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[rosepettles]

Ad Astra Per Aspera (deanwinchesterxfemaleOC)

This story contains allusions and discussions of SA, Supernatural typical violence, and trauma, Please read with caution <3

 The dim lights of the cement walled room flickered with a consistent hum, similar to the hum of the lights overhead inside of a library or bank. Regardless of familiarity the sound provided her, she  wanted nothing more than to be back inside of her own home, tucked away in her own bed which was much more comfortable than the broken in and stained army cot she was situated on. Over time she had come to notice another very constant sound, the mummering of her captors. She could constantly hear them speaking, laughing, joking, living as if she wasn’t slowly losing her will to live. With a sudden ‘boom!’ the mumbling stopped. She flinched at the noise regardless of her ability to mobilize her body. The mumbling turned to yelling, she could only assume the group's kingpin was the one barking orders. Without a second longer to process her thoughts were sharply interrupted by a gunshot ringing throughout whatever hellscape she was stuck in. She wanted to scream, hoping that the shot came from some kind of law enforcement, however no noise would rise from her vocal cords which she had practically shredded in her early days of captivity. She can no longer remember how long she had been there. After what she estimated to be around ten shots rang out, the yelling had completely ceased. She laid there, in the earth shattering silence waiting for the shooters to get to her next. The door swings open on its rusty hinges with a high pitched screech. Two masculine figures emerge from the shadows of the dim hallway. The two broad shouldered men stood in the doorway with guns drawn in her direction, however they were quick to aim towards the floor as they took in her restrained state, little did they know her desire for them to raise their guns again. 

“Please…” she spoke with a gritty rasp, pointing eye contact at their now lowered guns. The slightly shorter man spoke,

“Holy shit,”

 The slightly taller man took a timid step towards her cot, making it a point for her to see him holster his weapon.  

“Hi, Oliva? My name is Sam, are you hurt? We’re  are here to help you,” Oliva; was that her name? She ran it through her mind, only resulting in vague familiarity. It had then dawned on her just how detached from reality she had become in an attempt to provide herself some sick assemblance of mercy. She must've been staring at him because he continued to ask her questions. 

“Can you hear me?” She nods at him, still shocked by the kind, human, presence in front of her. The shorter man began to look annoyed, his eyes continuously scanning the room behind him. 

“Sam! We don’t have time for you to coddle her, move. Your. ass,” Sam turned to his companion with an incredulous look on his face. 

“I’m not “coddling” anyone Dean, I'm being gentle with someone who's been hurt. You could learn a thing or two,” Sam scoffed before turning back to Oliva. Dean stood back with his eyebrows furrowed into a frown, his strong arms now crossed in front of his chest. Sam pulled a pocket knife from his jeans, bringing it towards the ropes binding her hands and feet. His eyes trailed to the pool of blood underneath her left foot, a clear slice had clearly traveled its way through her achilles tendon.

“I just need to get rid of these,” he paused a moment before sighing, “Even though he’s being a douche about it, Deans right, we need to get you out of this shit hole asap,” he spoke in a more hurried tone than that of what was previously used. Oliva nodded given that there wasn’t much she could do in this situation. Once her restraints were removed from her atrophied limbs Sam gestured towards her with an awkward yet caring smile. 

“May I?,” she nods with hesitation once again before Sam places his forearms under her thin body, lifting her into the air in order to begin their journey outside.  Dean rolled his eyes at the caution in his brother’s face as he haphazardly stomped through the, now door-less, door frame. As they made their way to the car Dean took notice of the glass-like woman in his brother’s arms, Although her wounds weren’t freshly given, they appeared painful and driven by scorn. 

“Don’t let her get blood on baby,” Dean muttered to Sam just before he was able to climb into the back seat with Olivia; In return Sam shot Dean a stern look into the rearview mirror. Olivia was sitting slumped  against the cool leather of the car, allowing the material to relieve the burning of her shot nerves. However, her comfort did not last long as the road they were driving on was filled with potholes and uneven pavement. Oh what a joy it was to be driving in the middle of nowhere. 

The  juvenile talking  started up again. The joy throughout the house signified, to Olive, that her suffering was about to resume. The piercing laughs brought only fear to her prolonged hell. She prepared herself as the janky door she was trapped behind creaked open, cobwebs being broken in the process. How long had that door been closed in front of her? A lanky man with luscious blonde hair, styled to the side as if he were dressed for a formal event, his eyes were brown, although lacking the once familiar shine in them. Before she could stand up and hide her back was shoved against the rough surface of her army cot. 

With a particularly deep pothole she was jolted awake by her back bumping the car seat. With a deep breath she opened her forcefully squinted  eyes. Sam watches her with caution as she wearily looks around. Sam gives her a tight lipped, sympathetic smile. It was pointless for him to pretend that he knew what she had gone through but he was able to empathize at least. Samuel Winchester was certainly no stranger to nightmares. Sam leaned over and grabbed an old, but unopened, bottle of water that had fallen beneath the driver’s seat. He extended his hand towards her weary form . 

“It might be a little warm, fair warning,” Oliva accepted the bottle from his hands, returning his previously given tight lipped smile. She could lie to herself and say that she was super comfortable around the winchesters and that she enjoyed their company. She really wanted to feel safe, she would do anything to feel safe again.  She allows herself to sit up a tad bit straighter, no longer feeling the heavy pull of sleep. She looked over to the rather large man who was staring at her like she may break down at any minute. 

“Where are we headed?” Her voice was so soft and subtle that Sam would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking at her. Dean had apparently heard her on account of Sam making him turn his music down, much to Dean's chagrin. 

“Bunker,” Dean deadpanned without taking his seemingly serious eyes off the road. Sam took the opportunity to harshly flick the back of Dean's head by reaching an arm around the headrest. With a curt ‘ow!’ emitting from Dean, sam turned to olivia who was slowly sipping on her warm water. 

“He means our house. It’s our house. Please don’t worry about him, he’s just being a prick,” she had no other response than a brief nod. Nobody spoke for the next few hours, somewhere within that time slot Dean turned his music back up. 

*At the Bunker*

Sam and Dean assist her inside and help her find a chair within the kitchen. Dean made a B-line for the fridge to grab himself a beer. Sam had left her side to go grab a first aid kit for her wounds. The shorter brother pulls out a chair besides her, sitting down as if he didn’t see her. She was terrified of him. She knew that he was the kind of man who could spill blood with no consequences, she saw not only discomfort but suspicion in his eyes. She decided to take the friendly approach. As she learned, compliance and acting is better than death. She aimed her eyes to the ground and tucked her knees to her chest, allowing her arms to hug them closer. 

“Thankyou,” Den swivled his head to the side with an unamused look. He took another swig of his beer. 

“For what?” Olivia wasn't sure how to respond to that properly. 

“F-for saving m-” Dean cut her off by putting his hand up, palm facing her face. 

“I didn’t have a say in the matter, that was all sammy. And besides I wouldn’t take it personally, It’s our job,” Olivia knew she wasn’t special in regards to her rescue but having those words said to her with such indifference sent a ping to her chest. Samuel returned to the kitchen and set the large plastic box on the scratched up table. He taps his older brother’s shoulder with the back of his hand. 

“Up,” Dean made a subtle noise of annoyance but knew it would be no use to argue. As Sam sits down he scoots his chair slightly closer in order to get a good look at her injuries. She, by visceral reaction, hugged her knees closer. He looked at her with pity, not the sympathy he was trying to pass it for.

“Hey, I know you don’t know us very well, and I understand that you are afraid right now but if these wounds won't get clean you could get sick or worse…please?” Dean rolled his eyes at how gentle Sam's speech was. She slowly and gently unfurled herself and allowed his access to her pathetic shape. The worst surface wounds were the ones on the soft part of her thighs, crescent shaped scars were accompanied by what looked like an empty space for a blade. However where they ran into serious complications was her ankle. That solid slice through her achilles looked no better in the light than it did in the dark. 

“I know what you're going to say but I really think we should take her to the hospital, some of these injuries neither of us could fix,” Dean attempted to counter Sam's statement.

“Bullshit, she’ll be fine the same way we always are, just fix it like normal,” Sam’s jaw nearly touched the ground due to the speed at which he began to argue.

“Dean. Her foot is hanging on its last threads. We cannot fix anything like that without making it worse …No matter what you say I am taking her. Dean immediately stepped in front of the front door.

“Sammy don’t be stupid! You’ll get caught and then I’ll have to bust your dumbass out of the clink, I am not putting up with that!"By the time dean was finished Sam already had oliva in his arm again, this time she had been gently wrapped in a soft blanket that was set on the couch.

Time skip lol sorry

It’s been about a month since the Winchesters found her in that building, still no lead as to who or what organized the whole thing. However, Olivia didn’t seem to mind not knowing anything because amongst all of the nightmares and anxieties, She felt happy and safe…with Sam at least. She could tell Dean was warming up  or, at the very least,  becoming more accustomed to her presence at least. One morning she had found herself stumbling into the kitchen with an oddly uneven gate,  after a particularly traumatic nightmare.  She was careful not to turn on any light with the exception of the dull yellow bulb that resided above the sink.  She opened the cabinet above her head before attempting to stand on her toes to reach a glass. The post-surgery brace that surrounded her foot made it nearly impossible to do, however. She retracted her attempts and surrendered herself into using a red solo cup from a stack of four Dean had left on the counter. She made her way to the fridge and filled her sad red cup with off brand apple juice, which she happily sipped on.  She was almost finished with her drink when the main kitchen light was turned on, she jumped in response. 

“sorry bout that…what're you drinking out of that plastic shit for?'' Dean groggily wandered into the kitchen, already dressed and prepared for the upcoming day. She looked down at her feet  to avoid his eyes. 

“I can’t reach the glasses.” she said to the ground as opposed to the man standing before her.  He grumbles as he moves towards her position near the cabinet.

“You could've asked,” he slightly complained as he reached beside her to grab a glass and handed it to her. She accepted the glass despite having no use for it anymore.

“Thank you, but I don’t need it anymore…thank you though.” she shyly smiled at him. He nodded his head towards the fridge.

“You could help me get a drink then, can you reach the milk?” she walked and turned to face the now open fridge. Before she could admit that she couldn’t, Dean stepped behind her to reach up for it, placing a hand on her backside.

“It’s ok I got it hun.” he whispered to her. Her blood ran cold, dean never spoke like that. The realization hit her like a freight truck, she froze. He moved her away from the fridge with a gentle pull of her waist before cornering her against the door of white appliance. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted us to get along liv?” She tried to move but his heavy arms and rough hands wouldn’t allow that. She knew what he was now, he no longer made any attempt to hide it. 

“I've missed you liv…you really thought you could live here with whoever these punks are?” he teased, stroking a warm, stolen hand down her cheek.  She flinched away as a tear hurried  down her face.  His feet inched closer to hers, he forced deans steel-toed boots on the hard plastic of her brace. She made an attempt to scream only to have a hand placed over her mouth.  She side eyed the glass she had gotten out that was now sitting on the floor beside the fridge. She moved her un injured foot to move the glass. Whilst her trapped leg was attempting to move, the false impression of Dean was busy with his teeth and lips against her skin and his fingers toying with the top of her waistband. She inched her foot just close enough for her to hear the clear glass clatter against old tiles. She silently thanked whoever may have been listening. The mimics eye’s shot up to Oliva’s face with anger filling his irises, a grim smile spreading through his cheeks. Upon hearing the ringing of never used glass, Sam and Dean both shot out of their beds and into the kitchen, both of them accompanied by a firearm. At first glance the men were confused…why would Oliva have a man with her? Since when did she ever have guests? Oliva’s eyes locked with her friend’s hazel eyes. Sam could see the discomfort in her eyes and acted as quickly as he stormed through the doorway. 

“Hey!” he shot his gun toward the cupboard in a means to scare the man away, disgust laced both of the men's faces as a wild eyed dean turned to face them. 

“Sammy?! What the hell?!” he exclaimed using Dean's nickname to his advantage. Although they weren’t fooled it surely riled them up.  

Dean rushed forward, having a knack for fighting first and asking later. He grabbed his double by the collar of his flannel shirt and hooked him across the jaw. Oliva took the opportunity to inch off to  the way to the other side of the kitchen, pulling up her now falling pant waistband. She huddled herself into a corner behind the kitchen table. Once the double was subdued, Sam wasted no time putting a bullet through its chest, leaving a scorching hole in its wake. Dean stood looking at the creature as Sam rushed to his cowering friend. He crouched down to meet her distant eyes. 

“oliva..It’s gone. I got it, you're safe.” he tried to comfort but she made no assimilation of his words. Dean strode over to the pair, his eyes falling on his brother saying hushed conformations of safety. Dean reached down and wiped his palms on his pajama pants, not attempting to break the thick tension formed by his out of place presence by the pair. 

“ I’m going to run out to get some cleaning supplies…do either of you want anything?” Sam stopped his murmurs and side eyes his brother at his out of touch question. 

“No dean..'' Sam grumbled, immediately turning his face back to Oliva. Oliva paid the true dean no attention, just as he expected. Dean ran to the store and upon his arrival he spotted small trinkets that reminded him of Oliva. 

A few weeks into staying with the brothers they had made it clear that she was free to decorate her room as much or as little as she’d like.

“We have plenty of rooms, seriously it’s no issue,” Sam said with a slight chuckle in his voice over her excessive conformations. Day by day her room slowly filled with small stuffed animals and notebooks she used to write and study in. As much as Sam and Dean dreaded encountering the things they had to, Oliva still owned some of her childish whimsey for the supernatural and the fantastical.  While the Winchesters were figuring out how much salt they needed to buy, Olivia was researching their cases to find the new main character of her short stories. She found one case about supposed imaginary friends who helped kids. That story consisted of the human main character being herself, and what she would have loved to experience as a kid. Not that her childhood was awful, she just felt it would be nice to have a friend who would always have her best interest in mind. It’s easy to say that Dean did not love the idea of her romanticizing their lifestyle, although Sam enjoyed reading her works when he was allowed. 

Dean walked through the isles, picking up a pack of colored pens and placing them in the basket before he could tell himself off. By the time Dean got back home he saw Sam standing against the kitchen table, his head in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dean set his supplies on the table, quickly stealing away the bright pens from on tops of the bleach and baking soda. As Dean went to leave, Sam placed a hand on his chest, restricting him from leaving the room yet.

“Just a warning…she has no interest in seeing you right now so just please be vigilant and be careful not to scare her.'' Dean understood and walked away, sliding the book of pens under her door before entering his own room and deciding to get dressed for the day as it was now around four in the morning. Dean made his way to the library to begin looking for books on protection spells and items.  From the library Dean could hear his brother speaking outside of Olivia’s room trying to reason for her. 

“I-i refilled your cup with coffee if you want it… I'll be in the library if you need me.” he lightly knocked his knuckles against the wooden door before walking away to meet his brother. 

“what are you still doing awake? I figured you'd be sleeping till dinner as usual.” Dean made an exasperated face at his brother..

“How much of a dick do you really think I am? Our friend was just attacked, Sammy! Obviously I’m going to try to help from as much distance away as necessary.” he argued, clearly distraught by the whole situation. Sam's eyebrows peaked at the term with which Dean used to refer to olivia. 

“ not that there's anything wrong with it but since when are you two friends? You act like you hate her.'' Dean couldn’t truly answer because he didn’t know why that term came to mind, sammy was right they weren't friends. Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead with exasperation.

“ I don't know Sammy, I just, I don't know… as much as i hate to admit it she’s been here long enough that I've had no choice but to kind of get to know her. She’s a sweet girl but she doesn’t deserve our shit or whatever curse hangs over everyone we’ve ever met. But it’s clear y'all get on well…if she’s your family then i have no choice…she’s family sammy.” Sam knew his brother was never good at expressing his emotions, he would put Dean in therapy against his will if he could. Samuel really appreciated the honesty from his older brother, it was always a 50/50 chance of dean opening up. Now Sam's only hope was that when the time came that dean would be equally as open with Olivia. However, to Sam, it was always obvious when the dean wanted to express remorse or sympathy. He never upfront spoke his mind but you may find extra food on your plate or the promise of a shotgun on a supply run. His brother was a simple man who wanted nothing more than to protect people and to be appreciated. Once again Sam knew his brother would never admit it but he knew Dean had always wanted to be taken care of by someone with the same amount of concern he wanted to show others. 

It had been days of Oliva holed up in her room, she began to feel more and more disgusting the longer she went without the strength to wash the stolen fingerprints off of her body. She looked around her once tranquil room to see piles of  dirty mugs that once held sweet coffee that has now become sticky sugar residue at the bottom of the cup, as it had quickly become the only thing she’d consume, beside the mugs on her nightstand sat a package of gel pens. She couldn’t sleep. She would close her eyes only to be greeted with a slideshow of the many stolen windows to his empty soul that he had used against her. She didn’t quite know where she was planning on going when she left her room but it didn’t seem as if she had much time to figure it out as she began watching her feet moving without her approval. One thing she did notice, however, was the quiet space that was now replacing her attempted screams in her head. She was safe again. Her brain functioning similar to how it had when she was captive, She was warm and she was content. She watched as her feet moved across the wood to the kitchen. Her body was hungry although she wasn’t craving anything. Sam sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper when Olivia finished her slow journey to the kitchen. Sam eyebrows nearly shot off of his face with how surprised he was at her evening appearance. Did she even know it was evening?  He had not seen his friend in days,

“Hey! How’re you feeling?” He knew it was hardly a question that needed answering, however after knowing Olivia for a while he knew how much of a burden she hated to be. He wanted her to know he didn’t view her any differently, he was her friend, and she deserved to still feel like one. Olivia seemed to take in Sam's presence which received very little reaction. She gave him a small smile that reached nowhere near her eyes. Sam’s eyes secretly raked over her pitiful form, taking in the residue left on her skin from her attacker. His teeth imprinted on her jugular, he could imagine the  fingerprints burned into her hips like the aftermath of a close range explosion, her skin a concrete wall covered in shadows 

“Me and Dean just went shopping, I could make you something to eat if you’d like.” Olivia backed herself behind a door in her spectral world, suddenly she was the one looking through her eyes, staring back at Sam like a lost child. She figured that there was nothing wrong with that, it worked for her when she lived with him, she could be safe again. 

“You know what, that sounds great sammy. Thank You,” she spoke happily, much to Sam's shock. Sam moved to the fridge to scan the groceries. Dean had clearly already been in there, Sam swore his brother was a man akin to a yogi bear. 

Sam watched carefully between spreads of peanut butter as he noticed her become utterly indifferent. He was surprised to see how relaxed she was as  his brother walked in through the door, grunting as he kicked mud off of his boots. Dean's eyes turn sullen at the seemingly in shock woman that sat further into the kitchen. Sam could cut the tension in the room with the butter knife he was holding. 

“Sandwich?” sam asked awkwardly, dean nodded slightly waving to Olivia. Much to deans surprise she waved back, only a little. His heart constricted at the sight of her, he wished sam hadn’t allowed the two of them to get attached. Dean almost wished he had the capacity to kick her to the curb like a puppy that just showed up one day, hell she had the eyes to match. 

“I could eat.” He spoke like a normal, casual Dean. It brought Olivia some solace to see the real dean again. The dean who could care less if she were a victim or not, the Dean who could care less about her being around. After eating dinner  Olivia decided to lay on the couch and rest, watching t.v to pass the time. Sam and Dean stuck around the kitchen to chat. 

“What hell is up with her?” Dean asked, suspicious of their guest’s sudden relaxed appearance.  Sam pursed his lips into a line and sighed. 

“Honestly Dean, I have no idea. She just walked out of her room, she didn’t even say anything. She seems fine to me.” Dean nodded as if he was ,ocking his brother’s obvious observation.

“Yeah no shit, It's weird. Most victims that we deal with don't take monster attacks very well.” They both Walk out to the living room to find a sleeping Olivia. Dean nodded his head towards her but Sam put a hand out, and pulled a blanket off the top of the couch to cover her with.

“just let her sleep. I doubt she’s getting enough,” Dean backed up slightly allowing his brother to get past him to head to bed. 

“Right. Night sammy…” he looked towards Olivia again, “ Night live,” with the final goodbye, he too walked to bed, truing on a lamp in the dark room before fully exiting. The time was roughly 5:00 A.M when dean woke up to use the bathroom. He doesn’t fully know what compelled him but he decided to dip into the living room to check on Olivia. She was tossing ever so slightly in her sleep. He walked over to her quietly, gently placing his rough hands on her shoulders. 

“Oliva…” he whispered to her as he carefully shook her. She opened her eyes although it was clear to him that she was not looking at him, in his eyes she saw someone else's. She wasn’t in the bunker, she was in her prison, lying atop a soiled mattress that god only knows how many other women were laid upon. She didn’t yell out like he expected her to, instead she simply laid back down against the couch and stared ahead to the ceiling.  

“Olivia?” he spoke worriedly, kindly taking a step back. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her knees parted. Dean shifts his gaze around before looking at the lamp on the side table. Moving slowly he turns on the small table lamp, a yellow glow reflecting onto the scrunch faced of the traumatized woman.  He wasn’t ready to help, he truly didn’t think he knew how. He fought things physically, not with chick flick moments. As uncomfortable as he felt he took a seat on the floor, his back pressing against the front of the couch. Dean carefully took Oliva’s hand, slowly enough to give her the time to pull away. She allowed him to take her limp hand. He gripped her cold digits in his warm calloused ones, with a firm squeeze he spoke, he admired her chipped fingernail polish as he did so, it was his favorite color. 

“ I uh, I don’t really know how much of this you’ll hear but I want you to know that you’re safe…I’m sorry that he hurt you…clearly more than either me and Sammy ever knew… I’m not the best at this kind of thing,” he chuckled and continued, “ but you're not stupid so I don’t know why I’m talking to ya like you wouldn’t have known that.”  Word by word the tangled remnants of Oliva’s memories, she can hear dean’s voice slowly breaking through. She felt the strong yet gentle grasp of his hand grounding her, a stray tear slipped down her cheek, she knew she wasn’t supposed to cry but her mind slipped. She wasn’t in the presence of false love like she assumed, she was with Dean…Dean cared, she figured.  He was still rambling as she began to see who was really besides her. Dean feels her shift, he turns his gaze towards her, he cheeks stained in memories and salt.  

“Olivia…are you, uh ok?'' Dean struggled to confirm, suddenly feeling awkward. She weakly nods as she takes the time to truly hear his voice, Dean’s real voice. He rubbed the back of his neck as he weakened his grip on her hand. 

“Would you like water or something?” he asked in a tone suggesting that he’s considering going back to his brash and uncaring nature that he usually exudes. Once again she nods, still safely quiet. He lets go, her skin craving his warmth. He turns around to head back out to the living room with the glass only to find the smallest looking version of his guest facing him, he jacket bundled around her body, edge seems gripped in her uncherished fingers. Dean took a moment to smile at her as if he hadn’t seen her fearful of him as he handed her the glass. A shaky hand reached out to grab the glass from his hands. As much as Olivia’s subconscious was screaming at her about her vicinity to Dean, she took a deep breath as she set the glass down on the counter and gently walked towards Dean with her arms outstretched. Offering the confused man a hug of appreciation . her weak arms barely wrapped around his torso, his hands gripping his flannel robe, she enjoyed that he smelled like beer, car oil, and  3-in-1 soap. He gently put his arms on her back, carefully rubbing up and down. Without letting go of her he asked gently,

“Do ya want to go back to bed?” He made it sound as if he no longer wanted to be the gentle caring man that bought her pens and held her hand. She swiftly shows her head side to side in objection. He immediately backtracked his idea.

“Alright uhhh…hungry?” She furrowed her brows, thinking, before nodding her head against his chest. He carefully pried their bodies apart and looked at her. 

“Let me grab my keys.” She stood right where he had left her before coming back with the baby's keys. He slowly got her outside and into his baby, she’s never sat in the passenger seat before since it was always reserved for sam. Dean eventually drove the two of them to the diner down the road, internally Olivia saw it and thought it was a shit show…it was going to be amazing, or at least that's what the boys have taught her. The pair was sitting in a cold booth at the back of the restaurant, Dean with a black coffee in front of him and an omelet with extra meat, and Oliva with a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with a large vanilla milkshake. Whipped cream was her favorite part. Dean had begun to notice that she became much more childlike as she became more comfortable. Olivia, seemingly out of the blue, looked at dean.

“I can repay you when we get back to the bunker, I-I don’t have my wallet.” Dean held up a hand to signal for her to drop the topic.

“You don’t gotta do  that, we’re good.” Oliva seemed uncomfortable with that conclusion, she looked at him a tad longer before placing a whipped cream covered cherry on his plate, one she was clearly planning on saving for herself. Dean fought a smile, at  the sweet, meaningful gesture, he nodded at her, satisfied. 

This is my first story on here and my first ever fanfic, I hope Y'all liked it, feedback is always appreciated <3