in a neutral tone:

- Oh, thanks.

Uncomfortary silence.

She took a step closer, but didn't dare to touch anything - neither in him nor in the glasses.

- Lexie talks a lot about you, like... really a lot. I think it's so cool that you two get along.

- Yeah, she's my sister - he said. His tone was still gentle, but Paul was clearly trying to keep the line between polite and "please go away".

- I also have a brother, but he's not handsome... I mean, cool like that - she stumbled on the words, her face blushing instantly.

Paul only smiled lightly, clearly trying not to laugh. She bit her lip again, this time with real shame. And before he could continue, he turned around a little, like someone who suddenly remembered something:

- I think I'll see where she went - he said, already starting to leave.

Meanwhile, you went up the stairs and opened the door to your room. Inside, there was no sign of crisis in the bathroom, much less urgency.

- Lexie?

She raised her head from the middle of a circle of girls sitting on the bedroom floor, with magazines and gifts everywhere.

- Hi? - he said, as if nothing had happened.

- Are you okay?

She frowned. - I am. Why?

- Your friend told me that you needed me in the bathroom.

Lexie snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes with pleasure.

- Oh, my God... she must have only invented this to be close to Paul. She has been in love with him since she was 9 years old. You think he looks like a movie character... or something like that.

You laughed, but soon made a kind of indignant sound.

- What Judas. I made her un.

- I warned you that she was too excited - Lexie replied, still laughing.

You found him exactly where you didn't expect it - in the middle of the stairs, sitting sideways on one of the steps, with his elbows resting on his knees and his gaze lost for an instant. He seemed relaxed, but attentive, as if he had stayed there just waiting for you to pass. When he saw you, he raised his eyes with that half quiet smile, almost lazy, as if he already knew the answer to the question that came next:

- Is Lexie okay?

You nodded with a slight sigh, going down the last steps more slowly, finally feeling the body begin to accuse the tiredness of the night.

- She was in my room with the others. She didn't even go near the bathroom. - You stopped next to him, leaning your shoulder against the wall while crossing her arms. - When I asked what had happened, she just laughed, rolled her eyes, and said that probably her friend just wanted a reason to talk to you.

He let out a short laugh.

- I should have been suspicious.

- And I should have let her do her own hair. - you said, making a fake face. - And used her own lipstick.

He laughed again, softly, and got up from the step. It was close. Not only in distance, but in that kind of comfortable silence that existed between you.

His hand reached yours, without haste. A natural gesture. He didn't say anything, neither did you. You approached the front door and the house was still full of muffled voices and hurried steps, but outside the night was something else - quieter, cooler.

He unlocked the car with a click and opened the passenger door for you. You entered without saying anything, and he turned around, taking the wheel with that relaxed way, as if that escape was already planned since the beginning of the night.

The radio was off. No music filled the car, and even so the silence seemed full. It was the sound of the road under the tires, of the wind hitting the windows, of the engine at a constant pace.

You had your head resting on his shoulder. He drove with one hand, the other resting on his leg. The fingers beating slowly, impatient. Not with the traffic, even because there wasn't - with you, maybe.

You noticed. Not immediately, but he felt the way his touch changed. The drumming stopped and a soft pressure began.

That's when you started.

His hand moved subtly to his arm. First a light caress, almost unintentionally. But there was nothing accidental there. His fingers followed the line of the forearm muscle, rising towards the biceps with a purposeful slowness.

You knew he could feel it. More than feeling - realizing. Because it wasn't just his nerve endings answering, it was the instincts. The smell of your skin, of your intention, of your will stamped.

At each gear change, Paul began to rest his hand on his thigh. First fast, as if you didn't think about the gesture. But then... then he took a long time. The fingers settled in the soft space of his skin, and even when they got back behind the wheel, they left the heat behind.

You didn't say anything. Not even him. It was as if the silence was a thread stretched between the two of you - any word could break it and make everything collapse.

The air inside the car has changed. You felt the tension in his jaw, the firmer breathing, the thumb lightly pressing on his thigh - a small gesture, but one that seemed to ignite everything around.

And even so, he kept driving.

As if trying to keep control. As if he wanted to get to the destination. But you could see in his eyes, when he dared to raise his face for a moment and face his profile under the dim light of the street: he was losing.

You smiled, small, almost imperceptible.

- Are you in a hurry to arrive? - he asked, his voice too low, as if it wasn't to provoke, but it was.

Paul didn't answer right away. His eyes fixed on the road, his fingers squeezing his leg, as if it could help him maintain concentration.

- I'm trying not to stop the car. - he finally answered, his voice hoarse, slow.

You bit your lip, leaning your head back on his shoulder.

- I wouldn't think it's bad.

You said like someone who comments on the weather, but the phrase fell into the air with the exact weight of what it meant. Paul squeezed the steering wheel harder, as if the leather was the only link between him and self-control.

His breathing has changed. Not much - but it changed. You felt it.

The road was deserted, but he still didn't stop. His hand, until then firm on his leg, slipped a little higher, his fingers pressing slowly, as if testing limits.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the heat that began to accumulate there - under the skin, between the ribs, on the back of your neck. Everything in him was hot. The touch. The presence. The wait.

And then, the car started to slow down. It wasn't the way to his house - you knew that. You knew exactly where he intended to go. But it seemed that in the middle of the empty road, his self-control stumbled.

The first entrance appeared out of nowhere - a half-hidden curve, surrounded by trees, with an old sign pointing towards the beach.

He turned the steering wheel without saying a word.

You recognized the sound of tires on the dirt road. The sky there seemed more open, and the sound of the sea - muffled, distant - began to reach you. The parking lot was completely empty. No light, no car. Just you and the discreet sound of the waves. Paul parked in the darkest corner, turning off the engine.

The dashboard light went out, immersing the car in a silent pitch, broken only by the muffled sound of the sea and the breathing of both of you.

You were still with your face close to his, your body in suspended tension, the blood running under your skin as if you wanted to leave. His eyes met his - dark, dense, almost wild.

And then you said, with a low voice, almost in a whisper, as if it were just another provocation among so many:

- I thought we were going to your house.

It was a shot. A challenge he wouldn't ignore.

Paul turned his face to you once and for all, his eyes lingering on yours as if he couldn't believe that you still dared to play with fire like that. His jaw locked, as if he was holding something that came from inside, and his hand - which was still on his leg - squeezed more firmly.

- You have no idea what you're doing - he murmured, his voice hoarse, low, tearing the silence between you.

But you did. You knew exactly.

His hand slid from his leg, slowly going up the knee, while his body instinctively curved in his direction. His eyes sought his, challenging, playing with that thin line between control and desire.

Paul took a deep breath, slowly, as if trying to hold what was coming inside. Then, in a gentle movement, he slid his hand from your leg to your waist, pulling you slightly closer.

You answered by tilting your body even more, your lips approaching his, but before the kisses happened, he whispered:

- Do you want to go to the back seat?

His answer was a slow smile, full of ulterior motives. You didn't answer, you just walked away slowly as he got out of the car and entered through the back door.

Paul opened the back door with a quick, almost urgent gesture. You settled down slowly, passing over the front seat, you felt the immediate chill when the skin of your leg touched the cold leather. Outside, the sound of the sea was still constant, distant. Inside, there were only you two - and the dense silence of what was about to happen.

He closed the door with a dry, muffled thunt. When you turned around and your eyes met, there was no more doubt. The air between you was made of electrical voltage. You leaned over, your gaze going down to his lips, and then yours met his.

The kiss came hard - but not brutal. I was hungry. Hot. Long. His answer was immediate, as if he had been holding it for days, weeks, maybe forever. His hands pushed the jacket he was wearing, feeling the muscles hidden by the thin shirt. He let his jacket slip down his arms, without ever interrupting the kiss, and his hands found his waist under his blouse, his fingers spreading heat through his skin as if they were mapping every inch.

You leaned on the bench, your body glued to his, feeling the weight of his presence as something that crossed the fabric of the clothes. He held you more firmly, and the moment you tried to climb on his lap, Paul reversed the roles with an agile but gentle gesture. A light, precise push, and you felt your back touch the bench again.

He leaned over you, his eyes on yours for a second - Just to make sure you still wanted that as much as he did. He wanted to. . Every inch of yours said that.

Her legs instinctively opened just to accommodate him, the skirt going up more in the process, exposing the sensitive skin to his touch. His kisses went down to his neck, slow at first, then deeper, as if he was marking the way. One of his hands went up the side of her thigh, firm, slow.

The back seat seemed smaller at that moment - or maybe it was the time away, the absence that made the body of you two seem to need more space, more touch, more urgency.

- I missed that so much. - he murmured against his mouth, with that hoarseness that seemed to come from somewhere deeper.

You smiled small, almost debauched, before pulling him back.

The kiss came intense, deeper, loaded with everything that was dammed in the distant days. His mouth molded to his with familiarity, but the rush was new - as if they were running to make up for lost time.

You tried to reach him better, resting your arms behind you on the bench while leaning forward, looking for more - but Paul was still partially on you, maintaining the position of someone who dominated that space with his own body.

His hand went up under his shirt, his fingers meeting the warmth of the skin. He felt the muscles contract under his touch, and the sound that escaped from his throat made you smile against the kiss.

The back seat was too narrow for everything you felt. His body was tilted back, resting on one of his arms, while his legs sought to settle in the little space. One of them rested partially on the bench, bent on the knee; the other, he held firmly by the thigh, his fingers pressing his skin with a contained possessiveness - as if that kept him in place, as if keeping you there was what mattered.

That's when you felt his hand rise more - and more - until his skirt accumulated at the waist, wrinkled and forgotten, leaving your lingerie exposed to his touch. The fingers pressed the soft flesh of his ass with a silent certainty, as if he was just taking back what was his.

You broke the kiss with a subtle movement, your eyes still closed, your face too close to his. A sigh escaped from your lips, heavy, as if everything you couldn't say was there. He smiled lightly, the kind of smile that forms effortlessly, just because seeing you like this - surrendered, hot, with your thigh muscles still tense against his - was too good to hide.

Paul lowered his eyes. The curve of his body there, so close and so close to him, was almost a curse. He could swear that you looked prettier at every angle, but that... that was a problem.

With the back of his fingers, he slid slowly over the thin fabric of his lingerie, exactly where you wanted him. The touch was a whispered promise, a measured torture. He tried to hold back - not because he didn't want to, but because he wanted to too much.

And you too.

Paul could see this in his body arching discreetly against his hand, in the way his hip sought his touch without having to ask.

- Paul... - you whispered, your voice scratched, urgent, so close that he felt more than he heard. - Just, please... stop torturing me.

His laugh was low, muffled against his skin. It wasn't mockery - it was surrender. As if the mere fact of hearing you ask like that was already his victory.

He looked up slowly. His eyes were argaid, dizzy, as if the air of the car was made only of his. His lips were still half-open from the kiss, red, asking for more without sound. And he thought, for a very brief second, how could he deny you anything like that?

His fingers sliding under the thin fabric was like going through the gate of heaven for you. Your lips let out a short, loaded moan - letting out all the lack of it that you had swallowed in silence in the last few days.

Paul closed his eyes for a second, as if the sound had hit something in the center of his chest. As if it were more than desire.

His fingers failed to explore cautiously at some point, exploring the known path without difficulty.

His hip reacted before his consciousness, seeking more of him, asking without words. His eyes slowly rose to yours, and the way he looked at you... as if he were seeing something sacred.

The movements were precise, but suddenly they were slow. He knew exactly what he was doing, where to play. And what provoked in you. His head fell back, his breath short and choppy, mixed with muffled moans. You felt the body respond as if it was lighting up from the inside out, coming from the bottom of your belly.

When he raised his face again and kissed him, it was urgent. Letting him swallow every sound that escaped from his lips. Paul kissed you back with that known strength, one hand firm on your waist, the other still sliding between your folds.

But it still wasn't enough.

You moved his hand away from where you most wanted and moved firmly, climbing on his lap without asking permission.

The thighs fit on each side of his hip, the skirt going up together, leaving only heat between you. The narrow back seat only increased the tension. His body under yours, warm, firm, called you as if you were home.

Paul's look got darker, more intense. The hands went straight to your waist, squeezing hard, guiding you closer as if you couldn't stand any more centimeters of distance. His chin brushed hers for a second, his breath hot on her neck.

You leaned slowly, while your fingers began to work accurately between the two. The button of his pants gave way with a slight click, the zipper went down soon after. The almost imperceptible sound in that thick silence, but enough to make it catch the air.

Paul growled low, as if it was moving with something primal in him. His hands slid down his back, slowly climbing under his blouse, exploring every curve.

You stared at him for a brief second. His eyes were cloudy, stuck in theirs as if the world was restricted to that car, to that moment. One of your hands landed on his chest, firm, and you felt his heart beat hard.

- You're killing me - he said, in a low whisper, almost like a confession.

You smiled lightly, with your heart racing.

His hip moved by reflex under you, as if his words had crossed the skin directly. Paul's hand went down his thigh to the curve of his ass, pulling you against him with a firm, rough pull, and the air escaped from his lips in a muffled moan.

The contact between you was hot, wet, desperate. You felt the volume of him pressing between his legs, still covered by the last barriers, and his hips sought more.

Paul tilted his head, his mouth meeting his neck with wet and choppy kisses. The teeth brushed your skin, light, and you squirmed on his lap, feeling his hands squeeze hard as if trying to hold you there, prevent you from moving away. You moved away, just enough to lower your hand again, precisely pushing away any fabric that separated you two.

The sigh that escaped him when you touched him was almost a moan, and his hands squeezed a little on your skin.

His eyes met for a moment. Just a second. But enough for him to see - you weren't joking.

You wanted him so much... And you wanted to show that.

You passed your hand there as he had done with you - slowly, provoking, almost in circles, the fingertips pressing just enough to make him close his eyes for a moment and hold the air in his lungs.

- Fuck - he let go, almost in a low grunt, his eyes closed for a second.

You smiled, your lips almost touching his neck.

His hands squeezed her waist harder, almost like a warning. Almost like a request for you to stop, before he totally lost control.

But you didn't stop.

That's why, the next moment, Paul took his hands to the bar of his blouse, his fingers firm - and, this time, without hesitation. He pulled her up with a quick gesture, his eyes going down every inch exposed as if he were rediscovering you.

The kiss that came after was urgent, without ceremony, full of everything you couldn't say in the last few days. You felt when he regained control - the way he pulled you firmly, how he pushed your hand away with a certain hurry, almost desperate to take back what, for days, he missed.

You smiled in the middle of the kiss. A small smile, but full of understanding - he was still Paul who made you lose your breath just by touching. The same one who now impatiently moved away the thin fabric of her lingerie, finally fitting between her thighs. You lifted your body instinctively, guiding the movement, helping as if you were waiting exactly for this moment.

But when he sank his face into the curve of your neck and their bodies really met, you had to break the kiss.

His head fell back, his lips parted, his eyes closing in an immediate reflection. A hoarse moan escaped from his throat, and Paul held the sound against his skin, his fingers marking his waist as if he wanted to hold everything at the same time - the moment, you, the control he was about to lose.

He held you as if you were all he needed to keep around. As if letting go of your hands from your waist was too dangerous - for him, for you, for what they were building there, between gasps and hot skin.

His hips moved at the pace he guided, without resistance. His body seemed to mold to his, the muscles shaking slightly with each impulse. You seemed to fall apart in his hands - your fingers pressing your waist, then sliding down your back, thighs, moving you with precision. As if you were light. As if it were his.

And it was. Especially there, at that moment, you were only his.

Paul watched you between kisses and gasps, his forehead glued to his, his eyes half-closed. He didn't speak - he seemed speechless. The jaw contracted, the eyebrows furrowed as if fighting against his own body. Every reaction of his seemed to ignite something inside him. The sound of his breathing, the muffled moans in the corner of his mouth, the way his fingers grabbed his shoulders without asking permission... he felt everything.

I felt too much.

With each movement, you got hotter, more surrendered. His head fell back again, and he took advantage of the space to kiss your throat, mark you with his mouth, feel you pulsate against him. You were a living doll on your lap, but one who also drove - with your nails on his skin, with your hip that insisted on responding with hunger and precision.

You moved against him as if you knew exactly what he needed. Paul held you tighter now, trying to contain himself. His eyes wouldn't leave you, as if he was trying to record every second, every breath, every curve of yours in the dark of the car.

You let out a low laugh, interrupted by your own breath. He rested one of his hands on the blurry glass on his side, the other still stuck in his shoulder.

- Paul... - you moaned his name between your teeth, almost out of control, your eyes squeezing. Just that name, but said that way, with his voice stunned with pleasure, seemed to make him lose the little he still held.

He pulled you more firmly against his body, the movements now more intense, more precise. You felt floating, as if your body no longer obeyed - just react. His legs trembled around him, his whole body throbbed, and each thrust seemed to push you closer to what you had been waiting for since the moment he saw him again.

It was urgent, raw, but there was affection in the details. How he passed his hand behind your back when you arched your body. How he kissed her shoulder between the moans. How you leaned your forehead against his and whispered his name like a prayer.

Every time you felt him deeper, more right, your breath choked and your eyes tightened. Everything burned. Everything was too hot.

Paul brushed his mouth on his collarbone, his breath as out of step as yours. You whispered his name again - and that was it.

His body became more tense, firmer against yours. His, in response, trembled as if he were on the verge of an inevitable collapse. It was like being dragged by a wave that you didn't want to let go. And then... came. A hot relief, the explosion that took over every muscle, every cell, every part of it.

You fell against him soon after, your chest rising and falling with effort, your heart beating as if you wanted to leave your chest. He held you there, still whole around you, his face hidden in your neck, his body still in shock.

Just the two of them breathing together.

His fingers slid slowly down his spine, as if trying to calm something that was still pulsating.

You left a last lazy kiss on the corner of his mouth before moving away, with the slow movements, still a little stunned. His body seemed made of another matter - lighter, warmer, more alive.

He slowly left his lap, feeling his muscles still react to the touch that had barely finished. He leaned carefully on the bench, pulling the skirt back to his thighs and fixing the fallen blouse with distracted fingers. Paul did the same with his pants, his eyes still down, his chest rising and falling at a slow pace.

But before you could even think about organizing your hair, he stretched his arm and pulled you again, sideways, fitting you against his chest with an easy, instinctive movement. One of the arms wrapped around his waist, and the other slowly went up his back, until it rested between his shoulders.

- Come here - he murmured, almost in a hoarse laugh, his lips brushing the top of his head.

You released the air in a satisfied sigh, your face hidden in the curve of his neck. His breath was still warm against his skin, but now it was calm, comfortable.

There, in the tight bench, full of each other, it was almost easy to forget the rest of the world. Just the sound of the sea outside, the slightly foggy window, the smell of his skin and the silence full of everything that didn't need to be said.

You stayed there for a few more minutes, breathing together in the back seat, your bodies still hot, relaxing slowly as if the silence was also part of what you had just shared. He still kept his arm around your waist, his fingers tracing slow circles on your skin, and you with your head against his chest, listening to the calm sound of the heart.

- We should go - you murmured after a while, almost not wanting to leave there.

Paul let out a light sigh, as if he didn't want to either. But he didn't say anything. He just touched his face with his fingertips, his eyes still half-closed with tiredness and contentment. And after another long kiss, you moved slowly, returning to the front seats.

The engine turned on again. The lighthouse cut the gloom of the beach, illuminating the traces of the empty road as he drove. The city was still asleep, but the sky was already starting to clear in a shy blue behind the clouds. On the radio, some song played softly, as if respecting the silence of you two.

Paul kept one of his hands on your leg all the way, as if he needed to make sure you were still there. And you smiled, looking at him in the corner of your eye, feeling that kind of tranquility that only comes after good chaos - the chaos he was for you.

You two came home when the sun was still just a promise in the sky. The house was quiet, the facade illuminated by the low light of the pole. You got out of the car in no hurry, walking side by side. He intertwined his fingers in his, and this time there was no tension, no hesitation.

Inside the house, everything was still as before. The dim street light barely crossed the windows, but it was enough to reveal the improvised mattresses, the glasses forgotten on the table, a paused playlist on the TV screen. The smell of balloons, soda and teenage perfume still hovered in the air.

You entered on tiptoe, taking off your heels even before opening the door. Paul laughed softly when he saw you trying to balance a shoe in each hand. But in the dark, the inevitable happened - his bare foot stepped on a forgotten plastic cup on the carpet. The low snap echoed through the silent room, and one of the girls turned on the couch with a sleepy grumble, but soon went back to sleep. Kim was there too, sleeping deeply on her side, hugging a pillow. Jared... still no sign of him.

You climbed the stairs carefully, deviating from the steps that creaked. Your mother's room had the door ajar, the bed sheet stretched out as if no one had touched it for days. Entering there brought a different silence. A kind of silence that carried presence. You hesitated for a second at the door, as if you expected to hear something - maybe the familiar sound of the low TV, or the radio that she liked to leave on.

Your eyes are sweeping the familiar room. You didn't smell her anymore, but you still had the memory.

You lay down slowly. They didn't talk much, they didn't get rid of the uncomfortable clothes either. He pulled you close and put his chest on your back. For the first time in days, your body really rested and you finally slept.

When the sun was already entering through the window slatt when you opened your eyes. Paul was still sleeping next to him, his arm thrown over his waist, his hair messy and his face calm. You stood there for a few seconds, just watching. But the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen overcame the warmth of the bed.

You got ready slowly, with complicit smiles and eyes still half closed. Going down the stairs, they came across the most chaotic and domestic scene possible: Kim and Jared in the kitchen, trying to cope with the impossible task of preparing breakfast for fifteen hangover teenagers. Toasts flew from the toaster, milk spilled through the sink, a pot of chocolate bubbled dangerously on the stove.

- Look who decided to show up! - Kim commented without even turning around, stirring a bowl with a wooden spoon as if she were preparing a magic potion and barely standing another teenager screaming around the house at that time of the morning. Only then did she look up and stared at you two - It's a little late to wake up, don't you think?

- Sorry - you said, approaching with a half guilty smile, half embarrassed. - I promise to reward you.

Kim arched an eyebrow, but didn't answer. Paul, of course, was already after a mug as if nothing had happened.

- It must be because they arrived practically in the morning - commented the girl you had woken up when you stepped on the glass earlier that day, talking in a not at all subtle whisper with her friend next door. But Lexie heard.

- Where did they come from? I thought they were here. - she asked loud and well, thrown on a kitchen stool with a package of cookies on her lap.

Paul didn't even hesitate:

- We went to help Sam with something.

- At dawn? - Lexie frowned.

- His car broke down - you mended quickly, trying to sound natural. - He needed help.

There was a short silence. Short, but loaded.

Jared, leaning against the kitchen door frame, took a sip of the coffee and snorted. He wasn't an idiot. You were too radiant, too light... and he knew exactly where Sam was all night - and it wasn't with you.

- I preferred it when you were fighting - he grumbled, with a look that was half tired, half pure judgment.

Paul didn't even answer. He just threw that half-corner smile, without haste, while taking a slice of bread straight from the package. You muffled the urge to laugh, leaning against the bench next to him.

Kim passed by you carrying an almost empty milk bottle, her hair stuck in a crooked bun.

The room was still full of voices, scattered laughter, people looking for sneakers, hairbrush or some dignity forgotten between the mattresses. The sound of a loud laugh echoed from the corridor. Everything was chaos and life.

That's when your cell phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled the device and saw Sam's name above the message:

"Patrol in an hour."

________________________

Next Chapter

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xoxo, bee💋🫶🏼

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keelt9 · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 10

Masterlist

Dinner went amazing. Mr. Rotherham it’s only scary on the surface as you talked with him you can notice how much he loved his girls, as the fact he would do anything for them. Joe can even say he’s a soft man with a cotton heart.

Monet is making what he does after they pick up all the plates, sitting in front of the back door barking to Y/N; he needs to pee.

“We need a moment.” Y/N mentions taking a plastic bag and her jacket, it’s starting to fall a lighter snowfall.

Mr. Rotherham notices how Joe eyes follow his daughter, making him smirk when Joe keeps cleaning the table over and over again in the same spot, just for seeing her.

“You know boy, at that rate you would leave a hole in the wood.” Joe lifts his eyes to find Mr. Rotherham with a small smirk.

Joe nods ready to walk away but Mr. Rotherham stops him.

“She’s amazing, right?” Joe turns around seeing the old man observing his daughter with his hands at his back.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Rotherham giggles at the silly question of Joe.

He clears his throat after hearing the other girls laughing in the kitchen, he’s free to speak.

“I’ll take all the blame.” Joe walks where Mr. Rotherham is, yes, he can see Y/N and Monet walking around in the snow. “Her trust issues are because of me…”

Joe titles his head. “I used to work traveling one side to the other along with Nora and Savannah's father. By the time he and his wife knew they were expecting Savannah; he understood what he had to do, stop and be with his family.”

Mr. Rotherham remembers that last business trip full of nostalgia but excitement for the life his best friend is about to begin.

“A couple of years later my lovely wife announced to me we were expecting a baby too.” The huge smile on his wife was all he was supposed to need to stop. “But I was reluctant to leave my life and my dream job and she wrongly agreed to that.”

Joe sees the regret in the expression of Mr. Rotherham. “My wife was amazing, she dealt with all by herself, never reprimanding anything, I got to be in the labor of Y/N and I’m horrified to say it was the last time I was on time.”

Mr. Rotherham scoffs sadly. “I lost count of the missing festival, games, parties, plays of school. I only released the damage I caused to Y/N when Nora’s parents died.”

Joe knows just the merely necessary about the girl's parents and never has dared to ask more, he feels it’s so private.

“My wife called me on a hot day of June, with a flattering and broken voice. My best friend was dead, leaving behind two little girls, don’t ask me how the hell I arrived home but when I did I found the most cold blood scene.” Mr. Rotherham takes a tissue from his pocket, whipping his eyes.

“The face of Y/N along what she told me as soon as I arrived, <Dad you didn’t need to come, we can fix this> I broke in a trillion pieces, my only girl didn't count that I go.”

“She loves you Mr. Rotherham.” Are these the right words? Joe didn’t know he just wanted to give the man some kind of relief.

Mr. Rotherham smiles. “The day we buried them I made a single promise to both of them, the mistakes I've been repeating for years and years won’t happen again, I’ll protect and love those girls like my life depends on it.”

Savannah perks through the kitchen door. “Dad, coffee?”

“Sure darling, thanks.”

She smiles. “Joe?”

Joe nods, he felt wrong leaving the old man like this. “Yeah, sure.”

Mr. Rotherham giggles seeing Y/N head backwards keep walking around the backyard.

“All I’m trying to say to Joe is…” Mr. Rotherham thinks his words carefully. “What I see in her eyes is pure and honest, she just cautions.”

Joe laughs as the distinctly screams of Y/N. “Come on boy! I’m freezing!”

Monet barks at her with his legs stretched to the front. “Ok, I won't see you.” She turns around covering her eyes. “Happy?”

Monet barks at her, turning around ready for his needs.

“She's a tough girl with a chicken heart.” Joe giggles. “If I ask you something you won’t consider me as an asshole?”

“Please Mr. Rotherham… I bet if I dare to think that, you’re three girls will kick me.” The old man laughs, clearing his throat.

“Take care of my girl, could you?” When Joe faces the man his teary eyes are full of pride but confidence.

“Mr. Rotherham, your daughter is the most precious girl in the world to me.”

He nods, patting his shoulder with anything else to add. “Now, I’ll go to help her or those two will be repping, he, her hair and she, his dots.”

Any reply had time because Mr. Rotherham opened the crystal door saying something to Y/N unable to comprehend; Y/N who rolled her eyes laughing giving the old man the plastic bag.

When she lifted her eyes, found Joe with the door open.

“Such a kid.” She said entering as Joe takes her cold hands and puts them between his to warm up.

“Such a kids.” She laughs trying to pull her hands but he puts it in his pockets, smiling softly at her.

What Mr. Rotherham sees in Y/N is the same he sees in his wife's eyes all the time the life allows him to be with her.

Love.

Two days later, with t-shirts customized all prepared for going to the regionals with Nora; besides being such an important game, everyone knew it’s Nora's chance to close that scholarship in Georgia.

Nora fakes calm in front of everyone, until they arrive at the field, she stops in the door gripping her bag.

“No. I… I… I can’t, what if…” Nora starts to get pale as Savannah runs out of words seeing her sister nervous.

“Hey darling.” Mr. Rotherham grabs her kid by the shoulders, making Nora see his eyes. “You got this. We’re so proud of you. I am so proud of you.”

Nora breaths in slowly. “And I bet those two up there couldn’t be prouder of what you have done.”

It’s an unsaid rule but the topic of the girl's parents only came out when the girls decided or when they needed it.

Nora's eyes turn full of tears at Savannah, Y/N with watery eyes tingle her arms around her.

“Now, if for an over natural reason you can’t make it, we always find ways to get through, don't we?” Mr. Rotherham smiles at her.

“I’m scared.” Nora’s bottom lips tremble. “Dad, I’m scared.”

Mr. Rotherham hugs her softly. “It’s ok, it's scary sometimes but, who is the girl that pulls her sisters on a dark night of Christmas to sleep in the portico waiting for Santa Clause?”

Nora giggles as the other girls do, letting tears slip. “I love you darling, and I know you got this.”

Nora cries for a while hidden in Mr. Rotherham's shoulder, when she finally calms down, she splits wiping her tears.

“Where is your mother when I need the most proper words?” Mr. Rotherham makes the girls giggle. “What is she always saying in these moments?”

Y/N tilt her head. “What about a massive hug?”

“That’s the words.” Savannah said, pulling Y/N with open arms to Nora and their dad, in what Mrs. Rotherham would call a massive hug.

That comfort is the last thing Nora needs to calm down as a smile appears on her face.

“Joe!” She screams, cuts and runs under the hug.

All turn around seeing Joe actually there in the most comfortable clothes and huge smile before a happy Nora hugs him tight.

“You came!” Nora said, jumping as he held her hands.

“I wouldn’t miss you crashing your rivals.” Nora giggles as Joe waves his hands to the Rotherham family at the back. “Go, I don’t want you to be late to your own game.”

Nora nods, running to her family, grabbing her bag and running inside of the building.

Joe approaches the family greeting them before they head inside too, just he and Y/N remain behind.

“Are you ok?” Y/N asked, with the loss of the Chiefs all hopes lost yesterday afternoon.

The Bengals are out of the playoffs one more year.

Joe sighs. “I just feel I didn’t have enough time.” Y/N smiled with pressed lips as she saw Joe's hands in his pockets.

Unexpectedly she put her hands inside of his pocket and tingled their fingers. “You had a hell of seasons.” Y/N smiles. “Is it fair to say I'm holding the hand of the QB of the season?”

Joe laughs head down. “I think it is.”

Ahead of them Mr. Rotherhan and Savannah turn around their heads seeing Joe laugh full blushed as Y/N sees him with heart eyes.

“I’m not his favorite boy, huh?” Savannah laughs at the joke of his father.

“Being fair dad, any of us is their favorite person.” She smiles. “No when that guy is near.”

Joe has developed a sensor, he can feel cameras shooting at him, probably few photos are already on the internet but he for unusual reason feels under control.

Y/N has noticed too and starts to feel worried about him, she’s aware of the feelings of Joe related to be the main attention, so she feels the need to do something.

“It’s ok you can go, believe me for Nora this is more than enough.” She leans to whisper it to him.

Joe breathes in loudly. “I’m disturbed.” Her eyes stuck to his face alarm. “Why don't I have one of those?”

Joe points to the home made t-shirts she made in one night, all with a cartoon draw of Nora jumping and hitting the ball in the air, at the back, her number 29.

“What?” Y/N scoffs in disbelief.

“Yeah, I should have one, I mean, yeah go team!” Joe sees how people point to Savannah’s shirt, who's giving the last show of love to her sister before going out to the field. “I have my favorites.”

“Favorites?” Y/N tilts his head.

Joe lay back putting his cap backwards. “You’re my very, very, very number one girl.” Joe says that looking right to her eyes. “And that kid, I grew fond of that kid.”

She curses low after seeing Joe wink at her after dumping those words.

Y/N turns her face clearing her throat making Joe raise his eyebrow. “What?”

“That cap backwards is making you look dazzling.” Joe cough, damn it, she’s good.

He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, unable to believe the only coherent words that came to his mind is…Nothing, nothing came to his mind.

“Well, I bring all we could need and don't spill anything.” Mr. Rotherham appears with bags of candies, popcorn, chips and bottles of water. “Are you blushing?”

He asked, seeing Joe red on his face turning his eyes wide open.

“What?” The man hasn’t to ask another question by the way Y/N hides her face, faking to search for something under her seat.

“Close and done.” Savannah said. “She’s ready.” Coming up with hands on her back pockets as the crowd started to take their seats. “Hey, Nora is right, here are your favorites.”

Savannah points to the peach gummies that Joe has in his hands.

The whole game was nuts, seeing Nora in a more controlled and serious situation is unbelievable. The first quarter they couldn’t keep their rhythm causing the distance to increase and her teammates went to the half, head down scratching their heads. The last quarter, whatever they talked in the locker room, made them come out with heads up high and concentrated eyes; slowly they got closer and closer, Nora kept focus all the game just stealing glances to her family that keeps screaming and cheering her all the time.

In the last minutes the difference is 3 points, Nora makes the right calls and moves, her team moves around like they actually can predict what follows in every hit; with a cardiac play her team goes up just for 1 point.

The crowd went crazy with shouts and claps for the team. Savannah jumps when the score is lights with the victory, and her sister was hidden in hugs for her teammates and crew, she hugs their dad as Mr. Rotherham high five with Joe and Y/N after they hug too.

Nora searches in the crowd for her family and goes running, letting her sisters and dad practically squeeze her.

“Joe.” Savannah said, looking at him at the back. “There is always space for one more.”

Mr. Rotherham opens her left arm for Joe joins too, he takes a glance to Y/N who tenderly nods and opens her right arm, Joe feels moved as he joins in the hug too.

After the game the recruits of Georgia found Nora and Savannah, they praised her talent and maturity finally saying the words both girls expected.

“It would be a pleasure to have you in Georgia.” Nora jumps, taking the letter before trying to rip Savahns neck with a jumpy hug.

After she tries to calm down she splits and shakes their hands. “Sure, yeah, I love that.”

In the background Y/N is moving side to side, her father's arm leaving a sore shoulder but full of pride seeing what the two girls have done.

With the proper goodbye the sisters walk where the rest of them are waiting for them.

“So?” Joe asks, seeing the envelope in her hands.

Nora jumps, raising the envelope. “I’M GOING TO GEORGIA!”

Joe laughs seeing her so happy and proud of what she’s done, he couldn't avoid teasing her once after all the time she did to him.

“Ohio just missed the next big star.” Y/N pushed his arm softly, laughing.

Nora, full of emotion nods, hugging the envelope. “You think that?” Joe is taken by surprise with her question, and her hopeful eyes.

Still he grabs her shoulder. “Without a question.”

All smile at them and how he got a tear slid down her face she feels so complet now.

And Joe needs to learn something, always have an answer for the girls.

But Joe has a peculiar surprise for Nora.

In the middle of the lunch at Savannah's house to celebrate such amazing news, a knock on the door distracts them, causing Monet to stand barking to the main door.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Mr. Rotherham asked to clean the corner of his mouth ready to stand and open the door.

“No, you?” Nora answers seeing her sister.

Joe holds back the laughter and stands. “It’s mine, sorry, I hope you don’t bother if I invite someone.”

All the eyes turn to him with speechless faces and more questions as he walks to the entrance, with Monet’s paws soft tipping on the floor.

“Do you know so…?” The question of Savannah to Y/N left incomplete when the loud scream of Nora makes everyone jump looking to the entrance of the garden.

“YOU’RE MUST BE KIDDING WITH ME!” Nora runs to where it’s Joe and his friend.

Nothing more nothing less than Tee Higgins, her favorite player.

Nora stands in front of them moving her hands unsure of what she must say or do.

“Have we ever seen her speechless?” Mr. Rotherham asked to serve another plate, making the girls laugh.

“Nora, such a pleasure to meet you, congrats on your admission.” Nora smiles. “Do you mind if I give you a hug?”

“OMG! NO!” Nora received a soft hug from one of the idols questioning herself if she could be happier.

Y/N stands where Joe is observing all in the corner and smiles at him. “Nice touch.”

Joe laughs seeing how that’s what Nora needs for pulling Tee to the table and starts to talk without a break.

“Totally deserved.” Joe sees Tee laughing about the wisecrack of Nora as her sister hides her face between her hands and Mr. Rothermha laughs hard.

Late at night after everyone starts to say goodbye, Y/N goes with Tee and Joe to the entrance, Nora is tired and barely can stand from the couch where she waves her hand with Monet lay in her stomach.

“Thank you for coming.” Y/N said giving the classic food containers to Joe plus one for Tee.

“I wouldn't miss the chance to congratulate the next to be champion and the girl who has Burrow smiling like a fool to his phone.” Joe coughs as Tee goodbye to Y/N.

“I…I tried…” Tee bumps his fist with Y/N with a red face.

“I’ll wait in the car.” Tee walks away laughing seeing his friend so astonished and tongue tied.

Joe scratches his neck. “I tried not to smile that…frecuantly.”

Y/N lift her in her tiptoes and kiss Joe…Not the kiss you’re expecting, relax.

She kisses the corner of his lips in an act of bravery, feeling so tickled and overwhelmed by Joe.

“Goodnight Joe.” She waves her hand as get inside the house.

Slipping on the floor with the curious eyes of her family on her. “We lost her.” Her dad said, her head between her legs at the level of her chest.

Two sniffs around her head is the only thing Monet could do before being pulled by his neck and crashing against her chest, big eyes on him asking for a swap to the people in front of them.

At the other side Joe is frozen with a food container in his hands and a smirk on his face.

“Do you need help to walk again?” Tee said while waiting, the door of the car opened. “Or to think again?”

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A/N: Little things getting closer…

#joe burrow #joe shiesty #fic #fanfic #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow fic #joe x reader “joe burrow fan fic #joe brrr #joseph lee burrow #nfl fic

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shadesofecclescakes · 1 year ago

Note

Are you a big fanfic reader? What have you read lately and what's been your favourite fic so far?

Oh mannnnnnnnn. Why don't you ask me to pick a favourite child while you're at it???

Just kidding. I don't have kids. But I assume having to pick a favourite would be hard if I did.

So, am I a big fanfic reader? YES. And what haven't I read lately? We are lucky enough to have so many talented writers in this fandom that it's possible to subscribe to numerous multi-chapter fics to the point where you're just constantly getting update emails. Which I do. It's great. It gives me something to do at work aside from, y'know, work.

*Me at work being smug about being paid to read porn* (Also I just wanted to look at this gif)

So what is currently on my endless update list? Coming up after the cut!

I am an absolute whore for human AU, so if you like that then you will probably like:

The Cure for a Broken Heart by @rofell

a medical student AU based in the Canadian medical system (I'm a Canadian so I was pretty excited about that). It manages to tackle the continued systemic discrimination of Indigenous people in our medical system (and in general), homophobia and the ensuing trauma from those things all while also being informative, funny, sweet, romantic and hot af. Like. It's so good.

Free by @maaikeatthefullmoon

This is another one with with a heavy topic that also does a great job of making sure to break it up with some excellent fluff, hurt/comfort and humorous moments. And it's handled with the sensitivity and thoughtfulness necessary to write something that takes place in a mental health ward and deals with some intense situations. Definitely make sure to read those author notes before diving in. They lay it out very thoroughly.

The Sincere Way by @tsyvia48

A martial arts AU. Crowley is a karate sensei and Aziraphale is his student. Slow burn that keeps you on the edge. The screams I have scrumt at my screen over this one. Plus you learn a lot about karate (but it never gets boring or over-explainey. Excellently balanced) which is pretty cool. Mostly light (there is some angst. This is the Good Omens fandom. I think we are all sad, wet chihuahuas at heart). Funny and sweet.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley

Plus One by @caedmonfaith

Astronaut AU. Aziraphale is an astronaut who meets his mission controller, Crowley, over the comms system when he finds himself in need of assistance.

Super cool concept and really well-done in my opinion. Like, I don't do any space or physics-related work (ok I straight-up failed math 9) but I find it entirely believable. And it's well-written which is the entire point. Cute, funny slow burn with an intriguing mystery happening in the background.

Aziraphale has family money but a shitty family (except for Muriel! Never Muriel!) and his shitty brother Gabriel is getting married to shitty Michael, an Earl's daughter.

Aziraphale's family disproves of his entire life pretty much and he has been lying to them about having a boyfriend. Now they are expecting him to bring said boyfriend to the wedding. His famous footballer friend sets him up with their mechanic, Crowley.

It starts as a slow-burn but becomes a hilarious, smutty romp that just gets more and more insane. The chapter titles alone have made me cackle out loud.

Some older human AUs I'm a huge fan of include Old Vines by @sevdrag. Crowley owns a vineyard and Aziraphale is a wine critic. It is so amazingly written. It makes me think of the author Joanna Harris (Chocolat, The Five Quarters of the Orange) because it's SO beautifully, vividly descriptive that I end up craaaaaving wine. So have a bottle on hand if you're giving this a read.

Also the love story in this. My god. I devoured it. The story and the (many bottles of) wine.

There is also Loosely Ballroom by marginalia_device and mortifyingideal. It's a Strictly Come Dancing (Dancing with the Stars in North America) AU and it is so. Fucking. Good.

But it comes with a disclaimer. It's unfinished and looks likely to stay that way. But honestly? Still worth it. It's nearly finished (I think) so you have most of the story. And it's just SO good. It's been a while since I read it but it was one of the first human AUs I read and what got me hooked on them.

If you're still with me...nice! Just know that was me holding back and that isn't my entire list by a long shot. If you want more recs, feel free to message me and also share your own!

I just finished Slow Show the actor AU by @mia-ugly and yes please.

Some serious angst, pining and hot hot smut.

There is another long-form multi-chapter actor au I loooved but I can't remember the name for the life of me. Just that the show they were on was basically good omens and that they swapped roles with great success (inspired by the whole Michael thinking Neil wanted him to play Crowley when he wanted Aziraphale thing).

Thanks for the ask! That was really fun!

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fan fiction #good omens fic rec #good omens fanfic rec #ask

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annymation · 1 year ago

Text

The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 15- At All Cost?

Chapter 14

Asha is now in the middle of the wishes room, staring at the queen standing on the king's study.

She feels her heart racing for a moment, she's scared... But then she remembers what she's holding right now, her sketchbook and her magic pencil.

She has nothing to fear, if anything, it's the queen who should be scared.

After glancing at the objects in her hands, Asha takes a deep breath and calms down, and faces the queen boldly.

The queen smiles at that, as she begins to speak with her usual honeyed voice "Hello dear, such a pleasant surprise to have you back so soon." She looks down to Valentino, the goat in cowering between Asha's legs and shaking in fear at the sight of the lynx next to the queen, her smile widens "Awww and you even brought a little snack for my pet, how thoughtful." she lets out a quiet chuckle.

Bravo is salivating, staring at the baby goat with predatory eyes.

Asha starts to think on what she can draw, the queen hasn't moved yet, so maybe she can ramble with her for a bit and then catch her off guard...

Asha realizes how the queen looks older than the last time they've met, not too old, but the white hair streak and the subtle wrinkles on her previously perfect skin are noticeable... Just like Aster, she sees this change as an opportunity to make fun of the royal.

"Yeah, glad to be back. Though I thought my last visit here in the castle was 2 days ago, but judging by your face it must have been AGES, huh?" Asha says with a smirk, knowing that would infuriate the queen.

And she was correct, for the queen's smile immediately fell into a cold glare.

(This is the closest I could find in the movie of Amaya looking evil)

"It is churlish to comment on a woman's age, have you no manners?" Her tone is condescending.

Asha simply smiles, seeing that struck a nerve "These are just the manners you deserve, "your highness"" She says the formal title with sarcasm.

The queen looks at her with a serious expression as she raises one eyebrow, almost impressed with how much that sweet and insecure girl they met changed so much in so little time... But her smiles returns slightly, because she has already planed on how to take all that courage out of her.

"You really think so? This way you might hurt my feelings, child..." She places a hand in her chest making a fake sad expression, that instantly returns to a wicked smile as she takes a potion flask from inside the front of her dress "Perhaps I should give you just what you deserve as well."

Asha notices the flask and instantly turns to her sketchbook to try drawing something "What a coincidence, I was thinking the same thi-"

But before she starts to draw, she notices... The floor she's standing on is covered with something... Something shiny, that look's like blue sand.

She glances around the room and sees that the whole floor around her is covered with a thin layer of this weird sand, Asha has a puzzled expression.

The queen notes her confusion "Ah, I see you finally noticed the fire salamander ashes, quite pleasing to look at how they sparkle, don't you think?"

Asha feels a chill run down her spine as she hears the word "fire" coming out of the woman's mouth "W-What?" She turns to the queen, and sees she's now opening a flask with an orange shinny liquid inside.

"Oh yes, it is known as one of the most inflammable components in the magic world, and it also so happens to have such a beautiful reaction when mixed with dragon's blood..." She explains like she's just sharing an interesting fun fact about her hobby as a potion maker, her tone becomes sinister as she opens the flask and asks "Would you like to see?"

"No- NO NO WAIT!" Asha screams in desperation, completely forgetting about her magic pencil as she takes Valentino in her arms to protect him from what she already knows is coming.

The queen drops one single drop of the shiny liquid on the floor, and a HUGE blue flame forms in front of her, spreading slowly to the whole room covered in fire salamander ashes.

(If you're wondering where the heck Amaya get's all these ingredients, let's just say that line she had in the movie about "Why a sorcerer needs what a sorcerer needs is not your concern" is a line Magnifico probably said to a lot of soldiers he sent off on dangerous quests over the years.)

The queen laughs maniacally as she snaps her fingers, making the huge door made of mirrors close in front of her, trapping Asha in the fiery room.

The flames are spreading and approaching Asha slowly, she thinks fast and pulls from her sketchbook the drawing of the flying carpet.

As the carpet flies out of the page, she jumps on it with Valentino. Now they're both safely flying above the flames, surrounded by the wish bubbles.

The queen has no idea they're safe from harm, and Asha smiles with that notion. She'll open the door sooner or later to see if Asha is dead, so all the girl has to do is play along and pretend she's in mortal danger.

"THERE'S SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG WITH YOU LADY!" Asha yells from the carpet, trying her best not to laugh while faking she's scared for her life. Valentino also catches on to the plan and lets out some fake scared bleating, Asha pets him to show she's proud.

The queen falls for it, as she says in sarcasm "Who meee? Why, all I want is to give my beloved pet some freshly cooked meat" She's sitting down with her back against the wall of mirrors, as she too pets her lynx's head gently... Her eyes light up as a devious idea pops in her head, so she says with her words dripping with venom "...Besides, wouldn't you agree this is the most fitting end for you? To burn into ashes just like your dear mama and papa?"

Asha is stunned at the mention of her parents, but her surprise quickly turns into anger "Don't you DARE talk about my parents!" She almost forgets she's supposed to sound scared right now

"Awww sensitive topic, my flower? If it serves as any consolation, they would've suffered way more had I picked how to kill them." Her voice has a twisted sense of humor hanging on every word.

Asha's eyes widen "... Wait... What did you just say?"

"You see, Magnus has always been more of a "Get things done quick" kind of man, and although I love that about him, I oh so wish we had gone with my plan of poisoning their garden..." Amaya continues casually like she's just sharing small talk with the poor girl that is having this terrifying revelation unfold before her "But oh well, I suppose starting a fire with magic was simpler. Such a shame you weren't inside with them, would've spared us a lot of grey hairs." She says as she holds a strand of her newly white hair streak.

Asha feels her world crumble as she process what Amaya just told her...

All this time she thought it was just bad luck, that they had an accident with the fireplace or dropped a candle... But it was them...

Everything was because of them. The reason she never got to learn how to draw with her mother, the reason she never got to hear her father stories, the reason she never got to grow up with them, the reason she and her Saba were alone... It was all THEM.

Asha sees the fire consuming half of the room bellow her, the flames are reflecting on her eyes as she asks with her voice more furious than ever "WHY?! WHAT DID THEY EVER DO TO YOU?!"

The queen laughs at the question "You are just like them, darling. They were worthless little weeds festering in our garden, inspiring our roses to grant wishes by themselves. We simply had no choice but to root them out." Amaya explains with her voice turning more and more maniacal as she finishes "And now, it's your turn to join them!"

... That was the reason? Because her parents encouraged people to chase after their wishes? Her parents lost their lives... Because these two sickos wanted to control EVERY SINGLE PERSON in Rosas?!

Asha sees that the room is almost fully consumed by the flames, and so is her heart consumed by anger. So she lets out a scream, from the pain she feels in her chest and also to trick the queen into opening the door.

"AAAAAaaAaaaAAAAAaAAAH!!!"

The queen is content hearing the girl painful screaming, thinking that's the last sound she'll ever hear from her.

"It seems your meal is ready, Bravo" She says with a twisted glee while getting up, Bravo looks just as exited as his owner.

The queen snaps her fingers, opening the huge door made of mirrors. The whole room is covered in bluish flames. With one drop of another flask she had with her, this time with a blue liquid, the fire is quickly extinguished like the flame of a candle being blown out.

Once the fire was gone the queen expected to see the girl and her little goat lifeless bodies laying on the floor... But they're nowhere to be seen.

"... What in the-"

"Looking for me?" Asha's voice comes from above.

The queen quickly looks up, gasping in shock when she sees the girl flying on a magic carpet.

The queen barely has time to react before Asha jumps from the carpet, and with one swift move of her hand, points to the surprised lynx, wordlessly commanding the carpet to deal with him.

The carpet flies towards the queen, and she cowers in fear and closes her eyes trying to protect herself. But her eyes quickly open again when she hears her pet meowing desperately, the carpet took him and flew with him to outside the window.

(Ya know, originally I was gonna write a chase scene between Valentino and Bravo, but I realized we kinda don't have the time and I'm not feeling like writing that, soooooo I just throw the cat out the window instead. He'll be fine.)

"MY BABY!" The queen shrieks, worried sick for his safety

"Relax, I sent him somewhere safe. Unlike YOU, I'm not a monster." Asha sounds fierce but also with a hint of pain in her voice, like every word that comes out of her mouth gives a sting in her heart, as she's fighting to not cry in front of the queen. "Valentino, go hide while I deal with her." Her voice is serious, while she's flipping through the pages of her book, and once she finds the one she was looking for she pulls out a sword just like the one she used to practice sword fighting with Aster earlier.

The queen sees Asha doing magic in disbelief, as she's now walking backwards slowly shaking her head "no" with a terrified expression.

Asha doesn't hear Amaya whisper under her breath "That boy didn't say anything abo-"

The queen stops mumbling when Asha begins to run, charging towards her with sword in hands, ready to attack.

Amaya tries to run out of the way, but she trips on her own dress and falls on the floor.

Now, Asha is the one in control, pointing her sword to the woman laying down beneath her. Her enraged face shows clearly that she's after revenge.

Amaya for the first time loses her composure, and stutters in a desperate attempt to reason with her "A-Asha, now now ca-calm down, listen to me-" her voice is helpless.

"NO! YOU LISTEN!" Asha's voice echoes through the large room "All the pain and suffering I've went through ALL MY LIFE ties back to the two of you! All because you wanted to keep this SICK AND TWISTED sense of control over everyone in Rosas." She points the sword closer to Amaya's neck, the older woman is shaking "But guess what, no matter what you did, you could NEVER control me! I overcame everything you threw at me, and now, I'll make sure you two can NEVER hurt anyone else ever again!" Asha raises the sword above her head to strike down the witch-

...

But Asha stops.

She can't do it.

She's not like them.

Asha looks down on the queen breathing heavily and lowers her sword. She doesn't know if she's doing the right decision... But that's her decision.

The queen sees Asha's hesitation... And a smile slowly creeps in on the corner of her red lips "You can't do it, can you dear?... Because unlike me, you're not a monster." She repeats what Asha said moments ago with a faux soothing voice.

Asha quickly points the sword back to Amaya's neck, as a warning that if she moves Asha won't hesitate anymore, she speaks with the queen with a cold expression "I never intended to kill neither of you anyway, the plan was just to-"

"Apprehend us and have Rosas decide our punishment?" The queen finishes her sentence, now with a full smile. Asha's eyes widen in surprise "I must say, I found that part of your little plan quite adorable, so nice of you and your friends to show us mercy." Her voice mimics a sweet tone, dripping with sarcasm.

Asha feels a chill run down her spine when the queen mentioned her friends... This, and the trap that was set up for them in the kitchen... How did they know?

"How? HOW did you know we were coming?!" Asha tries to hide her fear, speaking angrily while getting the blade closer to the queen's neck.

Amable doesn't even flinch, she simply warns her "I'd be careful with that blade, my sweet. You lay one scratch on me and my darling king will be quite upset." That doesn't really phase Asha at all as she just squints her eyes at her, wanting some answers, so the queen gives her an answer "Let's just say a... Sleepy little pawn of ours made himself quite useful."

Asha's eyebrows scrunch in confusion, she thinks for a moment and... Realization hits her.

"... Simon?" Asha's mind is rushing, she's stares at the queen nodding positively in front of her, and she feels like she's the one who was cut by a blade... He betrayed them?... No, he wouldn't, the king must have forced him "What did you two do with him?!" She asks furious.

"Nothing at all, he ratted you out. For you see my dear, our "sick and twisted sense of control" you speak of runs oh so much deeper than you think" Asha is staring at Amaya straight in the eyes, so she doesn't see that the queen's hand is reaching for something inside the a hidden pocket inside her long skirt "You can't trust anyone in this kingdom, in the end, they're aaaaall just little pawns in our game of chess."

"You're wrong... Simon didn't tell you our whole plan. If he did then you'd have known about my magic." Asha says with certainty, not fully understanding what happened yet, but still believing that her friend at least fought against telling them everything.

"Indeed, he failed to mention it, which gave you an advantage... However, it hardly matters how many advantages you get, for when playing chess-" Her smile widens into a maniacal expression, and she raises her hand holding a potion flask that was hidden inside her dress "The QUEEN is the strongest piece on the board!" She throws it on the floor, it shatters, creating a cloud of thick blue smoke.

Asha coughs, that caught her completely off guard. She looks around and can see nothing but the thick blue smoke, she tries not to breathe too much of it in by covering her face. Still holding on to her sword tightly.

The queen is no longer on the ground, Asha can't see where she went... But she hears the sound of something made of metal hitting the floor.

She turns to the direction of the sound-

Queen Amable took a sword that was previously decorating the wall, and is now running to Asha ready to attack.

Asha gasps in surprise, raising her hand drawn sword to defend herself, and she succeeds. The two are now pressing their swords against one another, with the queen trying her hardest to get Asha out of balance to stab her.

The queen fights the girl with finesse and precision, like this is something she has experience with, while Asha's movements are more clumsy and rigid, but she's still more agile and relatively stronger than the older woman, since she was cursed and is now 10 years older than she was previously.

(Cute fun fact I guess: for the longest time Magnifico was a bit paranoid that if people found out they were evil and a "hero" could try to defeat them, so, just like how Asha practiced with Aster, he taught Amaya how to defend herself just in case anything happened to him... I hate them, but I also love them as a couple)

As their swords clash against one another, the metallic sounds echo through the room. Asha tries to show confidence, smiling while they fight "Y-you two won't win! Magnus doesn't stand a chance against Aster in the forest, he's gonna be here soon and-"

The queen can only laugh darkly as she speaks "Oh darling, it is your little star who doesn't stand a chance! For you see, dark magic is not be his only weakness! Hahaha"

Asha is still fighting, but her face looks concerned...

Aster's weakness?

Now... We cut to the woods.

We see a dash of light quickly flying through the trees, until they reach a specific one and flies to the top of it.

The dash of light is obviously Aster. He sits on a tree branch and knocks on the tree "He'll be here any minute now, you guys ready?"

From a role in the tree, two round shinny eyes open, and a voice comes out sounding mysterious: "Of course, a pleasure to be of service."

"Great, thanks again for the help fellas" Aster smiles excitedly, he looks down, just waiting for Magnifico to show up on the trail bellow.

... But then he hears something...

Instruments... Again.

The instruments sound slow, like they're warning Aster of something, and judging by Aster's annoyed face it's something they've already been alerted about before

"Yeah, I knooooow I can't let him get my magic. Don't know if you guys realize but that's the whole reason I'm trying to break that staff in the first place." Aster speaks looking up with narrowed eyes.

The instruments sound... Worried? I don't know how one would describe a worried orchestra, but it's like they're playing cautiously.

Aster this time responds calmer, trying to reassure them "I am being careful, I swear. I won't let him-" Aster stops for a moment and thinks... He doesn't actually knows what would happen if the king got his power, well, except for the part that without his magic he can't exist so the king would pretty much kill him. But Aster doesn't know what would happen to the king and queen... He might as well ask "By the way... Has that ever happened before? A human absorbing a star's power?"

The stars go quiet for a moment, before a single flute plays a small sad melody

"I see..." Aster has a worried face "And what happened then?"

Aster listens to the orchestra sounds, it's an ominous percussion mixed with some erratic violins.

Aster listens to it all attentively, his face slowly becomes more and more shocked, as if he's listening to something out of a horror story.

He slowly nods, humming a little with the concern now growing inside him too.

But then he hears one thing that gets his attention.

"Wait wait wait back up" The instruments all stop "What was that about "The human fell into madness"?"

A single cello plays a small melody... Aster's eyes widen.

"Huh, really?... I wonder if the king knows about that..." Aster ponders quietly. Then Aster hears a sound that is not instruments this time, but a twig breaking on the ground bellow, Magnifico's coming "And speak of the devil, that's your cue friends." Aster says knocking on the tree.

Down bellow, Magnifico is walking on the trail, with trees all around him. He's holding his staff over his shoulders casually as he singsongs to himself:

"Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder where you are..." the king looks around the woods... It's quiet... Too quiet. The star is plotting something, but that's alright, because so is he "Come out come out lad, we both know you can't hide from me the whole night long... I just wish to have a little chat with you." The king says in a faux friendly voice.

"Yeah you can keep wishing that but I ain't granting it!" Aster's voice comes from the tree tops

The king looks up with a wide smile, ready to cast a spell to capture the star. But his smile instantly vanishes as the green light from his staff reflects on many tiny eyes staring down at him, revealing that on the trees above there's a whole army of Genets ready to pounce:

(Genets: Slender cat-like nocturnal animals that can be found in Spain... Imagine a bunch of these fellas staring down on you at night, terrifying me thinks)

They all jump on the king, climbing all over him and scratching his clothes. Magnifico screams while holding tightly to his staff and trying to protect his already scarred face

"AAAAH GET OFF ME YOU WRETCHED- NOT THE FACE NOT THE FACE!!" Magnus is wobbling around covered in wild cats.

Aster lets out a childish laugh as he cheers while flying above the desperate king "Yes! Get the face everyone! And also those fingers if you can! Hahahaa"

The king turns red with fury "ENOUGH!" he uses his magic to throw all of them away from him, some genets scatter while others stay, ready to attack him again, but the king is having none of that "GET NEAR ME AGAIN AND I'LL MAKE FUR COATS OUT OF YOU"

The all get scared, and run away to the depths of the forest.

Aster looks sad for a moment but he has no time to think too much about it, for the king immediately turns to him and tries to capture him once more.

Aster swiftly dodges the king's magic and hides behind a tree.

He then shrinks down to the size of a hand. He's the size of tinker bell.

The king is catching his breath after all the commotion, but he has enough energy to scream some facts to the star "Just accept it, boy! You can't best me! throw me your plants and I'll burn them, throw me your animals and I'll scatter them!"

Aster face is deep in thought, he hates to agree, but they have indeed been in this game of cat and mouse for a while, and Aster is not even close to getting that staff, not to mention how they hate to put even more animals in danger...

The king upon receiving no snarky comment in return, calms down slightly, knowing that the star deep down is just as tired of this game as he is...

He reaches for something inside his vest.

"So how about we stop playing, and just talk things out, hum?" Magnus voice is once again "friendly" but with a clear ominous undertone.

Aster thinks... He might be able to catch the staff while the king is distracted blabbering whatever he has to say... So he plays along.

"You really must love the sound of your own voice, don't ya? All you do is talk all the time." Aster's snarks while hiding behind the tree "Fine, what do you wanna talk about so bad?"

We don't see what Magnifico pulled out his vest, but he's holding a small object on his hand. Looking at whatever it is with a mischievous smile.

"That girl... You love her, don't you?" The king asks nonchalantly.

Aster's eyes widen in shock... EVEN HE NOTICED?!

Aster knew he couldn't let this man know how he and Asha felt about each other, as he'd totally take advantage of that, so the star tries to lie "W-what?! What you talking about?! We-we like- We just met 2 days ago! That's crazy talk!" Aster is a terrible liar by the way.

Magnifico has a pleased smile, as he walks forward to where Aster's voice is coming from, he's holding his staff with one hand while hiding the other behind his back. "And I fell in love with my wife in two minutes or less, what's your point? Heheh" he chuckles like he's reminiscing of something, but then continues, sounding as if he's talking to a stubborn kid that refuses do admit something obvious "Come now, starlight. Wishing stars are supposed to only give humans some guidance, but here you are going waaay above and beyond your purpose, breaking all the rules for her... Because you love her~" He singsongs that last part as if to make fun of the star.

Aster is about to say something when he notices that Magnifico is getting closer to his hiding place, so he flies to the ground, still on his miniature size, trying to hide in the low vegetation and move to somewhere else.

Magnifico notes the silence, and just chuckles "Well, either I'm right, or you're just too incompetent to even guide her at all, aren't you?" The king says jokingly.

That strikes a nerve with Aster, as he's quite done with the stars calling him incompetent and naive for so long. The star is still hiding in his small size but his voice is just as loud as it would be if he was normally sized:

"You know what?! YEAH we are in love! And it's thanks to our love that we'll defeat you! Because we'll fight to protect each other, at all cost!"

The king's grin grows even more devious.

"At all cost? Hmm, how charming." The king coos, and we see him holding the mysterious object tightly and focusing to perform a spell... He whispers some words in latin:

"Ligneus. Pupa. Crescere. Et dolus."

Aster doesn't hear what the king just said. but suddenly, he starts to hear the stars all speaking with him at the same time, the instruments play alarmingly all at once. They're speaking over each other, so Aster doesn't understand, the star looks up in frustration and whispers "Guys o-one at a time please- UGH I don't understand nor have time to talk ri-"

"Did you hear that, Asha? I told you he cared." The king speaks sweetly with someone else.

Aster feels the world stop when he hears that name come out of the king's mouth.

Aster flies out of the bushes and sees it... Magnifico is holding Asha by her shoulder, she's tied up by a rope made of green magic, her mouth is covered and she's struggling to free herself.

The star doesn't even think before he returns to his normal size, their animation looking rough and sketchy as he yells "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF-"

Aster sees a giant green hand made of light coming in his direction.

The star remembers he can't let himself get caught. In the blink of an eye he stretches his body down, like he's made of rubber... Get it? He's animated like a rubber hose cartoon for a second.

Aster dodges the king's magic once again and flies to hide behind a large tree.

"Ha! Almost caught you this time!" The king exclaims victorious while laughing.

Aster's mind is rushing with questions as he starts to panic... How did he get her? Is she hurt? Their plan went wrong? How can he save her?!

In the confusion that is their mind, they can't focus to listen what the stars are trying to tell him, the stars are just muddled voices to him now.

"I bet you're wondering how I found her, aren't you?" The king asks with a sadistic sweetness in his voice, holding the girl close to him "See, while you were flying away and hiding, like a coward, a guard came into the forest to tell me they found the poor thing lost in our garden" His voice is filled with a mocking fake sadness like he's describing a tragedy "And she just wouldn't stop calling your name... So here he is Asha, your daring "hero" hahaahaha!" His evil laugh echoes through the woods.

Aster didn't even know he could feel so much fear and anger at the same time. He places a hand on the ground and uses his magic to try attacking Magnifico with vines.

The king notices the plants beginning to grow next to him from the corner of his eyes, and his smile just grows as he says "Ah ah ah, I wouldn't do that if I were youuu~" He points his staff to her face, with the green gem shinning brightly and menacingly.

Aster can hear Asha muffled screams in fear, and he get's the message. He stops the vines from growing. The star looks down defeated.

Magnifico sees the vines retreating, and takes the staff away from her face "That's better. Now! How do you feel about a little bargain?" His voice is full of excitement like he's a con man ready to make a big deal.

Aster may be naive but even he knows where the king is going with this, and his not falling for it "Do you think I'm an idiot!?" The star asks angrily

"Why, yes! Very much so!" The king answers gleefully.

"You want me to surrender in exchange for Asha's life... But we both know your word isn't worth anything!" Aster is trying to speak boldly to mask how scared he actually is.

"*Gaaaaasp* You think I would lie?? Meeee??? I'd never!" The king says dramatically with sarcasm clear as day "Hehe jokes aside, I can assure you I NEVER break my end of a deal... If you don't break yours." He puts emphasis on that last part, he then begins to speak very quickly the terms of their deal "So here's the trade off, you surrender in, let's say, the count of 5, and in return I'll have your little doll here sent to some other kingdom where she'll be safe from harm and can live on to thrive and chase after her dreams yada yada yada happy ending! What do ya say? Come on."

Aster is too overwhelmed to think- He obviously can't trust Magnifico's word, but if they don't do as he says then Asha is done for- But who's to say she'll be safe later when the king has his mag-

"Let me make this easier for you... One"

The king starts counting.

Aster mind is spinning, he tries to think clearly, but his emotions are clouding his judgment. The stars voices are just white noise.

"Twooo"

The king prepares to use his magic on the girl.

Aster feels some tears form in the corner of his eyes... He promised Asha he would't let himself get caught but-

"Threee"

Aster hears Asha's muffled voice screaming for help, but not the stars above him...

He breaks his promise.

"ALRIGHT!" The star yells, flying out of their hiding place, with his hands up.

And before he knows it, there are glowing green chains on his writs that quickly pull him closer to where the king and "Asha" are. Once the chains are on him the sound of messy orchestra instruments stops all together, since Aster's powers are diminished by the dark magic, he can no longer hear the stars.

The star doesn't struggle, accepting his loss. The king pulls him in closer and closer until Aster is standing right in front of him, Magnifico looks down on him with a cruel smile.

Aster is not looking at him, his eyes are full of sadness and fixated on the ground, unable to face "the girl" the king's holding.

"Awww why the long face, little one? Here, she's free just as promised." The king snaps his fingers and "Asha" is free from her restraints, now just standing still next to him. "... Any last goodbyes before I send her off?" Aster doesn't notice but Magnifico is trying his best to hold in his laughter.

Aster can only look down, not wanting to face her yet, but he apologizes for not granting her wish "... Asha... I'm sorry... I tried everything I could but- I failed." a single tear runs down the star's face as he begs her "When you're away from here... DON'T come back, and DON'T look back... I just want you to be safe and-" Aster stops as he finally looks at her face.

It's devoid of emotion... And her eyes are soulless... Like a dolls eyes.

Aster is worried that Magnifico did something to her, he reaches out to hold her hand "Asha? What's wro-" but when he holds her hand... There's nothing... No star inside of her... That's not Asha.

As realization dawns on the star, Magnifico can't hold it in anymore "Pffft HAHA HAHAAHAHAAH HAHAHAAH"

With every "ha" Aster's face becomes more furious, both angry at the king and himself for falling for his trick.

"YOU LIED TO ME!" Aster shouts as he tries to get away from Magnifico, who simply pulls him closer by the chains so they're face to face.

"Did I? I thought I was quite clear." He smiles sadistically "I said I'd "have your little doll sent somewhere safe", remember? Aaaand" He snaps his fingers, and the magic that made up the fake Asha disappears like it was blown away by the wind, and all that is left of her is a small wooden doll. The same wooden doll Magnifico made for Asha all the way back in chapter 4.

(... Get it? He turned a wooden doll into a real girl... Like Pinocchio... Heheheheh *Jumps out the window... Gets back to write the rest of the chapter* ahem, anyway, congrats @gracebeth3604 you guessed it, I made Magnifico pull a Hades move on our wonder boy)

"Here she is!" Magnifico exclaims excitedly while placing the doll inside Aster's chained hands "She's all yours, lad! You can even choose where you want me to send her while we go back to the palace." Magnifico says like he's doing Aster a favor. He starts walking and pulling the star to come along.

Aster looks at the doll with rage and throws her away into the bushes.

Aster tries to pull away from the chains and keeps himself still with his feet fixated on the ground "I AM NOT LETTING YOU USE ME TO HURT THEM! IF YOU THINK I GONNA JU- GHHAaaAAaAAAaaaA!!!" Aster feels a shock wave of pain course his body as the king uses a spell to electrocute him, his animation becomes fully disjointed like he's struggling to keep his physical form. Once it's over, Aster can only kneel down in pain.

"Not so funny when it happens to you, is it?" Magnifico's eyes are now full of spite, highlighting the scar over his left eye "I've enjoyed this little game of ours but we really must hurry, I'd hate to keep my queen waiting... Not to mention, your girl is just DYING to see you too."

Aster is weak from the pain but he manages to look up to the king.

"W-what...?"

Did they get her?

We now cut back to the palace, Asha is still fighting with the queen.

The girl looks exhausted, swinging her sword around and defending herself from the unhinged woman. She doesn't have time to stop and take her sketchbook to draw something else to attack.

But Asha slips up, and Amaya manages to disarm her, throwing her sword away to the other side of the room.

Asha gasps in shock.

"NO!- UGH!"

The queen KICKS the girl's legs, making her fall on the ground, now their positions are reversed from how they were before.

Asha looks up horrified to the queen pointing the blade to her face, she's looking down on the girl with a smirk "So... Ha ha- how's that for an "old lady" huh?" The woman is panting like she could collapse from exhaustion at any moment, but she still keeps her composure as she threatens the girl bellow her.

Asha tries to reach for her sketchbook tied to her belt, but the queen quickly takes it off her hands. Asha doesn't have time to react before Amable throws it away to the other side of the room.

Asha is petrified, she has nowhere to go.

She can see Valentino hiding behind the curtains of a window, he's scared.

"You put up a good fight child, but I'm afraid this is where your story ends, with you... All alone." Amaya raises the sword to end the girl's life.

Asha can only close her eyes and prepare for the impact... Until she hears a familiar voice

"Think again WITCH!"

Both Amaya and Asha are startled by the sudden scream, however, a smile quickly appears on Asha's face when she sees who it is.

Amaya turns around and is quickly knocked out of balance by something pushing her to the side, away from Asha. The queen drops the sword on the floor.

What pushed the queen was Dahlia's crutch, as the girl is now standing in front of Asha offering her a hand with a relieved smile "Sorry we took us so long, you okay?"

"Better now you're here!" Asha hold her best friend's hand and goes in for a hug, feeling relieved to see her safe. While they hug, Asha opens her eyes and sees that behind Dahlia there's also Gabo, Hal, Bazeema, Safi and Dario. All of them glaring at the queen laying on the floor.

"Ho- HOW DID YOU BRATS GET IN HERE?!" The queen demands to know, her hair is partially covering her face, she looks like an absolute mess.

Hal points to the small elevator on the wall, used to get food from the kitchen straight to the king's study "Did you forget how you get your meals everyday?"

(How did all 6 of them fit in the elevator?... Same way they did in the movie, cartoon logic)

Amaya just groans in frustration as the teens walk closer to her.

Asha gets her sketchbook on the floor, she sighs in relief before saying with a smile "*sigh* Alright, just like we planned, everyone" She begins to draw some squiggly lines on her book, and as she touches the page the lines come out as long pieces of rope.

Her friends all get a piece of rope. And they walk to tie up the evil queen.

(Hahah get it? The 7 dwarfs references are the ones who save her from the evil queen! Heheheeh I love when references fit the narrative)

The queen's screaming for them to stay away from her in the background. But we focus on Asha, who's calling Valentino to come out of his hiding place.

The baby goat does so, rushing to her arms happily. Asha hugs him with a big smile "It's alright, I'm fine" She reassures him, and also reassure herself.

Asha looks around to her friends and notices... There's one missing.

"... So it was true" She begins to speak with Dahlia, the only one that didn't go help tie up Amaya, preferring to stay by Asha's side "Simon really did betray us..." She sounds hurt.

Dahlia places a hand on her friend's shoulder and explains "At first, yeah, he did. But who do you think pulled us up here?" She smiles at Asha, and gives her a wink.

Asha's eyebrows raise "Wait... So he changed his mind? How?" She asks confused

"Let's just say the king's mind control was no match for the power of friendship... Also Gabo kept screaming and swearing at him like a sailor." Hal said joyously.

"I told him bad words he didn't even know existed! And I'm literally younger than him!" Gabo says proudly while pulling a rope to tight up the Amaya's arms on her back.

"He can pull himself up the elevator, so he'll be here to help us pretty soon!" Safi comments.

Asha is happy that her friend came to his senses... But she still has a bad feeling.

"Did he say how much he told about the plan to Magnifico?" Asha asks Dahlia, with concern clear in her voice.

Dahlia's smile fades, she also seems worried "He doesn't know actually, he can't remember much about how the conversation went."

Asha looks down and thinks for a moment "... Okay, he didn't tell them about my pencil, so maybe he didn't tell them everything, we can still win." She smiles confidently.

Asha and the teens are suddenly startled once they hear a familiar voice shouting aaaaaall the way down the stairs of the palace:

"NO NO IT'S FINE, I CAN GET HIM UP THERE ON MY OWN! YOU ALL JUST SOUND THE TRUMPETS AND GATHER THE CITIZENS!" The king's voice echoes through the castle, he's talking to the guards in the entrance.

"Aster!" Asha exclaims worried.

The queen is all tied up, smiling in the background.

"I- I gotta go help him! You all stay here." Asha rushes to the door.

"Oh no we won't, we're not leaving your side again!" Dahlia exclaims holding her wrist.

"No, you don't understand, Magnifico CAN'T get even close to you all, not while he still has that staff, I won't let him hurt you." Asha explains to her friend with a serious expression "I'll find a way to save Aster and break it... Somehow." She doesn't sound so sure of herself, but she knows she has to try.

"And how can you do that?" Bazeema asks concerned

Asha holds her sketchbook and her pencil and starts drawing a key "I'll use my imagination" She smiles.

Asha pulls out the key from the page, she turns to tell her friends one last thing before leaving. But when she turns something catches her attention, on the king's desk there's a a small cloth bag full of blue sparkly sand, the bag is labeled "Fire Salamander Ashes". Asha takes the bag from the table and says quickly "Also this might come in handy."

She opens the door with her hand drawn key and tells her friends one last thing "No matter what you guys hear, don't leave the room." She runs down the long flight of stairs.

Meanwhile Magnifico is dragging Aster up the stairs, the king looks exhausted as he tries to perform a teleportation spell to get them to the top, but he can only teleport a few steps up.

"ARGH I'm gonna give myself a splitting headache because of you!" Magnifico says, with a hand over his forehead, he speaks to himself under his breath "Never had to teleport so many times in one day, thought such a simple spell wouldn't exhaust me that much..."

Aster hears that, he's still struggling to not get dragged away by the king as he exclaims "If just teleporting a bunch of times to get us here gives you a headache then you REALLY not gonna like what'll happen if you get my magic!" This isn't a bluff, but an actual warning, as Aster remembers what the stars told him... Maybe he can convince Magnus to stop "LISTEN! My powers may seem weak now, but even the most powerful of sorcerers couldn't handle the power of a star inside them, it's TOO MUCH for a normal human to handle!"

"Yeah well, good thing I'm no normal human." The king says with a frustrated expression while dragging the star up the stairs.

"YES YOU ARE, MAGNUS!" Aster screams, trying to reach out for some sense of humanity inside him.

"Don't call me that." The king warns sternly, he's not looking at Aster as he speaks.

"You only have power at all because of that green gem on your staff. And even with it, you're not strong enough!" Aster continues while still getting dragged by the king

"I'd really not test my patience right now if I were you, boy." He sounds more and more angry.

"I'm trying to save you! If just performing a spell way too many times gives you a headache then MY POWER will make you LOSE YOUR MIND-" Aster tries to spell it out to Magn-

"AND I WOULD RATHER LOSE THAT THAN LOSING THE WOMAN I LOVE!" Magnifico shouts, now looking straight to the star behind him, enraged in a way the star has never seen before.

Aster goes silent, staring at the king in shock and... For the first time feeling like the man was 100% honest with him.

Magnus takes a few seconds to realize what he just said out of anger and exhaustion... He puts himself back together, straightening up his posture and taking a deep breath, before looking down to the star with his usual smile full of sarcasm "Thank you for the concern, Aster. Really appreciated, but you have nothing to worry you shinny little head about" He taps on the star's forehead with one finger "I've already planned on how to get myself a-... Let's say a "Power boost" before performing the spell to get your magic humhum" He chuckles lowly, excited to show the star what he means by that "Besiiiiiides, all the sorcerers that tried to yield the power of a star only went mad because they tried to do it on their own, while I have someone to share it with."

Aster is dumbfounded... The king KNEW that the power of a star can drive someone mad... And he choses to go after it anyway because he THINKS that by sharing it with his wife they'll be fine?... Aster realizes he is too far gone.

"Nothing I say is gonna change your mind, is it?" Aster asks with frustration in his voice, the king simply shakes his head "no" with a smug "... Then you don't love her at all, you just wanna use her to get more power." The star says with a scowl.

The king is stunned for a second by the gall the star has to say that, before his rage comes back at full force, he doesn't take his eyes off the star as he makes shock waves of pain go through Aster's body again, the star kneels down in agony.

"ASTER?!"

Asha's voice comes from the top of the stairs, surprising both the star and the king, but they're surprised for completely different reasons.

Aster looks up to the top of the stairs with a huge smile despite the pain he's in right now "ASHA!"

The king however turns to her in bewilderment "YOU?! HOW ARE YOU STILL ALI-" He stops as he has a realization... His face turns into a cold glare, hiding a hint of worry in his voice "Where's Amaya?"

Asha ignores the king's question, as she's already drawing the first thing that came into her head to stop him.

She throws out of her sketchbook what she just drew and...

A hand drawn piano manifests right above the king

"WHAT THE-"

BLAAAAAAM

The piano fell on the king. And keep in mind Simon didn't mention the magic pencil, so from Magnifico's perspective Asha just randomly manifested a piano out of nowhere.

Aster is free from the king's restraints, and he quickly flies up to Asha and gives her a hug, Asha hugs him back and the two have a second to breathe and be relieved that they're both okay.

"I was so worried about you! Are you okay?" Asha asks holding his face with both her hands.

"I'm the one who should be asking that!" Aster sounds worried sick.

"I'm fine, the others saved me from the queen, she's all tied up. Now we gotta focus on breaking that staff" She looks down the stairs to the destroyed hand drawn piano that the king is under "Do you think that was enough to knock him out?"

Asha's question is immediately answered by the remains of the piano being engulfed by green magic. It begins to float as the king violently throws it out of the stairs.

(Yeah sorry, he's unfortunately fine, because cartoon logic and this ending would be underwhelming.)

They can hear the loud sound of the piano falling on the ground bellow, as well as the sound of the king practically roaring in anger. He gives the two teens a death glare while trying to stand up.

"NOPE!" Aster answers, holding her in his arms, Aster flies as fast as he can up the stairs, fast enough that the king doesn't have time to catch them with his magic.

He does however have enough energy to do one simple spell. He snaps his finger, which locks all the doors that lead to the wishes room.

Asha and Aster are in the treasure room, the dimly lit room where Magnifico and Amable sang "Wish Away" to her.

The two of them are startled when the entrance they just went through shuts behind them and one second later the exit does too, they're trapped in the dark and large room full of treasure exposed like a museum.

But Aster quickly comes up with a solution.

"I-I'ts okay, I can unlock the door!" The star reaches out to use their magic, but Asha holds his arm.

"No! We can't keep running away from him, otherwise we'll lead him straight to the study, to where my friends are." She explains to Aster with concern, but also determined to fight back instead of running.

"Then what do we do?" Aster asks her quickly.

"I- I... I have a plan." Her face lights up with an idea, as she holds the star's hands "I don't have much time to explain so pay attention-"

"Oooooh Asha~" The king's voice comes from the other side of the door, he's getting closer.

Asha holds the star by the wrist and guides him to hide behind one of the many artifacts in the room "Aster- Turn into your human disguise NOW." They're now crouched down, hiding behind a small pillar with an old vase on it.

Aster is confused "What?? But I can't use my powers when I'm in that form." Aster explain nervously as they hear the king's footsteps approaching

"You can't glow either, you need to stop glowing so we can hide in the dark." She whispers quietly, her glance is practically rushing the star to just do as she says.

Aster doesn't know what she's planning but he trusts her wholeheartedly. He quickly goes from a 2D drawing with shiny hair to a 3D animated character like Asha, with normal blonde hair.

"Okay, so what do we do no-"

They hear the door opening.

The two teens keep their mouths shut.

"... Playing hide-and-seek again, little star?" Magnifico's voice echoes through the room, he lets out a low chuckle and says "Alright, let's play one last game."

Aster and Asha are staring at each other, it's dark but they can see one another thanks to the dim blue lighting above the treasure they're hiding behind. They hear the king's foot steps as he slowly walks around the room looking for them.

Asha can feel her heart pounding, how can she tell the plan to Aster if they can't speak?

...

She remembers they both know how to communicate without speaking.

She begins to speak in sign language, Aster can see her hands under the dim light:

"I'll make a distraction, while you take this and spread it all over the floor when he's not looking" She signs and takes from her belt the bag of blue dust she took from the king's desk.

Aster doesn't understand what that is or how she can distract him at all, he signs to her back "How are you gonna distract him?"

She's about to sign to answer his question, but then the king begins to speak casually

"Ya know, Asha. I'm actually so glad you evaded Amaya's trap, truly I am." We see the king looking at his own reflection in one of the artifacts in the room, not really in a hurry to find them "For you see, I have a little secret I wanted to share with you... Wanna know what it is?"

Asha obviously doesn't respond, she's holding her sketchbook and pencil like she's preparing to draw something, she tries her best to focus and ignore whatever the king is talking about.

"Your grandfather's wish." Asha's eyes widen, she stops drawing "The very thing that started all this... Yeah, me and my wife miiiiiight have told you a little fib, shocker I know heheh" he jokes, as they both know all they've done is lie to her from the start "But I decided to come clean, since I happen to actually remember now what his wish was: "To inspire the people of Rosas with my songs"" The king quotes what the wish was, with a clear tone of disdain.

Asha feels like everything fell into place... Saba really was just like her... Or maybe she was a lot like him. This is probably the first time anything the king says brought her a sense of actual comfort.

Aster is surprised as he himself didn't know what Sabino's wish to the king was, but by pure coincidence it's the same thing he guided Asha to do.

But the king obviously is not sharing that to give her a wholesome moment or anything, he continues with a smirk "I'm sure now you see that I did him a favor by never granting that wish."

Asha's face becomes an angry glare. And she begins to draw something in her sketchbook quickly.

The king can hear the sound of the pencil sliding on the paper, and he follows it while speaking calmly "I mean, if I did grant it, he could've ended up crossing the line... Like you did."

Aster notices he's getting closer and looks at Asha anxiously as if to rush her to finish what she's drawing already. Asha looks like she's almost done.

"And when you cross the line..." Magnifico grin widens, he get's closer to the sound and...

He sees Aster dragging Asha to a different hiding place as fast as he can, but not fast enough.

Magnifico uses his magic to grab Asha with a giant hand.

"AAAAGH!" Asha screams as the king raises her up.

"NO!" Aster yells in desperation

"THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES!" Magnifico says with a twisted glee, and he throws the girl all the way to the other side of the room.

Aster runs to where she is, but to no avail as Magnifico holds him with his magic. The man is laughing maniacally as he walks to the girl.

"Ha ha aaah and it looks like I win our little game, now who would've thought?" Aster is struggling to free himself from the king's magic while Asha is laying on the floor, looking up in fear "But I'm afraid you won't get to see what happens next, my dear." He grins as he points his staff to her, but just when he's about to charge up an attack-

"W-wait!" Asha exclaims, looking up terrified "... Can I just a-ask one thing?"

The king raises one eyebrow "Your last words? Hmm it's cliche, but oh alright I'll allow it, what is it?" He asks with a relaxed smile.

Asha looks down defeated "I- I just wanted to say..."

She looks back up to him with a smug.

"I got way better at drawing self portraits, didn't I?" "Asha" asks full of confidence.

Magnifico's evil smile disappears, replaced by a face of pure confusion, completely taken aback by the girl's random comment.

"Wha-"

"Oh yeah! You look amazing, and I look pretty good too." "Aster" comments cheerfully, still tied by Magnifico's magic, but he doesn't seem to care at all anymore.

The king turns to the star in confusion, not understanding what these kids are talking about... But he notices something he didn't see before because of how dark the room is... "Aster" is black and white.

Before he has time to fully process that, the two living drawings smile at him while going from 3D animated, to 2D, to looking like rough sketches, until they both disappear completely.

... He got tricked.

"Hey Mag!"

Asha's voice comes from behind him. He turns around in shock, and sees the REAL Asha and Aster as standing in front of the now open exit. Aster is back to his 2D glowing self, and he's holding a now empty cloth bag.

The floor is shining with blue dust all over it.

"Here's a little trick your wife taught me!" Asha exclaims with a defiant smile, and she throws a hand drawn fireball from her sketchbook.

The fire hits right in front of Magnifico. A large black and white flame grows, it looks like scribbles one would draw on paper, but it shines and burns just as much as normal fire, and it's spreading all around him.

Magnifico get's so startled by the fire that he finally lets go of his staff for a second.

And that second is all that Aster needed. The star stretches his arm all the way to the other side of the room, grabbing the staff and bringing it to them.

(I mentioned on Aster's "How I'd Reimagine the Characters in Wish" blog that he could stretch his body, but he kinda never used this ability, so what better moment to have him use it than now)

"No-NO WAIT!" Magnifico is trying to avoid the flames as he begs.

Aster spins the staff in the air before HITTING IT ON THE FLOOR with all the strength he can manage.

"AAAGH!" Magnifico quivers and yells in pain.

The gem is broken.

Asha and Aster run out of the room, and Aster locks the door behind them with his magic.

They can hear the king's painful screams coming from the other side of the door...

The two run up the stairs that leads to the wishes room, Asha is breathless as they stop in front of the door of the king's study.

"... We did it? We won?" Asha asks almost in disbelief, but with a smile already beginning to form in the corners of her lips

Aster looks to the staff now with no green gem on his hands, and let's go of it, letting it fall on the floor, he looks to her with a bright smile "... Yeah, it's over!"

Asha hugs him and laughs in relief. Aster holds her tightly while spinning her in the air.

"That was GENIUS!" Aster exclaims once he stops spinning "You finally figured out how to draw yourself!" he sounds proud of her, as he knows that was a skill Asha always struggled with.

"All I needed was to understand what I was drawing... And now I do." Asha says with a warm smile, placing a hand on her chest, reflecting on how this whole experience helped her understand who she really is.

She pulls Aster by the hand for them to go through the door of the wishes room. "Come on! Let's go tell the others."

Once she opens it, they see her friends all around the door waiting for them, Gabo is holding the sword Amaya was fighting with earlier, like he's ready to attack if who came in was Magnifico.

"ASHA!" They all scream in excitement and relief. Everyone rushes for a group hug

Including someone who wasn't with them earlier, but managed to pull himself up the rope elevator.

"YOU GUYS ARE OKAY!" Simon exclaims, embracing the whole group with his big arms.

Asha is smiling despite almost suffocating in the group hug "Heheh yup, we're fine, but we still got some wishes to free!"

Her friends let go of the hug, fully focused on the task at hand.

"Right! Aster, give us a lift to the ceiling will ya? There are some pulleys up there, that must be how we can open it!" Gabo exclaims, pointing to the top of the wishes room.

"Oh-ho! A few lift ups coming right up!" Aster says cheerfully, and uses his star dust on a few of the king's books, making them float to the wishes room, just waiting for the teens to get on them so they're lifted up there.

The teens run to the wishes room, Asha stays behind in the study for a moment to see... The queen is all tied up, looking at her in horror.

"Where is Magnus?"

If it was anyone else Asha would probably feel sorry for her, but this woman deserves no sympathy. So Asha just says with frankness "Burning down stairs. You're a widow, again. Consider that my wedding anniversary gift."

(Yeah I couldn't fit anywhere else so here's a reminder that back in chapter 2 Dahlia's mom said they had to go to the market to get her some ingredients, because she had to make a cake for the king and queen's wedding anniversary, and guess what? That is TODAY! So uuuuh yay tying up with the 100 anniversary disney movie theme... Also they kinda canceled the celebration for obvious reasons.)

The queen holds in a gasp, as if her cold heart just shattered.

Dahlia was next to her friend and is surprised by her tone "Woah Asha, I know she's evil but y-"

"They killed my parents, Dahlia." Asha puts it simply to her best friend while walking to the wishes room to join the others.

"THEY WHA- OOOH That's what you GET you WITCH!" Dahlia shouts in Amaya's face, now fully on board with Asha.

(I love that witch is the closest I can get to have them calling her the B word)

We see Gabo, Dario, Safi, Hal and Bazeema all being lifted up by the books, as there are 5 pulleys for each one of them to pull.

Aster is flying around the wishes, looking in amazement to the blue ones, and holding the green ones, which makes them turn back to their original blue color, un-cursing them. He is flying around repeating the process on as many as he can.

Asha looks up to her friends and the wishes, she smiles in relief that everything is finally falling into place... But then she notices Simon is standing in the corner of the room, his eyes are downcast.

Asha walks to him "Simon, you okay?" She asks him worriedly.

Simon doesn't even know where to begin his apology, for everything. He looks at her full of regret "Asha... I'm sorry, I am so so sorry." He begins, Asha looks to him and listens attentively "I don't expect you to forgive me. I was so scared that we could get hurt- I just- I couldn't believe that everything we knew was a lie" he begins to tear up "... And I wanted so badly to believe in him-"

Asha gives him a hug.

"... You were hurting in silence for so long because of the things he did... And I was too, we all were." Asha says calmly, trying to reassure her friend "What matters is that he's gone now, he can't hurt us anymore."

Simon has tears running down his face but he hugs her with a smile.

Aster flies closer to them, holding a wish bubble "And I think THIS belongs to you!" The star says warmly

Simon and Asha still can't see what's inside the bubble, but just by getting close to it Simon can feel it "My wish?" Simon asks in surprise "... No, I don't deserve it, I put all of us in danger and-."

"Everyone deserves to know their wish" Aster tells him with a bright smile "He tricked you, so what? Happens to the best of us, literally happened with me today"

"The important thing is that you see the truth now." Asha says, she looks at Simon and then at the wish with a smile, as if to encourage him to get it.

And he does so, reaching out for the bubble, and once he holds it reveals the image of Simon wearing knights clothes... Simon's smile is replaced by disappointment.

"Well... This is awkward." He says letting go of his floating wish "That's not what I wish for anymore... Guess I can't have it back."

"Hey now, that's not how it works." Asha smiles as she holds his wish "It's not about what the wish IS, it's about what it MEANS." She repeats what Aster told her back in the cave when they were talking about her wish, the star smile widens at that. Asha continues to explain "Sure, on the surface it may look like all you wish for is serve the king... But there's so much more to it than that." She places the wish in his hands "You wish to protect those you care about, like you've been trying to protect us this whole time, because even without your wish, THAT'S who you are. This wish is what makes you... YOU." Simon's smile returns "And NO ONE should live a life without being themselves fully." She finishes, her eyes sparkling with joy for her friend finally getting his wish back.

"... Thank you." Simon takes his wish and brings it to his chest, it is quickly absorbed.

Immediately there's a change in him, the bags under his eyes are gone, he gets a better posture as his back becomes straight, his smile widens once he realizes for the first time in 3 years he's not feeling exhausted.

"Woah... I forgot how this felt like heh" Even his voice is more full of life now.

"Uuuuh hate to interrupt the wholesome moment, but we're having some trouble up here!" Gabo's voice comes from above them.

Asha, Aster and Simon look up, seeing that the teens are struggling to pull the ropes to open the ceiling

"Do you think you can use your magic to open it, Aster?" Asha asks him

"Those panels are waaay too heavy for my dust to make them float..." They explain disappointedly

"We need more weight..." Hal says, she looks down and thinks for a moment, and an idea pops in her head "Alright! Who here ever wished to be an acrobat?" She asks them excitedly while preparing to jump with the rope tied to her hand

"What are you doing???" Safi asks her worried

"Follow my lead! YOOHUUUL!" She jumps with the rope, pulling the triangular plate from the ceiling right open.

All the teens understand the plan, as Dario doesn't hesitate and jumps right after her, followed by Bazeema, Safi and lastly Gabo.

The ceiling is open.

Asha is jumping with joy as the wishes begin to fly out of the castle.

"Well done guys! You're ready Aster?" She asks the star thrilled

Aster is just as thrilled as her when they answer "I fell down here ready!"

He flies up to the middle of all the wishes. The star focus his magic and opens his arms wide, magically turning all the green bubbles into blue ones.

The teens and Asha clap and cheer from bellow. While Bazeema is holding Valentino in her arms.

Aster looks beyond relieved he was able to actually do this... After this, Asha's wish will be granted.... And even if that means he'll have to leave, he couldn't be happier that he could give that to her.

Aster prepares to send all the wishes back to Rosas "And now! Time to return you all to who you belon-"

(*siiiiiiiiigh* ... I hate myself for what I'm about to do with these kids)

...A giant green orb holds all the wishes...

Aster sees he's surrounded by dark magic. He is mortified by fear.

And so is Asha as we see her and the teens looking up in horror... The magic that created the orb came from behind them.

Asha can't move, she doesn't want to turn around, but she hears that condescending voice she thought she'd never hear again... And he sounds very excited about his big entrance:

"Surprise~ Did you miss me?." Magnifico's voice echos, and all the 7 teens turn around to see who they already know who it is.

King Magnifico is completely unharmed, holding the staff with no green gem on it with one hand, while hugging a now untied Amaya with the other, they're both smiling deviously at the frightened teens.

Asha hasn't turned around yet.

"I certainly did, darling. Although, I didn't doubt you'd come back for a second." The queen says honestly, as that heartbroken expression she made earlier was just an act, she knew Magnifico had a precaution in case they got his staff.

Asha finally turns around, she's trying to hide her fear as she speaks "How? W-We broke the gem from your staff, how did yo-"

"Oh you mean this gem?" Magnifico says casually while pulling a glowing emerald from inside his vest... The actual gem from his staff.

Asha is stunned, and so is Aster, watching them from the bubble, trying to get out.

"Fun fact about magic power sources, kiddos." He explains like he's teaching a class, while placing the gem back into the staff "Although it is easier to use them in an amulet or staff, if you have it with you anywhere then its magic can still be used however you please." He fits the gem back into its original place, finishing his little explanation "And that includes making it LOOK like the magic is coming from a fake power source, such as that one you broke down stairs." He smiles at Asha triumphantly.

"... You knew we were planning to break it." Asha already suspected it from the moment Amaya told her Simon betrayed them... But she was hoping maybe he didn't say that part of the plan, or the king was too full of himself to come up with a precaution.

The two royals are walking towards them as the queen says "Of course. Thank you so much for the tip, Simon, we really couldn't have done it without you." Her voice once again has a mocking motherly tone to it as she speaks to the oldest of the group, who looks like he wants to burry himself on the ground right now with all the regret he feels.

"I- I DON'T REMEMBER TELLING THEM THAT!" Simon exclaims to his friends, who are all looking at him with sadness in their eyes, except for Gabo who looks ready to kick his kneecaps

"Well you were rather sleepy, perhaps it slipped your mind heheh" The king's eyes glow green, just to indicate what he did.

The two of them are approaching, but Asha is not about to just stand by and let them win like that, she's in front of her friends as she prepares to draw-

"Ooooh no you don't." Magnifico uses his staff to snatch the sketchbook off her hands

"NO!" Asha tries holding it with all her strength, but it's no use, as the sketchbook flies straight to the king's hand.

And just like that, Magnifico summons a green flame with his hand and burns the sketchbook.

Asha feels tears form on the corner of her eyes as she watches all her drawings burn in front of her.

She still has her pencil though, which she discreetly hides inside her sleeve.

"Welp, this was fun and all, but I think it's high time we get to the main event of the night." Magnifico says as he and his wife walk, looking up to the trapped star above them, who has been throwing himself on the walls of the large bubble all this time trying to get out.

Asha wipes away the tears forming in her eyes, she's NOT letting them win, she's not letting them get Aster.

"ASTER! Can you hear me!?" The star stops trying to get out and looks down to her, nodding "yes". So she continues to shout "If you get ANY chance to escape, do it! GO BACK TO THE SKY!" She begs him, knowing that's the only way to protect him and Rosas "Don't look back! It doesn't matter if my wish isn't granted! I just need you to be safe!"

Aster is looking down to her already with tears in his eyes. She's saying pretty much the same thing he asked to that illusion the king created in the woods...

And said king is standing right behind her "Giving up at last? Good. But I'm afraid our star is not going anywhere." He grabs her by the shoulder and pulls her closer to him, threatening to use his magic on her while looking up to Aster with a threatening smile "If he does, I might take my anger out on someone else, and we wouldn't want that, would we Aster?"

Aster looks down shaking in fear, his animation is more sketchy... He can't do it, he can't leave her.

Asha get's out of the king grasp and turns to him in defiance, refusing to show weakness "I'm not giving up! And neither will anyone else in Rosas, even if you get Aster's power, they will NEVER knell to you!"

Magnifico and Amable just look really amused and even intrigued by her boldness, after everything she still has spirit... And they can't wait to break it.

Magnifico leans down to look at her angry eyes "You really think so?" His eyes move away from hers, and he changes his focus to the 7 teens "Hmm let's test that theory..." He begins to walk towards them, ignoring the girl "Ooh Simon~ I believe you just stole something of mine-"

Asha doesn't think twice before holding him by the cape and pulling it.

"Leave them alone! I'm not letting you hurt them-"

Magnifico holds her with his magic and THROWS Asha to the bookshelves on the wall, the girl screams in pain upon impact and falls on the floor.

Aster can't be heard from the bubble but he's clearly screaming. While the teens gasp in fear.

"Frankly Asha, you REALLY should start worrying about yourself once in a while." He says sarcastically while turning back to the other teens, specifically to Simon.

Asha is laying on the floor in pain, but she sees the books that fell down from the bookshelf... Paper.

That's all she needed.

"Now where was I? Ah yes, you stole a wish from me." He chuckles darkly and speaks in mocking reprehending tone "Tsk tsk tsk first you break your end of our deal and now this? Asha really is such a bad influence."

Simon is no longer scared, but rather furious with every word the king just said "This wish is MY wish! And YOU are the one who broke the deal! You said Asha wouldn't get hurt!"

"Ah ah ah wrong in both instances. First of all: I said IF you kept all your friends locked up, then I, as in ME, Magnifico, wouldn't hurt her... But my dear wife promised you nothing, sooo really it's your fault for forgetting she existed, young man." He explains smugly.

"Indeed, how dare you?" Amaya complements, like she's offended he forgot about her.

Asha is quietly ripping off a page from a book on the floor. She tries to think on something to draw... But nothing comes up, her head is pounding in pain after being thrown to the bookshelf. And all the ideas that do come in her head just sound too risky, if she messes up the king will break her pencil.

"And second of all: ... I believe you misunderstand what I actually DO, Simon. So allow me to explain." His voice is more menacing this time as he approaches them, Simon has his arms open to shield his friends behind him "When you give me your wish, you're not just lending it to me, no no no, you GAVE it to me... So I can do whatever I want with it."

That get's Asha's attention as she tries to get up, using the desk to balance herself.

"No one agreed to tha-"

"SO" The king interrupts Simon and places a hand on the young man's chest, surprising him and all the others "If I say I want to change your wish, I will. If I say I don't want your wish to be granted, then it won't be" A blue light starts glowing on Simon's chest, the boy looks scared at the king smiling deviously to him "... And if I say I want your wish BACK"

He pulls out Simon's wish. Simon immediately feels himself grow weaker.

"Then I'll take it back." Magnifico says simply while looking at the blue orb.

Simon feels hopeless, the fire he had in his eyes a moment earlier is all gone.

Asha sees this happening all the way back in the king's study, she hides the piece of paper she got inside her sleeve. She's still trying to stand up as she asks.

"Y-you ugh- You can STEAL people's wishes?!"

"Oh I "wish" heheh" He laughs at his own joke "But nah, I can only take back from those who have given it to me once willingly." He holds Simon's wish in his hand with a smirk "Now the question is... What should I do with this one?" It's a sarcastic question, as he knows exactly what he'll be doing with it.

Simon is horrified, thinking the king will change his wish into something else, maybe even control him.

"Ah I know, how about a little demonstration of what happens with wishes in this real world? heheh" His grip begins to tighten on Simon's wish.

Simon gasps in pain as his legs go weak, his friends all worriedly ask what's going on with him and try to help him stand up.

"They get CRUSHED." The king destroys Simon's wish. Absorbing it's energy like it's the most wonderful sensation going through his veins.

Simon collapses, his knees on the floor as his face is now lifeless.

His eyes are unfocused. He's catatonic.

"Si-simon?" Dahlia tries to shake him to wake him up, but he's not responding, he's just breathing.

Asha is still in the king's study, shaking her head "no" in disbelief.

Magnifico pulls her back to the wishes room with his magic.

"What was that you said about Rosas "never kneeling to me", Asha?" He says smugly, pointing to Simon kneeling in front of them.

"What did you do with him?!" Asha is struggling to get out of his magic's grip

Magnifico just ignores the question and lets go of her, as he walks to the center of the circular room.

But Amaya gladly explains with a wicked smile "Have you forgotten what kind of wishes he takes? Your deepest desire that shows who you ARE, one might even call it... Your soul." Asha and the other teens look at her shocked. "Or at least HALF of it, people still need the other half to keep living or whatever." She finishes dismissively

Magnifico hits the floor with his staff, sending magic waves all around the room. And before they know it the whole room is being lifted up.

He then turns to Asha with a menacing grin "And ya know, your sweet little star did mention I'd have to be very powerful in order to sustain his magic... So take a wild guess where I'm getting that extra power from." He gives her a clue by looking up, as if he's pointing to the wishes trapped above them with his eyes.

Asha looks up at all the wishes and then to him in disbelief "No... You can't- They didn't do anything- They don't deserve-"

"I decide what everyone deserves." He puts it simply with a grin, as they reach the top of the tower.

Chapter 16

Final Thoughts

... So... How many of you fell for it? I mean, maybe it just felt like an obvious fake out death to me because I'm the twisted and sleep deprived mind that came up with it, but come oooon ya'll didn't think I'd only end ONE of them, right?

But if you're DONE with Magnifico and Amable, don't worry I am too, can't wait for them to be defeated next chapter, for real this time, no cap, we'll get a happy ending for our traumatized heroes I swear.

But let me lighten the mood with an imagery that cracks me up every time I think about it... Magnifico sneaking in the room while Asha is having her little speech with Simon.

Like dude just got in like:

Then he unties Amaya and listens as Asha is like "He's gone now, he can't hurt us anymore" and they're both thinking like "OOOH WE GONNA HURT THEM SO BAD LMAO" like the abusive parental figures they are, because that's what they represent by the way, they're like Mother Gothel and the whole population of Rosas is Rapunzel.

Asha is better than me by the way, like, if I saw this man alive again after ALL that I'd just do like Bravo and jump off the window. But she just keeps going, keeps finding new ways to fight back, I love my girl so much, like, you guys may think I hate her for putting her through this, but I can't wait for us to get to her happy ending! BUT I CAN'T RUSH IT OTHERWISE IT'LL RUIN THE WHOLE THING.

Anyway, this is already way too long, pray for Aster, I think ya'll can guess what'll happen to him next chapter, and pray for Rosas, because Magnifico will not be making them knell down by being chaining them to the ground like in the movie... Sooo yeah.

Thank You For Reading!

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