#di doesn't know how to write fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kenjakusbraincum · 2 years ago

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can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna #soft sukuna #i love bastardizing sukuna in my fics #also this is totally leading me into a part 2 w reincarnated reader #yes weve heard it a thousand times #idc it makes me happy

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blissfulflw · 29 days ago

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Hii!! So um 🥺, im not sure how to write a request but um here's mine 👉👈

Loser Fem Reader x Popular Cool Girl Karina

So the plot goes like, Reader and Karina go to the same school and of course Karina is popular at their school and Reader knows it but she doesn't have like the cliche crush on her but she just knows. So one day they were both late and Reader rides their bike and tried to speed up but she didn't check around her corner and was suddenly hit by someone's car. Reader tries to get up fast, embarrassed by the fact that they got hit, someone gets out of the car to check on her, and asks Reader if they're okay, Reader recognizes the voice and realizes that it was actually Karina, so she gets more embarrassed and just brushes off the fact that she got hit by a car and just rides away ignoring the pain. Of course Karina was bewildered by this and just stares at Reader's back as she bikes away. Soon after, still in pain Reader tries to attend school, acting normal like usual, but then Karina recognizes her stuff like that and they talk eventually, like Karina now recognizes that Reader goes to their school and stuff like that.

So yeh thats the whole intro, as for the whole plot you can think of it lol, I just thought it would be a funny story like most introverts would act like they're ok as if they didn't get hit with a 100kg force lol.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝐵𝑖𝑐𝑦𝑐𝑙𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑠

Pairing- Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem reader

Genre- Fluff

Word count- 6887

Mornings are supposed to be quiet. That’s your thing. The soft click of your bike chain, the chill air brushing your cheeks, earbuds in and the world tuned out. You like your little routines—the ones that keep you out of the way. You’re not trying to be late. You’re not trying to be seen.

But the universe had other plans today.

Your phone never buzzed with its usual alarm. Maybe it died overnight. Maybe the software glitched. Maybe fate just woke up with a sick sense of humor. Either way, you woke up forty minutes later than you should have, heart already hammering before your feet hit the ground.

The panic didn’t settle—it bloomed. You barely had time to wash your face. Forget breakfast. You threw on the first hoodie you saw, a faded one from some band no one remembers, and forced your arms through the sleeves of your ragged backpack. One shoelace was still untied as you slammed your front door and grabbed your bike from the porch like your life depended on it.

The wind felt sharper than usual as you sped down the street, legs burning with every pedal. You could already picture the tardy slip, the teacher’s passive-aggressive sigh. More than that, you hated the thought of walking into a classroom last, everyone looking up to see which loser couldn’t manage to get to school on time.

You leaned into the curves of the street like a practiced rider—sharp, fast, automatic. You were almost there. One more turn and you’d be in sight of the side lot. You didn’t slow down. You didn’t think.

You didn’t look.

That was your mistake.

The honk came too late. Tires screeched against asphalt. Your front tire clipped something hard and metallic, and your body pitched forward in a messy blur of panic and gravity.

The landing hurt. A lot. Not broken-bone hurt, but definitely I’m-going-to-feel-this-tomorrow hurt. Your elbow grated against pavement. Your knee twisted weird. The breath rushed out of you in a harsh exhale as you hit the ground and skidded a few inches before stopping.

You groaned softly, already burning with embarrassment before you could even assess the damage. You pushed yourself up on trembling arms, hoping—praying—no one saw that.

“Are you okay?” a voice called, slightly breathless.

You froze.

You knew that voice.

A car door slammed shut behind you. Shoes crunched over gravel. You turned your head, wincing at the motion, just in time to see her.

Jimin.

Of all people.

The girl walking toward you looked like a magazine cover come to life, even in a simple school uniform. Her blazer was perfectly fitted, her long dark hair falling over one shoulder like it had been styled that way on purpose. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but her skin still had that unfair, flawless glow that made you want to disappear.

You knew who she was, obviously. Everyone did. She was that girl—the one you hear laughing from down the hallway, the one whose Instagram account somehow had more followers than the school’s official page. She was friends with everyone, enemies with no one, and untouchable in the kind of way that didn’t seem real.

And now she was standing over you. Worried. Looking directly at you.

Her brows furrowed as she took in your torn jeans, your bleeding elbow, the blood already soaking through your sleeve.

“You’re bleeding,” she said softly, crouching beside you.

You sat up straighter on reflex. “I’m—uh—I’m fine.”

You reached for your bike, but the handlebar had twisted completely sideways and the chain had popped off. Still, you tugged it upright like that would undo what just happened.

Jimin tilted her head. “You sure? You kinda hit the hood pretty hard.”

Her car was sleek, black, and parked just a few feet behind you. It gleamed in the morning sun, not a dent on it. Of course it didn’t. If anything, your bike looked worse than her bumper.

“It’s fine,” you said again, this time more insistent, your voice rising with panic. “I wasn’t paying attention. Totally my fault. Sorry about—your car.”

Jimin blinked at that. “My car’s fine, but—seriously, you don’t have to—”

You didn’t wait for her to finish. Your face was already flushed with heat, your arm pulsing, and the longer she looked at you, the harder it was to breathe.

You shoved the bike forward, forced the pedal into place, and ignored the sting shooting through your knee as you pushed off. “Sorry—g-gotta go. I’m late.”

“Wait—!”

But you were already pedaling away, crooked and shaky, sweat beading at your hairline as you tried not to cry. Not from pain. Not even from fear.

Just sheer, mortifying embarrassment.

_____

Your knee throbbed with every step as you limped your way through the school gates, trying to make your movements look casual. You weren’t limping. Nope. Definitely not. Just walking with a little… attitude. A swagger, maybe. Definitely not a result of being sideswiped by a luxury car driven by Yu freaking Jimin.

You could still hear her voice echoing in your head.

“You’re bleeding.”

You rolled your eyes at yourself as you shuffled past the front office. She probably said that to people all the time. It wasn’t like it meant anything. She was just being polite. Or concerned for legal reasons. You might’ve dented her bumper with your body.

God, could this day get any worse?

You slid into homeroom just as the bell rang, dropping into your seat with a wince as your knee made contact with the edge of your desk. You hissed under your breath, pulling your hoodie sleeve over the bloodstained cuff. No one noticed. Not that you expected them to.

Being invisible was a kind of superpower. You’d trained for it. Eyes down. Words mumbled. Walk fast. No sudden movements. It worked like a charm. Until now.

Because someone did notice.

And that someone was now standing just inside the classroom door.

Yu Jimin.

Your heart sank. Not again.

She scanned the room like she was looking for someone. And when her eyes landed on you, you could actually feel it. Like a pin dropping directly onto your skin.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. Just tilted her head the tiniest bit, like she was still trying to figure you out. You quickly looked down at your desk, pretending to be intensely fascinated by the geometry textbook you hadn’t opened all semester.

Jimin moved to her seat a few rows ahead, her friends already buzzing around her like satellites. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she wasn’t laughing like usual. And—worse—she glanced back at you. Twice.

You were doomed.

_____

You made it through two more classes before you had to go to the nurse’s office. You told yourself it was for the bandages, not the fact that your leg was screaming every time you moved. The nurse barely glanced at you before handing over antiseptic wipes and some gauze. She didn’t ask what happened. You didn’t offer.

When you stepped back into the hallway, you weren’t expecting anyone to be there.

But of course, Jimin was.

She was leaning against the opposite wall like she’d been waiting. When she spotted you, her arms crossed and one brow lifted.

“You,” she said simply.

You froze mid-step. “Me…?”

“You ran away this morning.”

You gave her a flat look. “I didn’t run. I biked. Poorly.”

A corner of her mouth twitched, and you hated how perfect her smirk was. “And now you’re limping. So… not that poorly.”

You glanced around, hoping no one else was witnessing this interaction. “Did you follow me?”

“No,” she said, tilting her head. “You just looked like someone who’d hide in the nurse’s office.”

“Ouch.”

“I meant it in a nice way.”

“You hit me with your car.”

“That was your fault,” she said easily, but not unkindly. “You didn’t check the intersection.”

“You didn’t stop at the stop sign.”

“I did! You just came out of nowhere like a street goblin on a rusty bike.”

You blinked. “Did you just call me a goblin?”

“I said it affectionately.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or die. Probably both. Maybe at the same time.

There was a pause. And then Jimin’s expression softened.

“Hey,” she said, a little quieter. “Seriously. Are you okay?”

Your throat tightened a little. She said it like she meant it. Like she actually cared. You didn’t know what to do with that.

You nodded quickly. “I’m fine. Just a few scrapes.”

“Your elbow’s still bleeding.”

You looked down. So it was.

“Damn it.”

“Come on,” she said, reaching forward before you could stop her. She gently tugged your hoodie sleeve back to look at the wound, frowning when she saw the half-dried blood. “That’s not gonna heal right like that.”

You pulled your arm back on instinct. “It’s fine. I don’t need a—”

“I have a first aid kit in my locker.”

Of course she did. Queen of preparedness.

Before you could protest, she turned and started walking, tossing a casual “Follow me” over her shoulder.

And, somehow, you did.

Her locker was near the science wing, lined with pink stickers and Polaroids of her and her friends. She punched in the combo without looking, then pulled the door open to reveal an immaculate interior: mini mirror, gum, emergency deodorant, mascara, and—yep—first aid kit.

“You run a small hospital in there?” you muttered as she rummaged.

Jimin pulled out the kit and handed you a fresh antiseptic wipe. “Can’t always trust the nurse’s office. The Band-Aids in there expired in, like, 2012.”

You bit back a smile and wiped your elbow, wincing as the sting hit.

Jimin watched you. “You don’t go here much, do you?”

You frowned. “I’ve been here for two years.”

“I mean… like, go here. You keep to yourself.”

You shrugged, not answering.

“I notice things,” she added after a second.

You raised an eyebrow. “Like street goblins?”

That made her laugh. It was warm and real, not the showy kind she used with her crowd.

“Okay, I deserve that.”

“Why are you even talking to me?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it. Your voice was quieter now, the edges a little raw. It wasn’t meant to sound bitter—but maybe it did.

Jimin blinked, surprised. “Because I hit you with my car?”

“That was this morning.”

“So?”

“So you don’t usually talk to people like me.”

She tilted her head, like she was genuinely confused. “What do you mean, people like you?”

You looked away. “Forget it.”

“No,” she said. “Say it.”

“People you don’t notice.”

There was a pause. Jimin leaned back against the lockers, studying you.

“Well,” she said finally, “I noticed you now.”

And for some reason, that made your chest ache a little.

_____

You didn’t expect anything to come of it.

People like Jimin existed in a different orbit. She brushed against the edge of your world today because of a car accident. That didn’t mean she’d stay.

And yet—

You caught her looking at you again in third period.

Not a subtle glance, not an accidental flicker of her gaze. A real, sustained look. She was sitting across the room, one row over and three seats down, next to her usual group. She didn’t laugh when someone showed her something on their phone. She didn’t flip her hair or roll her eyes dramatically the way she always did. She just watched you.

You did your best not to shrink into your hoodie.

When lunch came around, you made your usual exit before the bell. That way you could get to your usual spot in the back corner of the library, where the only noise was the occasional printer malfunction and the rustle of gum wrappers. You didn’t eat in the cafeteria. You’d made that mistake once last year and got bumped so hard into a tray of spaghetti you’d sworn off the lunchroom for good.

But as you reached the double doors to the library, a voice called out behind you.

“Hey!”

You flinched before you turned.

Yu Jimin.

Again.

She jogged up, her bag swinging against her hip. “Where are you going?”

You blinked. “Library.”

“To eat?”

You lifted your sandwich from your hoodie pocket like a badge of honor. “Yeah.”

She frowned. “Why don’t you eat in the cafeteria?”

“Because it’s loud. And crowded. And smells like someone microwaved fish.”

She laughed. “That’s… true.”

“Anyway,” you said, hitching your backpack higher, “you’ve got your table, right? The big round one by the vending machines. With the beautiful people.”

“You know where I sit?”

You gave her a flat look. “Everyone knows where you sit.”

She looked oddly pleased by that. Not in a smug way—just like she hadn’t realized it mattered. “Come sit with me today.”

You stared. “What?”

She gestured casually. “Come on. Just today. I’ll even protect you from any rogue spaghetti.”

Your stomach did a somersault. “Why?”

“Because you’re funny,” she said. “And you got hit by a car. That earns you at least one free lunch.”

You hesitated. Your instincts screamed at you to run. Hide. Retreat to safety.

But then Jimin tilted her head, smiling just a little. It wasn’t her usual confident smirk. It was softer. Curious.

And against your better judgment, you said, “Okay.”

The cafeteria didn’t implode when you walked in with Jimin.

But it felt like it might.

Heads turned. Conversations paused. You saw more than one person lean over to whisper something. You kept your eyes locked on the back of Jimin’s head as she led you through the maze of tables like she didn’t notice any of it.

You sat beside her.

Her friends were already there. Minjeong, Yizhou, and two others whose names you only vaguely remembered. You braced for them to laugh or ask what you were doing there. But surprisingly, they didn’t.

Minjeong gave you a small nod. “You’re the bike girl, right?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Jimin cut in, voice cheerful. “Her name’s Y/N. And I hit her with my car this morning.”

“Ohhh,” Yizhou said, leaning in with interest. “You’re the one.”

“I didn’t press charges,” you said dryly, and the table laughed.

You blinked. You hadn’t meant to be funny.

“You’re okay though?” Minjeong asked, more seriously. “That was kind of dramatic.”

“I’ve had worse,” you muttered. “But yeah. I’m fine.”

“You should’ve seen her,” Jimin said, smiling now as she peeled an orange. “She bounced up like it was nothing. Just dusted herself off and rode away like some kind of anime protagonist.”

“I did not.”

“You did,” Jimin insisted. “Very mysterious. Very main character energy.”

You tried not to turn red. You failed.

The lunch period passed in a strange blur. You didn’t talk much. You didn’t have to. Just being there, with them—part of the conversation instead of outside it—was enough.

And every time you thought maybe you’d said something stupid, you’d glance up and catch Jimin looking at you again.

Not like she was amused.

Not like you were some novelty.

Like she was trying to understand you.

_____

After lunch, things felt… tilted.

You’d expected things to go back to normal. That was always the way with people like Jimin—they touched your life like a meteor streaking across the sky. Bright, fast, unforgettable. But ultimately gone.

Except she wasn’t gone.

She walked with you halfway to your next class. No big deal. She said she was “just heading that way.” But she didn’t even turn down the hallway when you parted—just waited at the corner and watched you disappear into the crowd.

You couldn’t focus for the rest of the day. Your body ached in slow waves—especially your knee—but that wasn’t what made your skin feel too tight. It was her.

Yu Jimin.

You didn’t have a crush on her. You were sure of that.

Right?

It wasn’t like one of those stories where the nerdy girl falls for the popular girl and everything goes spiraling. You weren’t imagining holding hands in the rain or carving her name into your desk. You were just…

Noticing.

The way she looked at you like she was listening with her whole body.

The way she made you feel like maybe you weren’t invisible after all.

You hated that it mattered.

When the final bell rang, you moved through the hallway like a ghost. Familiar. Invisible. Safe.

At least until you reached the bike rack.

Your poor ride was still half-broken, its front wheel warped, the chain slacked off and hanging like a busted necklace. You sighed and crouched beside it, trying to fix it before anyone could walk by and see.

“Need a ride?”

You jumped.

Jimin was standing there again, like she’d spawned out of thin air. Her bag slung over one shoulder, a casual breeze ruffling her hair like she was in a music video. She gestured toward her car, parked illegally beside the curb with zero shame.

“I’m good,” you said quickly, tugging at the chain. “Thanks.”

“You’re not good. Your bike’s crying.”

“It’s just—bent. A little.”

“I can drop you off.”

You stood up and wiped your hands on your hoodie. “Why are you doing this?”

Jimin blinked. “Doing what?”

“This.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Talking to me. Offering rides. Sitting with me at lunch like we’re friends.”

“Maybe we are.”

You snorted. “No offense, but I don’t think you need another friend.”

“Maybe I need you.”

The words hung there, heavier than they should’ve been. You searched her face, waiting for the joke. The punchline.

But she wasn’t smiling.

“I didn’t mean that in a weird way,” she added, softer now. “I just meant… you’re different. People around me usually want something. Attention. Clout. A seat at the table. You didn’t even want me to help after I hit you.”

You looked away. “Yeah, well. I don’t really like attention.”

“I noticed.”

She hesitated. “But I want to give it to you anyway.”

Your heart stuttered. You didn’t know what to say to that.

So you didn’t say anything.

Instead, you climbed into her passenger seat like a coward.

_____

The inside of her car smelled faintly like cherry gum and vanilla. The seats were leather. The air conditioner whispered cool air against your skin as she pulled out of the parking lot like she’d done it a thousand times—with one hand on the wheel and sunglasses she didn’t even need.

“You always drive like you’re in a K-drama?” you asked, trying not to fidget with your sleeves.

Jimin grinned. “Only when I’ve got a mysterious runaway on board.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please stop calling me that.”

She didn’t answer. Just hummed something tuneless under her breath and drove.

You gave her your address reluctantly. It felt weird, letting someone like her into your world. You half-expected her to comment on your neighborhood when you got close. Not because it was bad, but because it was normal. Uneventful. A little rundown in spots. A lot like you.

But she didn’t say a word.

She parked in front of your house and turned off the engine, not moving right away.

You glanced at her. “What, you wanna come in and see my extensive collection of socially-awkward trauma?”

She snorted. “Only if you’ve got snacks.”

You cracked a smile despite yourself. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for not suing me.”

She met your eyes, and for a moment, it felt like you weren’t just someone she hit with a car. You were someone she saw.

You unbuckled your seatbelt. “So… see you tomorrow?”

“If you don’t dodge me again.”

“No promises.”

As you stepped out of the car and started toward your front door, you could feel her watching. Not in a creepy way. Just… lingering. Like she didn’t want the moment to end.

You didn’t look back.

But you smiled the whole way inside.

_____

You woke up sore.

Not the good kind of sore that came from working out or some accidental burst of physical activity. The dull, thudding kind. The kind that settled in your joints and made getting out of bed feel like a bad idea.

Your knee hated you.

Your elbow looked like someone had taken sandpaper to it. And your pride—well, that was still quietly bleeding out somewhere behind your ribcage.

You stared at the ceiling, letting the early morning light leak in around your curtains.

And then your phone buzzed.

A message.

From a number you didn’t recognize.

[Unknown Number]: Morning. Don’t bike today.

[Unknown Number]: Seriously. I mean it. I’ll be outside in 15.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You already knew who it was. No name needed.

[You]: How did you get my number

[Unknown Number]: I’m Yu Jimin. I have people.

[Unknown Number]: Also Ningning stole it from the attendance sheet

[Unknown Number]: But mostly I have people.

You blinked, rereading it three times.

[You]: This is weird

[Yu Jimin]: So is getting hit by a car and refusing a ride

[Yu Jimin]: 10 minutes now. Don’t make me get out of the car again.

You stared at the screen.

And then slowly sat up, bones groaning in protest.

_____

Ten minutes later, you stepped outside.

The air was crisp. Clean. The kind of morning that made everything feel a little too real. The sunlight wasn’t quite warm yet, and your hoodie was zipped to your chin.

Her car was parked at the curb.

And she was leaning against the hood like she was posing for a magazine cover.

Sunglasses. Hoodie. Coffee cup balanced in one hand. Looking devastatingly casual.

You walked up, tugging your sleeves down over your fingers.

“You weren’t kidding.”

“I never kid about transportation.”

You eyed her. “You do realize I have functioning legs?”

She smirked. “Barely.”

You opened the passenger door and slid in. It still smelled like vanilla and something floral you couldn’t quite place. She climbed in after you, started the engine with one hand.

For a few minutes, you drove in silence.

Then Jimin glanced over. “You always listen to nothing in the morning?”

You blinked. “What?”

“No music. No podcast. Just vibes and existential dread?”

You laughed, startled. “I guess I never thought about it.”

“Well, today’s different,” she said, tapping her phone. “You’re in my car. That means you get the Jimin Morning Mix™.”

She hit play.

A soft beat filled the car—some Korean indie track you didn’t recognize. Gentle vocals. Dreamy synths. It was… weirdly nice. It didn’t match what you thought she’d listen to. You expected hyper-pop or something loud. This was… quiet. Introspective.

“Didn’t think this was your vibe,” you said.

Jimin shrugged. “People assume a lot about me.”

You watched her for a second. Her hands on the wheel. Her mouth pressed into a line that didn’t quite smile. Her voice had a weight behind it, just for a second.

You looked back at the road.

“Yeah,” you said. “I get that.”

At school, she parked illegally again like she had diplomatic immunity. You followed her in, trying to keep your hood up, but of course, people noticed.

The whispers started almost immediately.

“She’s with Jimin again—”

“Didn’t she get hit by her car or something?”

“Are they… friends?”

You did your best to shrink into your hoodie.

Jimin noticed. Of course she did.

“Ignore them,” she said, holding the front door open for you. “They’ll find something else to talk about tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I’ll make them.”

You turned your head slightly. “You’re scaring me, Yu Jimin.”

“I’m charming.”

“You’re something.”

She laughed.

That morning, you found her waiting outside your classroom when the bell rang.

You blinked. “Do you not have class?”

“I do,” she said. “But I figured we could walk together. You limped less today, by the way.”

“Thanks. I healed overnight. Like a Pokémon.”

She grinned and fell into step beside you.

It was subtle, the way people looked at you differently now. Some of it was curiosity. Some of it felt more like envy. But the weirdest part?

You weren’t invisible anymore.

And it was because of her.

And the strangest part?

You didn’t hate it.

_____

The final bell rang, but today, it didn’t mean the usual rush to pack up and scatter. Instead, you found yourself standing by the front doors with Jimin, watching the stream of students spill out into the afternoon sun.

“Wanna grab something?” she asked, voice easy but with that unmistakable glint of challenge you’d come to recognize. “There’s a new convenience store that opened a few blocks from here. They’ve got weird snacks and those fancy iced coffees you like.”

You blinked. “How do you know I like iced coffee?”

She smirked. “I have my sources. And I’ve been paying attention.”

You hesitated for a split second, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? Could be worse than sitting in the library alone.”

Jimin grinned and led the way out, her steps confident and relaxed. You followed, trying not to think about the strange flutter in your chest every time she looked back at you with that half-smile.

_____

The convenience store smelled like cold air and plastic wrappers. Bright fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the rows of snacks and drinks like they were treasures waiting to be discovered.

Jimin wandered over to the iced coffee section and picked up a couple of drinks, handing one to you without a word.

You took it, fingers brushing hers just briefly, and looked around. “So… this is your favorite hangout?”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “No. But it’s the kind of place where I can be… normal. No cameras, no expectations. Just me and a bunch of junk food.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as someone who just hangs out in convenience stores.”

“Yeah?” She took a sip of her coffee, eyes on you now. “Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

You cocked your head. “Okay, mystery girl, spill.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, she looked less like the untouchable queen of school and more like someone you could actually talk to.

“My family’s… complicated. I guess I learned early how to put on a show. But that doesn’t mean I always want to be the center of it.”

You nodded, surprised by how much you wanted to keep listening.

“Sometimes,” she said quietly, “I just want to sit in a place like this, drink a bad iced coffee, and not have to be anyone’s idea of perfect.”

You took a long sip of your own drink, feeling like you were seeing her for the first time.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said after a beat. “I don’t usually do this stuff with people like you.”

You blinked. “People like me?”

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “You know. Not part of the usual crowd. You’re… different. Not trying to impress or compete.”

You felt your cheeks heat up but managed a smile. “Maybe I’m different in a good way.”

“Definitely,” she said, smiling back.

As you walked back toward school, side by side, you realized something:

This—whatever this was—wasn’t about popularity or status anymore.

It was about two people starting to understand each other.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

_____

The days after that convenience store trip passed in a strange sort of blur. School felt different — not because classes changed, or the workload eased, but because Jimin’s presence shifted the gravity of your usual orbit. Somehow, the walls you built around yourself felt less necessary. Like maybe someone finally saw the real you, and wasn’t running away.

That afternoon, you found yourself sitting on the cracked pavement behind the school, your backpack carelessly tossed aside. Jimin was next to you, chewing on a straw from a soda she’d swiped from the vending machine, legs stretched out in front of her like she owned the world. Or maybe just this corner of it.

Neither of you said much. You didn’t need to.

The silence wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was easy, like the pause between notes in a song — the part that lets everything else breathe.

You glanced at her sideways. “Why do you always hang out back here?”

She shrugged, eyes fixed on the sky. “Because no one usually comes here. It’s quiet. Peaceful.”

You nodded, understanding that more than you wanted to admit.

“You ever feel like you’re playing a part all the time?” she asked suddenly.

Your heart skipped. “All the time.”

She looked over, and for the first time, you caught a flicker of vulnerability beneath her cool exterior.

“I’m supposed to be perfect. The best. The most popular. But sometimes, I just want to be me — whoever that is.”

You swallowed, your throat tight. “Maybe you’re more ‘you’ than you think.”

She smiled, soft and real. “Maybe.”

For a moment, it felt like the world shrunk down to just the two of you, sharing secrets in the quiet afternoon light.

Then she nudged your shoulder gently. “You know, if you ever want to get away from the chaos — even for a little bit — you can come find me.”

You met her gaze, feeling the weight of her words. They weren’t just an offer. They were a promise.

And somehow, you knew you’d take her up on it.

That evening, your thoughts kept drifting back to Jimin — her easy smile, the way she looked at you like you were the only person in the room, the soft way she’d touched your shoulder. It was confusing and new, and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

The next morning, you woke to your phone buzzing. It was her.

Jimin: Hey. You up? I’m outside.

Your heart sped up, a strange mix of excitement and nerves curling in your stomach. You threw on your hoodie and jeans, grabbed your bag, and stepped outside.

Her car was waiting at the curb, just like yesterday.

“You’re persistent,” you teased as you slid into the passenger seat.

She grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

The morning air was crisp, and the car smelled like vanilla and cherry gum — the scent somehow comforting now.

As she drove, she reached over and lightly brushed your hand.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

Her fingers lingered for a moment before pulling back, but the spark between your skin stayed.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” she admitted, eyes on the road.

You laughed softly, heart pounding. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she said, turning to look at you with that half-smile that made your knees weak. “I’m glad I finally did.”

For the first time, you let yourself lean a little closer.

Maybe this was the start of something neither of you saw coming.

You weren’t sure when it changed.

When a late ride to school became something like ritual. When the silence between you and Jimin turned warm. When your body started remembering the brush of her fingers before your mind could catch up.

But it had.

And now, sitting beside her in the car again — parked at the edge of a quiet overlook just outside town — it felt like you were both pretending it hadn’t.

She hadn’t said anything outright. Neither had you. But the tension lived in the space between your knees, barely a few inches apart. It hummed in the way she kept stealing glances at you and looked away a moment too late.

You were sipping from the iced coffee she’d bought you (again), staring out the windshield at the empty horizon, when she said it.

Quiet. Like she was afraid it might scare you off.

“Do you think we would’ve ended up here if I hadn’t hit you with my car?”

You blinked, lips parted around the straw. “Wow. Way to romance me, Jimin.”

She laughed, pressing her head back against the seat, her hand curled in her lap. “I’m serious.”

You glanced over. Her expression had softened. There was something behind it — like she was trying to say more than her words would allow.

“I think…” you started slowly, “…you would’ve still caught my attention eventually. You’re kind of impossible to ignore.”

She looked over. “Even when you weren’t into me?”

“I never said that.”

Her brows lifted slightly.

You didn’t look at her, not fully. You just stared down at the condensation on your cup and said, “I didn’t have a crush on you. That part was true. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. Or aware.”

“So what changed?”

You swallowed.

“You started seeing me,” you said. “Like… actually seeing me. Not just someone at school. Not just ‘that girl who bikes in too fast and eats lunch alone.’ You looked. And you didn’t look away.”

Jimin was quiet for a long beat. The kind of silence that made your heart race because you didn’t know what would come next.

Then: “I don’t usually get to look at people like this.”

You turned, finally, eyes meeting hers. “Like what?”

“Like it matters.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it hit you in the chest like a punch — all soft edges and raw honesty.

“I’ve had people obsess over me, sure. Crushes. Fans, even. But it’s always from a distance. They’re chasing something that isn’t real.”

“And me?”

“You never chased,” she said. “You just… stayed.”

The words hung there between you, heavy with something unnamed.

She turned toward you fully now, one leg bent on the seat, her elbow resting near yours. “It’s terrifying,” she said softly. “How easy it is to talk to you. How quiet the world feels when I’m near you.”

Your heart stuttered.

“You’re not what I expected,” she continued. “You don’t try to impress me. You don’t shrink away either. You’re just you. And I didn’t realize how much I needed that until I found it.”

You didn’t answer right away. Your mouth was dry, and your chest felt tight in a way that wasn’t unpleasant — just unfamiliar.

“You make me feel… less alone,” you admitted. “Like I don’t have to apologize for being quiet. Or awkward. Or not perfect.”

Her eyes softened. “You’re not awkward.”

You laughed under your breath. “You hit me with a car and I apologized.”

She grinned. “Okay, yeah. That was awkward.”

You looked at her again.

Closer this time.

Her hand was still near yours, fingers barely brushing. She didn’t pull away. You didn’t either.

“I think I’m starting to get a crush,” you said suddenly.

It came out fast. Unfiltered. Real.

She blinked, then smiled — slow and small and dangerous in its sweetness.

“Yeah?” she murmured.

“Yeah.”

You didn’t kiss her.

Not yet.

But something passed between you — electric and impossible to take back. A silent agreement.

Something was happening.

Something fragile. Something real.

And this time, neither of you looked away.

You didn’t want to go home.

Not yet.

The sky was bleeding into that pale watercolor haze between late afternoon and dusk, and the car was still warm with sunlight trapped in the windows. The kind of warmth that makes you drowsy, that makes the silence feel alive instead of empty.

Jimin hadn’t moved since you last spoke — still watching you, her body turned toward yours, her elbow brushing the center console, her eyes soft in a way that made your chest ache.

You were the one who broke the silence, voice low. “Can we just… sit for a little while?”

She nodded. “Yeah. We can sit.”

No hesitation.

No teasing.

Just her voice, quiet and steady.

You shifted, tucking your legs under you on the seat, facing her completely now. The iced coffee in your hand had long since gone lukewarm, but you held onto it like it anchored you to something. Something real.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on your face — not in the way most people looked at you, as if they were trying to figure you out or pick you apart. She looked like she was learning. Memorizing.

You tried to hold still under that kind of attention. It wasn’t easy.

“You know,” she said softly, “I thought I knew everything about this school. All the faces. All the stories.”

You tilted your head. “And?”

“And then you came crashing into me. Literally. And suddenly I realized I didn’t know a damn thing.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being honest,” she said. “It’s different with you.”

“Different how?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “With you… I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to talk just to fill silence. I don’t have to be ‘Jimin’ with the capital J.”

She paused.

“With you, I can be just Jimin.”

That made something inside you ache — the kind of ache you didn’t have a name for. The kind that only happened when someone peeled back a part of themselves and handed it to you, open and fragile.

And you wanted to hold it carefully. Gently.

“I like just Jimin,” you said quietly. “A lot, actually.”

She let out a breath that sounded like relief. Her smile wobbled slightly at the corners.

Then she reached out — slowly, like giving you a chance to pull away — and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

Her fingertips brushed your skin. Your breath hitched.

“Y/N,” she said, your name soft like it wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but the first time it meant something.

“Yeah?”

“If I did something impulsive right now, would you hate me for it?”

You swallowed, pulse thudding loud in your ears.

“That depends,” you said. “How impulsive are we talking?”

She hesitated, her hand still hovering by your cheek. Her thumb brushed the corner of your jaw, feather-light.

And then she whispered, “I kind of want to kiss you.”

Your whole body went still.

Then warm.

Then weightless.

You didn’t answer with words.

You leaned forward just a little — enough.

That was all she needed.

Her lips brushed yours, soft and careful. A question, not a demand. You answered it by kissing her back — just as soft, just as careful.

When you pulled apart, neither of you said anything for a long moment.

The air inside the car felt different. Heavy with new meaning.

Jimin let her forehead rest lightly against yours.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you biked away from me with half your body bleeding,” she murmured.

You laughed — really laughed — and she did too, and it felt like something cracked open between you. Something easy. Something terrifying. Something true.

“You’re the worst,” you said into her shoulder.

“I know,” she replied. “But I’m your worst now, right?”

You didn’t answer.

You just nodded into her hoodie and stayed there.

And she didn’t move.

_____

The next Monday morning, you walked into school not as “the girl who eats lunch alone,” or “the one who got hit by a car,” but as someone different.

Not because of the stares. Not because of the whispers.

But because Jimin was waiting for you at the front steps.

She leaned against the railing like it was nothing. Like she wasn’t the most talked-about person in the building. Like she wasn’t wearing your hoodie — the navy blue one you’d left in her car two nights ago.

You slowed as you approached, heart thudding behind your ribs.

Jimin looked up. Smiled. That same soft, quiet smile she only ever gave you now.

“Morning,” she said.

“Hey,” you replied.

She tilted her head. “You sleep okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Not really.” She stretched her arms overhead, hoodie sleeves hanging past her hands. “Kept thinking about you.”

It was so casual. So effortless.

Like she’d been waiting to say that since the second you left her car.

You looked down at the sidewalk, trying not to grin like an idiot. “You’re really not subtle, huh?”

“Not with you,” she said, stepping closer. Her voice dipped, quieter now. “I don’t want to be.”

The hallway behind her buzzed with early morning chaos — lockers slamming, friends shouting across the stairs, the shrill echo of the bell. But none of it mattered.

Not when she was standing this close. Not when her hand brushed yours again — this time not a question, but a claim.

“I don’t care what people say,” she said, voice low. “I want to do this for real.”

You looked up at her, heart hammering.

“This?”

She nodded, her fingers gently curling around yours. “Us. I’m not good at slow. Or quiet. But I’ll try, if that’s what you need.”

You squeezed her hand.

“I don’t need perfect,” you said. “I just need you.”

And it was enough.

It was more than enough.

Because the girl everyone thought had everything had found someone who saw her — not the shine, not the surface, but the soul underneath.

And you — the quiet, awkward girl who never asked for much — had been seen too.

Truly seen.

For who you were. For everything you were still becoming.

And this time, neither of you ran away.

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auroralwriting · 11 months ago

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hii!! this is so random but i just read ur spencer reid x genius! reader fic and i was wondering if u could like expand on it?? or like maybe the team finding out that they went on a date and everyone is like oh gosh finally?? thank u and i love ur writing :P

wedding bells

spencer reid x genius!bau!reader

part two to the gun, can be read as a standalone

spencer and you were enemies, now, you’re just into each other. what happens when you show up to jj's wedding as each other's dates?

word count: 1.6k

warnings: the most insane amount of tooth rotting fluff (you're welcome)

thank you for this request! i decided to expand even more and connect it back to the actual episode i wrote about, 7x24 :)

It had been about two weeks since you’d gotten out of the hospital from your last case; the bank robbery. You managed to get out with a couple of stitches and bruises. You were lucky to be alive.

The one good thing that came from the whole ordeal was the fact that you and Spencer, who was your previous academic-agent enemy, had turned into somewhat of your lover.

It started with trivia night at O’Keefe’s. The two of you decided to just pair rather than join a large team, and you kicked ass. You allowed Spencer to handle more of the academic side of trivia while you took pop culture. Quite literally, you were the only team with points.

That date went so well, that you ended up going out to dinner at the new Chinese place by Spencer’s apartment. That one went great too, and a third came along, a simple date that included Spencer taking you to an art museum.

You actually got to know Spencer, and he got to know you. Sure, you’d been team mates for years, but with suck a strong rivalry, you never got to know the man. You were both eerily alike, and things were going great. There had been no cases, Strauss gave your team a break after JJ’s boyfriend had almost died, along with you.

Spencer and you were at his place watching Doctor Who when you got a phone call. You picked it up, “Hey, Rossi.” The tv was paused and Spencer was looking at you expectantly. “Mhm.. mh- Oh my god! Oh, Rossi. That’s such a good idea. Yes, I’ll be there. I’m, uh, actually with Spencer, so I’ll pass on the message.” Spencer raised an eyebrow at you as you hung up. "Okay, don't freak out, but JJ and Will are engaged."

"What!" Spencer exclaimed with a bright smile. "Oh my god!"

"And Rossi and Will are planning for the wedding to be this Friday," You continued. "JJ doesn't know yet, so we have to keep it a secret."

"Speaking of secrets," Spencer coyly began, "Does Rossi know about, well, us?"

You chuckled, "I didn't tell him, but he knows we've been together more. Significantly more,"

"I've been thinking," Spencer said. "What if we don't keep this a secret anymore."

The only reason it was a secret in the first place was because the team would freak out if they knew you were going out. "I don't think now's the best time to tell them. We don't want to steal JJ's thunder." you frowned.

"No, no!" Spencer quickly shook his head. He grabbed both your hands, rubbing them with his thumbs. "Do you want to be my date to their wedding?"

Your heart raced at his words, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. "Yeah, Spence. I'd love to be your date." You smiled brightly.

The wedding was only three days away, and you were quick to go out with Penelope to buy a dress. You wanted something elegant that wouldn't take away from JJ, so you decided on a flowey, burgundy-maroon dress. It was formal, but nothing too glamorous. The whole time, Penelope kept rambling about how since she and Kevin were no more, the two of you could be girl-dates. You casually agreed, not wanting to give up Spencer and your cover yet.

You'd asked Spencer if he wanted to see your outfit on Thursday, but he wanted it to be a surprise. So, with Pen, you both did each other's hair, makeup, and got ready. You arrived together at the Rossi mansion to make everything less conspicuous.

"Oh my god!" Penelope whisper yelled. "Kevin has a date--a date!" She grabbed you and dragged you to Emily and Morgan in a panic. "He brought a date, and I didn't bring a boy date, oh my god I look like an idiot!"

"Pen, you don't look like an idiot." You rubbed her arm softly. "He's the real idiot for moving on so damn fast."

Emily nodded, "And you look so gorgeous, I bet he can't help but think about you. Play it cool."

Penelope took a large sip of her drink. "I'm- I'm gonna go, go somewhere, uh, somewhere he's not."

"Hi, Penelope!" Beth, Hotch's new girlfriend, said cheerfully as she walked up.

"Hey, hi," Penelope quickly walked off.

Beth gave a soft laugh, "Hello everybody."

You smiled and pulled her into a hug, "Ex problems, don't mind her. Hi Beth, and hi Hotch. You both look great."

"Says you! You look absolutely stunning! That is so your color." Beth smiled as she took your hand to spin you around lightly.

The three of you said hello to Jack as well. As the group began to disperse, you quickly spotted Rossi. You made your way over to him, a smile on his face. Rossi was like a father to you. Growing up under his help and guidance, he was more than just a mentor. "Oh, honey. Look at you, you look so grown up."

"Dave, I've been grown up for a lot of years now." You laughed as he kissed your cheek. "Have you seen Spencer by chance?"

"Not yet," Rossi replied. He raised an eyebrow at you, studying your face. "You two are together, aren't you?"

A look of panic crossed your features. "Shh!" You quickly hushed, looking around to see if anyone noticed. When they didn't you turned back to him. "We've been going out on dates, hanging out. That sort of thing. We aren't.. boyfriend-girlfriend."

"I'm happy for you two," Rossi smiled. "You two make a good pair, especially now that you aren't planning each other's murders."

"Who was murdered?"

You turned around to see Spencer standing behind you. His eyes went wide when he saw you. The way you turned, bright eyed and graceful, it made his heart leap in his chest, especially when you looked so ethereal.

Spencer breathed your name softly, looking to Rossi. You gave a small nod, letting him know that Rossi knew. He walked over, giving you a small hug to secretly press a kiss into your hair. The two of you hadn't really kissed yet, but you knew it would happen soon.

"You're an angel," Spencer softly spoke, caressing your cheek as you smiled.

"You look amazing, too." You replied.

Rossi and Spencer gave each other a quick hello before he excused himself to go reveal to JJ that this was her wedding night. It only took a few minutes and JJ ran up to you. You hugged her before she could say anything.

"You knew?" Her voice cracked, but you knew it was from joy.

"We all did," You smiled. "Hey, while you and Will get ready, let Spence watch over Henry."

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as she watched Spencer nod quickly, giving your shoulder a squeeze with the sweetest smile she'd ever seen him give someone. "Uh-"

"Don't worry about it," You shook your head. "This is your night." When you saw JJ was about to ask again, you filled her in. "Going out on dates, not dating."

She just smiled, holding up her dress. "This is it. I wanted to ask you, actually, if you wanted to be my maid of honor? Help me get ready?"

Your eyes filled with tears, "Oh, Jayge. It would be my absolute honor." You hugged her again tightly, leading her upstairs with her mom.

It didn't take long until the ceremony began. You were already at the end of the isle, watching Spencer do a magic trick with the ring with Henry. You giggled, Spencer's eyes meeting yours as he smiled back to you.

JJ was the most beautiful bride you'd ever seen. She came up to the front and you hugged her, taking her flowers from her and standing next to Spencer and Penelope. As the ceremony went on, you found yourself tearing up. Weddings always made you cry. Spencer took notice, taking your hand and pulling you against his chest as he rubbed your arm. The team was too busy watching JJ and Will to notice.

The dancing was the best part. Penelope pulled you to the dance floor before Spencer even had a chance. You happily slow danced with her, then Derek, who stole you away. From there, Hotch had a dance with you, and then Rossi. Finally, at your favorite slow song, Spencer approached.

"Dave, would you mind?" He softly asked.

"It would be my pleasure." Dave passed you off to Spencer with one hand as Spencer slowly pulled you into his arms. If you took closer notice, you'd see him go to Strauss and begin to dance.

"Hi," You whispered, one hand in his as his other rested on your waist. Your free hand was on his shoulder. The two of you began to sway to the music.

"Hi," He echoed, giving you the softest look you'd ever gotten. "I missed you. I didn't even get a chance to dance with you."

You softly giggled, "Well, now it's yours. All yours, Spence." You leaned in closer, "You're the only one I wanted to dance with."

The position changed, both of Spencer's hands were on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. This was much more intimate. "You're the only one I want, too." The double meaning made your stomach twist in the best way.

As the two of you danced, your teammates began to finally notice. "Oh my god," Derek mumbled. "Those two dumb geniuses finally got together."

"Actually, they're just going on dates," JJ corrected as she swayed with Will.

Emily smirked, "Not for long by the looks of it."

"They make such a sweet couple," Beth cooed.

Penelope gasped, "Oh my sweet baby Jesus, I took her away from him all night!"

"I'm sure he doesn't mind." Hotch smiled, actually smiled, as they all watched you lean your head on his shoulder, one of his hands coming up to the middle your back to splay out, almost protectively, holding you closer.

"I think I hear some more wedding bells in our future." Derek smiled.

#spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #bau team #criminal minds fandom #dr reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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ballsandbabes · 1 month ago

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Bleed through love: Geum Seong-jae x Reader

Authors Note: I normally dont write about other things than Sports, BUT...I started with Weak Hero and find the story really exciting. While reading, I found Geum Seong-ja's character very exciting. Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3

Summary: Love is never easy, but it is difficult when you fall in love with Seongje. But what happens if he's interested in you too?

Genre: Universe of Weak Hero, slow-burn romance, character drama, fluff with grit, slightly toxic depiciton of a relationship.

Life wasn't fair. Not for you. Your parents were once respected doctors at a good clinic. But even there, corruption flowed through every vein of the institution. That is, until Kim De-Uhn, the director of the clinic, died. And therefore the only person who had protected this secret. As soon as the new director was in office, all employees were fired, including your parents. They had done nothing wrong, but the director wanted to get rid of all old employees in order to be able to completely rebuild and improve the clinic's reputation. With everything that came to light afterward, it made it difficult for your parents to find work again.

And that's how you ended up at Eunjang High School. A cruel, brutal and unrelenting chaos of a school life. You had once had dreams. Dreams of a good, carefree life as a graphic designer. But now it was about surviving this cruel and terrible place.

If you didn't belong to one of the thug squads or knew a member, you could actually get through everyday school life just fine. And that's exactly what you did. You were quiet, reserved and didn't attract attention. Which doesn't mean that you didn't have your reputation at school. The classmates who knew you knew how good you were. Smart, well-read, intelligent, one or two boys would also say that you were very beautiful.

“Omg, I heard Yeon Sieun got into a fight with someone again,” said Daehyun, your best friend. "Oh come on, let's not interfere. That happens every day," you said as you prepared for the next lesson.

You first met Geum Seong-jae after a math test.

You were sitting alone in the hallway, reading glasses slipping down your nose, notebook open across your lap as you reviewed formulas for fun — because yes, that’s the kind of person you were. You liked rules. You liked logic to a degree. You liked knowing that hard work, in school at least, led to clear answers.

He walked by bleeding from the lip.

And you didn’t look away.

“You....you okay?” you asked, calm and straightforward. At that moment you didn't even know why you had spoken to him. Actually, it was against all your rules, but you did it anyway. How reckless.

He slowed. Stared. He was used to flinches, whispers, or forced politeness. Not concern. Especially not from a girl in a sporty zip-up Hoodie with ink on her fingers. He scoffed. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like you got your face slammed into a locker. Twice,” You said while adjusting your glasses. Why did you say that?

That pulled a sharp laugh from him—surprised and short. Then he turned to leave, but not before shooting you a sideways glance.

“Don’t get involved,, stupid girl” he muttered.

But you were involved, in the way that people like you always were — because you believed people and their actions could be understood, even when they didn’t believe it themselves. You would know what he was like. He had shown this often enough when his bloody knuckles had slammed into his opponent's jawline until it was brimming with blood. That's why you knew you couldn't change him. You didn't want that either, but you wanted to be able to understand him, understand why he did what he did.

___ _ _ _

You saw each other every now and then, especially on the way home. When you had to move, the neighborhood you lived in, was different, more unsafe.

It had started with the conversation in the hallway of the school, that Seongje found himself thinking about you. What was the point of this stupid girl to just babble at him like that? Was she crazy?

You hadn't cared who he was, you had just wanted to make sure he was okay and he couldn't quite understand that. He had told himself he was here purely by chance as he waited outside the shabby little art room. Movement. He looked into the room through the tiny, dusty window. You helped a classmate with her picture. Your eyes focused and full of helpfulness. Your body language inviting and sisterly.

Another time you stopped at the sports field on your way from the entrance hall across the courtyard. You had actually never seen him play sports before, that was more Hoo-min Park's thing. Also a bully at your school. It was where you realized how strong and athletic Seongje actually was.

So it went back and forth. You noticed each other. However, without anyone else noticing.

The next time, he found you.

A kid from another class had tried to cheat off your quiz, and when you refused, he pushed you against a locker and called you a stuck-up nobody. You didn’t cry. You stared him down and told the teacher. He got detention.

You got called names. By lunch, your books had been tossed in the hallway. Again.

And Seongje saw it happen.

You didn’t saw him, therefor thinking he wouldnt bat an eye — he didn’t exactly have a reputation for defending nerdy girls with moral backbones. But then, at the end of the day, the kid who shoved you left school with a bloody nose and a limp. What had happened?

You and your friends sat on the wall of the schoolyard as you discussed in whispers what had happened to the guy who had been so mean to you. "Maybe this is all just a stupid coincidence," Mia said, her voice low and wavering. "I don't think so, the boys may be brutal, but that doesn't mean they can't think," Jiun said.

And then you would have seen him. Just early enough to see him put his bloody hand in his pocket. While you were still running, you said goodbye to your friends as you ran after him.

“Don’t thank me,” Seongje told you when you caught up to him later. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Then why?” you challenged him to answer you, arms crossed, refusing to let him brush it off.

His eyes lingered on your face. "...Because you didn’t flinch. You even have the guts to talk to me like that."

___ _ _ _

He started showing up more after that. Not obviously. Just… nearby. Lingering. He'd stand outside the library and pretend to scroll through his phone. Sit behind you during lunch and pretend to sleep. Glance your way in class and immediately look away when you noticed.

You first didnt notice, but when you did, you never called him out. You just let him hover — because you knew that for someone like him, proximity was connection.

He asked you once, late in the hallway after everyone had left: “Why are you always trying to do the right thing? Even when it sucks for you?”

You closed your locker and smiled at him. “Because someone has to. I don't know, but maybe it will help someone. Maybe it will help someone if I point out to the teacher that we cannot move the date forward. And maybe if I do it enough, someone else will too.”

“…That’s so stupid,” he said quietly, laughing at you.

But the next week, he returned a lost wallet to a first-year without taking the cash inside. Even if he had thought about taking it.

Geum Seong-jae wasn’t gentle. Not in the slightest. To be honest, he was brutal, crazy and arrogant. Despising people who are or act weak, people like you. He wasn’t patient. His anger lived just under his skin, hot and volatile.

But with you?

He showed a very strange side of his, in ways you couldnt really describe. And explain even less.

He "walked" you home but never admitted it, basically he followed you from a few meters away. He "asked", more like teased or bullied you with questions about your favorite books and pretended to be bored....then he would steal them from you. He tried to fix your broken calculator once. Failed. Replaced it in your bag without saying a word. Which got you into massive trouble. Because the guy sitting next to you had lost his calculator, which was also new, and simply accused you of stealing his calculator. What was that about? Did Seungje want to bully you?

And when you asked him, one day, why he hung around you at all, he shrugged and said,“Because you entertain me with you "good morals".” “What do you mean,” you asked him, confused. He explained to you that you weren't an angel either. You lent your study materials to a classmate so that she could copy and not fail. Actually, you weren't allowed to do that. And unfortunately he is right. In an attempt to do something good, you had done something forbidden. An interesting thought came to you during this conversation…maybe it was the same with him?

___ _ _ _

It started like any other day — quiet, normal, deceptive. But you could tell something was off the moment Seongje stepped into school. His eyes were darker, shoulders tense, fists already curled like he’d been in a fight before first period even began. You didn’t ask — not yet — but you stayed close.

When the news spread through the halls that some guys from a nearby school had jumped one of Seongje’s friends outside the gates, everything unraveled fast. By the time you found him, he was already throwing punches. It wasn’t a fight — it was an explosion. Raw, furious, unstoppable. One of the boys lay curled on the concrete, bleeding from the mouth, teeth lose, while Seong-jae slammed the other into a wall, again and again, knuckles cracking with every hit.

“Seongje!” you shouted, running toward him. He didn’t hear you.

“Omg...Stop—please!” You grabbed his arm, your voice trembling but strong. “He understood, but if you continue you could kill him.”

He shoved you back without looking. Not hard — just to get you out of the way. But your foot caught the curb. And you fell. Hard. The third boy gripping you by your wrist, twisting it. You let out a cry of pain. The sound of your body crying for help, in pain, was louder than his fists.

That’s when everything stopped.

His fist hovered mid-air. His head turned. And when he saw you — clutching your wrist, eyes wide in stunned silence — his entire body locked. He let go of the boy he’d been pummeling, who collapsed with a groan. Then Seongje stumbled toward you, color draining from his face. Freeing you from the clutches of the third boy, while hitting him with his fist.

“Y/N…”

You sat up slowly, wincing. Your wrist throbbed, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the look on his face — pure devastation, like he was watching everything he built crumble in real time.

“I didn’t—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know it was you, I just—”

You looked at him, really looked. Tears in your eyes, caused by through pain inflicted by him. His hands were shaking. Blood was on his knuckles, and you didn’t know whose. His breath came fast and shallow. But his eyes — his eyes were breaking.

“I told you,” you whispered, “you’re more than your anger.” He sank to the ground beside you, knees drawn up, hands buried in his hair like he wanted to tear it out.

“I’m not,” he muttered. “I hurt you. I did hurt you.”

You reached out gently, laying your uninjured hand on his.

“I’m still here,” you said. “That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

He looked at you like he didn’t deserve to. Like he’d already accepted that you’d walk away. Like they always did. But you, for what ever reason, didn’t. So if you wouldnt walk away, he had to. He didn't want to see you, being hurt by him ever again.

And so time passed. Time when it felt as if all the moments of stares, anger, closeness and acquaintance had never existed. You became strangers.

___ _ _ _

Time passed. Like it always did. Slow, awkward, cruel.

You and Geum Seongje drifted, the way people do, when things go unsaid — not out of hate, but out of history too heavy to carry. After the fight, after your wrist healed, after he stopped meeting your eyes in the hallway... things just broke.

Now, you were strangers again. You started dating someone a few months later — a boy from the year above, pretty handsome, tall and smart. He was kind, on paper. Well-dressed. Smiled when teachers looked. And most importantly, he wasn't complicated. He didn’t throw punches. He didn’t carry the weight of anger behind his eyes.

But Seongje noticed the difference right away. You didn’t light up when you talked about him. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. And when Seongje saw you walking with the guy, hand-in-hand but looking at the ground — he knew.

And then, some afternoon that week, he saw him. Behind the convenience store, Seong-jae caught him — your perfect boyfriend — with his arm wrapped around girl. A girl that wasnt you. The boy was grinning like he hadn’t just lied to you with every kiss.

That was the moment he snapped. No hesitation. No warning. Fist met jaw. Shoulder hit wall. The guy screamed, fought back, but Seong-jae was fire — wild and wordless. His only thoughts were: How dare you. How dare you touch her, lie to her, ruin her happy smile like that.

By the time it ended, Seongje stood panting over the guy’s crumpled body, fists bloodied, eyes burning. He didn’t even run.

He wanted you to know. You did find out. And you were furious.

You showed up at the nurse’s office where they were patching up his busted lip.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, your voice shaking — not from fear, but something deeper. “You can’t just fight everyone who looks at you the wrong way, Seongje!” There it was. At such times, you showed a fire equal to his. Anger, disappointment and the urge to fight. It fascinated him how you could be so loving, caring and so spirited at the same time.

He stared up at you, eyes shadowed, like he’d already accepted your rage before you even arrived.

“I saw him,” he said quietly. “Cheating on you...with that dumb blonde from the second year. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let it slide.”

Your anger deflated. You blinked, stunned.“…What?”

He looked away. “He doesn’t deserve you. No one like that does.”

Silence hung heavy between you. And in it, something softened.

“I’m not....yours.... to protect anymore. I never needed that kind of protection...so whats up with this shit of yours??,” you whispered. Not cold. Just… honest.

“I know,” he murmured. “But I still want to.”

After that, things began to shift. Slow. Careful. You started saying hi again in the halls. He started waiting just a little longer near your classroom. One day, he handed you a drink — your favorite, the one you hadn’t told him you still liked. You took it without a word.

One night, you caught him waiting for you outside the library.

“Thought I’d walk you home,” he said. “Old habits die hard.”

You smiled. “Maybe they don’t have to die. and maybe you walk home with me, instead of behind me?”

From then on, it was the little things. Your hand brushing his on the bus, neither of you pulling away. Him walking on the outside of the sidewalk. You fixing the cut on his knuckle or cheek after another scuffle — gently, like touching something sacred. Him pretending not to look at you or care about it. You pretending not to notice.

You waited. Because if there was one thing you learned about Geum Seongje, it’s that he didn’t need someone to rescue him — he needed someone to stay.

___ _ _ _

It started on a late spring afternoon, the sky grey and heavy. You were leaving school when the downpour hit. You didn’t have an umbrella.

Of course, he found you just at the right time (he had probably followed you again) — running, hair soaked, backpack clutched to your chest. He didn’t say anything. Just walked up and stood in the rain beside you.

Soaked. Still. Silent.

You looked at him, laughter bubbling from your chest.

“This is stupid,” you said, smiling. “We’re going to get sick.”

“Probably,” he replied. You shook your head. “Why do you always show up?”

His voice was low, sincere. “Because you make me want to be someone who doesn’t run away.”

Your breath hitched. Rain clung to your lashes, little droplets haning on for their dear life. His hair stuck to his forehead., soaked and wet He looked at you like you were the only solid thing left in a world that never gave him a place to rest. This time his eyes only show the madness of letting you into his life. The madness of believing that a stupid girl couldn't hurt him. But you could. Whenever you weren't there, he couldn't see you. The fear that something would happen to you cut through him like a sharp knife.

You stepped closer. He didn’t move. “You’re not a bad person, Seong-jae,” you said, voice barely louder than the rain. “You’re just scared someone might understand you... believe that even you have good intentions...sometimes.”

“…You believe that?”

“I do,” you said quietly. Unsure if these words wouldn't make him angry. And then, he leaned in — slowly, softly — and you met him there, in the middle of the storm.

The kiss was everything it shouldn’t have been. Wet. Clumsy. Honest. Madness.

His hands gripped the sides of your face like he was terrified you'd disappear. Yours found his chest, feeling the heartbeat under bruises and bandages and broken pasts.

When you pulled away, breathless, you smiled.

He did too. Not wide. Not perfect. But real.

BONUS:

The boxing hall was dimly lit, smelling faintly of sweat, leather, and something weirdly nostalgic. The rain had stopped hours ago, leaving the city hushed outside, the world tucked into sleep. It had been a few weeks now since you two shared that rainy kiss.

Inside, you were wrapping your hands with practiced slowness — or, at least, trying to. You had no idea what you were doing. You had never been in a place like this before and to be honest it scared you a little. On the other hand, you were happy that Seongje took you into his world with him. A sign of his affection towards you.

“You’re doing it backwards,” Seongje muttered, walking up behind you. His fingers brushed yours, fixing the tape with the kind of care that didn’t match his bruised knuckles or the way he usually handled the world. You glanced up at him, teasing. “I didn’t know Mr. Punch-Everything-In-Sight was a hand-wrapping expert.”

He gave you a sharp look, a fire flickering behind his eyes. “If you're gonna fight, you're gonna do it right.”

“Who says I want to fight?,” confusion rose in your voice. Shouldn't this be something like a date? Sure, it had been weird when he asked you to tag along, but when has it ever been normal with him?

His voice dropped. “You're with me now.” That shut you up — not because it was possessive, but because it was protective. His way of saying I won’t always be able to catch them first. The gym was empty but alive with silence. A single bulb flickered above the ring.

“You're not gonna hurt me....,” you asked, better demanded gently, stepping up into the ring.

He hesitated. “I might.”

You smiled, pulling him by the hand. “Then....Then teach me how to hit back.”

He started with stance — guiding your feet, steadying your shoulders. He circled you slowly, correcting posture, nodding when you got it right. But every time his hands touched you — waist, arms, jaw — it lingered just a moment too long.

And you noticed. “Try,” he said, lifting the pads. “Throw one.”

You did. It wasn’t clean. But it had heart.

He smirked. “Again.”

You hit harder. He chuckled lowly, his mad smile starting to appear on his face. “Better. Where’s that fire when you’re doing math equations?”

You dropped your fists and raised a brow. “Well.. its different...wait?You like my fire?”

He stilled — caught off guard for just a second. “...Yeah. A lot.”

Your eyes locked. Then you stepped in — slow, deliberate — sliding your hands up the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. Dragging him towards you.

His breath hitched. “Y/N…”

You tilted your head. “You gonna stop me?”

“No,” he whispered. “Never.”

And then you kissed him. No hesitation. No buildup this time.

It was all sharp angles and soft mouths, the snap of tension finally breaking. His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him, teeth clashing in a kiss that tasted like adrenaline and something long overdue. It was wild and demanding.

You tugged at his shirt. He growled — low and real — before lifting you gently and setting you on the edge of the ring.

The contrast between his rough grip and the reverence in his gaze lit every nerve in your body.

“You sure?” he asked, chest heaving.

You nodded, breathless. “I’ve never been more sure.”

And in that old gym, where ghosts of fights past echoed in the walls, you gave yourself to him — not just your body, but every piece of trust he thought he didn’t deserve. And there you saw it, his version of gentleness.

His lips on your neck. Your hands in his hair. The quietest moans swallowed between kisses. Him trying his best, so his strength never bruised you — it only held you steady. And your softness never made him weak — it grounded him.

For once, Seongje had developed a strong respect for will and strength, other than his. His madness faltering, knowing you could understand his being.

For the moment, he just was mad about you.

I hope you liked this special piece. Love Becca <3

#weak hero class 1 #weak hero class one #weak hero class two #weak hero x reader #weak hero webtoon #whc2 #geum seong je #geum seong je x reader #wolf keum #weak hero kdrama #geum seongje #weak hero season 2

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bluem1lls · 6 months ago

Note

hi hi ! i saw your post about wanting some se-mi requests and i was wondering on how se-mi would react to having a s/o that tends to zone out / dissociates during the games whenever they're parted from se-mi / can't stay near her because it causes their separation anxiety </3 like it's a way for the reader to feel less anxious or stressed and the reader seems to lighten up whenever they're near se-mi or notices she's alive , sorry if that's alot ! 😭

✧₊⁺ we'll go home (together)

se-mi x fem!reader

✦ synopsis: as you try to survive the games with your girlfriend, you can't help but to dissociate when she's not nearby. lucky for you, she never wants to leave your side.

content: just a short fluff, reader usually zones out when she's not with se-mi

authors note: thank you for the request! it's rlly short because i'm writing this at my office bye i have dedication!!!!!! but i hope u like it!

✧₊⁺ first of all, your girlfriend would never leave you alone. like ever. i think she would die if that happened.

✧₊⁺ but there's this one situation in mingle where you guys were running along with min-su as a group of three and in the rush, someone pushed her.

✧₊⁺ when you saw her on the ground you almost choke yourself. what if she dies? what if that hurted her head? what if she can't move to run with a group? what if-

✧₊⁺ as you start to hyperventilate you try and run to your gilfriend, failing as min-su pushes you into a room with another guy and closes the door.

✧₊⁺ "hey, i saw her. she got up and ran with another group. she's okay" he said, touching your shoulder.

✧₊⁺ you won't believe him until you see her.

✧₊⁺ you start to dissociate. you can see min-su talking but you can't hear him. your mind filled with thoughts. 'i hope she's okay. she better be okay'.

✧₊⁺ tears start falling from your eyes because what kind of girlfriend are you? leaving her there? it was an accident but-

✧₊⁺ the doors unlock. you run outside as you stare everywhere.

✧₊⁺ she's not here. she's not here. she died. min-su lied-

✧₊⁺ you feel soft arms wrapping you, she deposits a kiss to your temple.

"i'm here baby" she says as you hug her back, your tears going down your cheeks.

"i'm-m so so sorry i'm so sorry...i tried but-" i sobbed against her, her hand caressing my hair to try and calm me.

"sh sh, baby i know. i told min-su to pull you away. i'm here okay? i'm never leaving you"

you believe her. she better not.

✧₊⁺ you're just so used to her, you kinda forgot how it is when she's not there.

✧₊⁺ like the first time you two sleep together, she wakes up first, smiling as she sees you all comfy. she kisses your entire face. when she's done, she gets up, heading to talk with the guys until you wake up. she thinks you'll wake up and follow her, after all you know that when she's not with you, she's with her friends.

until she thinks it's been a little too much time. she starts to worry, going back to your bed.

she finds you there, staring at a blank point on the wall.

"baby?"

you lift your head, she's back!

your face lightens up, a soft smile appearing.

"i missed you" you say as she smirks, getting closer to you. your face in her hands, softly kissing your lips.

"good morning princess, what's wrong? i was waiting until you wake up but i got worried. it's been a while." she frowned.

"i thought you.. left or something" i mumble as her face scans my features. a hint of worry through her eyes.

"baby, what?-" she says, shocking her head no. "no princess i'd never leave you, wherever i go, you come with"

i nod as she kisses my lips again and again.

"i love you"

"i love you princess"

✧₊⁺ of course, when the fourth game comes and it's an individual one, you're shaking.

✧₊⁺ she's too, she just doesn't want you to see it, or it'll make you more nervous.

✧₊⁺ "it's okay baby, this is our last game and then we vote to leave okay? its the last time you're gonna be appart from me. i swear" she says, hugging me as i return it, squeezing her.

it's hard to focus when you're not with her, but you try to get past it. after all, if your girlfriend comes out and you don't, she'll be heartbroken. you don't want that.

✧₊⁺ finally, you made it through. as you're out of the room, you sit there waiting for her.

of course she comes a few minutes later with a smug smirk. she's so cocky.

as she sees you, her face lightens up.

and as you see her, you get up to run to her arms.

✧₊⁺ she kisses you with a soft chuckle.

"what did i said? together. i bet you did so good, my pretty girl" she says smiling.

✧₊⁺ you think you might melt right there and then. you nod, never leaving her arms.

"can we go home now?" you say as she nods.

"let's vote and go home".

#player 380 #player 380 x reader #se mi #se mi x reader #se-mi #se-mi x reader #lesbian #squid game #squid game 2 #wlw

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pandorascripts · 8 months ago

Text

Family Reunion

Uhm... hi... guys!!! Yes, I did go MIA for like a whole year, but I got better at writing and my gay ass got extreme motivation from Agatha and Rio soooo I'm here!!! Not sure if this is permanent, but I really wanted to write Agatha as a mother. Feel free to send in requests (platonic or romantic, either works), who knows if I'll get around to them, but they might motivate me!

Summary: Rio and Agatha begin to heal, too absorbed in familiarity to remember just how bad they were for one another. The Road decides to leap out of Rio's control, thrusting their young daughter away from the underworld and back into their lives.

summary shortened: you're pretty much Nick, except the road decides to throw you back onto the mortal plane for an unknown reason. warnings: some grief, mainly fluff, big smooch scene that we deserved, and me using my Spanish-II class for nefarious acts online (making rio and reader speak Spanish). Written before the shows ending, and I was going off of my theory of Rio controlling the Road! relationships: Agario/plantonic!reader

all spelling errors are mine, and I apologize, but I'm too excited about writing again to care <3. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha listens as the other coven members cheerily laugh about past experiences -- each letting the burning weight of the trials slip off their shoulders for a moment. The past centuries of her life have been held as a solo journey for Agatha, coven-less, loveless, family-less, and yet, analyzing the people around her, she can't help but wonder if that had been the wrong choice. How is it that these "failed" witches can form a coven far more accepting than the last one she was in? Agatha's not sure, but that spark of humanity she swore died when her coven betrayed her is fighting against the brutal self-taught lessons of apathy. She finds herself drawn into the conversation with a question directed at her. Far too surprised that she's been included, Agatha doesn't clock who it came from at all. Her weight shifts on the log beneath her, fingers anxiously spinning the flower Rio's been harboring since she darkened the road with her soul. Agatha risks a glance at her, then turns back to the coven. Her elbow buzzes with a reminder of a rather bland battle, the hard knitting tool piercing her skin replaying in her mind again. Rio seemingly knows where she's going with this when Agatha hikes up her shirt, lifting her elbow with a small smile.

"You ever heard of the Daughters of Liberty?" her hoarse voice rings out, a faintly muffled chuckle coming from the woman on her right. Agatha smiles at her for the first time in years.

The group enthusiastically shakes their heads, all curious about where Agatha is directing her story. Well aware, Agatha knows she needs to seemingly open up to these women and keep her animosity for them. Letting them in on her past isn't going to do that, so with a snap of her hand the shirt is back down to her wrist, cocky eyes darting around the circle. "Exactly."

Despite how chilling this should be, the group just smiles and laughs at Agatha's story. Agatha won't look into it because that off-putting "joke" just got her respect points with the coven she may or may not choose to betray. That's a win in her mind that is immediately taken away when her old counterpart speaks up.

"I have a scar."

Her tone is a little dry, her face so blank as usual. Naturally, the coven is a little uneasy at Rio's presence, all still deciding if she's trustworthy or not.

Agatha's jaw is sharply outlined as she glares. With a hard breath her nostrils are inflamed, knowing Rio's antics far too familiarly. "No, you don't."

Rio sends her a glare, as if to tell her to shut up. "Yes, I do."

Agatha knows she cannot interrupt again, the coven would be far too suspicious of just how well they know one another. Who Agatha falls in love with is her business -- her weakness is her business. With a taste of defeat that's absolutely disgusting, Agatha lets Rio speak.

"A long time ago, I loved somebody," she starts softly, if not a little too apathetic for a claim like that. The coven is immediately a little interested -- most thinking that Rio is quite the psychopath. Agatha knows they're wrong.

"I had to do something I didn't want to do, and it hurt them," with these words spilt out, Rio gets a little angry at the next part of her speech. Agatha knows what this is going to, her eyes shooting away to look at the stars instead of the stars in Rio's eyes. "But it was my job."

Agatha glares down at her purple pants, the fire a couple feet ahead casting them brighter than their original color. The avoidance is choking her out, but even when Rio speaks again, Agatha is too pained to look.

"She is my scar."

Rio looks over and up at Agatha, not caring that the coven has certainly understood the depth of the relationship between them. For a moment, weakness allows Agatha to breathe in deep, her head softly turning to glance at Rio. The moment the exchange is made, Agatha's body heating up with utter embarrassment, her head snaps. The crack of her knees is deafening, fingers flexing as she tries to loosen the hold on this flower. This damn flower -- why is it still in her hands? Agatha feels grossed out by the question, but more so by her internal response. Rio's face is still burned into her head, the parted lips, eyes open and unafraid of being known by the coven. Rio's look of pure, unaltered love that Agatha swore never truly existed between them.

"Well, I'm gonna take a walk," she snaps out, sending what's supposed to be a condescending smile to the group. Everyone sees through it, more so when Rio sighs annoyedly and rushes after.

Rio would be lying if she said she wasn't slightly pissed, the only thing easing that being the sway of Agatha's hips as she practically darts away from Rio's penetrating gaze. Her eyes remain narrow, watching Agatha fifteen feet up with no objective other than having her back again. Death is lonely, figuratively and literally. She's not found one person who's soul can ease her lack of besides Agatha. Years have blurred together, broken cries of rejection chipping away at the humanity Rio used to harbor, and everything over the millennia she's existed for has undeniably forced her to adept into stone cold apathy. Agatha healed that. During their fleeting time together, Death felt things other than her frozen over hell, she felt desired, understood, she felt human and she understood why humans hate dying so much. Agatha made Death feel like living. So yes, even after this time apart, she's angry that the one soul she refused to take could end up leaving her.

Agatha stops a couple feet ahead now, Rio's gaze running over her body to fully cement the fact that they're back together now, even if not emotionally. Testing waters which have laid still for so long, Rio's chipped nails faintly feel the back of Agatha's spine. When her fingers make contact again, she remembers every night they rested there too -- during walks along the Norwegian beaches despite how freezing it was, fooling around when Agatha was first dabbling in black magic, to nights when Agatha was falling asleep holding their kid and Rio asking hesitantly to take her instead. It's so much, Rio notes, and she understands that it must be for Agatha too because a sound so hauntingly familiar falls from her aching lips -- a moan rippling those waters untouched for years.

Silence is only exchanged after that, Agatha turning around to relent into Rio's care. Seeing her divine face this close again after so many years of punishment, is like allowing a sinner a breath of heaven for Agatha. Her nails rake along Rio's soft face as she soaks in this moment. Her bones are aching to crawl back into the grave she spent so long being comforted in, they're pleading Agatha to just allow them this reprieve, and so she grants it. Rio knows what's coming, her hands clinging onto Agatha as her face dives into her neck. Both their noses dip into the skin, smelling each other, holding each other, for the first time in years. That comforting smell of flowers, dewy earth, and the beguiling scent of death fills Agatha's nose, tears slipping down her face with familiarity.

Rio feels Agatha's hands gripping her head, her own chest stuttering as she struggles with the fleeting emotions entwined with humanity. It's so overwhelming and it's been so long since she's felt it again. Desperate to capture it, Rio grips Agatha's back, nails digging into her shirt as she feels her soul back where it belongs. Still, silence. There's nothing they need to say to her that isn't being felt -- love, security, a hint of forgiveness that Rio hopes won't be nipped in the bud.

Agatha pulls back, Rio tilting her head to analyze her features. When looking isn't enough, they both hold one another's faces, thumbs memorizing the skin along their paths. Rio can feel her eyelids droop, soulless brown eyes moving to the pair of lips in front of her. Agatha's filled with the same desire, darting forward before she can properly judge what's happening, nose bumping against Rio's. The latter pulls away, a soft hum leaving her lips.

"Agatha..."

There's a subtle nod from the addressed, eyes moving off from her mouth to Rio's eyes. It's there Agatha finds that she wasn't stopped out of hesitance or unwillingness, so she leans in again. Rio lets her, invites her when she tilts too.

Agatha hasn't felt a kiss like Rio's kisses in centuries. The moment she feels it again, she lets out a sweet moan. Rio notes how different it is from the ones she usually pulls out -- whether from pain or pleasure. Agatha's was slow and sweet, as if she had been longing for this all her life. It's comforting and full of love. Rio wants more -- she needs to know that this isn't one sided -- that Agatha has started to forgive her for a pain they share. Her hands move to support Agatha's jaw, pulling her into her furthermore as if she wants to swallow her with a kiss. Agatha's giving everything back, lips in tandem with Rio's as they refuse to part for anything.

They're like that for far too long, only stopping when Agatha rests her forehead against Rio's, trying to stifle her panting. Their eyes remain shut, soaking in the physical feel of being loved again.

"I can't -- I can't accept what happened, but -- but I want you to know, I know it hurt you too," Agatha softly speaks, the vulnerability something she rarely shows. It's been years and years of animosity because of their shared grief.

Rio's completely silent, her eyes opening to see the tears slipping down Agatha's cheeks. It takes her a moment of confusion before she realizes that she's crying too -- something that hasn't happened since she held that lifeless body in her heavy arms, crying as she pretended to be tucking her in her crib like she had so many times over the years. Rio's choked up as well, nodding her head as she desperately moves Agatha's hair behind her ears, needing to busy her hands with something.

"I --" Rio can't get anything out. Her thoughts are wilder than a tornado, each one fleeting and escaping her brain before they can be shoved out her mouth. For someone so witty, she can't speak. Rio nods again, lips pressed thin as she leans back in to feel Agatha's lips. There's no denial from Agatha, just like how there never was any all those centuries ago.

The next couple of minutes are spent exchanging sweet kisses, lips slowly and barely moving away just to reconnect seconds later. Rio's hand slips under Agatha's shirt, feeling the taut fabric against her hands when she pulls it out from the waistband of her purple pants. Malleable flesh against her fingertips makes Rio moan against Agatha, a small smirk on her lips when another moan follows -- but not from her. Rio's nails rake along Agatha's stomach, enjoying the feeling after being denied it for so long.

Lost in familiarity, they don't notice the tree cracking behind them -- not until it drops a couple feet out, a hoarse shriek coming from Agatha. Rio's back is turned to her now, hand on her waist as she keeps Agatha close. There's something under the rubble, her eyes thinning down as she glares at the rustling wood. Eventually, Rio steps away from Agatha and kicks over the wood, an unconscious face all too known in front of her. With a hard smack, Rio's knees are digging into the floor, hands grabbing out the sweet face she swore she wouldn't see ever again.

Agatha's stood behind, eyes slightly wide and confused before a soft, "hija" is echoed out in the cold air. Haunted, Agatha stumbles forward to drop down next to Rio, hands moving out to grab at your face. The moment she thinks she can, her hands shoot back and away, knees popping when she abruptly stands. In a hard panic and a heavy breath, her face is whipping around and looking around the road.

"Is this some sick trial?" she screeches out, her lungs aching as she sobs to whoever is controlling this.

Rio's still sitting, cradling your body as her hands touch your hair. The road bends to Rio's will -- after all, Rio only designed the road to bring her more souls -- but this isn't her. This is something else, something far more evil that's infiltrated her dimension. Rio doesn't understand how this is happening, who's behind it, or what the consequences are going to be, but she needs to just soak in this moment.

Rio hasn't seen your chest move in hundreds of years.

Shaky fingers press along your chest, feeling it rise against her hold, then fall, and repeat.

"Agatha," she calls out, turning her head to look at the panicked woman in front of her.

Bewildered and terrified, Agatha meets your sleeping face and freezes. There's a sick part of Agatha that reminds her she had forgotten certain aspects of your face, the guilt eating at her and choking her out. With a shake of her head, Agatha trips over herself as she tries to get away. The sobs are muffled by her vibrating hand, vision blinded by overwhelmed tears. There's too much happening for Agatha to even try regulating herself, so caught up in the face that has haunted her for centuries being thrusted against her in such a short time.

Rio gently picks up your body, head slack against her hard shoulder. The last time you were like this Rio was tightly holding you away from the Ferryman. Her hands rub your back, shifting to make adjustments for you. Centuries ago when you died, you were no more than six, now it seems as if something changed that -- you look like you're ten now. Rio doesn't understand how you managed to "age" if you hadn't had a beating heart in a long time, but she doesn't care.

"Agatha," she tries again, wanting her to see her daughter even if you'll get tugged back onto that old boat soon.

Whipping around, her hands still pressed against her mouth, she gently meets Rio half way. The tears won't stop, shock and disbelief on her aged face. "Oh God," she mumbles, hand slipping over to brush some brown hair away from your face.

You're still you, if not a little pale and older now, but Agatha can't register that. Her baby is back, in some sick way, her baby is back. Rio holds you tightly, feeling so confused as your body is warm against hers.

"What is this?" Agatha hoarsely questions, eyes darting away from yours to Rio's face.

"I don't know -- I didn't do it -- I swear," she sputters out, stopping only when Agatha presses her tear-soaked lips against Rio's own again.

"I know, I know."

Rio calms down at the belief, her arms heavy as Agatha starts to lift you into her own arms. There's a shift from you, Agatha's eyebrows pressing deeply together as she almost glares at you. Still convinced this isn't real, she's as stiff as a board against you. Up until you press into her shoulder, rubbing your nose twice before halting, Agatha doesn't believe it. That single act performed crushes her reluctance, heart stopping at feeling something you used to do all the time against her.

"Oh, baby," she cries out, nose pressed into the side of your hair as you stir. Rio watches with wide eyes, lips parted as she watches how easily Agatha slips back into her motherly tendencies.

Agatha cries until she can't anymore, eventually finding herself sitting down and just holding you against her. Of course, she doesn't want to wake you up but she also can't stop touching you. Desperately aching for the constant reminder that you're tangible -- that you're here -- Agatha's hands constantly touch your face, your waist, your hips -- gently running over your body as she shakes.

Rio sits down in front, hand resting just under your lower thigh, thumb rubbing against the side of your knee. With all this touch, you wake up slightly annoyed, pushing yourself farther into Agatha. Her tears only increase tenfold, fleeting attempts to stop it doing nothing.

"Momma, stop," you quietly whine as she plays with your messy hair, your nose crinkled up just like hers does. The similar aspect makes Agatha tear up, head nodding as she stills her hand on your waist.

"Sorry, baby."

Rio notes Agatha's cracking voice, and so do you. Tiredly, you look up at them both, confused as to why your parents had been crying.

"Why you guys crying?"

"Just really happy, honey," Agatha sniffles out, rubbing your face again. You don't fight against it, eyes darting down to look at Rio.

"Okay." Your soft tone makes Rio's lip tremble, her hand coming out to move some of your curly hair -- so alike to Agatha's -- out of your face. There's a small shake of your head as you adjust your big glasses -- the ones Rio always adored.

"I don't want you to cry, it makes me sad too," you softly admit, moving your face to rest alongside Agatha's sternum. Habits don't die, as proven when Agatha already moves to take off your glasses for you so they don't get bent by how you're laying. Rio acts on impulse too, taking the glasses from Agatha's hands and setting them on her shirt.

"Nosotras sabemos, hija," Rio speaks out, her eyes trained on your face. For a fleeting moment, Rio wonders if you've forgotten the language she taught you, her heart breaking in her chest before you respond with a nod. Agatha's a little behind before understanding what Rio means.

"We know," Agatha reiterates, letting you know that she understood the conversation and agrees.

"Where are we?" you ask, finally looking around to notice what's happening.

Rio can't think of anything to say, not until Agatha comes up with something. "Road trip, dear."

Trusting your mom, you just confusedly nod your head.

"¿Cuándo planeamos el viaje?" you ask out.

Agatha can't respond right away, but Rio does. "You were sleeping, Mama and I wanted to surprise you."

Turning her head to face the speaker, Agatha is a little confused at the question but goes with it. The answer isn't upsetting you, if not just making you a little confused, so she doesn't really care to figure out what was spoken.

"Can I sleep now?" you ask, yawning just after.

"Yeah, baby, of course."

Rio turns to look at Agatha's expression, her heart lurching at just how well motherhood suits her. Brown eyes watch Agatha's gentle hands -- hands that have slaughtered thousands -- sweetly caress your kind face. With a hum, you lean into your mama's hands, eyes shut as you try to sleep again. Agatha is completely lost in having you back, soothingly tracing along your face and down the slope of your nose, touching something she never thought she would again. Rio is too nervous to touch you again, the last time far too devastating for her liking.

As if a mind reader, Agatha brings up Rio's hand to your stomach, setting it there before looking back down at you.

Complete silence falls over you all, Rio's hand stiff before she hesitantly brings it to flatten against your stomach. Apathy is long gone from her usually conniving features, everything overtaken with terrified love. After a minute or two, Rio manages to calm down her anxiety and let her knuckles run against your shirt, remembering the nights when you'd both be sent into fits of giggles when she'd blow raspberries against your stomach. Much to Agatha's dismay, only because it'd rile you up before bedtime. Truth be told, Agatha let it happen a couple times, observing contently from the bedroom door before she'd break it up so you could sleep.

You're knocked out again minutes later, a soft chuckle coming from Rio's lips. "God, she always was a hard sleeper."

Agatha silently nods, tears slipping down her face again. Rio brushes them away with her free hand, letting her knuckles trace against Agatha too.

"You know we don't have her back for long, right?" Rio asks quietly. In a hard, choked out response, Agatha nods her head. "I know, I know. I just need her for a bit longer."

Rio's lips are tugged taut before leaning into a frown, her forehead against Agatha's as they sit in silence together.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #agatha spoilers #agario #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x you #rio vidal x y/n #fanfic #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #agathario #these guys are so gay

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joaniscruzing · 7 months ago

Text

reuniting with jinx <3

everyone... that was quite the rollercoaster. but, i choose to believe that jinx is alive. i'm not ready to let go of arcane for a good while, and I'll do my best to upload fics more often, especially with the holiday breaks coming up too, so reel in whatever arcane requests you have! i write for vi, caitlyn, and jinx. i do take smut requests for these characters too if you guys would like to request some...

obviously though, jinx wouldn't leave without finding her amazing gf though... right??

summary: jinx surprises you while you're grieving, and you both escape and go elsewhere.

warnings: angst at the beginning, season 2 act 3 spoilers, kissing, emotional, lots and lots of fluff, I PROMISED A HAPPY ENDING AND DELIVERED

you couldn't believe it. your whole body crumbled to the ground as vi told you the devastating news.

"I'll tell you one thing," vi tried to quip, a small smile on her face, "she went out with a bang."

vi explained that she heard an explosion sound when jinx fell down the vent, and how she guessed she had set off one more bomb. you take vi close to you, hugging her tightly.

"she really did love you, you know." vi admitted, "i think she's just had a lot come her way. and i can't say I'm the most innocent in that realm myself."

you left vi to continue staring at the fireplace, about to leave and go to jinx's workshop, hoping to take a few things to remember her by. you see caitlyn looking at the vent diagram, studying it closely. how could she possibly studying the place where your beloved girlfriend died? you knew that caitlyn had grown to not hate jinx anymore, so you decided to just leave it at that.

after leaving the kiramann mansion, you traversed back to zaun, thoughts racing through your head. had you not done enough? loved her enough? given her a reason to live? you wanted to scream as loudly as you could, and let whatever you were feeling out.

you finally made it to where jinx had her things, and you took a deep breath before entering. this was it.

the once lit-up place was darker and worn-out in her eyes. the once neon, bright-colored place seemed to be dark and empty now. like you without jinx. a tear rolled down your face as you picked up small tools and things, even parts of a flower she was making for you out of scraps. you sat on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, trying to make sense in your head of what you should do next.

"did you really think i was gone, hun?" jinx questions, right behind you. your entire body leaps at the sound of her voice. it can't be.

"jinx?" you ask, shooting your head up and turning around.

"did you really think i was gonna die that easily? now stop moping. we have to get on the hot air balloon."

shocked, you hug jinx quickly before shoving one thing you collected in your pocket. you both start running. hand in hand, you make a beeline in order to get on the next hot air balloon.

"you know what i realized? things aren't so great here, so why don't i just go somewhere else to do my thing? but, i knew i couldn't leave without you." jinx explains while running.

"how did you even get out?" is the only thing you manage to say.

"my shimmer, silly! i got the hell out and escaped through the air vents."

"and how did you get back to zaun?"

"simple hacking and tweaking of the hexgates. nothing special."

you both finally make it onto the airship, jinx holding your hand as you get on so you don't fall. she closes the door behind you.

"so. this is it. any last wishes before we leave forever?"

"my biggest one has been granted," you answer before pulling in jinx for a sweet kiss. you had missed her, as you hadn't seen her for a week or two with everything going on. jinx pulls away, explaining that you two had to go.

"you know, i've always wanted to drive one of these," jinx admits, steering the ship, "i have since i was very young." you notice a new sense of peace in her eyes as she drives the ship. she doesn't seem so... tortured anymore. in fact, she seems free of any past issues.

her newly cut hair blows in the wind, as you go up behind her and hug her waist, your head resting on her shoulder. no matter what the future held, you knew you were going to be happy. as long as jinx was there, you would be at peace.

"i love you," jinx says softly, taking one hand off the wheel to rest on top of yours.

"i love you too."

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onlyyourhallucination · 5 months ago

Text

Lap Rights

Pairing : Dan Heng x Reader

Fluff ; Slight Crack ; The use of chinese endearment once ; Established Relationship

Now, how did it end up like this again?

Him covering half of his face with his hand as he tried to process what's happening, and that is feeling your weight pressing down on his thighs when he's just lounging around in the party car, minding his own business.

Let's rewind back to a few minutes ago, right before you approach him.

You were doing your own thing, busying yourself, or at least you tried to, until boredom downs upon you and you decided to see if there's anything you can do. And then there you saw Dan heng, on the couch, seemingly busy with something. Is he filling up the datas for the databank? You wonder.

At first you didn't want to bother the man, but somehow your brain just goes, how about you sit on his lap without any context? Tempted. You finally relent to your intrusive thought and walk up to him, he seemed to notice you approaching, he look up at you for a moment and nods before looking back to the datas again.

You huffed softly and then move his hand to make an entry way for you to slide yourself onto his lap.

And so this happened now.

Him blinking confusedly at this sudden action from you, as his cheeks slowly going redder each second that pass. "Wh.. What are you doing?" He sounded so, flustered as he shot the question to you, unable to decipher what's happening as he felt your weight on his lap. "Sitting." You casually replied, and it did not help his case at all. "There are many empty seats." He retorted gently as he glance around to make sure nobody is looking, after all he rather do things like, this, in private.

"I know," "Then why—" "Can't I have my lap rights?" You got him baffled, his lips parted slightly, he wanted to say something but the words died down at the tip of his tongue. He frowned for a moment before sighing in defeat, and finally relents. Putting away his tablet and then placing his hands on your thighs, going up to your hips then waist. "Is something wrong, tiánxīn?" He whispered softly, one of his hand then reaches up to you, brushing your hair away to see your face. "Nothing, I'm just, .. bored." Dan heng blinked, before he shook his head in amusement. "And then you decided to do, this. Because you're bored?" He said as he rub his thumb on your waist line, you simply smiled cheekily at his words.

"I mean why not," Dan heng's eyes flickered down to your lips, "I see." He mumbled, his hand that previously brushing your hair now slowly going down to your cheek, his thumb grazing along your lower lip. You know him well, this means he wants to kiss you, but he's way too shy to ask for it directly, by aeons, in public too? He rather not.

"Shall we move?" You whispered knowingly, his eyes flickering up to your hues, he took a deep breath and then before you could say anything more you felt something slithering around your waist. You look down and it's Dan heng's tail—

"Sorry, I ..think, I might need your help." He whispered an apology and his hand that's on your waist now properly wrapped around your waist before he slide out from the couch, with you in his arms, and his tail wrapped around your waist. He walked all the way back to the passenger cabin, luckily no one was out from their room to see what's happening.

As soon as you two enter the archives, you should pray this man doesn't go overboard because everyone will definitely have a hard time to rest with the sound of your moans.

Whoops.

©onlyyourhallucination . 2025 || Do not copy/translate/use for ai

A/n — I miss danheng. fuck. Despite already seeing him in Amphoreus quest, I still miss him. 🥺..

Also, I apologize in advance if the chinese writing is wrong, I simply copy paste it from google (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #star rail x reader #hsr x reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng honkai star rail #dan heng hsr #dan heng #imbibitor lunae

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allllium · 8 months ago

Note

Jason Todd x childhood friend fem

fluff and potential angst

Jason runs into childhood friend from befor he died and she recognizes him

Back in Time

[ Jason Todd x Childhood Best Friend!Reader ]

~ Fluff, Maybe a little hurt/comfort, WC: 1,089

~ I'm so sorry this took so long 😭 Every time I went to write this it's like all ideas flew out of my head, but I finally got it done and I hope it meets your expectations<3

"Jason?"

He freezes.

He wasn't expecting to hear your voice today.

He wasn't expecting to hear your voice ever again.

Once he came back, you were gone.

He would say he tried to look for you but that isn't true. He thought your leaving was the universe telling him to leave you alone.

But now you're here. You're here and you recognize him. He doesn't know how to respond. He knows you know he heard you, otherwise he wouldn't have stopped moving.

The first thing he hears in your voice is the sadness. Not anger like he would've expected. Not even a hint of confusion. Just something sad.

After a minute of him being unmoving, clearly lost in his thoughts, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Jason." You say.

This time it's not a question.

After he hears you a second time, he brings himself to turn around and look at you.

"Hey."

"Hey." He can't tell if you're about to cry or smile.

"I'm sorry." He immediately apologizes. Maybe for leaving or maybe for not finding you. He's not quite sure.

"For what?" You ask and take a deep breath.

He sees the way tears form in your eyes and has the strange urge to cry himself.

"I don't know. I just feel like I need to."

"You don't. Dick told me what happened. That's not something you need to be sorry for." You say it so surely he doesn't know how to respond.

"I was gonna find you."

"That's not your job. I mean a phone call would've been nice." You shrug and let out a small, awkward chuckle.

"I didn't know what to do." He tells you quietly.

"I would assume." You look around the sidewalk you're on. You're standing in front of what looks like a busy shop, people walk in and out every couple seconds.

"Where did you go?" He asks you after a moment. Probably to determine whether or not he could've found you.

"I was here. I mean I stayed in Gotham just not where I was before."

"If I had known you were so close I would've gone to you but when they told you left I assumed-"

"Jason, you don't have to defend yourself." You cut him off quickly, "If I died and came back the last thing on my list would be finding someone who left."

He nods. "This might be easier if you were at least a little mad." He smiles softly at you, watching more tears shine in your eyes.

"I missed you too much to be mad right now."

He goes to say something back but someone walking by bumps into your shoulder.

"Maybe we should get coffee or something?" He suggests, not wanting to keep blocking the sidewalk traffic.

"Are you free?"

"Oh yeah, yeah." Dick can wait, he thinks to himself.

"Then yeah, coffee sounds great."

You both walk into the coffee shop and order whatever drinks sound good. Jason chooses a table against the wall and by a giant window.

You sit awkwardly in silence as you both try and think of what to say.

"How are you doing?" You ask, after multiple minutes of nothing.

"I'm okay, I think." He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. You take notice of his fingers tapping nervously along the side of the cup.

"That's good." You nod and sigh.

"How are you?"

"I've been better." You answer honestly. Your fingers also tap nervously along your cup.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why this is so weird."

You laugh at his words, "I do. It's been a while."

"And I'm guessing we've both changed." He smiles.

"Changed? No shit Jason, look at you." You smile at him in a reassuring way. You can clearly see how dying has changed him.

"Yeah I guess I did get a little taller." He jokes and shakes his head.

"Maybe just an inch or two." You play along, laughing as you speak.

"I missed this. I missed you." He tells you with a sudden seriousness in his tone.

"Well good thing it isn't going away this time." You reach across the table and grab his hand.

It was never unusual for you and Jason to be touchy. That's just the kinda friendship you had. But this feels different.

Instead of being a friendly touch between best friends, it's more like a reassurance that's he's actually alive. A piece of you feels relief that you're not imagining this.

"I really hope so." He wishes with a frown.

"It won't. If you think I'm leaving your side anytime soon you're very very wrong."

"What's one more person to the gang that follows me everywhere?" He laughs again and squeezes your hand. It's the first time he's felt so free to last in a while.

"Where is that gang by the way? I would've expected one of them to be here by now."

"Oh I left while they weren't looking. I needed time to myself."

"You snuck out? Jason, they're probably panicking." You scold him softly.

"It's fine I'm meeting with Dick later."

You shake your head in disapproval but a smile on your face gives you away once again.

For some reason no matter how sad you are, a smile can't leave your lips.

You fall back into a silence but this time it's not awkward at all. It's a comfortable silence that reminds you of old times.

"I should probably get going. Dick will be pissed if I'm late."

"Yeah I don't doubt it." You recall the many times Dick has given long lectures about being late to anything he's involved in.

"I'll call you." He swears, standing up from his seat at the table.

"You better. I know where to find you." You stand up as well and finish off your drink.

"Yes you do." He agrees but doesn't leave.

You stand together in front of your table. Both of you are waiting for the other to move first.

Just as you're about to make the move to leave he steps forward and pulls you into a hug.

You immediately hug back and feel the tears reappear in your eyes.

"I really missed you." He whispers.

"I really missed you too." You whisper back.

You savor every moment of the embrace. Not wanting to leave out of fear that he would leave again.

But as you watch him walk away to meet with his brother, you're overcome with the happiness of knowing your best friend is here.

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mainstreamangel · 3 months ago

Text

EXES

P. Bueckers x Uprising Star!Fem!Reader

Summary: You perform your new song 'exes' at Lollapalooza and it gains a bunch of traction.

Genre: Fluff tbh

Warning(s): indirect mentions of exes (stinky winky exes bleh)

WC: 1.1k

"Who's here tonight with their ex?" You ask in the microphone.

You're breathing pretty heavy but as an uprising star, you take as many performing gigs/events you can get to get your big break.

A few people cheer, but the majority stay quiet.

"Boooooo! Everyone say boo!" You frown.

Then your lips turn upwards at how cute the crowd is. You look over at your backup dancer and smile at them.

"You know what I like to say?" You look back at the crowd before leaning in close.

"Kisses. To. My. Exes." Slowly you turn around and the melody starts to play.

Before you were performing you had written this song about a few of your exes. Your good friend Paige Bueckers had heard about them of course.

She was like a free therapist. But she encouraged you to write out your feelings down so they wouldn't be left in the depths of your mind. She knew best so you took it upon you to construct a song about it.

You always wanted to perform songs that people could relate to, and you honestly thought you'd never get the chance to. But here you were making your way up the chain.

"P, do you remember when you told me to write about my exes?"

"Yeah what about it."

"I think I'm going to perform that song at the venue this weekend."

"That's so sick. Wish I could be there to see it."

Paige had a game that weekend and although it bummed both of you, you knew she would watch your live performance somehow.

"I'll have one of my friends record it for you."

"You better."

Oh, I'm sorry, sorry that you love me. Changed my mind up like it's origami. Oh, I'm sorry, sorry that you love me. Changed my mind up like it's origami.

The back track played the intro and you turned your upper body around. The microphone gripped tightly in your hand you lift it to your lips.

kisses to my exes who don't give a shit about me. Kisses, kisses to the next ones who think they can live without me.

"Yo wasn't your girl supposed to perform her new song at Lollapalooza tonight?" KK asked.

"She's not my girl." Paige sighed as she dried her hair.

The team suffered a close loss and she felt defeated. First she lost an important game to a bunch of players with bad sportsmanship and now she couldn't be there to support you.

"You wish."

"Yeah, I do. But it doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"She doesn't like me back."

"How do you know?"

Paige was quiet. She didn't know. She just created the most logical outcome her mind could think of to save herself heartbreak.

We make up, then we break up, then they swear they'll never call me. But I still keep their number and their necklace, kisses to my exes.

The crowd roared as they listened to this catchy song of yours. You smiled, this song meant a lot to you and you hoped that Paige was watching.

You found your friend in the crowd and saw her recording. Waving, you continued to sing, pointing at the camera.

Happens every time, I don't mean, mean to be cold, but that's how I get. Me and all my pride, tryna burn down every damn bridge any time we can, and again.

Paige was tired she just wanted to go back and rest but her friends had insisted they go out for drinks. So they arrived at the bar, a few people coming up to give their condolences and others coming for pictures or autographs.

Paige obliged but she really just wanted to relax and enjoy herself. I mean, all they did was lose one game. It's not like anyone died.

"Look it's your girl." Ice pointed to a TV that hung on the wall.

"Not my-"

"Shut up."

Paige glanced at Azzi and shook her head smiling a bit.

"Uprising superstar, [Name], is performing at Lollapalooza. She's singing an unreleased song. Could this be a teaser to a new album? Will this be her big break and bring a new wave of art to the music industry?" A reporter stated professionally to a camera.

"She's doing it." Paige muttered to herself.

She was in awe of your performance. You were perfect, your voice was perfect.

I'm a, I'm a, I'm a wild ride that never stops. I'm a, I'm a, I'm a hard case they can't unlock. And I, and I swear I care a lot, just not enough. Let's just say it is what it is and was what it was.

You put the mic down from your mouth for a few to introduce a dance break. Your body and movement awakened something in Paige.

The thought out choreography sent the crowd into a frenzy. Smiling you look over at your dancers seeing they're enjoying this as much as you were. It felt so good to get this song out.

"Damn look at her go. If I was her I would dance for days." One of Paige's teammates said.

After a bit you continue to sing and dance, bringing attention to both new coming fans and paparazzi. Now, you've reached the end of the song.

Kisses to my exes, I know that I did you dirty. Little messed up, little selfish, we ain't married, I ain't thirty.

You finished the song and your chest rose and fell heavily. Your breathing was rough but it was all worth it.

"Thank you for coming! We love you! I just want to say this song was dedicated to my many exes but it wouldn't have come to light without my favourite girl, Paige Bueckers." You smile at your friend's camera and give a hand heart.

Paige smiled at the media clip on the big screen and couldn't wait to watch it back and back again.

"Go get your girl." Azzi smirked.

Paige whipped out her phone to text you.

Yeah, we hooked up, then we broke up, then I said you really hurt me. But I still got your number and your necklace.

After the show you pull a jacket over your shoulders and pick up your phone. You had a bunch of notifications but only 2 of them mattered since they were from Paige.

P. Boogers: kisses to ur exes, i know that u've done things dirty, little messed up, little selfish, now or never, maybe hurry? yeah u've hooked up, and u broke up, sure, u got hurt but really, leave their number and their necklace, say kisses to ur exes?

You: i see songwriting in ur future u should quit basketball

P. Boogers: i'll stick to basketball, it's really ur area :)

You: like the performance?

P. Boogers: yea, can i take you out on a real date tho? that's why i wrote that btw

You smiled at your phone, getting giddy.

You: fs! can't wait x

Kisses to my exes.

#wnba #wbb #paige x reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers

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fatecantstopme · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! How are you today? I hope you are doing well today! I have read your stories well mostly of Dean and I fall in love with them! Your stories are just French kisses!! I was wondering if you are okay the the idea or available in Season 10 ep 1-3 Dean is the knight of hell but instead of Sam who found him, it has his wife or fiance reader? He doesn't harm her at all but all he wants to do is trap her and rail her all long day and night he willingly goes with her to the bunker. Something like that, I'm very sorry if it's accurate could it but smut and fluff if it's okay with you? If not that okie! Don't worry! I love your stories and Keep up on doing what you do best! Thank you and have a wonderful day!!

OMG STAHHHP. You're so sweet. I'm glad you like my writing--I love doing it! AND I LOVE THIS ASK SO FREAKING MUCH. I love you for giving me the opportunity to write Dean in the most dominating, degrading, aggressive way possible without feeling bad for making him like that. I love my soft!dom Dean...but I am so freaking into this...HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

Fiend

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: I mean...just read the lovely anon's request. So gooooood.

Warnings: An unnecessary amount of SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), choking, slight degradation, rough sex, oral (M & F receiving), face sitting, orgasm denial, Dean is very dominant. Cursing, canon violence, Mark of Cain bloodlust, use of pet names, slight domestic violence.

A/N: I 100% went overboard on this one and I have no regrets. Fair warning, it's insanely long. It doesn't follow the season 10 storyline perfectly, but we've got the core elements.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked softly.

Sam stared at you, a familiar dark expression on his face. "Do you want to find him or not?"

You closed your eyes and sighed quietly. Of course you did, but you didn't want to lose who you were along the way. "You know I do, but torture's not exactly my thing."

"It's a demon."

"Wearing an innocent woman."

"Fine. You stay out here, then."

You watched Sam enter the dungeon, clearly prepared to do whatever it took to find his brother. The first scream echoed through the hallway and straight into your chest like a knife. You couldn't stay there--didn't wanna hear what happened next.

You went as far away as you could, walking past the bedroom you hadn't entered since the night he'd died. Sam had been the one to discover he was gone--Sam had been the one who found his note. You'd cried yourself to sleep on the couch in the library, heart too broken to even move.

The next morning, you woke to Sam's shouts of your name, but nothing would prepare you for what happened next. Sam's frightened eyes met yours and all he said was "He's gone," before handing you a note.

It was Dean's handwriting. You were sure of it. All it said was "(Y/N), Sammy, let me go."

That was six weeks ago.

Simple as the request was, it wasn't something either you or Sam could do, nor could Castiel. The three of you loved that man too much to just let him go.

At this point, all you knew was Dean was gone and Crowley was with him. Dean's handwriting on the note was the only indicator he wasn't dead...but you'd watched him die. You'd held him in your arms. The only possible answer was that Crowley had gotten a demon to possess Dean's body and rode off into the sunset with him. What you didn't know was why.

**********

Torturing the demon hadn't exactly proven fruitful, but Sam did manage to find a case he thought was connected to Dean. He was convinced the death of a man named Drew Neely was related to demons--and possibly to the missing Winchester.

While it seemed like quite a stretch to you, you were willing to go with him to Wisconsin and find out what happened.

As per usual, you and Sam pretended to be FBI to get inside information on the investigation. Much to your surprise, when the local PD showed you and Sam security footage from the gas station where Drew Neely was murdered, you saw a very familiar face.

You'd know him anywhere--Dean Winchester, seemingly alive and well, being attacked by Drew Neely. You watched as Dean pulled the First Blade from inside his jacket and stabbed Neely repeatedly. As the other man died violently, you watched in horror as Dean's normally beautiful green eyes turned black as night.

You looked up at Sam, whose expression matched your own. It looked like Sam's suspicions were correct--Dean was in fact possessed by a demon. Your only thought was saving him, even though you knew you'd really only be saving his body. You'd be damned if you let some demon scum ride around in Dean's body forever.

When you left the station, Sam turned to you, eyes full of a mixture of sorrow and anger. "Wanna go to the gas station? See if there's anything there?"

You nodded, still a little too upset to do much talking. Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. He knew full-well how difficult this whole thing was for you. This wasn't Sam's first experience with his brother's death, but it was a first for you. He could tell the loss was killing you slowly, especially with Dean's body being defiled by some demon asshole.

When you arrived at the gas station, you were both surprised when the clerk handed you Neely's phone. You wondered why he hadn't given it over to the police, but at the moment, you couldn't be bothered to care. You wanted answers and this phone might be the key.

"There's a text from a number not saved in the contacts," Sam said as he scrolled through the phone's contents.

You leaned forward to look at the screen. "An Abbadon loyalist," you mumbled. "Lovely. But who the hell told Neely Dean was even here?"

Sam shrugged as he pressed the call button, dialing the number on the screen. "Only one way to find out."

When the voice on the other end of the phone answered, the rage that had been simmering inside of you for 6 weeks finally overflowed. "Crowley, you son of a bitch!" you yelled.

The chuckle on the other end did nothing to ease your anger. "Well hello (Y/N). I was wondering when I'd hear from you. Can I assume your avenging Moose is there too?"

You were about to tear into Crowley, but Sam placed a firm hand on your shoulder and shook his head. You clamped your mouth shut so tightly your jaw began to ache.

"Where the hell is my brother, you son of a bitch?"

"Maybe if you were nicer to me, I'd help you."

"Why don't you just start by telling us why you sent an Abbadon loyalist after Dean in the first place?" you growled.

"How else was I supposed to keep the bloodlust at bay? The Mark wants what the Mark wants."

You inhaled sharply, the ache in your chest intensifying at his words. Even in death, the damn Mark of Cain was still torturing Dean.

"Where are you?" Sam tried again.

"Oh please, Samuel, as if I'm going to tell you. Your brother and I are having a grand ol' time together. I quite like this version of him. I'm sure you and (Y/N) are jealous over our new relationship, but I simply can't be bothered to care."

"If Dean wasn't possessed, there's no way he'd be with you," you seethed.

Crowley's laughter echoed through the phone, sending cold shivers down your back. "You think he's possessed? That's not how the Mark works, sweetheart."

The condescension in his tone made you want to crawl through the phone and rip his throat out, but you managed to bite your tongue.

"The Mark twists the soul--darkening it with each kill--until all that remains is darkness," Crowley gloated. "So you see, Dean isn't possessed by a demon, he is one. Not just any demon either—a knight of hell."

You took a step back, suddenly feeling incredibly nauseous. Out of all the scenarios that had run through your mind when Dean went missing, this wasn't one of them. There was no worse way to dishonor his memory--his legacy--than this.

You vaguely heard Sam yelling into the phone, but your mind was spinning too quickly for you to comprehend a single word. Your entire world had just been tipped on its head and you weren't sure how to find solid ground again.

You doubled over, breath coming out in painful heaves. Bile rose in the back of your throat and you found yourself hurling the limited amount of food you'd eaten all over the sidewalk.

You felt Sam's strong, comforting hand on your back as he tried to calm you. After several more dry heaves, you managed to stand back up, eyes bloodshot from the exertion.

Sam's gaze was gentle, but you could see the pain in his eyes. As much as you loved Dean, you knew Sam loved him just as much. You couldn't afford to break down now--not when the two people you loved most in this world needed you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"No need to apologize, (Y/N/N). This is a lot to take in."

You simply nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

"I think I know how to find them."

Your head snapped up, meeting Sam's gaze with hope for the first time in weeks. "How?"

"I think I can track Crowley's phone."

You shot Sam a weak grin. "Thank god you're a genius. Let's go."

Before heading to Crowley's last known location, you and Sam discussed your findings thus far. You now knew Dean wasn't technically dead--which meant there was a slight chance you could use the ritual you'd tried on Crowley over a year ago.

There was a chance you could make Dean human again--and it was a risk you were more than willing to make. Knowing Dean was still in there--still alive--made you more reckless than you'd ever been. You were determined to bring him home, no matter the cost.

**********

You and Sam decided to split up, determining you had more of a shot at bringing Dean home that way. Sam went one route and you went the other, stealing a car to make your journey.

You didn’t realize it, but this decision would result in a cascade of events that would put you right in the crosshairs of the demon your husband had become—alone.

As you sped along the dark highway towards the Black Spur, you were left with nothing to do but listen to the thoughts swirling around your mind. Without Sam there to keep you occupied, your inner turmoil had begun to rear its ugly head.

Out of all the things you’d expected to happen when Dean died, becoming a demon had not been among them. Being possessed was one thing—being a demon was another thing entirely.

You knew exactly how Dean would feel about it, if he’d actually had the ability to feel, and it broke your heart. He was the strongest man you’d ever known, but this would break him. Even worse, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what you would feel when you found him.

You loved Dean Winchester with every part of your soul. He was your best friend, your lover, your partner, your husband. He was the man who never failed to make you laugh or bring a smile to your face. He held you when you cried, took care of you when you were hurt, and made love to you like you were the only thing tethering him to earth. But you knew that man was gone—all that remained was the beautiful body that once held the most incredible soul you’d ever known.

You felt the tears well up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn’t fix things and you’d done more than enough of that in the last month. Instead, you focused on what you were going to do when you found Dean.

You had no idea how you were going to convince him to come back to the bunker with you. You weren’t even sure he wouldn’t kill you if you tried to force him. You’d come prepared, but you would die before killing him. End of the day, he was Dean—somewhere inside him was the man you loved.

Part of you hoped Sammy would get there first—that he’d be the one to find Dean. Then he’d be faced with the decision of what to do next, sparing you the pain. You knew that wasn’t fair, but if you were being honest, you didn’t trust yourself to do this alone. One single look at his face could very well be your undoing.

You sighed quietly and glanced at your GPS. Only a couple hours to go before you would find out for yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam had managed to get himself kidnapped when his car broke down on the way to the Black Spur, which meant he most definitely would not be beating you there. Unfortunately for you, that meant confronting Dean would be entirely on your shoulders--a weight you certainly didn't wish to carry.

**********

A few hours later, you arrived at the Black Spur, unsurprised and maybe a bit relieved to see that Dean was no longer there. You talked to the bouncer Dean had beat the shit out of the night before, so you knew you weren't very far behind him.

What you didn't know was Crowley and Dean had a rather intense falling out due to Dean's ever-growing aggressive behavior and complete and utter lack of respect for Crowley.

After leaving the Black Spur, you decided to stop at a motel, get some sleep, and wait for Sam. You'd tried calling him to no avail and you were starting to worry, but you knew Sam could take care of himself.

You'd just managed to fall asleep when your phone rang. It was Sam.

"Everything alright?" you asked.

"Got kidnapped by some guy named Cole."

"Sorry, what?"

"Apparently Dean killed his dad when he was a teenager and now he wants revenge. He kidnapped me hoping I would tell him where Dean was. He admitted he was trying to get us both, but he hadn't expected us to split up."

"Great. Just what we need. Some random human hunting the best hunter-turned-demon in history."

Sam sighed his agreement. "Cole called Dean...and he actually answered."

"What?!"

"Told him he'd kill me if Dean didn't give himself up."

You paused for a moment, breath caught in your chest. "And?"

"He refused. Told Cole he'd given me explicit instructions to let him go--and it was my fault for not listening to him," Sam said with a huff. "Then he told Cole if he killed me, he'd hunt him down and kill him."

You chuckled dryly. "That actually sounds like Dean."

Sam chuckled softly with you. "Yeah...it does."

You could hear the sorrow in his voice and you knew it matched your own. Seeing even the slightest sliver of your Dean in this demon version was beyond painful.

"I managed to get away while he was distracted. I'm on my way to the Black Spur now," Sam said after a few moments.

"He's not here. I've looked."

You could almost hear Sam's chest deflate as the hope left him. "Any sign of where they might've gone next?"

"No," you answered softly. "And Crowley turned his damn phone off."

Sam sighed heavily. "We'll find him, (Y/N)."

You wanted to believe him--wanted to have that kind of faith, but you'd lost steam. There wasn't a trail to follow, and even if there was, you weren't sure you should follow it. Dean had left Sam to die all because he'd ignored Dean's instructions. What would he do to you if you found him?

You ignored the tightening in your chest, pushing down your emotions as deeply as you could before wrapping up your call. You told Sam what motel you were in and that you'd see him in a couple hours.

You'd just laid back down when there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and slipped an angel blade into the waistband of your pants before moving towards the door. When you looked through the peephole, your eyes nearly popped out of your skull.

You ripped open the door with surprising force, angel blade pointing at the visitor's throat.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing," Crowley grumbled.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Because I know where your husband is."

Your expression softened slightly, but the blade remained pressed to his neck. "Are you going to tell me or do I need to beat it out of you."

Crowley laughed mirthlessly. "Oh please, (Y/N). We all know you aren't capable of torture."

He was right, of course, but you would never admit it. Instead, you narrowed your eyes and pressed the blade a little more firmly into his skin.

The demon winced and threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine! I'll tell you. Just put that thing down."

You remained still for a moment before stepping back and allowing him entry into your room. You closed the door behind him, keeping the blade securely in your hand. "Talk."

"It's more that I know how to find him and less that I know where he is."

You clenched your jaw, feeling the simmering rage begin to boil. "This entire thing is your fault, Crowley, so if you want to stay alive, I suggest you speak plainly."

"We're not exactly on good terms at the moment."

Your eyes scanned his face and a small smirk appeared on yours. "He get tired of you?"

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "We had a disagreement over how to handle his bloodlust. Plus, he's even more arrogant than he was as a human."

Your heart clenched at the word 'bloodlust'. You'd hoped it had subsided in his death, but that damn Mark wouldn't quit until it took every last vestige of humanity left in Dean.

"Fine, so he left your ass in the dust. How do you plan to find him?"

"I have several demons watching his every move. I can't have him making too much of a mess. His type of chaos is bad for business."

"Then make a call and tell me where he is."

"Happily," Crowley paused. "On one condition."

"There it is," you grumbled.

"It's a simple request, really. All I want in return is the First Blade."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons, and I'm quite certain you don't want it in Dean's hands."

You thought about it for a few moments. "If you screw me over, I will burn your sordid kingdom to the ground around you before killing you in the most painful way possible."

Crowley almost seemed impressed. "I think you've spent a little too much time with Dean."

"Not nearly enough," you mumbled under your breath. "Do we have an understanding?"

"I tell you where to find Dean, you give me the Blade."

"You take me to Dean, I give you the Blade," you countered.

A look of fear flashed across his face. "I'd really rather not."

"I don't give a damn. You made this mess, so you're gonna help us out of it."

Crowley sighed. "Fine."

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand, but Crowley interrupted you before you could dial.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Sam."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why the hell not?"

"You will have better luck persuading Dean than Sam will. You've never once betrayed Dean--never let him down. Sam cannot say the same. As such, it's likely Dean will be more likely to have a soft spot for you, even now."

You contemplated his words for several moments, before shaking your head. "Sam's his brother. He needs to know."

Crowley snapped his fingers, sending your phone flying across the room and into the wall with shocking speed, shattering it instantly.

"You son of a bitch!"

"You want my help? We go alone. Sam can catch up."

You glared at him in annoyance, before sighing quietly. "Fine. But I'm driving."

**********

"A piano bar?" you asked in surprise as you parked across the street.

"That's what they said."

Your eyes scanned the street before landing on a familiar black Chevy Impala. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing you were about to come face to face with your worst nightmare.

Crowley's gaze followed yours and he hummed quietly. "As I said, he's here."

"Get out," you hissed. "You're coming in too."

"Pardon?"

"Do you want the Blade, Crowley? Then get out of the damn car."

He huffed, but did as you said. You gestured for him to walk ahead of you, effectively blocking you from sight from the inside of the bar.

The moment Crowley entered, Dean felt his presence. "Didn't expect you to come back," he stated as he sipped some whiskey.

Hearing his voice sent a wave of emotion through your body, having not heard it in weeks.

Dean seemed to realize Crowley wasn't alone and you heard him inhale deeply. "I'd know that scent anywhere." He finally turned around to face the two of you. "(Y/N)."

"Hello Dean," you said softly, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. The idea he could smell you from several feet away was both a reminder of who he'd become, and an uncomfortable turn-on.

Dean glared at Crowley, realizing he had given his location up. Before he could say anything to him, you stepped forward, causing Dean's gaze to snap back to you.

"I suggest you run before I rip your heart out and feed it to you," you growled under your breath, not sparing another look in Crowley’s direction.

Crowley immediately stepped back, exiting the bar as quickly as possible.

"I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to work with Crowley," Dean said lowly.

"Means to an end."

"Hmm." He took a long drink of his whiskey before placing the empty glass on the counter. "I'm surprised you're here alone."

"Glad you asked--Sam's fine. No thanks to you."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he stood up, taking a step towards you. "I gave both of you very explicit instructions to let me go. What happens to you when you disobey is not my fault."

You inhaled sharply, body reacting to his words without approval from your brain. You clenched your jaw, trying to appear calmer than you felt.

Dean had always been extremely perceptive, and his demon abilities only heightened it. He took another predatory step towards you. "I can see your turmoil, sweetheart--you want me and you hate yourself for it."

You scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself--you're not Dean."

He laughed and the sound sent chills down your spine. "That's where you're wrong--I'm 100% Dean, just the new and improved version."

You felt a pang in your chest. "I'll have to disagree on the 'improved' part."

Dean started to slowly circle you, like a predator hunting his prey. "Aren't you the least bit curious, (Y/N)?" Each ring brought him closer and closer to you, until you could feel his body heat enveloping you. "Don't you want to know about all the things I can do now? All the ways I can wreck that pretty little body of yours?"

You felt his breath on the back of your neck--and you were embarrassed when your lips parted and your own breathing sped up.

"I can hear your heart racing, sweetheart." The pet name dripped with condescension--his voice low and gruff, barely above a growl. You felt a wave of arousal rush to your core, thighs rubbing together on instinct.

The movement didn't go unnoticed by Dean, who let out a dark chuckle. His lips brushed against your ear as he inhaled deeply. "I can smell how badly you want me, (Y/N)."

His hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you back so you were flush against his front. You felt his hard length pressing into you through his jeans, a soft needy sound escaping your lips.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving you feeling vulnerable and embarrassed. He might be wearing your husband's face, but he was a demon for christ's sake! You should be as far from turned on as humanly possible.

He came to a stop in front of you, close enough to touch you, but far enough to allow you some clarity. "I imagine you came here to talk me into coming home?"

You didn't bother to reply, it was obvious he could read you as well as he did as a human.

"If I'd wanted to be human again, I wouldn't have left. I'm as familiar with the cure as you are, sweetheart--and it's not worth it to me. I like who I am--I like being a demon. All that baggage I carried as a human? It's gone--I've never felt more free, (Y/N), and I'm not giving that up."

Much to Dean's surprise, your expression morphed into quiet understanding, eyes softening as you watched him closely. He felt uncomfortable under your gaze, so he flashed his eyes black in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

You winced slightly, hating seeing those demon eyes obscuring the brilliant green you loved so much. Your expression, however, remained soft. "Your life wasn't easy," you murmured gently. "There was a lot of heartbreak, pain, and loss...not to mention the weight of the entire world on your shoulders for most of your adult life. I can understand why you'd prefer this...you no longer have to give a damn."

Dean wanted to be annoyed--he wanted to be angry, his need for control surging inside him. Instead, he found himself stepping closer to you again--drawn to your soft eyes and sweet expression. Somewhere deep inside, emotions began to stir.

What had once been a deep, unending love for you, had turned to a lust so powerful, it threatened to devour you both. His eyes turned back to green, but the irises were barely visible around his widened pupils. His gaze was hungry, the predatory look having returned with a vengeance.

"How 'bout we go back to my room?" he purred lowly.

You knew you should say no--you shouldn't go anywhere alone with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to deny him.

"Are you afraid of me, (Y/N)?"

"You're a knight of hell," you whispered. "I'd have to be a fool not to be."

He smirked coldly. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you, sweetheart?"

Despite the darkness within him--despite what he had become--you believed in your heart he would never hurt you.

"No," you murmured honestly.

His smirk widened, rough fingers reaching out to grip your jaw tightly. "Oh I will hurt you, baby--but only in the ways you like."

You inhaled sharply, a wave of arousal dampening your panties even further. Your lips parted slightly, eyes never leaving his.

"You're coming with me," he growled possessively, hand gripping your wrist tightly as he dragged you to the door.

He pulled you roughly out onto the sidewalk and practically dragged you to the Impala, pulling the door open and shoving you into the passenger seat.

His aggression was a turn-on, none of his actions thus far having hurt you. You were certain you'd have bruising on your wrist from where he grabbed you, but you were completely fine with it.

He drove in silence at a speed that sent little waves of terror through you. The hotel he was staying at wasn't far, but he still made it there in record time. It was a much nicer place than the ones you usually stayed in, but you weren't surprised that Dean's tastes had become a little more bougie.

He dragged you into the elevator, pulling your back flush against his chest, hands gripping your upper arms like iron vices. You squirmed slightly and he let out a low growl, grip tightening.

"You move like that again and I'm gonna fuck you in this damn elevator," he hissed.

Part of you was into it, but you also didn't want to get caught fucking your demon husband in a public elevator. So you remained as still as possible until the doors opened on his floor and he pulled you down the hall to his room.

Once inside, Dean slammed the door with force, pinning you up against it so your cheek was pressed into it. His body was molded up against yours and his hot breath fanned across your neck. You felt his teeth scrape your pulse point, earning a low moan from you.

"You have one chance to get out of this," he growled. "One chance to say no and walk away before I fucking devour you."

If you'd had any sense, you would have ran away and never looked back, but you were already too far gone. He might not be the Dean you married, but he was still Dean--just the much darker, much wilder version.

"Fuck me, Dean," you begged softly.

He groaned lowly. "Oh I'm gonna do so much more than that sweetheart."

He ground his bulge into your back and bit into the soft flesh in the crook of your neck, causing you to whimper slightly.

"Wanna know the best part about being a demon?" he purred in your ear as he tugged your head back by your hair so he could see your eyes.

You nodded your head as best you could and waited for him to continue.

"I can have multiple orgasms and I've got the stamina of a god," he murmured. "I can fuck you all night long if I want to--and damnit I want to."

He spun you around quickly, slamming you against the wall beside the door. His lips were on yours immediately, tongue invading your mouth before you could even process what was happening.

You whimpered softly as his lips left yours and he began to kiss and nip his way across your jaw, down your throat, and to your collarbone. He wasn't being gentle, but you still found yourself wanting more--needing more.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, unused to the longer locks. It gave you more to grab, giving you a firmer grip on his head--and you loved it. If the groan that left Dean's mouth was any indication, he loved it too.

You felt his hands grasping at the front of your shirt before ripping it right in half. You yelped in surprise, but he ignored you, instead grabbing the edges of your bra and tugging them down to reveal your breasts.

"Oh, I missed these," Dean murmured before leaning back down to pull your nipple into his mouth. He used both hands to massage your breasts harshly, fingertips pinching at your exposed nipple while he nipped and sucked on the other.

You were panting heavily--almost to an embarrassing degree given how little this man had actually done to you. You found yourself falling into a familiar role with him, though he was much rougher than you were accustomed to.

When he switched to suck on your other breast, he slipped one hand down your stomach to the top of your jeans. He unfastened them easily before sliding his hand into them to cup your very wet pussy.

You felt Dean's smirk against your breast a moment before he lifted his head to look at your face. "Your panties are soaked," he groaned. "How long have you been thinking about me fucking you senseless?"

Your eyes weren't entirely focused on him and you didn't respond right away, so he grabbed your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You respond when I ask you a question."

You gasped softly before whimpering out an answer, "Since I saw you in the bar."

He gave you a look clearly indicating his disbelief. "Really?" His fingers pressed more firmly against your pussy, brushing against your clit purposefully. He ignored your soft moan, but you saw the smirk in his eyes. "You didn't imagine me fucking you while you played with your pretty pussy? Don't lie to me, sweetheart, I know you can't go almost 2 months without an orgasm."

You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your honest response.

His eyes flashed black and your heart leapt into your throat, a surge of fear sweeping through you. "Don't be a brat, (Y/N)," he growled. "You know what will happen."

Under normal circumstances, you'd play into the bratty role--it always got Dean riled up. But this wasn't a normal situation and he wasn't the normal Dean. Dean had always been a very loving and affectionate dom, but you knew demon Dean was about as far from loving and affectionate as one could be. You didn't want to see exactly how far he'd go if you pushed his buttons.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Answer my question."

"I did imagine you," you said so softly he almost didn't hear you.

He pretended to have missed your words and he leaned in closer. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I imagined you," you said again, slightly louder.

"I know." He simultaneously bit into your neck and rubbed his fingers against your clothed clit, eliciting a wanton moan from your lips.

"There are lots of women in this world that'll fall right into my bed with a single look from me, but not a single one has a pussy like yours. Been dreamin' of it for weeks."

His words hurt you, but you pushed those feelings aside and tried to focus on the positive of the backhanded compliment he'd just given you.

He suddenly stepped back, leaving you completely untethered and weaker than you'd expected. Had the wall not been right behind you, you'd be on the floor right now.

His eyes roamed your disheveled body hungrily, possessively. He backed up towards the bed, taking off his shirt as he went. He sat down on the edge, eyes still glued to your body. "Come here."

You did as he asked, too afraid to disobey him.

"Strip."

You started to remove your clothes quickly, but his gravelly voice stopped you. "Slower."

You very slowly removed each article of clothing until you were completely bare. While you'd been naked hundreds of times in front of Dean, this time was different. You felt self-conscious under his hard gaze, afraid he wouldn't like what he saw.

He seemed to sense your discomfort, and to your surprise he assuaged it instantly. "Becoming a demon didn't make me stop loving that body of yours, sweetheart. It's still my favorite thing in the world."

You relaxed instantly, feeling pleased that he liked your body so much. A soft voice in the back of your mind pointed out he'd said your body was his favorite, not you--but you pushed that thought aside for the sake of your heart.

He spread his legs wide and leaned back on his hands, appreciative gaze roaming your exposed flesh. "Now, show me how you like your pretty pussy to be touched."

You bit your lip, keeping your eyes locked on his face as you slid one hand to your breasts and the other to your aching pussy. Dean's eyes watched as you slipped your fingers between your folds, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

You toyed with your clit gently, little moans and whimpers filling the room. You watched as Dean removed his belt and stood up to take off his jeans and underwear. When you finally got a good view of his cock you moaned a little louder, and his eyes flicked up to your face. He smirked when he realized what had caused that noise to come out of your mouth.

He stepped towards you, gripping his large cock firmly in his dominant hand, stroking it slowly. Your own hand had slowed nearly to a stop, but Dean wouldn't have any of that. "Did I say you could stop?"

You quickly sped back up, wanting to please him with an unhealthy level of desperation.

"You're such a good girl for me. My little slut," he said lowly. "Saw the way you looked at my cock, baby--bet you want it in your mouth."

You nodded rapidly.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. "On your knees."

You dropped to your knees instantly, ready and willing to give him want he asked for.

"Open your mouth. Now."

Your mouth opened obediently, waiting for his next move.

"You gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours?"

You nodded eagerly.

"So fucking sexy like this," he murmured. "Gonna make you choke on my cock."

He gave no further warning before grabbing the back of your head and tugging you down onto his cock. You gagged as his large member slammed into the back of your throat, a burning sensation accompanying it.

His hips moved rapidly as he fucked your face harshly--it was as if you were an inanimate object, only there to give him pleasure.

This level of roughness was new for you, and you were surprised to find how much you were enjoying it. Your eyes watered, spit dribbled down your jaw, and your pussy dripped.

The ache was almost unbearable, so you slipped a hand between your legs to provide yourself some relief.

Dean's observant gaze saw the action and he grinned. "Such a dirty little slut aren't you? Getting off on sucking my cock."

You moaned around him, pulling a surprised groan from deep in his throat. He gripped your head tighter, thrusts speeding up. "Fuck--love this mouth," he ground out.

The force of his thrusts made you pause your own ministrations, attention focused solely on the intensity of his motions. You gripped his strong thighs tightly, nails digging into the soft flesh.

"Oh fuck yes--gonna cum in this sweet little mouth, baby."

You moaned in response.

"Yeah? You want that? Want me to cum down your throat?"

You moaned again and tried to nod.

"How could I deny my little slut?" His grip tightened even further on your head, pulling your hair painfully. With one final thrust, he spilled his load into your mouth, hot ropes of cum filling your throat.

You swallowed every drop he gave you, knowing he'd certainly punish you if even a single drop left your mouth.

Even Dean had to admit, he hadn't had an orgasm that good since he'd become a demon--and watching you swallow all of his cum like that had him wanting more. "Greedy, are we?"

You licked your lips as you looked up at him. "I can't help it. You just taste so good."

He was taken aback by your statement, cock twitching in response. Perks of being a demon, he thought to himself. Already ready for round two. "On the bed, feet off the end."

You got up and laid down on the bed, face up. You weren't moving quickly enough for Dean, so he grabbed your ankles and roughly pulled you towards him. Your ass was now hanging off the bed slightly and your pussy was at the perfect height for him to enjoy from his knees.

There was something incredibly thrilling about seeing Dean on his knees for you. While it wasn't the first time, you doubted demon Dean was the kind of man who'd get on his knees for anyone.

"Now I'm gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours until I get my fill, understand? If you try to stop me, you will be punished."

"Yes, Dean."

"Good girl," he mumbled. He spread your legs as wide as they would go and breathed deeply. He licked his lips subconsciously before diving into you.

As always, Dean knew exactly what to do to drive you wild--he'd learned how to read your body years ago. His tongue felt incredible, large and flat, licking from the bottom of your pussy to the top, giving your clit a gentle flick, then repeating.

You shifted your hips, trying to get him to speed up, which he ignored. Instead, he laid his arm across your lower belly, holding you in place so he could continue his work.

After several more moments of this agonizing pace, he finally relented, lips wrapping around your clit to suck it into his mouth. You cried out in pleasure, legs already beginning to shake.

His motions were rhythmic, sucking your clit and licking it intermittently, as if he couldn't decide which one he preferred. As your moans grew in intensity, he knew you were getting closer. He had plans for you this evening--and your first orgasm of the night was going to be from his mouth and nothing else.

Your fingers had tangled in his hair and you were desperately trying to grind yourself against his face, but his arm prevented you from moving. He switched to focus all of his attention on your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue at an insane rate of speed.

You cried out as you came, the orgasm breathtaking in its intensity and pleasure. Dean worked you through the high, but didn't make any signs of stopping.

You remembered his words from earlier, so you kept your mouth shut even though the sensitivity was overwhelming.

When he felt your body begin to relax and the soft moans began to leave your lips again, he slowed his pace way down. He wanted to take his time now, enjoying your taste and the sweet sounds you made for him.

He slid two of his fingers into you, pressing gently against your g-spot before sliding them back out. His tongue laved at your clit, moans of his own giving it the slightest vibrations.

When your pussy started clenching tightly around his fingers and your breathing had become more labored, he sped up. He sucked and licked at your clit, nipping ever so gently at the hood, causing you to yelp softly.

Your fingers had once again found their way to his hair and you were holding on for dear life. You felt your orgasm building--it was so close. You voiced as much to Dean, even though he was already very aware.

You were just about to reach your peak when Dean suddenly slowed down--to an agonizingly slow pace.

"No, no, no--please!" you begged.

Dean ignored your pleas, opting to focus on his activities instead. He sped up just a tiny bit, building your orgasm back up.

The louder your moans became, the faster Dean went. Your orgasm was approaching once again and you begged Dean not to stop.

You were a second away from your orgasm when Dean once again slowed his motions. You cried out in anguish as the blissful feeling faded away.

"Please, Dean," you whimpered.

He lifted his head slightly, fingers still moving very slowly against your g-spot. "I'm not done with this pussy yet. Tastes too good for me to stop."

"But I need to cum," you cried.

"You'll cum when I let you cum," he said harshly.

His mouth dropped back to your pussy, focus once again on enjoying his feast.

Dean did this two more times--denying you an orgasm mere seconds before one was to occur. By this point, you were crying and begging him to just let you cum--you couldn't stand the ache any longer.

Dean decided he had listened to your babbling pleas for long enough. He pulled away from you, leaving you whimpering shamefully.

Dean laid down on the bed beside you. "Get up here. I'm not finished yet."

You were confused, so you didn't move fast enough for him. He smacked your breast harshly and you yelped in pain.

"I said, get up here. Now."

"I don't understand," you whimpered.

Dean sighed in exasperation. "Sit on my face so I can eat you properly."

It's not like you hadn't done this with him before. It was something you'd always known Dean enjoyed, but your brain was so fuzzy with need, it hadn't even crossed your mind.

You pulled yourself up and straddled his head. He didn't wait for you to sit down, he simply grabbed your hips and tugged you down to his waiting mouth.

You moaned in pleasure instantly, the sound spurring him on. He knew you were in for an incredibly intense orgasm and he was dying to taste it--to feel you coat his mouth and face with your sweet juices.

He had you on the brink in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but you couldn't be bothered to feel any shame. You were grinding down on his face, using him for your own pleasure.

You prayed he wouldn't stop this time--the need to cum so overwhelming it was painful. You were gripping onto the headboard for support as you rode his face, moans slowly rising in pitch as you neared climax.

Dean's fingers dug into your upper thighs and hips so tightly there were sure to be bruises. He could tell you were close, so he sped up his motions, desperate for you to cum.

"Dean--I-I'm gonna--"

You finally came with a scream of his name--the sound so loud it likely woke the entire hotel. Your legs shook violently, the pleasure so blinding you nearly blacked out.

It wasn't until you felt someone lifting you and laying you on your back that you started to become aware of your surroundings again.

Dean watched you, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. He reached out and brushed your hair from your face where it had stuck to your sweaty skin. It was an oddly affectionate gesture for a demon.

He waited patiently for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings--come back down to earth, as it were. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, you smiled, forgetting for a moment that he was anything but the man you loved.

"That was...in-incredible," you mumbled breathlessly.

He grinned. "Happy to be of service."

You smiled in return, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Dean crawled on top of you, arms on either side of your body, ensuring you couldn't get away. "I'm no where near done with you yet."

"You give me another orgasm like that and you just might kill me."

He grinned wolfishly, eyes darkening with lust. "Oh sweetheart...you have no idea what I could do to you."

You weren't sure if it was a threat or a promise, but you were incredibly turned-on by it. Dean could see the rapid rise and fall of your chest beneath him...and he knew his words had the desired effect.

He grabbed his cock and rubbed it very gently between your folds. You inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"Do you want my cock?"

You nodded rapidly.

"Come on baby, I wanna hear you say it."

"I want your cock."

"Good girl," he murmured, repeating his earlier motion. "Now beg for it."

Your eyes widened and he gave you a warning look. You knew you had to beg or else. "I want your cock so badly."

"Mhmm."

"I need it."

"Keep going."

"I...I wanna feel you inside me."

"Come on, sweetheart," he chided. "I know you can do better than that."

"I want you to fuck me, Dean. Please--I need you."

He slipped the tip of his cock into you and you whimpered softly. "Give me a little more, baby."

"I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name," you begged. "I'll be so good for you--I promise."

He plunged into you without warning, sheathing himself deep in your warm, wet heat. "That's my good girl," he moaned.

He started to move slowly, in and out, each direction painfully slow. "My god have I missed this pussy," he said as if to himself.

You whined beneath him, hoping he'd get the hint and pick up the pace.

He looked down at your needy expression and smirked. "Patience, baby. I'll make those knees weak--don't you worry."

He leaned down to kiss you roughly, one hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he deepened the kiss. His thrusts started to speed up, matching the pace he'd set with his tongue in your mouth.

After several moments, he pulled himself up, grabbing your legs and putting one on each side of his head. The new position allowed him to hit that spot so deep inside you, you'd thought it was a myth until you met him.

He began to piston in and out of you, each thrust hard and fast. Each time he'd pull almost all the way out slowly before slamming back into you with force--cock brushing up against your cervix with each thrust.

It didn't take long before you were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. He loved seeing how fucked out you were--knowing that it was all because of him.

"Whose pussy is this?"

Your eyes shot open. "Yours!" you gasped.

"That's right, baby. Mine," he growled. "No one gets to touch you like this but me."

"No one," you confirmed breathlessly.

His eyes flashed black. "I'll kill anyone who even looks at you like he wants to fuck you."

You inhaled sharply. Dean had always been a very protective man--possessive even--but this was a whole new level. You had no doubt in your mind that he was completely serious. He would most certainly murder a man for daring to have so much as an unclean thought about you.

It probably shouldn't have turned you on, but it did--his possessive nature infinitely more intense now that he was a demon. Your pussy clenched down tightly around him, signaling how much you liked his words.

"That turns you on, huh? You like the thought of me owning you? Owning this pussy?"

"Yes!" you cried out as he continued to pound into you.

"Lucky for you, I'm never letting you go again," he growled. His thrusts were fast and hard, his focus on feeling you cum around his cock.

His words had an immediate effect on you, his possessiveness almost affectionate in that moment. It was exactly what you needed to fall over the edge with a low moan of his name.

"Fuck!" he groaned as he tried to maintain his speed. Your pussy was squeezing him so tightly he could barely move. "Jesus, baby--gotta stop squeezing me like that."

"Sorry," you whimpered, trying to relax your body.

Dean's hips began to move again and he leaned forward to kiss your jawline. "Don't apologize--not your fault this pussy feels so fuckin' good--made for me."

You gasped softly, skin flushing at his praise.

He pulled out of you without warning and roughly flipped you onto your stomach. His palm landed on your ass with a firm smack, causing you to jump slightly.

"Lift your hips," he ordered.

You did as he asked and he slid into you, immediately setting a brutal pace. He alternated between smacking your ass, pulling your hair, and gripping your hips so you couldn't move.

Your pussy pulsed and fluttered around his cock, the pleasure becoming unbearable. "Dean--s-so close," you moaned.

"I know--you're squeezing me so tight," he replied through gritted teeth. "But don't you dare cum until I give you permission."

"But, I--"

He grabbed you by the hair, tugging you up so your back was pressed against his chest. He nipped at your ear and pressed his hand firmly against your neck--not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know he could.

His voice was low and demanding when he spoke again, "Be a good girl for me, (Y/N), and I won't have to hurt you. But if you disobey me, I will take everything I want and give you nothing, do you understand?"

"Yes," you whispered breathily.

"Good." He released you suddenly, letting your body fall back onto the bed as he renewed his painful thrusts.

You used all of your concentration to focus on not cumming until he allowed you to, but the more time passed, the more painful it was not to orgasm.

"Dean, please--I-I can't t-take it," you cried.

"Yes you can, baby. You're already taking my cock so well."

"Ne-need to cum," you begged.

Dean thought about it for a moment and made a decision. His hips slowed and he leaned forward to speak close to your ear. "You can cum after I do."

You whimpered, head nodding your agreement.

Dean's hands gripped onto your hips, holding them in place as he pistoned in and out of you, chasing his own high. He heard your desperate whimpers and felt your pussy spasming around him, but all he cared about was his release.

His hips began to falter as pleasure licked up his spine moments before he came with a guttural groan, spilling his seed deep inside you.

The moment you felt his cum begin to fill you up, your own orgasm crashed into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

Dean worked you through your high before pulling out of you and letting you collapse on the bed. His large body hovered over yours as he pressed kisses into your heated skin.

His cock was still throbbing with need, despite having just had an incredible orgasm. He knew you were exhausted, but he hadn't had his fill of you yet.

He rolled you back over and slid inside of you, slowly bottoming out with a breathless moan. You whimpered at the sensation, pussy too sensitive and overstimulated for another round.

"No--no more, Dean, please."

"I warned you, sweetheart...told you I wanted to fuck you all night."

"It--it's too much."

He slowly slid out of you and slowly slid back in. "I know you can take it."

You shook your head. "I can't--"

Dean grabbed your wrists and pulled them over your head, holding them tightly in place with one hand. The motion forced him lower, making his body weight press firmly against you.

His lips brushed against yours and his voice was almost pained when he whispered, "I'll be gentle."

You saw the need in his mossy green eyes and your resolve crumbled. You supposed you could allow him at least one more orgasm. "Alright," you murmured.

He smiled at you before kissing you deeply, thoroughly enjoying the taste and feel of you. His thrusts were slow and measured, much more gentle than they'd been before.

To your surprise, the friction wasn't as painful as you'd expected. In fact, you found yourself enjoying the slow feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the thick vein on the underside throbbing inside you.

He let go of your wrists to hold himself up a little, allowing him more room to move. His eyes traced your face as he fucked you, the action incredibly intimate despite the situation.

After several minutes of gentle thrusts, Dean pulled himself up into a sitting position and pulled you along with him. You weren't strong enough to hold yourself up properly, but he was more than capable of keeping your body where he wanted it.

He leaned back, lying flat against the bed, with you now straddling him. You put your hands on his chest for leverage as you began to ride him.

Dean let out a soft moan, which you echoed when he pulled your hips down flush against his so you couldn't move. He pressed his hand firmly against your lower belly and you gasped in pleasure.

"You feel that, baby? Feel my cock so deep inside you? Feels so fuckin' good."

You nodded rapidly, not trusting your voice to actually speak.

Dean released your hips so you could move again, but his eyes didn't leave your body. "You look so fuckin' sexy riding me. Could stare at ya all night."

You blushed deeply, gaze pulling away from his bashfully.

He reached up and touched your cheek, pulling your face back towards him. "I like looking at you."

You bit your lip, but didn't turn away. Having demon Dean compliment you felt so incredibly different than what you were used to. It almost felt wrong to appreciate his words and his gaze--as if you were cheating on your husband. You knew you weren't really, but it still felt wrong.

After several more moments, Dean tired of the slowness of the pace. He grabbed you and pulled you down to him, wrapping his arms around you to hold you tightly. He planted his feet and began to piston up into you, sending shock waves of pain and pleasure through your body.

He loved the wrecked sounds coming from your mouth as he fucked up into you. He knew his current angle would hit your sweet spot with each thrust--and he knew you wouldn't be able to avoid another orgasm.

He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to feel you cum all over his cock again--the sensation was almost as incredible as his own orgasm. He found himself craving it with a desperation he didn't want to dive too deeply into.

"I know you're close, sweetheart," he murmured. "I can feel it--know you wanna cum around my cock."

Your moans and whimpers were all the confirmation he needed.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Please," was all you could manage to say.

"Cum for me."

His command sent you over the edge with shocking ease. You weren't certain you even had it in you to cum again, and the intensity of the orgasm surprised you.

Dean held on tightly as your body shook, your pussy clenching and unclenching around him as you squirted all over his lower body.

"Holy fuck, you're sexy," he groaned, an intense feeling of pride surging through his veins. He'd made you squirt before, but every single time felt like a gold fucking medal to him.

His thrusts became more sloppy as his own orgasm neared. He was so close he could practically taste it, but it was your aftershocks that finally had him exploding inside of you. He stopped moving, holding you tight to him as he emptied deep in your pussy.

He carefully rolled you over onto your back before sliding out of you. You whimpered at the feeling of emptiness, which made his chest swell with pride.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, baby--spread 'em nice and wide," he murmured, large hand gently rubbing your thighs. "Spread yourself open--wanna watch my cum leaking out of you."

You did as he asked, surprised to find yourself so turned-on by his request. You watched him stare at the apex of your thighs, your mixed spends dripping from your abused hole.

He licked his lips, gaze flickering back up to yours. "You're the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

You inhaled sharply, pleased by his praise. "Come here," you whispered, reaching for him.

You were surprised when he actually complied, crawling up your body and placing a soft kiss on to your lips, allowing you to run your hands through his hair affectionately.

After a few moments, Dean pulled away. "Why don't you get a little rest? You'll need your strength."

You looked at him in shock. "Strength for what?"

"You didn't think we were done, did you?"

"Dean, you can't possibly be serious!"

His eyes flashed black, reminding you exactly who and what you were dealing with. "I'm deadly serious."

You exhaled shakily as it finally dawned on you that you had no control over your current situation. Dean could do anything he wanted to you and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do about it.

But that wasn't the concerning part. The concerning part was how little fear you felt. The idea of him being completely in control felt like a good thing...and that was what really scared you.

**********

You awoke several hours later to the feeling of Dean's rough hands on your soft skin. You were lying on your side, with him directly behind you. It had been a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but it seemed Dean now had a different idea.

You felt his cock tease your pussy and you whimpered softly.

"Need you just one more time," Dean murmured in your ear as he slid into you. He held you tightly against him, still spooning you as he began his gentle thrusts.

"Focus on how my cock feels in that tight little pussy of yours," he instructed. "I know you're sore, baby, but I'm gonna make you feel so good."

You'd lost count of the number of orgasms you'd had somewhere after the 7th one. You hadn't even known it was possible for the human body to have that many. Dean was right--you were sore, too sore to move, in fact.

"I've got you," he murmured, pressing his lips into your shoulder.

The intimacy of the moment surprised you and you weren't sure why Dean was being so soft. You leaned back into him, feeling the taunt muscles of his abdomen flex against you.

He took the movement as permission to continue what he was doing. He slid his hand farther down your body, slipping it between your legs to rub light circles on your swollen clit.

You gasped softly, nails digging into the flesh of his arm.

Dean shushed you gently. "Let me make you feel good--just relax."

You tried to do as he said, willing your overstimulated body to stop tensing.

As Dean continued his gentle thrusts and soft touches, you began to feel the familiar tightening deep in your abdomen. You focused on the feeling, on the need for a release as it rose within you.

"You're doing so good for me," Dean praised. "So sexy--with this fucking perfect pussy. Could stay here forever."

His murmured words of praise went straight to your core, causing it to tighten around him. He moaned softly, continuing his movements.

"Dean," you whispered. "I'm close."

He pressed his lips into your shoulder. "Let go for me, baby. I've got you."

For a moment--just a moment--you felt like you were making love to your Dean. The feeling was fleeting, but it gave you hope, even as it ripped your heart to pieces.

He knew exactly what to do to send your body into overdrive--he'd always known. He had you falling apart in minutes, soft cries of pleasure slipping past your tired lips.

"That's it, baby," Dean groaned. "Gonna fill you up."

Dean came for a final time, deep inside you. You'd lost track of his orgasms long before you'd lost track of your own.

He whispered your name softly, lips brushing against your skin sweetly.

He didn't pull out, but his cock finally began to soften--having reached the limit even for a demon.

After several minutes, he allowed you to pull away from him. You rolled over and quickly fell asleep, too exhausted to even exist for a moment longer.

**********

When you finally woke up, you weren't sure how much time had passed. Your entire body was sore, a dull ache from your head to your toes.

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing beside you to the empty bed. Your eyes flitted around the room, seeking any sign of Dean. His clothes were still strewn all over the floor, along with yours, but he could very well have put on fresh clothes.

You weakly pulled yourself out of the bed and slowly made your way to the bathroom, bladder pulsating painfully. After using the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to revive yourself even a little.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, taking in the various marks and bruises littering your skin. You would typically wear such marks like a badge of honor, but in this moment, you only felt shame.

You'd had explosive sex with a demon--not just any demon, a demon that used to be your husband. Your heart clenched as images flashing through your mind. You'd loved it in the moment, but now you felt incredibly guilty.

You couldn't help but wonder what Dean would think of you if you were able to make him human again. You were scared he'd be upset with you--ashamed even.

The sound of the hotel room door opening shook you from your thoughts. You grabbed the robe hanging on a hook in the bathroom and threw it on quickly, barely covering yourself before Dean came into view.

"Hey sweetheart," he said with a smile. "I brought food."

Surprise lit up your face as you stared at him. You hadn't been certain he'd come back, let alone bring you food. "Oh, umm...thank you."

He nodded and placed the bags on the small table. "You wanna take a shower first or eat first?"

You were still in shock from his behavior, but you managed to mumble, "Shower." You closed the door slowly and started the shower, but you didn't get in.

You took a moment to try and collect yourself, but you found it nearly impossible to relax. You sighed and dropped the robe from your body before stepping under the hot spray.

The calming feeling of the water washing over you brought you some relief--as if it was washing away your sins. It also gave you some clarity.

At the end of the day, he was still Dean--and you desperately wanted him back. If this was the only way to do it, then you just had to suck it up and do what needed to be done. If necessary, you'd beg for forgiveness later.

When you got out of the shower Dean was waiting for you at the table. You'd thrown the robe back on, having no other clothes with you.

You offered him a smile before going towards where your undergarments lay near the bed. You also picked up your jeans, but your shirt was completely ruined.

Dean's keen eyes followed you around the room, watching in silence. When you made it to the door where the remnants of your shirt lay, Dean chuckled lightly. "Why don't you wear one of mine, sweetheart?"

You held up the ripped fabric. "I don't think I have much of a choice."

He smiled and stood up, grabbing a clean flannel out of the duffle on the floor. He handed it to you and waited--as if he expected you to say something.

You looked down at the flannel in your hand and inhaled sharply. It was your favorite flannel of his--green and black in color, and incredibly soft from all the washes it had endured.

He saw the moment you recognized the shirt and he suddenly felt oddly nervous--he wanted you to be happy, as silly as that might be for a demon.

"I'll just go throw these on," you whispered.

Dean just nodded as you walked past him to the bathroom. You came out a few minutes later, fully clothed.

He let out a soft sound you could only describe as a low growl. "I love it when you wear my clothes."

You blushed. "You always did find it sexy."

He grinned darkly and took a step towards you, but you shook your head gently.

"My entire body is sore, Dean."

He pouted. "A kiss at least?"

You sighed. "Fine."

He leaned down to kiss you with shocking gentleness. It warmed you from the inside out.

"See? I can be gentle," Dean said with a smirk.

"Interesting for a demon," you mumbled, sitting down at the table.

You missed the look of hurt that crossed Dean's face at your words. He sat at the table across from you, expression impassive.

You started to eat, quickly discovering how hungry you really were. Dean watched you quietly, not particularly hungry himself. He noticed some marks on your exposed collarbone and throat and he felt an odd feeling in his chest. It made him extremely uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite place the feeling.

"Dean?" you asked softly.

His eyes refocused on your face. "Hmm?"

"I know what you're going to say, but will you please come back with me? Just--Just come home, Dean--please." You were more than ready to beg, but you found you didn't need to.

"Alright."

You'd opened your mouth for a rebuttal, but his voice stopped you--"What?"

"I'll come back with you."

Your face was a mixture of surprise and confusion. "I, uhh--I was expecting to have to beg you."

"No need," he commented. "After last night, I have no desire to be anywhere else."

"Anywhere else?"

"Perhaps I should have said with anyone else."

"Ahh. I see." Your heart fluttered slightly, even though the words came from a demon.

"So yes, I'll go back home with you...on one condition."

Your heart began to beat faster as you waited for him to continue.

"Under no circumstances will you ever force me to become human."

Your chest ached at his words, your eyes fluttered closed, and your breath exhaled slowly. Dean knew what he was asking of you--knew it was a lot deeper than a simple promise. "Don't make me promise that," you whispered.

Dean's eyes flicked to black and his expression hardened. "Promise me or leave. The choice is yours."

It felt as though time slowed around you. You had never once broken a promise to Dean--never. He knew you prided yourself on that--he knew you would never break one. You couldn't find it in yourself to betray him, even now.

"I have one condition of my own."

Dean raised a single eyebrow.

"I will make you that promise, if you give me the First Blade."

It was Dean's turn to be surprised. "Why?"

"You know why."

His eyes flicked back to green, but he looked annoyed. "And if I don't give it up?"

"Then I leave."

Dean weighed his options in silence. After a few moments, he got up and crossed the room towards the door where his jacket hung. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out the First Blade.

You inhaled sharply, a ripple of fear surging through you.

He crossed the short distance back to you, placing the Blade on the table in front of you. You reached out for it, but his hand snapped forward and grabbed your arm.

"Do we have a deal?"

You exhaled heavily. "We have a deal."

"Say it."

"I promise I will never force you to become human again," you whispered.

He released your arm and smirked. He was obviously pleased with himself, even as you quite clearly ached from making such a promise.

You pulled the Blade towards you, keeping it as close to you as you could. You needed to call Crowley to come get the damn thing as soon as possible--you wanted it as far away from Dean as possible.

“Maybe we can leave when I’m done eating?”

Dean just nodded. “Better not tell Sam until we get there.”

You couldn't have told him even if you'd wanted to, given that Crowley had broken your phone, so you simply nodded your agreement.

Dean watched you in silence while you finished eating, his face completely unreadable. You were worried about what Dean was planning, but you were more worried about Sam's reaction to all of this.

**********

The drive back to the bunker was uneventful. Dean drove straight through the night, no need for sleep. You were still tired from your antics the day before, so you slept for a large portion of the drive.

Dean woke you 10 minutes before arrival. "How pissed you think Sammy's gonna be?" he asked.

"You left him to die, Dean--he's probably not gonna be excited to see you."

Dean shrugged. "I mean, he didn't die though."

You shot him a glare and he laughed. "It's not funny, Winchester."

"It's not, not funny."

You sighed. "Just let me do the talking, okay? He's not pissed at me."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "He's gonna be."

"Either way," you mumbled. "Just let me handle it."

"Fine."

Dean pulled in to the underground garage and you both got out of the car. You weren't sure if Sam would even be there--you hadn't spoken to him in a couple days. For all you knew, he could have been kidnapped a second time--or maybe he thought you were the one missing.

As you entered into the bunker properly, you found it very quiet and very empty.

"Looks like nobody's home," Dean commented.

"Sam's probably worried about me--god only knows where he is," you muttered. You turned to Dean. "Let me borrow your phone."

He eyed you warily. "What happened to yours?"

"Crowley broke it."

Dean's eyes narrowed, flashing black aggressively. "He what?"

"Easy there killer--he broke my phone, not me."

"I'll kill him."

"Get in line," you mumbled as you stuck out your hand. "Phone, please."

He handed you his phone and you immediately dialed the familiar number. Sam answered on the second ring, hope and surprise in his voice, "Dean?"

"No, it's me."

You heard relief in his voice when he spoke again. "Where the hell are you? Are you okay? I was seriously worried--" he paused, seemingly remembering whose phone you were using. "Are you with Dean?"

Dean leaned in over your shoulder to speak into the phone. "Hiya, Sammy."

You elbowed Dean lightly. "I'm fine, Sam, and yes, I'm with Dean."

"How--?"

"Crowley."

"Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"Also, Crowley. He busted my phone--hence why I'm using Dean's."

"Are you--are you safe?"

You looked over at Dean and sighed. "Yeah, I'm safe."

Sam sighed in relief. "Where are you--I'll come get you."

"We're, uhh--we're actually back home."

"What?"

"We're at the bunker."

"How the hell did you convince him to come back with you?"

"We can talk about that when you get here. Just come home."

"I'm on my way."

You hung up the phone and handed it back to Dean, who gave you a hungry look.

"So...what should we do while we're waiting?"

"I know you're a demon, but I'm not," you said lightly. "I'm still sore."

"Aww c'mon, sweetheart," Dean pouted slightly. "I'll be gentle."

You shook your head with a small smile. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I was gentle yesterday morning, wasn't I?"

"After several orgasms and some very rough sex."

"I thought you enjoyed that," he said lowly, stepping closer to you.

You blushed, taking a step back. "I--I did."

He grinned predatorily. "I can make it very good for you, baby."

You felt a rush of arousal flood your body as he took another step towards you, backing you up against the large table behind you.

He breathed deeply and his eyes flashed black. "I can smell your desire."

You exhaled shakily.

Dean leaned forward, pinning you against the table. He placed one arm on the table and the other very lightly against your throat. "How 'bout I take you right here?"

You weren't opposed to the idea, but you weren't sure exactly how far away Sam was. "What if Sam comes back?"

Dean shrugged. "Then we'll give him a show."

You smacked his chest affectionately. "We will not."

"Then I guess you better hope he doesn't come back while I'm fucking you senseless."

You gasped and Dean leaned down, pressing his lips hungrily against yours. You kissed him back with the same amount of passion, fingers digging into his back to pull him closer to you.

You felt Dean's fingers brush against your chest and you pulled back immediately. "Wait!"

Surprise lit up his face and he released you instantly. "What's wrong?"

"This is my favorite flannel--you are not going to rip it."

Dean laughed heartily. "My apologies, sweetheart. You can take it off yourself then."

You quickly unbuttoned it and slid it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor nearby. You looked back up at him, a sultry smile on your face. "You may continue."

"Oh, I will." Dean gripped the front of your bra and tore it directly down the center, revealing your heaving breasts to him.

You gasped at the action, but it quickly turned to a moan as his hands began to massage your breasts and pinch your nipples harshly.

Your hips instinctively jutted forward, seeking his body for some relief. Dean immediately noticed, pressing his body firmly against yours, knee sliding between your legs to apply pressure against your core.

You ground yourself down on his knee and groaned softly. You repeated the action, the friction giving you pleasure.

"That's it, pretty girl," Dean growled lowly. "Get yourself off my thigh."

You continued your motions, but it just wasn't enough to get you to your peak. You whimpered softly and Dean chuckled darkly.

"Not enough for you, baby? Need me to help you?"

"Please," you begged.

He made quick work of removing your jeans, but instead of removing your underwear, he simply ripped them right off, practically shredding the lace.

Dean slipped two of his fingers between your legs and plunged them into your core. You gasped and clenched tightly around him.

"Fuck, sweetheart--you're fuckin' soaked," Dean groaned into your neck, fingers thrusting in and out of you hastily. "So damn tight too."

You whined softly as he pulled his fingers out and slipped them into his mouth, sucking them clean. He gripped your hips tightly and lifted you to place you on the table properly.

You wrapped your legs tightly around him and pulled him in closely, desperately wanting to feel him against your skin. You tugged at his shirt, which he quickly removed.

Your fingers grasped at his belt, but he smacked your hand away. He said nothing as he dropped to his knees and tugged your hips forward.

"Spread those legs for me."

You did as he asked, spreading your legs as wide as you could. You waited for him to touch you, but he made no moves to do so. "Dean?" you asked softly, slight desperation in your voice.

His eyes raised up to meet yours, a dark expression on his face. "Touch yourself."

"What?" you asked in quiet confusion.

"You want some relief? Touch yourself."

You supported yourself on one arm while you moved the other between your legs. You were mortified by the wetness dripping down your folds, but you collected some before sliding your fingers between your labia.

Dean watched with dark, hungry eyes as you played with your clit, soft whimpers of enjoyment slipping from your lips.

"Spread yourself open so I can see," he demanded.

You did as he asked, using your other hand to spread yourself, giving him a proper view of your aching pussy.

"Fuck," he muttered beneath his breath. "Keep going."

Your fingers immediately went back to rubbing your clit, desperate to feel that tightening in your core--knowing the pleasure it would bring.

Dean's large hands splayed on your thighs, massaging them gently as he watched, eyes glued to your movements.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he leaned forward and licked into your pussy, making you shiver with anticipation. You moved your hand away and he slapped your pussy harshly, causing you to yelp.

"Did I fucking say you could stop?" he growled, eyes flashing black.

You inhaled sharply and shook your head, fingers immediately returning to your core. You wouldn't admit it to him, but you liked this dark side of him--he would never have let it come out like this if he were human. He was too afraid to hurt you--too protective to even consider it. You hadn't known how much you'd enjoy it until now...and you just had to hope Dean wouldn't notice.

Dean's tongue lapped lazily between your folds as you continued to massage your clit. Every time you felt the pressure begin to build in your gut, your fingers would instinctively speed up. Each time they sped up, Dean would pull your hand away, keeping your orgasm just out of reach.

After several minutes of this, Dean's control had begun to wane. When your fingers sped up, he once again removed your hand, only this time he replaced it with his mouth. You felt his tongue dance across your clit in the most pleasurable way, fingers entwining themselves in his hair.

Your hips bucked up towards his mouth, but he didn't relent. Even as you screamed his name and your juices began to gush, he kept his mouth on you, drinking up everything you gave him. It wasn't until you'd collapsed back onto the table that he finally pulled away and stood back up, licking his lips in satisfaction.

Your breathing was ragged and your vision was slightly blurred as you looked at him, waiting for him to make his next move. He quickly shed his jeans and boxers, tossing them out of the way before taking his cock into his hand.

He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly as he stroked himself, appreciating how fucked out you already looked. "I need you to sit up, sweetheart." His words sounded soft, but his voice was demanding.

You managed to slowly pull yourself into a sitting position, grabbing onto his muscular arms for support. He teased your entrance with his cock and you whimpered softly.

"Lean back on your hands," he murmured lowly.

You did as he asked, the angle allowing him better access to your pussy. He slipped the head of his cock between your folds and slowly began to push forward until he was completely sheathed inside you.

The feeling of fullness had you gasping softly, head tilted back as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean tugged you even closer by your hips so he could get even deeper. You cried out in pain as his first thrust hit your cervix, but Dean didn't seem to notice. His hips snapped forward repeatedly, each thrust threatening to send you flying across the table if not for his death grip on your hips.

The pain soon gave way to pleasure, the room filling with the sounds of your mixed moans, the slapping of skin, and the sounds of your slickness as he fucked you.

He snaked one hand around your back to pull you even closer to him, practically holding you as he kept his pace. Your legs had begun to shake and your arms were weakening--but you knew your orgasm was near.

"Harder," you whimpered, surprising him.

He growled. "You like it when I fuck you like a little slut, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

His hips moved impossibly faster, the thrusts harder than before.

"Don't stop!" you pleaded.

"I wouldn't dare." He kept the pace as steady as he could, even as he felt his own orgasm rising.

"Please, please, please," you rambled. "S-so close!"

Dean's hand wrapped around your throat, pressing lightly against it. "Cum for me, pretty girl," he growled.

"More!"

He tightened his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. It was all you needed to push you over the edge and into bliss. You cried out as you came, the intensity of your orgasm sparking his own.

He shouted your name in surprise as hot spurts of cum filled you. His thrusts began to slow, but his grip on your body didn't lessen. He held on tightly as you both came down from your highs.

He roughly tugged you forward and off the table. You weren't stable enough to stand, but that didn't matter to him. He spun you around and forced your upper body down onto the table, spreading your legs with one of his.

His cock was already hard again and he plunged into you without warning, earning a cry from your lips.

"Fuck, this pussy is so good for me," he groaned. "I just wanna fuck you until you can't move."

"Dean!" you whimpered, body overly sensitive already.

Once again, his grip on your hips was bruising and his thrusts were almost painful in their depth and intensity. The only thing keeping you upright was the table beneath you, your legs no better than wet noodles.

"You look so fuckin' sexy like this--spread for me, pussy leaking my cum, fuckin' moaning so pretty...fuck." His thrusts sped up, making you cry out.

"Need--shit--need you to cum again, baby."

"I-I c-can't!"

"Yes you can--you've been so good for me. Just give me one more."

Tears welled in your eyes--your body ached horribly, but you wanted to please him so badly. Your hips and thighs hurt from his grip and the force of his thrusts pressing you into the table, but you tried to block all of that from your mind. You focused on the pleasurable feeling of his cock, desperate to give him what he wanted.

"I-I need more," you whimpered.

His hand immediately slipped around to your front and began to rub tight circles to your clit. The sensation nearly pushed you over the edge with how sensitive you were.

"Come on, sweetheart, I can tell you're close."

You moaned in response, focus entirely on reaching your high.

His finger moved faster, the friction sending you into overdrive. You screamed and your nails scratched against the wood as you desperately searched for something to cling to--something to ground you.

"Fuck, yes--that's it. Cum for me, baby."

You screamed again as you came--the pleasure so blinding you passed out for a few moments. When you came to, he was chasing his own high--thrusts becoming more sloppy by the second.

"G-gonna fill you u-up," he ground out, hands tightening on your hips painfully.

Two more thrusts and he was spilling inside of you, hips stuttering as he emptied his seed deep within you. He leaned forward, pressing you even farther into the table, his lips gently caressing your back.

Once he'd regained his breath--and his strength--he pulled out of you and stood up. You nearly slid off the table and onto the floor, but he caught you.

"Woah there--I've got you."

He scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom the two of you shared. He laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness before climbing onto the bed with you.

"No--no more--please," you begged.

"Easy, sweetheart," he purred softly. "I know you're tired--I just wanna be inside of you."

He laid you on your side and he slid up into you, forcing some of his cum back into your pussy. You whimpered at the feeling of fullness, but even you had to admit you enjoyed the feeling.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you and pulled you close. "Go to sleep, baby. I've got you."

His tone was almost loving--if you didn't know better, you would have thought it was. You were too weak and tired to dwell on it, instead drifting off to sleep with unsurprising ease.

**********

Sam rushed into the bunker like a bat outta hell. He wanted to trust that his brother would never hurt you, but he worried for your safety. Dean was a knight of hell after all.

When he properly entered the war room, he froze. His eyes went to the clothing strewn about the space--a mixture of your's and Dean's. Out of all the things he'd expected, this had not been on the list. He couldn't believe you would be that foolish.

"(Y/N)? Dean?" he called as he walked farther into the bunker.

There was no response, so he made his way to where your bedroom was. The door was shut, so he knocked loudly.

You jolted awake at the loud banging, the movement making Dean moan softly. Somehow he was still hard and buried inside of you--where he'd been for however long you'd been asleep.

"(Y/N)? You in there?" Sam's voice called from the other side of the door.

Dean groaned in annoyance, but you answered anyway. "Yeah--just, uh...give us a minute."

"You coulda told him to go away," Dean mumbled into your shoulder.

"We'd just be delaying the inevitable."

He sighed and slowly removed himself from you, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. He grinned and leaned down over you, kissing you softly. "Don't worry, we can do it again later."

You kissed him back, before giving him a light push against his chest. "I need clothes."

You dragged yourself out of bed and moved around the room, throwing various items of clothing on to make yourself decent. You wanted a shower, but that would have to wait until after you'd talked to Sam.

Dean watched you from his place in the bed, not making a move to get dressed himself.

"You coming?" you asked.

"I'll give you a head start," he answered. "You can talk to Sam alone."

You nodded. "Alright."

You exited the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Sam was standing at the end of the hall near the entrance to the library. The look he gave you told you exactly what kind of mood he was in. He disappeared into the library and you followed shortly after.

"Sam, I can explain--"

"Explain? Really? You wanna explain why you're sleeping with demon Dean?"

"Oh like you can talk," you shot back. "You slept with a demon several times--and she tried to destroy the world."

Sam's eyes narrowed, but he knew you were right.

"Besides, he's still Dean...just a demon," you mumbled.

"Fine," Sam said with a sigh. "Is that how you convinced him to come back with you?"

You averted your gaze and bit your lip lightly. "Not exactly."

"(Y/N)...what did you do?"

"What I had to do."

"(Y/N)."

"I, uh--I made him a promise."

Sam's face paled slightly. "What did you promise him?"

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. "I told him I wouldn't force him to become human again."

"You what?" Sam yelled. "You can't possibly keep that promise."

"I have to, Sam. I've never betrayed Dean before and I sure as hell won't start now."

"Are you kidding me? He's a demon, (Y/N)! A monster! The kind of thing he's loathed for his entire life--you really think he wants this?"

"Of course I don't!" you yelled back. "Do you really think I want my husband to be a demon forever? This was the only way to get him to agree to come back here with me. I don't regret making this promise and I would do it again if I had to!"

"So you'll break it?" Sam asked again, voice still raised.

"No," you answered firmly. "I can't."

"How could you be so stupid, (Y/N)?" Sam yelled harshly. "This is the dumbest goddamn thing you've ever done!"

Dean appeared seemingly out of nowhere, wedging himself between you and Sam. He pushed Sam back aggressively, eyes flashing to black. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "Don't you ever speak to her like that again, or you won't make it to see another sunrise."

"Dean!" you cried, stepping forward to place a calming hand on his arm. "It's alright--I'm fine."

Dean ignored you, black eyes still trained on his brother's face. "Do you understand me?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Apologize."

"Dean, that's not necessary," you tried.

He held up his hand to silence you. "Apologize."

Sam swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have said that."

"It's alright, Sam."

"Don't do it again," Dean seethed.

"Dean," you murmured softly. "We're good--I'm good."

He finally relaxed his shoulders and took a step back. His eyes flicked back to green and he turned to look at you. He seemed to scan you, checking to make sure you really were okay.

"I'm fine," you mouthed.

He nodded, finally believing you. He turned back to his brother. "Now you gonna play nice and adhere to (Y/N/N)'s promise?"

"I don't like it," Sam responded. "But fine."

Dean grinned. "Excellent. Otherwise we'd have quite a problem on our hands."

You exchanged glances between the two men and worried they would have some sort of fight sooner than later. You knew you needed to get the First Blade to Crowley before something terrible happened.

"Sam, can I borrow your phone for a moment?" you asked suddenly.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. Dean eyed you warily, wondering what you were up to.

"Just gonna make a quick call...outside," you mumbled.

You practically ran towards the steps, taking two at a time to get out of there before someone asked too many questions. You called Crowley as soon as the bunker door closed behind you.

"Mrs. Squirrel," Crowley answered by way of greeting.

You rolled your eyes, opting not to comment on the annoying nickname. "I have the Blade."

"Where?"

"The Bunker."

He appeared a few feet away from you and you hung up your phone. You gestured for him to follow you down towards the garage.

"Stay here," you insisted, before entering the garage as quietly as possible.

You went straight for Baby, popping the trunk to retrieve the First Blade from the demon-proof box you'd placed it in. You made your way back outside quickly, not wanting to alert Dean to your movements.

"Take it," you demanded, holding it out to Crowley. "And for the love of god, hide it--put it somewhere Dean will never find it."

"I can assure you, it will be hidden well."

"Good. Now get the hell outta here before I change my mind about killing you."

Crowley smirked mirthlessly. "With pleasure."

He disappeared, taking the First Blade with him. Relief flooded your body and you turned to make your way back into the bunker, hoping to find both men in one piece.

**********

It had been a week since you and Dean had returned to the bunker. As the week went on, Dean's anger and aggression became more and more noticeable.

He hadn't said anything to you, but you knew Dean was jonesing for a kill. You could tell by the way he'd react to things--even the slightest of annoyances would have him reacting violently.

The other indicator came out in Dean's sexual desires. He wanted you almost constantly, regardless of where you were, who else was around, or what was going on. While that alone wasn't problematic, what was concerning was his increasing aggression during sex--and if he didn't get what he wanted immediately.

There wasn't a single inch of your skin he hadn't marked in some way, and you were beyond exhausted. The one time you'd dared to say no to him, resulted in him punching a dent into a metal wall--an action that frightened you. You still didn't think he would hurt you, but you weren't willing to risk it.

Sam had begun to notice as well, especially as it pertained to the marks on your skin. Dean no longer cared about hiding them and makeup wasn't cutting it anymore.

Sam's gaze was on you as you entered the library one morning, limping slightly.

"You know, I'm really starting to worry about you," Sam said quietly.

"I'm alright," you lied as you lowered yourself into a chair, wincing in discomfort.

"Right," Sam muttered sarcastically. "You can't even sit without being in pain."

"If it keeps him from killing someone, then it's worth it," you snapped back.

Sam fell silent, knowing you were right. He wanted to bring up breaking your promise again, but he knew you wouldn't budge. He worried about how Dean would feel about all of this if he became human again...he knew his brother well enough to know it would kill him to know he'd hurt you like this.

Another week went by in much the same manner, but Dean's urge to kill had only worsened. He still hadn't hurt you outside of sex, but you'd begun to fear him--really fear him.

You'd decided to address the issue with him while Sam was out on a store run. You thought he might take it better if Sam wasn't hovering around.

Dean was sitting in the kitchen, drinking his coffee, when you walked in.

"Hey, D," you said softly. "Can we talk?"

He grunted and gestured for you to continue.

"It's about your behavior the last couple weeks. I-I know the bloodlust is getting bad and to be honest, your temper is starting to really scare me."

He looked up at you with black eyes. "Maybe if you'd let me go out and do some hunting I wouldn't be so volatile."

"You know we can't do that, Dean."

"We," he scoffed. "Since when did you and Sam become 'we'?"

You closed your eyes and sighed, ignoring his question. "You're too unpredictable. You know that better than anyone."

He stood up and took a menacing step towards you. "Give me the Blade and let me go out for a while...one or two kills and I'll be right as rain."

"I can't do that."

"I think you mean won't."

You shook your head. "I can't. I don't have the Blade."

He froze. "What the hell do you mean you don't have it?"

"I-I couldn't risk you getting ahold of it...so I made sure it was safe."

His gaze narrowed, eyes still black as ink. He took several steps towards you, but you backed away until you hit the wall behind you.

He was inches from your face when he growled lowly, "Where is it?"

"I don't know," you whispered.

"What?"

"I don't know," you repeated.

"Where did you put it?"

You were deeply regretting telling him anything at all, but you still blurted out, "I gave it to someone!"

"Who?!"

"I needed to make sure it was hidden where you would never be able to find it," you said desperately.

"Who did you give it to?" he roared.

"Crowley," you whimpered in fear.

Dean punched the wall directly beside your head and you yelped in surprise and fear.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

You didn't answer--too afraid to push his buttons further. You could feel the rage rolling off him in waves and you felt the cold terror seize your heart.

"Call him and get it back," he ordered.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't risk Dean getting ahold of the Blade...not for anything.

He pinned you against the wall by your throat, slamming your head back against the wall with enough force to break the skin.

His grip on your throat was painfully tight and you tried desperately to get away. "Dean--" you gasped.

For a moment, you were certain he was going to kill you--you would be the next victim of the Mark's bloodlust and there was nothing you could do about it. Even with his eyes filled with darkness, you could see the boiling rage in them. He wasn't seeing you, he was seeing his next victim.

You struggled against his hold on your throat, trying to loosen his grip enough for you to speak. You smacked your hands against his chest, trying anything to get him to release you.

You suddenly remembered your failsafe--you'd starting carrying it everywhere when Dean became more volatile. You managed to pull the item from your pocket, breaking the lid off as you brought it up and splashed the liquid into Dean's face.

He screamed and released you as the holy water burned his skin. You dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, head throbbing painfully. As you coughed and sputtered, you reached a hand to the back of your head, touching the wound softly. When you brought your hand back down, you saw blood staining your fingers.

At first, all Dean could feel was rage--you'd dared to splash holy water in his face? He'd kill you for it. But then his gaze landed on you as you crouched on the floor, blood soaking your fingers, trying to catch your breath. He looked up and saw the blood on the wall where he'd slammed your head against it and he immediately felt sick.

He stepped away from you, eyes flicking back to green as tears filled them. He hadn't meant to hurt you--even as a demon, he'd never wanted to hurt you. He'd let the Mark's rage get the best of him and he'd nearly killed you.

He backed away to the other side of the room and sank to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. He was ashamed of what he had done and for the first time since he'd become a demon, he felt like a monster.

A few minutes later, Sam came into the kitchen, arms laden with bags. His eyes landed on you first and he dropped the bags as he rushed to your side.

"(Y/N)! What happened? Are you okay?"

Without waiting for your response, Dean spoke up. "I happened."

Sam turned to look at Dean on the other side of the room. He felt angry when he heard Dean's words, but the anger dissipated when he saw the agony etched into his brother's face.

"I-I was so angry..." Dean whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"I'm okay," you rasped, voice hoarse from the trauma to your throat.

The sound of your voice nearly broke Dean's heart in half. "Give me the cure," he said to Sam.

"What?" Sam gasped in surprised.

"Make me human again. Please." The desperation in Dean's voice shocked both of you, as did his request.

"Are-are you sure?" you asked.

Dean looked at you in a mixture of sadness and pain. "I would rather risk death than ever hurt you again."

His words washed over you, warming the ache in your chest. You didn't say anything further--you couldn't find the words.

"Let's go then," Sam said firmly.

Dean stood up and followed Sam down to the dungeon. Sam came back a few minutes later to help clean your wounds. As he cleaned your head wound, he told you he'd secured Dean in the dungeon and he'd called for Castiel.

"We might need some backup for this," he muttered.

You nodded, the simple action making your head throb painfully.

"Try not to move too much," Sam said gently.

"I'm alright."

"What happened?" Castiel spoke from the doorway.

"Dean did," Sam said with a sigh.

"You need to be healed."

"No," you insisted as you held up your hand. "Don't waste what little grace you have left on me."

Cas looked down sadly, but he didn't come towards you. "Where is Dean?"

"Dungeon," you mumbled.

Cas walked away, apparently on his way to see Dean.

Sam finished cleaning your head wound and stood up. "I don't think you need stitches."

"Great," you groaned, standing up slowly.

"Woah--take it easy."

"I'm fine, Sam. We need to do this before he changes his mind."

"Cas and I can handle it."

You shook your head. "I'm not leaving him."

Sam sighed and gave you his arm to hold onto while walking down to the dungeon. When you opened the door, you saw Dean strapped to a chair in the center of the room. Cas stood off to the side, waiting.

"Let's get started," you said softly.

You left the dirty work to Sam--you couldn't bring yourself to hurt Dean, even after everything that had happened.

Listening to Dean's screams and pleas was almost too much for you to bear, but you knew it had to be done. Dean had asked to become human again...and there was nothing you wanted more.

Despite the agony he was experiencing, Dean insisted Sam continue the injections. As much as he would have rather stayed a demon, he was too afraid of what he would do to you if left unchecked.

You closed your eyes as Dean once again screamed in pain. You weren't sure how much more of this you could take, let alone Dean.

Dean noticed your demeanor--could tell your resolve was weakening. "It's okay, baby," he told you breathlessly. "I'm okay."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, unshed tears blurring your vision. He gave you a small, weak smile, which you tried to return. It ended up looking more like a wince than anything else.

"I wanted this, remember? I want this," he insisted.

You nodded tearfully. "I know. I just don't like seeing you in pain."

"We've only got one injection left," Sam cut in gently.

You watched in silence as Sam injected him with the final dose. Dean once again cried out, before falling completely silent, head drooping forward.

"Dean?" you whispered in fear.

When he didn't respond, you worried you had all gone too far...that Dean was dead.

As the three of you stared at the man in the chair, you heard a soft groan escape his lips and he slowly lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the beautiful green orbs you loved so much.

"You guys look worried," Dean said softly.

Sam splashed some holy water on his brother, but the liquid had no effect.

You let out a choked sob, beyond relieved to have your husband back.

You thought you heard Sam say, "welcome back Dean," but you were too focused on Dean's face to be sure. His own gaze was locked on yours, tears filing his eyes as he slowly took in the marks littering your skin--especially the bruising around your throat in the shape of his hand.

"(Y/N/N)," he whispered, his voice more broken than you'd ever heard it.

"Uncuff him," you said to Sam, who immediately did as you asked.

Dean stood up, clearly weak from the ordeal he'd just gone through, but nothing would have stopped him from getting to you.

He was a foot or two away from you when you gave in to your own desires, closing the gap between you. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and sobbed into his chest--letting out all the pain you'd kept inside for the last couple months.

Dean's arms held you close, lips pressed firmly into your hair, his own tears streaming down his face. Neither of you spoke--there was no need, not yet anyway.

After several minutes, you finally stepped back, wiping the tears from your face. You smiled up at him and whispered, "I love you."

You saw something flash across his face, but it was gone before you could place it. "I love you too," he murmured.

You stood to the side as Sam hugged Dean, followed by Cas. Everyone was glad to have him back, but you could see Dean was struggling--he clearly remembered every moment of being a demon...and you had no idea what kind of impact that would have on him.

"Alright guys, I think he needs some rest. He's been through a lot today," you interrupted softly.

Dean looked at you gratefully and both Sam and Cas nodded their agreement.

"Come on," you murmured, reaching out for Dean's hand.

He grabbed it and followed you to your shared bedroom. To your surprise, he stopped just outside the door. "I think I'd rather sleep in one of the other rooms."

You looked at him in confusion, but he wouldn't quite meet your gaze. "Okay," you whispered. "Whatever you'd prefer."

You followed him to a room down the hall, waiting quietly as he took off his boots before climbing into the bed.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm alright."

You knew he was most definitely not alright, but now wasn't the time to address it.

"Okay. I'll be down the hall if you need me."

He nodded, but said nothing further. He once again couldn't look at you as you left the room. Sadness laced its icy tendrils around your heart, despite the joy you felt at Dean's return to humanity.

You went to join Sam and Cas in the library, not quite wanting to be alone. You didn't want to talk either, but just being around people you loved made you feel a little bit better.

You knew Dean's road to recovery would be long, as would your own. You weren't sure what trials lay ahead of you, but you knew the two of you would make it through--you always did.

If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was how much Dean loved you--if the last few weeks taught you anything, it was that. Your own love for Dean was equally endless--there was nothing you wouldn't do for him. As cliche as it was, love really could conquer all.

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