#Seb is one HELL of a distraction~ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theealbatross · 7 months ago

Text

isn't it delicate? (s.s.)

Plot: Sebastian is your best friend ... right?

or, Sebastian is being bullied (false), you can't possibly be falling in love with him (false), and he might have already, possibly, maybe, fallen in love with you too (true).

Tags: fluff on crack, jealousy, seb is a shit senior/lowkey bully (not rlly), imelda and ominis deserves reparations for their service to wizardkind, yandere!seb if u squint, kinda ooc but who cares, mentions of death and murder (rip anne, rot in hell solomon)

[A/N: This is me trying to beat writer's block if you even care. The scene in his dorm was so fucking difficult to write it was beating my ass. Anyways stream Delicate by T.Swizzle. Also, none of the photos are mine don;t sue me im poor]

Autumn was your favorite season – especially since it makes your short walks to Hogsmeade especially scenic.

After accepting defeat and admitting that you were hopeless at Herbology, you have made it a point to visit the Magic Neep every weekend to buy whatever you haven’t gathered yourself. The walk was a good excuse to get out from the walls of Hogwarts every now and then.

It’s surprising how loose the villagers are with their gossip when they’re just talking to a teenager. Plus, you do enjoy spending the afternoon with Mr. Timothy as he helps you improve your rubbish-handling skills with plants.

A noise from above alerts you that Imelda had the rookies on her team running drills just outside the quidditch field. The new players fight through the wind resistance as they make sharp turns and loops while they scream at each other in encouragement.

However, you can’t help but notice when one of them pointed at you while the other flew towards the stadium in a haste as if his broom had been on fire.

Shrugging it off, you continued your pace, waving at familiar faces as you passed. You were just about to approach a couple of 2nd years you had been tutoring in Charms when there was a sharp breeze from above followed by a familiar silhouette dropping in front of you.

“Fun walk, pet?” he smirked when you jumped in surprise, roping you into a hug. From behind you, he casually shoo-ed off the 2nd years with a subtle flick of his head.

“Ew, Sebastian, no! You’re sweaty!”

Rather than acting like a gentleman, he drew you in close, leaning down to rub his cheeks against your neck despite your shrieks of protest as he lifted your feet off the ground.

Finally, you managed to push his stubborn form away, wiping away the skin that was now smeared in his sweat but he still managed to get ahold of your hand, pulling you close so you had to look up at him. Bastard.

Suddenly, it clicks, “Did you seriously have your rookies keep an eye on me?”

“It’s good practice,” He shrugged shamelessly, looking up at them in scrutiny, “Trains them to have sharp eyes, remain vigilant of their surroundings, and watch out for pretty witches on the ground that might be distracting while they’re in the skies.”

You slapped his chest, trying to ignore the burn on your face from his casually tossed compliments—and how solid he felt beneath his gear. “You and your brilliant ideas, Sallow.”

With the backbreaking, secret work (“You’ll see it soon enough, pet”) he does in Feldcroft to pass time along with the training he receives from Imelda along with a sprinkle of his glorious genetics, it was no wonder his social standing recovered as quickly as it did even when whispers of forbidden magic still followed him wherever he goes.

Not that he cared, you noticed. As he was clearly more than satisfied in spending his time with the same circle of friends despite the many girls that were bidding their time to steal him.

“Soooo, is there a real reason you had them monitoring me or is it just your unique form of torture?”

“Oh right,” you didn’t notice before but he had been carrying one of his satchels, digging into it to pull a grey knitted scarf that had an owl at the end of it. Before you could say anything, he was already wrapping it around your neck, even pulling up your hair for a second and tutting under his breath how ‘you never dress warm enough’. “It’s your scarf for autumn.”

It was tradition – something that started the first time you visited Feldcroft and he had let you borrow a spare scarf from his closet because you had lost yours in your haste to get to him. It was silly but that was the first time (aside from the troll) the two of you got into a real battle with only each other to watch the other’s back.

The scarf had become a source of comfort, especially on the nights that you had to do it on your own.

However, to Sebastian’s horror, you had worn the piece of cloth ragged. Refusing to let go of it because it was the first gift he had given to you. From then on, a compromise was established, he would be in charge of buying (and confiscating) your scarfs and you would pay him for it.

Only one of you held your end of the deal.

“And wear this,” he pushed your head on the hole of a sweater, helping you find the arms despite your grumblings about his fussing. “It’s getting colder now and you never wear your coat. And since we're always together, If you get sick that means I get sick. So please,” he glares at your petulant pout. “Spare us both.”

“I’m sorry, mom,” you rolled your eyes. He pinched your cheeks painfully. “Hey!”

“No smart talk,” he chastises, chuckling. “And you better be back in the Great Hall once I’m finished here.”

You wave him off as you walk away. “Why? I like having you chase me around.”

“Don’t even think about it!” He screams, hands on his hips.

You laugh, poking your tongue out at him.

“Thanks for the scarf!”

“Do you have drills this weekend, ‘melda?”

Imelda stopped chewing her food to look at you with a raised, suspicious, brow. “No, why?”

You clapped your hands cheerfully, “I wanted to take Sebastian out on a day trip to Pitt-Upon-Ford before you guys start training for the upcoming game. One of the villagers told me a wild Dugbog was getting too aggressive and started killing their chickens.”

She nodded understandingly.

“Not the most romantic date but sure, just bring him back to the Quidditch Pitch in one piece by Monday.”

The nonchalant accusation plucked just the right string as your face morphed into a mixture of surprise, discomfort, and a hint of embarrassment. “It’s not a date! And how would you know what’s romantic?”

Imelda chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender, “Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Melda!” you shrieked, face heating up even more when you realized you had caught the attention of other students at the nearby tables. “I’m just worried about him.”

That made the Quidditch Captain frown, what is there to worry about? Is Sebastian having a tough time again? Imelda may be a bit dense regarding other people’s emotions but even she could tell losing his uncle and his twin sister in such quick succession had quite a toll on her friend.

It would take quite a toll on anyone.

But Imelda was sure he had been managing well, especially with his dearest witch by his side who, if the rumor mills were to be believed, basically spent all summer nursing him back to health. Not that she could blame her, from what Ominis told Imelda, Sebastian had damn near been catatonic and wouldn’t give anyone the time of the day unless it was you.

“Is he alright?”

You were quick to wave off her worries with a hand and a nervous smile, “No, he’s fine! Doing better than fine. It’s just … I’m worried he might be getting … bullied.”

In the confusion between laughing or swallowing or insisting that even a full-grown troll wouldn’t be able to bully Sebastian Sallow, Imelda instead choked on the pumpkin juice she was nursing.

“Imelda!”

She stops your fussing with a raised hand before speaking through the pain. “What *cough* What ever gave you such a ludicrous idea?”

You fiddle with your hands, clearly having kept this ceaseless worry for quite a bit of time. “Because Sebastian – ever since – he’s not particularly … very nice. Plus, there are all these ridiculous rumors of him being a dark wizard,” you roll your eyes but Imelda can still see the poorly concealed anxiety in them. “I’m scared he’s being ostracized. And I can’t be with him forever, you know.”

“Did you tell him that? Because I have a baaaad feeling the two of you aren’t on the same page.” Imelda is fairly certain Sebastian has already named their future children and dogs if you asked her. And if there was anyone that could have some sort of sway on that stubborn mule it would probably be you.

You shook your head, “He’s a man. He’ll just tell me not to worry about it.”

“Not worry about what?”

“Godric’s bloody heart! Sebastian, you scared me!”

“She thinks you’re being bullied.”

Without missing a beat Sebastian just bashfully smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before straddling the bench to sit facing you amidst Imelda’s gagging. “Aw, you’re sweet, pet.”

Imelda watched in horror and disbelief as Sebastian just ignored her and cooed at you, teasingly trying to press kisses at your cheeks while you pushed away his face.

“Are you not even gonna deny that?”

“Should I?” Sebastian continued to stare as you stood up quickly, a flimsy excuse of getting some pastries on the other side of the table while huffing at Sebastian about misbehaving in public and creating misunderstandings. “I quite like it when I’m the only thing in her mind.”

“You’re seriously sick in the head, you know that?” she crosses her arms, studying him as his eyes stayed stuck while you got roped into a conversation with other students you were too polite to end quickly.

Sebastian just grinned, popping a grape into his mouth. “Of course, I know that.”

Suddenly, his gaze shifted to the side, spotting a sixth-year slyly stealing glances and eavesdropping on their conversation. He slammed his hands on the table, startling them. “Can I help you?”

“N-No – I’m sorry, Sebastian!”

Imelda shook her head, as the nosy students dispersed, prematurely ending their dinners. “Bullied, my arse.”

“Oh, if we have drills this weekend I won’t go, we’re going on a date.”

“I know that, Sallow.”

“Cheers, Reyes,” Sebastian tapped his fingers on the table twice and winked at his captain goodbye. Imelda watched as her prized beater decided he was done sharing you for the night. In a speed befitting a Seeker, he walked in your direction to grab you and your plate full of sweets towards the exit as you haphazardly screamed a goodbye to the witch.

Imelda stares at her cup before sighing, “Merlin, help her.”

Last night was the first time you had a dream about him.

Not a nightmare of losing him or a terrible recollection of the crimes you have buried together in the past – but a dream. A sweet, fuzzy dream that had you staring at your ceiling in a confusing blend of horror and butterflies as fuzzy memories of the touch of his lips on yours burned your cheeks.

You slap a pillow over your face.

“No, no, no.”

It would have been easier if it had been a nightmare. With one letter you and Sebastian would already be cocooned up the Room of Requirement and you would find sleep again under his careful watch.

But who do you call for this? When the one person you tell everything to is the one who can’t know.

This can’t be happening. You can’t do this to him.

You’ve been faintly aware of an attraction budding inside of you for your dear friend but you thought it was normal. Who wouldn’t be attracted to Sebastian?

He was tall, tanned, broad, and had that irresistible, mischievous grin that spells trouble—but somehow, it works. Because handsome features aside, he was protective, thoughtful, and was someone you could talk to for the rest of your days and never get bored with.

He’s your best friend.

And …

And you dreamt of kissing him.

You scream into your pillow.

Along with the life-shattering realization in the dark of the night is another horrible one in the morning: you’re probably not the only one who dreamt of kissing him.

You stare in horror at the small crowd of giggling girls that trailed after him, roping him into a conversation even when he politely excused himself once he saw you.

When has this happened?

The year you met, the two of you had been bombarded with problems bigger than each other that silly things like romance and crushes and jealousy were shoved and locked to the back of your minds. The year after that was spent recovering -- you had basically spent all of your days huddled together in whatever corner you both could find, too on guard to even think of socializing properly with other students.

Now, as you stand next to him, on the way to your next class, you finally see what you had been so obtusely blind to.

In a moment of grim clarity, you twigged that your good friend, one you had barely accepted as the boy that holds your adoration, was a handsome, talented gentleman in the race to become the most successful wizard to graduate in your year.

Of course, he would be bloody popular.

“Hey.”

You were so used to being at the center of all his attention (as depressing the context was) that you didn’t even comprehend otherwise – missed the flutter of their lashes, their shy giggles as he passed, or the coquettish whispers that followed him wherever he goes despite his aloof demeanor.

A couple of 5th-year Ravenclaws greet Sebastian sweetly as you pass by. You flinch at the tilt in their voice.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian notices the grimace in your face as you turn a corner, hands quickly soothing the back of your spine.

Well, you definitely see it now.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Avoiding him was definitely the wrong move – heedless, moronic, selfish –

But in your panic, it was the only move you had.

So, yes, it is horrendously short-term and stupid and back floating in the middle of the Black Lake in the morning of your weekend even more so.

Still, you and Sebastian had agreed months before the start of the term to pick mostly the same subjects as your last year, an idea that is now gloriously clashing with your ‘avoiding-him’ plans. Hence, you had no choice but to find solace in the big lake, submerging your ears under the water to tune out the noise of the rest of the world as you tried to think out of this predicament you have checkmated yourself in.

You are a brilliant student, a great strategist, and a powerful witch; you should be able to fix this.

He is suspicious, you know him well enough to know he’s slowly catching on to the fact that you would rather fight a graphorn wandless than be anywhere near him. He won’t be able to let it go. He’ll dig his claws in your brain and rip the reasons out of your mouth himself – which is something he definitely can’t find out.

You … like Sebastian – might even love him.

It’s the first time you admitted it to yourself, dunking yourself in the frigid waters to scream underwater (scaring the poor squid) before floating on your back again when you’ve sufficiently calmed down. You must positively look like an idiot but you have bigger fishes to fry than looking sane.

“I love Sebastian,” you whispered, trying and failing to get used to the idea, even if it was just on your tongue.

Should you tell him? That would be … difficult.

Everything is too delicate.

Your friendship was barely dangling on a thread a few months ago. If it wasn’t for your insistence to spend your summer together mending whatever was left of him and your bond outside the horrors in Feldcroft and in the small estate Professor Fig had left for you, you might’ve lost him altogether.

He tries hard to move on from it, to atone quietly, become a better man but you know he’s still struggling. On the worst nights you’ll find him staring at the empty walls of the Undercroft curled in on himself until you unwrap him out of his worst nightmares and into your arms.

Your feelings seemed infinitesimal compared to the demons he is fighting inside his head.

Does he even feel the same? Would he?

If you tell him, would you just become another one of his problems?

You slapped a hand on the water, trying to find the best outlet to let out your frustrations so you could piece together some form of answer or plan, cursing when a drop of water conveniently landed on your eye.

Realistically, he has his pick of the litter right now. Pretty girls tripping over themselves to be noticed by him. Beautiful, untraumatized, clean slates who would definitely be a sweeter companion than you.

The thought of seeing him with another makes your hands tremble – a strange combination of unjust anger, boiling jealousy, and a hint of heavy sadness flowing in your veins.

It feels strange to have your roles flipped. When you had arrived you were the new kid, a limelight at your every move and it was Sebastian who was always chasing after you, beating anyone else to hog your attention. As sick as it is to admit, you preferred it that way.

Being the jealous one wasn’t the kind of tune you were used to dancing in.

If you weren’t so caught up with saving the world maybe you would’ve been able to chain him to you.

Maybe it is too late now.

It feels unfair to add your confusion and emotions as yet another burden for Sebastian, who already carries so much. He’s happy now, finally finding some peace and stability. You refuse to be the one to break it all down.

You won't be another sin he'll have to take responsibility for, another person he stands to lose.

It's fine. This is fine.

“Accio.”

Your view went from the blue sky to a haze as you got rudely plucked out of the water and back into shore, face-to-face with the boy who had haunted your every waking (and sleeping) moment.

If you hadn’t been so dizzied you would’ve been offended.

“S-Sebastian?”

He does not look pleased. Fuck, fuck, fu –

“How many times must I tell you I don’t like chasing you around.” He quips but quickly removes his robes to wrap them around you. It was only when your feet were back on the ground did you realize all the eyes on you and the scene he had created.

Sebastian glared at the group of boys gawking and they scattered like ants. What a tyrannical senior he had turned out to be. You can’t believe you were worried about him getting harassed a few weeks ago. “We’re going back to the dorm to get you changed.”

Wait – what – “’s going on?”

One second you were having a heartbreaking crisis in the lake and in a blink, you were in his arms getting dragged barefooted back up the stairs.

He suddenly stopped waking, your face smashing into his back. You took quick steps backward when he gave you the most offended look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Oh no, you’ve messed up somehow. “Did you have somewhere more important to be than on one of my games?”

Ohhhh shit.

“N-No! I – I didn’t forget I swear it just … slipped my mind for a moment –”

And you didn’t! You even prepared your ensemble for today last night; it was hanging on your closet before you left your room. However, as you focused on not being seen by Sebastian the day had escaped you.

Your excuses seemed to just infuriate him even further because he just firmly grabbed your hand again and tugged you into the nearest floo. When you have teleported to the familiar walls of your Common Room you stopped on your tracks at the risk of lighting his fuse.

“I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t forget. I have my outfit ready in my –”

He stared, looking over your (no doubt) pitiful dripping form before sighing, pulling you so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go to my room. We need to talk.”

It shouldn’t make you feel like a sulking child, but the way you are trailing from beside him with your head down had you fitting just the part. However, two firm squeezes on your shoulders were Sebastian’s silent way of telling you he wasn’t bringing you to his abode for a fight.

With his door closed and a quick silencing charm (when has he gotten so good at Charms) he was quick to pull out a spare skirt from the bottom of his bunk, unhooking one of his jerseys before handing it to you.

“Is this my skirt?”

A less secure boy would’ve been flustered but he just shrugged, you hate how his confidence just made him more attractive. “You left it when we were studying late here and you borrowed one of my sleeping shorts. Figured I’d just keep it here in case of emergencies.”

Even his reasoning was perfectly endearing and thoughtful. Clearing your throat, you gave him a grateful smile before going behind the dressing screen.

It was a few minutes of reprieve before he started his interrogation.

“Care to explain why I’ve barely seen you today?”

“Oh, I was just bu –”

“Or this entire week at all?”

You silently winced, seriously considering just apparating from behind the flimsy wood separating you. Though you had a feeling he'd just hunt you down again and that would just be awkward.

Because as much as he claims to hate chasing you, he does a perfectly good job at it.

Peeking from behind the wooden cover you flinched when he was already staring.

With a quiet sigh, he unwrapped his scarf from his own neck and threw it on his bed, his hands enclosed around each other as he leaned on his legs.

“I’m all ears, darling.” His frustration was evident, yet he was clearly extending his patience for you—a surprise, given his reputation for having a short fuse.

You finish zipping up your clothes, steeling yourself from behind the wooden screen before finally gathering all the courage you could muster and finally going out of your hiding spot and meeting his eye.

It was silent for a couple of long seconds before he decides to cut the tension by reaching out a reassuring hand which you quickly and gratefully accepted, letting yourself be dragged in between his legs as he stares up at you.

“Did I do something?”

“No!” You quickly reach a hand to his messy, brown, locks to placate him. A small smile gracing your face when he nodded quietly, earnest eyes hanging on to your every word. “It’s just …”

You squeaked when the door suddenly opened.

“Sebastian, Imelda said to get on the fie –”

“Out!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know your girlfriend – the captain said – I’ll let her know! I’m sorry!”

The door slammed with an echo, and Sebastian slumped into your stomach, hands loosely on the back of your knees. Despite the relief at being cut off, you can’t help but share his frustration. However, it didn't escape your notice his failure to correct what you believe is a common assumption among his teammates.

“We should go before it’s Imelda who bursts in next time. I think she won’t be as kind to your door.”

He sighs, nods, and stands up. However, instead of guiding you back to the floo he pulled you closer into him until you had to stand on the tip of your toes. His hooded eyes run through every inch of your face as he cradles it firmly, his work-worn thumb caressing your cheek gently while his other hand pulls you until you have to rely on his solid body for balance.

“Don’t think we’re finished talking about this,” he warns, his grip on your cheeks going tighter for a split second as the intensity of his gaze sharpens and he returns to the sweet, charming boy that stole your heart.

This is exactly what you had feared. Secrets weren’t a concept familiar to the two of you. Now that he had sniffed it out, it is only a matter of time before he gets to the bottom of it.

He gives you a mischievous smile at the unmistakable horror and guilt on your face, then leans in to press a kiss to your hairline. "Stop trying to run away from me while I'm still being nice."

"This is you being nice?" you tease but he only chuckles. "Maybe I should be running faster."

"You can play chase all you want, pet. But your chances of getting away from me are --" He mouths 'zero'.

"Oh? Zero?"

"To none."

The two of you laugh, and all at once, the small argument, the days spent avoiding him, and the guilt you feel about your emotions are lifted from your chest as you reach a bittersweet conclusion.

This was for the best.

This is how it's supposed to be. You shouldn't ask for more, not right now.

As long as he can keep laughing like a boy his age should after being forced to grow up so fast, and you remain each other's safe haven you can always retreat to, and he continues to look at you just ... like ... that ...

And you see it. Clear as day, you almost want to laugh at how silly and blind you had been.

In fast progression, you run through your memories, and it feels like falling through the ice-cold waters of the lake surrounding Hogwarts, like the path to Hogsmeade after an autumn rain -- clear and refreshing.

He hooks a strand of hair behind your ear and you realize that he knows you've finally figured it out.

"Is that a promise?" you ask.

It should be terrifying, it should terrify you – what you realize is his need for control of everything regarding you, his barely hidden obsession you had missed all this time, his unwavering dedication that only now did you see the depth of.

Instead, you beam, heart fluttering and meeting his commitment with a kiss pressed on his thumb.

You’re in love with Sebastian Sallow.

And for the first time since the two of you met, you finally see it – Sebastian Sallow might also be a bit in love with you.

"I promise."

“I know it’s been a while since I’ve been here but has the house gotten bigger?”

Sebastian stops his search on one of the chests in the storage to look back on his friend by the door. He looks up at the ceiling as if just noticing himself. “Oh, yeah, I did work on it over the past summers.”

Ominis frowned, raising his wand in different directions to get a clearer visualization of the new space, “I thought you spent the summer at her place?”

“I spent the first month finishing everything then flew back to hers for the rest. I’ve been working on it since the end of 5th year so there wasn’t much left to be done. It's honestly a good way to practice Charms.”

The Gaunt scion could barely believe the nonchalance in his statement, “And you added a second floor to your house because …?”

“Aha!”

In Sebastian’s hand was a fancy, brown velvet box, the emblem of the nearly fallen Sallow line embossed on the lid. With a quick peek, he confirmed that his mother’s ring was still safely tucked inside.

“Merlin, Sebastian.”

Ominis could almost hear his grin as he patted the dust off his pants before walking back to his frozen friend. “Are you planning to wed her by the time we graduate? Have you even courted her yet?!”

Sebastian just shrugged, looking around the house, a sense of pride filling his chest when he saw how perfect everything had been. Every nook and cranny made with only the thought of you in mind. Even the reading room you had mentioned in passing was thoughtfully plopped close to the backyard where he had hoped to improve your Herbology skills in the future when he manages to drag you into it.

“We don’t have to be married if she doesn’t want to be but we’re definitely getting engaged, I’m not risking it.”

“And you’re sure she’ll say yes?”

Sebastian scoffs and Ominis unfortunately quietly agrees at the stupidity of his question.

Ominis should be scandalized. The quiet, conservative part of him wants to scream about the impropriety of it all. However, with how headstrong you are and how stubborn Sebastian is he knew it would be a waste of his breath to scream about decorum and the formality of proper courting.

“Does she know about your grand plans yet?”

Sebastian slipped the box into the pocket on the inside of his coat. “My darling’s a skittish one but she’s getting there,” he smirks, the memory of the look of dawning on your face in his dorm room making his chest flutter in excitement. “If I make any moves now, I fear she’ll fly away.”

“Well, if a man told me he’s been obsessed with me from the moment we met to the point of building an entire house for a hypothetical future he has built for us without any of my say I’d be bolting for the hills too.”

Sebastian pushed the other boy enough to make him stumble.

“You wouldn’t understand, Omi,” he grins, smug. “We’re kindred spirits,” he releases the word like it had always been written – a fate he, for the first time in his stubborn life, was willingly letting himself get swayed into. “It was always going to end this way.”

Ominis couldn’t help but agree, both because of his confidence for his dear friend and a healthy part of it is of the potential horror he fears Sebastian would unleash on any other man that might risk taking you away from him.

He'd fancy not hiding another murder from the Ministry.

“For all our sake, I hope so too.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yes, pet?”

Sebastian casually flicks into the next page of the book carefully placed on your lap as you sit comfortably astride him. The wrinkle in between his brows a manifestation of his frustration with the Advanced Potions he was studying.

You could feel the stares and hear the whispers. Two of the younger Headboys tried to pretend not to see you improperly sitting in his lap while a group of girls gave you sharp glares as they passed by. You burrow yourself deeper into his lap, not forgetting to stare back with a sweet smile.

“Do you think we should start dating?”

Sebastian freezes, the speed at which his iris moved from the ink on the pages to your eyes was almost too comical but you held back your laugh, not giving him any space to misunderstand your words.

He does nothing but stare for the next 5 seconds before nodding, pushing a hand to rummage in his pocket before placing and opening a pretty brown box with a simple but beautifully carved ring inside it.

“Since we're already graduating, girlfriend seems a bit juvenile,” he clears his throat casually but a shake in his voice betrays his nerves. “Isn't it?”

You forced yourself to close your mouth as you stared at what undoubtedly is the Sallow’s family ring. It was only when he had plucked out the precious jewelry and gently slipped it into your finger that you finally managed to break yourself out of your stupor.

You sniff, now finally looking back at him, “You and your brilliant ideas, Sallow.”

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow headcannons #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction

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sammylkcho · 8 months ago

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"Seb, could you feed Pianter?" you asked your husband kindly. You were washing the dishes, so giving dinner to his beloved cat was now his task.

Sebastian hummed in agreement, opening one of the kitchen drawers to grab the can opener and make opening the cat food less of a hassle. He had bought it for you since it was hard for you to open cans, but even though it was easier for him, he liked using it because it made things quicker.

As he grabbed the can, he felt a sudden pinch in his chest—not something to worry about, but enough to give him a bad feeling. He brushed it off for now and carried on, though the uneasy feeling lingered.

The meows of the white cat with gray patches seemed to ease that bad feeling for a moment. He placed the food in Pianter’s bowl, and the cat started devouring it.

"Hey, you okay? You seem a bit distracted." You asked, resting your chin on his shoulder, his dark hair brushing against the tip of your nose.

"I'm just a bit tired. You woke me up way too early today." He teased, reminding you of the little moment from that morning—when you had kicked him while he tried to untangle your feet from the blankets. It was a comical scene, especially when you ended up falling to the floor.

"Mmph," you mumbled softly, not really knowing how to defend yourself.

He chuckled, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before heading to the living room. You followed behind, chatting about whether to watch that new movie that had just come out or continue the series you had left on hold.

That bad feeling in his chest never truly left him, lingering into the next morning, leaving him with a sense of anxiety.

Sebastian opened his eyes slowly, feeling the tension in his arms from staying on high alert even while asleep. The trauma of being experimented on while unconscious was why he sometimes refused to sleep, so passing out from exhaustion was nothing new—it was the only way he could "make up" for the lost sleep.

He looked around and wasn’t surprised to see nothing had changed. He was still in his shop, the same hellish place he had been trapped in for so many years (who knows how many).

He had dreamed again about the day before his arrest. Again. His mind seemed to enjoy torturing him, reminding him that the pinch in his chest had been a warning of the hell that awaited him, far away from you.

divider by @/cafekitsune

#pressure x reader #sebastian solace fanfic #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian solace x yn #i called the cat pianter because is like painter #its bad i know

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vllergy · 6 months ago

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strawberry scones

s/tar/d/ew v/alley, 2.6 k, s/am allergy fic my farmer has the fetish because i said so, sam/seb/farmer are some kind of polycule also because i said so sorry to call u out directly but just want to note the text messages and dynamics are directly inspired from @bestwhumpist's fics because i'm obsessed with the way you write the 'one partner with the kink and everyone else around them' dynamic and you inspire me xoxoxoxoxoxoxo ty

goblin destroyer + milo abigail: r we still practicing today?? seb: we were supposed to…. abigail: ??? seb: sam might still be dying sam: IM GOOD! IM FINE! i took my allergy meds sam: we’re still on >:| seb: uh huh sam: im serious! im much better sam: 4pm at my place be there or be lame sam: milo, you in? c:

The glare from the sun made the surface of his phone near impossible to read at first. Angling his hat forward, Milo let the brim cast a shadow over the screen until the group chat became legible. And when it did, his throat immediately went dry. Nervous heat fluttered in his chest despite the still crisp early spring air and his thumbs became clumsy as they hurried to type back a response.

milo: you know it!!! i’ll bring snacks

He was about to pocket his phone and resume tending to the bed of soil in front of him when another message came through. A private one, outside the group chat. Milo swiped back to read it and his heart dropped into his stomach.

sebastian: ur so fucked lol

Upon first arriving, it seemed as though Sam’s insistence on his own well-being was actually genuine. He greeted Milo at the door with clear eyes and a beaming, slightly crooked smile. Feeling like a delinquent for doing so, Milo gave a cursory glance at his nose and found it not even the slightest bit red or raw looking. He tried to temper his disappointment in favor of relief. This was good, actually. If Sam’s allergy meds really were doing their job, this was going to be a lot easier for him to sit through.

Sam threw a lean, muscled arm around Milo’s shoulders and guided him inside. He smelled like fresh laundry and sunshine and was already talking a mile a minute.

“I think you’re really gonna like the new stuff, Sebastian’s been working on some lyrics that really brought the whole ting together--” he glanced at the tote Milo had clutched under his arm, “Oh shit, you really did bring snacks! I could kiss you, dude.”

They entered Sam’s room—always surprisingly clean for a man so full of boundless energy—and Abigail snorted.

“Ugh, save it for when I leave,” she muttered, “The three of you can make out on your own time.”

Milo blushed dark red, the freckles on his cheeks nearly dissolving into the pools of color as the heat crawled up his face. Just as his step faltered, Sebastian appeared at his side and snaked an arm around his waist. He pulled Milo free of Sam’s golden aura and cocooned him in his own: velvety and dark and every bit as distracting.

“It was a figure of speech, jeez,” Sam’s cheeks went a little pink too, much to Milo’s delight. The blonde palmed the back of his neck sheepishly while he kicked off his shoes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Milo caught Sebastian smirking. He never quite knew where the lines between them all existed. He and Sebastian were dating, he was pretty sure of that. But Sam and Sebastian had a thing all of their own too. And for their part, Milo and Sam always seemed to get tongue-tied around one another, a phenomenon Sebastian relentlessly encouraged.

The only one who could clock all of them from a mile away seemed to be Abigail, who rolled her eyes and snatched the tote away from Milo before retreating back to the couch with it. Cracking open the lid made the room fill with the sweet scent of fresh baked scones. Abigail’s eyes went wide.

“Milo, you outdid yourself,” she gasped.

Milo, who’d just stopped blushing started right up again, and raked a hand through his dark curls.

“It’s a new recipe.”

“Oh hell yes! Gimme one!”

Sam darted past and snatched one out of the bin, jamming nearly half of a scone into his mouth with glee. Both Sebastian and Abigail rolled their eyes, but Milo merely watched with unmasked affection. Sam never did anything elegantly. It was all wide-toothed grins, exaggerated movements and unapologetic mirth.

By contrast, Sebastian was more delicate about the whole ordeal. Taking a scone for himself, he held it between his long, pale fingers and inspected the glaze. His dark eyes flickered to Milo.

“Strawberry?” he asked.

Milo nodded, “Picked this morning.”

Sam had already demolished his first and was onto his second as he stooped down to his guitar case. Scone in mouth, he snapped the latches with his hands and shook hair out of his face like a dog. Milo’s chest squeezed. So cute.

En route to the keyboard, Sebastian stopped and placed a soft kiss on Milo’s cheek. “Thanks, farmer.” His hand strayed to his hip as he passed and pinched at the bone playfully. Milo almost yelped but managed to keep his reaction from emerging.

He whirled an accusing gaze on Sebastian who merely gave a pointed look over at Sam who now held a half-eaten scone in one hand and was furiously rubbing at his nose with his other.

—

Abigail used to joke that Milo was a captive audience for these practice sessions. But the truth was, there was nowhere in the world Milo would rather be. As music filled the room, Milo sank back into the old couch Sam had dragged in and pushed against the wall.

He couldn’t hold a tune to save his life and he’d never learned to play an instrument, so the best he could offer was a pair of listening ears for Goblin Destroyer’s new material. He tended to think everything they did sounded great, but he at least pretend to offer varying opinions. He mostly just liked being a part of it all. Plus, watching both Sebastian and Sam in their element had a kind of hypnotizing power over him.

Unfortunately, not hypnotizing enough to distract Milo from the losing battle happening before his eyes.

Sam turned his head against his shoulder and rubbed his nose against his shirt. With both hands occupied by his guitar, it seemed to be his only option, and one made effortlessly casual at that. It was over and done with in a second, having not missed a beat for his efforts, and it seemed Milo was the only one who’d noticed. It could have been a fluke.

But of course it wasn’t.

A few moments later, Sam sniffed hard. The sound was lost behind the music but Milo could see it happen clear as day. The bridge of his nose crinkled a few times and then the tip wriggled as he tried to assuage an itch without actually scratching it. Milo squirmed on the couch, wondering what it might be like to help him. To reach up and rub his nose for him while he played, or run his fingers along the bridge of his nose to try and coax out—

Sam sneezed without warning. A tightly controlled thing, just one bob of his head and a brief shuttering of his expression. It was impossible to say if he’d made any sound or not given the volume of the music, but Milo doubted it. For as inelegant as Sam could be, he’d been suffering from his allergies for long enough that he’d gotten good at suppressing them. Normally he didn’t bother, at least not around them, but Milo supposed these were different circumstances. There was a certain veneer of professionalism here.

Sam sniffed hard enough to wrinkle his nose again and continued playing, unbothered. But Milo knew where this was going. And he was certainly bothered.

Sam’s fingers never missed their mark on the neck of the guitar as his eyes fluttered and his head snapped forward once, twice, and then a third time with completely suppressed sneezes. His mouth was shut in a tight line, his expression pinched. He shook his head after the third as if to clear the sensation and arched his shoulder to wipe under his nose as he played.

Milo felt the room turning to molasses around him. Heat crawled up his throat. Worse still, Sebastian had caught that last outburst. A tiny smirk played on the keyboardist’s pale features as he continued to play, his eyes flashing almost wickedly as he met Milo’s gaze.

His expression seemed to say Told you.

There were a few moments of peace. Milo tried to will himself not to look at Sam again but his eyes were pulled there like a magnet. He could tell the fit was getting away from him. Sam’s eyes closed and this time his hands paused their rhythm on the guitar as the tickle distracted him. He tilted his head toward the light, a lock of blonde hair falling limp across his forehead, and then whipped to the side after a brief pause.

“—tiiew!”

Milo only caught the tail end of the sound over the music, and the resounding-undoubtedly wet-sniffle was swallowed up by Sam falling seamlessly back on beat. He blinked a little groggily as he continued playing. Then, he must have noticed Milo staring, because he grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders at him.

That slight acknowledgement of it all went right to Milo’s dick. He somehow plastered on what he thought was a convincing smile in return and then had to cross his legs. His heart began jackhammering in his chest. Fuck, was he really about to have to sit here while this happened? Maybe he really was a captive audience.

Sam struggled in vain to keep playing but his nose had other ideas. Surrendering to the tickle, his hands went slack against the instrument again and his upper lip curled over his canine. Milo couldn’t hear the uptick of his breath but he could imagine it well enough, watching the plane of Sam’s chest swelling against his t-shirt. Hh—hh? Hh?

Sebastian stopped playing. And the pause between Abigail’s drumming was just long enough for the first, clear sneeze to strike through the room crystal clear.

“h’h’JIISHZSHh’huu!” Sam gripped the neck of his guitar and angled away from it. Milo couldn’t tell if he was worried about sneezing near it or just using it as a point of stability. He gasped and let his head snap forward with a second, wet, “hh’tiiISChiew!”

Abigail stopped playing too. Silence descended, to which Sam quickly shook his head. He turned to the others even while his head bobbed between sneezes, eyes struggling to open during the quick cadence.

“N-no, don’t—nNNCH!—stop, I’m—hNGT!—fiii-nnGXT!—hGNT!—I can keep—tschh! TSCH! Going!”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, you sound like it.”

“You know when you hold them in like that it only just makes it worse,” Abigail scolded him.

Milo felt like the walls were closing in on him. He quickly angled himself towards the arm of a couch and placed one of the pillows on his lap as strategically as he could.

Sam lifted the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth as he geared up for another. “h’Hsshhh-ue!!” "Bless you," Milo said, his mouth dry.

“I thought you took your allergy meds,” Sebastian sighed.

Sam remained under the cover of his shirt, eyes cinched shut. He gasped wildly and ducked down, “HHh’uPSCHh’ue!” A watery, pathetic sniff followed and Milo could think of nothing else besides the wet mist most likely spraying his own chest.

As Sam emerged, his nose was pink, nostrils an angry shade and twitching. “I did,” he groaned, “God, I fucking hate sp-sprhiing.”

Lifting up his shirt again, he pinched the fabric around his nose and shuddered into another, “hh’eSCHh!”

Milo couldn’t help but notice the slight spot of dampness now forming on the shirt. "Bless you," he said again, trying to keep his voice steady. His eyes were apt to roll back into his head if he wasn’t careful. "Thagks," Sam sniffed hard.

“Maybe sit this one out,” Sebastian suggested as Sam pawed at his nose, “Abby and I are the ones who have to learn the run anyway.”

To anyone else, it might have sounded like something a concerned friend might say. But Milo could hear the edge of playfulness to it. The slight lilt of teasing that was meant for him, and only him as Sam nodded glumly, shrugged out of the strap of his guitar and made his way over to the couch.

Milo stiffened, eyes going wide. Sam flopped back, completely oblivious, one arm going behind him around the back of the couch. He dropped his head back, gave a liquid sniffle and groaned. Milo could feel the heat of his arm near his shoulders and chewed on the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste blood.

“Just don’t sneeze all over Milo,” Sebastian warned.

Milo gave him a desperate look. It must have been really desperate, because Sebastian even laughed and managed to appear a little apologetic.

“Or the scones,” Abigail added.

Sam gave them both the finger even while turning his face to the side and half-stifling into the open air. The frame of the couch shook softly and his knee brushed against Milo’s as he released it. “hH’NGXtssh!” He groaned and shifted back. Sam hardly ever looked grumpy, but he was absolutely pouting now. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something else but his arm quickly retracted from behind Milo so he could lean forward. He ducked beneath the safe haven of his shirt again, head dropped and hair falling over his brow as he buried his nose into the fabric. "hh'tscHH!! hhi'zESHhhiyew!"

Milo instinctively reached for him, his hand smoothing over his spine. Sam startled at the sudden contact and bit down the next series of sneezes seemingly on instinct, folding into himself further with each quick set.

"hH'nNNT! nnGSST! nnGXCH!"

"Sorry!" Milo said hurriedly, retracting his arm.

Sam tried in vain to shake his head through and speak through the last of the tickle, "No, my ba-haa'aSScHIEW--bad! Sorry, hh'tssch!--fuck! There."

He'd thoroughly soaked the front of his t-shirt now. Sniffling wetly behind the cover of it, he lifted his gaze with no small amount of bashfulness. A hoarse, weak laugh escaped him. "Bless you doesn't seem to cover it," Milo said, breathless for entirely different reasons.

"Sorry, sorry," Sam continued to apologize, sluicing the moisture from his nose with his shirt.

"Do you not own tissues?" Abigail balked. "My house, I can sneeze where I want," Sam sniffed again before standing up and unceremoniously stripping out of his sodden shirt. Milo blinked, stunned, and could do nothing but stare at the lean muscle on full display as Sam walked towards his dresser. Sebastian cleared his throat and when Milo caught his eye, he was practically grinning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him look so happy. Milo sank further into the couch and forced his eyes to the floor. "Okay, I think the worst's over," Sam declared as he grabbed a fresh shirt. Though Milo caught his profile just as the telltale hitch of his breath followed the statement. "Hh? Hh!"

His long, blonde lashes fluttered as turned to the side, eyebrows lifting in expectation. Milo watched his bare shoulders swell softly as he inhaled, muscles along his ribs flexing. Sam sniffed and seemed to ignite the tickle fully, directing one last tired sneeze towards his elbow. "hH'tishew!"

The exhausted nature of it did something irrevocable to Milo. His mind went completely blank as Sam sniffled through tossing his new shirt over his head and eventually returned to his guitar.

Music started up again but Milo barely heard it. He was lost completely, shoving strawberry scones in his mouth one after another to have something to focus on other than Sam's delightfully pink nose.

#im replaying it and um.... i love him ok #it's not just because he has canon allergies but that DOES help #my sweet himbo with his dumb skateboard #s/tardew v/alley #this is not my best writing but im also sad so no one should judge me #seb sneeze would be cute too tho......possibilities are endless #i am simple and dumb #anyway seb thinks its adorable and fully intended for this to happen #snz fic #snz kink #snzblr #snzfic

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fandomfluffandfuck · 6 months ago

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I can't stop fucking thinking about premature ejaculation today, literally, I've been so distracted from everything, and it's probably definitely K's (@howdoyousleep3 's) fault with this fucking post (plus her broader, totally understandable, fixation with it 👀) that will haunt me for the rest of my days. So. Evanstan filth.

Chris was slotting his key card into his hotel room door but he isn't anymore and he doesn't know, honest to god, how he got from standing outside the room to lying flat on his fucking back on the plush, tightly made bed of that same room without remembering even a single rushed step but he is, he is, it's not even been a full minute, he swears, and ohhh--

Sebastian is here.

He's not supposed to be is the thing, though, he's got a thousand other places he's all but contracted to be right now; their schedules have been hell the last few months between their competing, demanding press tours for movies with such laugably different tones. Sebastian is doing two fucking press tours at once for Christ's sake, he doesn't have time for even a quickie. Chris feels like they've hardly heard each other's voices, seen each other's faces--they've not been calling, certainly not FaceTime-ing, just texting back and forth between the circuses of their limelight lives, just trying to keep it together while the world spins too fast around them.

Chris' head is spinning off his shoulders now. He's slammed his head back into the overstuffed pillows, his hair fanning out around him with a strand of it sticking to his forehead, sweating when, shit, he can't have been in the room for more than a minute or two, tops. He doesn't know if he pushed or Seb pulled--who led who to the bed? How'd they get here? How'd it become this?

Not that he can complain, he doesn't know and he doesn't fucking care how they ended up on top of each other, tangled together, knotted and beyond coming apart easily. He can't care because he's not even fully out of his shirt--it's half unbuttoned, pulled apart and pulled down to expose the upper half of his chest, flushed, normally pale skin and dark ink and a forest of hair, his necklace left astray, heated to his feverish body temperature and sizzling where it rests in the pit of his neck. That's not all, though. His shirt is rucked up to display even more of the scattered art across his skin, his abs clenching tight. He lost his slacks somewhere. Shoes, too. He was wearing shoes when he got in here, right? He had to be. Definitely. He wouldn't've--

It doesn't matter.

A moan comes tumbling out of Chris' mouth, and it doesn't fucking matter. His toes curl without even half of a muttled thought spared to investigating the sensation to rediscover if he's still wearing socks or not. And, oops, his boxer briefs are gone, too, now. Sebastian is stripping him of them impatiently, his hands frantic, greedy, as they slide down over his skin.

Bared, his cock hits his exposed stomach and Chris makes a sound that doesn't even make sense.

His mouth is open, somehow both too dry and wet with spit--almost drool. His bearded jaw has dropped so fucking wide it would be embarrassing if he could comprehend such a concept as embarrassment at a time like this.

This--

One leg bent at the knee, foot flat against the mattress, and the other leg curled indecently over his lover's shoulder as Sebastian's lips glide, slick and hot and unfairly erotic, against his cock, he's so hard so fast--responding to Seb's mouth like a subject of Pavlov, a damn dirty dog--that he's not even sure he was ever soft. How could he be soft when Sebastian is tilting his whole head into it? Getting fucking into it.

Woof.

He's merciless, mouthing at his dick, moaning like he fucking missed it. The weight. The taste. The mouthful. He must've missed it bad with how he's going at it, licking, dragging his tongue over it broadly, outrageously, then resting it heavily on his tongue, mouth open, sloppy, letting the tip slide against the soaked velvet inside of his cheek, bulging out pornographically, moaning, sucking on the tip, letting it slide deep shiveringly, impressively quickly. He's hungry--starved even.

And Chris' entire body clenches, uncontrollably, his muscles tight, helpless to not be swallowed up by it all. Then, just as involuntarily, Chris' hips buck up jaggedly.

Sebastian lets them, only groaning messily as Chris is enveloped deep in that lush mouth, deeper into that wicked throat.

Seb hardly even gags.

Fuuck.

Chris' neck arches harder, fighting and losing the battle against the flood of pleasure, feeling the sweet, hurting pull in his muscles and tendons past their usual use. Gasping, he can't get in enough oxygen to feed the bonfire Sebastian has sparked from just a match but grew impatient with, dumping gasoline on the whole fucking thing instead. Lighting. him. up.

Shit.

God, fuckin'--

It feels sofuckinggood.

His mouth.

Chris missed his mouth desperately, he missed him so badly, he was going crazy without him, now he's here and Chris can't understand it, did he take a plane? Did he drive from whatever fucking stop he was on with press? When? How long do they have? How is Chris supposed to think, to ask, when he can't even shut his fucking mouth. Groaning and gasping, then moaning. Endless. It's pure adrenalin and shock. Pleasure coursing through him so suddenly that it fractures him into a million tiny pieces.

Guh.

Sebastian is going to fucking suck his soul out of his body, going at him like that. It's not just the way he slurps and swallows and moans on his cock, though, it's how he's bobbing his head, taking it gorgeously, an inescapable, dire rush to every action, gagging, choking a little with his recklessness. He's filthy. He's gorgeous. He's--

"Oh. Oh," Chris can't stop any of the embarrassing sounds that are, just, coming out of him, spilling over, dripping down his chin, making a mess of his throat and chest. He's wet. Sweating. Spit. Dripping. "Wait," he's panting, moaning sharply, Sebastian's mouth is leaving scorching kisses down his shaft, his tongue flicking out to lewdly trace the throbbing veins, prominent on him visibly and psychologically, Chris' heart throbs in his chest, its beat pounding through his dick and rushing in his ears.

And Seb's just going, going, going--plunging deeper, getting to the base of his cock, slurping at his balls gluttonously, grazing them with his lips and teeth, sending tingling danger rushing through Chris like static.

"Baby-!"

He just keeps getting lower, using every weakness Chris has without even thinking about it, he knows his body too well, it's too, too good, so much, pulsing, rushing, boiling over.

"Baby, nno," he scrambles, his hands finding their way to Sebastian's gorgeous hair, pulling until he shivers and groans at the scalp-pin-prick pain, debauched, "I'm gonna," Chris struggles to use his mouth for something understandable, "oh, no, no-nnnghh, ugh, oh, I'm, w-we just st-AH-started! Wait!" He whines, "if you--'m gonna--"

His words turn from whining words to something entirely useless for communication, incoherent sounds of pleasure too good to not be afraid of it, razor-sharp around the edges, treacherous, all-consuming as Sebastian doesn't heed his strangled attempts at warning, burying his fucking face in him. He feels so fucking close to him that he might as well be inside him--reaching up through his gut to his chest to squeeze his racing heart--his nose pressed right up against that hypersensitive, intimate place behind his balls while his lips and tongue ravish his hole. He has no hesitation. No shame. He just--

Eats him.

He eats him out so fucking good, ravenous with that wet-dream mouth, that there's nothing Chris can do to stop it, even with his fist flying to the base of his dick to squeeze and choke off his embarrassingly early orgasm--it's all in vain. He can't stop it.

He's fucking cumming.

Spilling hard over his quivering stomach in all-consuming pumps that crash over him like storm-charged waves against the shore. His hips are pushed up so far--fighting it, squirming, trying to get away and get closer, and, shit, he doesn't even know what his body is doing as it's ripped out of him--that he nearly makes it to his bearded chin with his own release. It's wet and hot over his stomach, his chest, and his collarbones, almost his throat.

Christ.

With his chest fucking heaving, his lungs rasping, audibly struggling to get each breath out of his throat, Chris quakes through the aftershocks. Barely able to keep his eyes open enough to see Sebastian, buried between his legs, shuddering, and, oh fuck, thoughtlessly squirming against the bed, rubbing himself off against it, caught up in the same indulgent mood.

After another short, blurry, fast-motion moment, when Chris whines--again from too much pleasure, wishing for it to stop so he isn't so mortified, except for that last part, the mortification has already come, spreading itself out over his face like a proud, deep sunburn, then--Sebastian pulls away. His lips are swollen. Puffy, wet, and red. He looks as wrecked as Chris feels. Chris feels fucking scrambled. He's still half-humping the bed, whispering, heady, "Chris, Chr--" his voice catches in his throat "--Chris, Jesus," he spreads his legs wider, getting more friction, making Chris' sensitive cock jolt painfully at the obscene picture he makes, "you're so hot."

Chris feels hot. The blushing and embarrassed and squirming kind of hot, though. He kind of wants to fucking melt into the bed, it's been fucking years since he's cum with that little action and he usually prides himself on how he goddamn pleasures his partners first, then takes his, sometimes not even his own, he loves making others feel good and he's fucking good at doing it, bringing them to their knees, he's not like this, not normally; but, also, he really wants to surge forward, wrestle Seb flat onto his belly and get him back to tear into him. Right now, the best he can do, though, still recovering from the quick and dirty intensity of his shattering orgasm, is mumble, "your mouth," his face must be swollen with all the blood rushing into his tingling cheeks, "can't fuckin' help it, you drive me crazy," he excuses himself, shaky.

"Cr-crazy, nngh, yeahh," Seb echoes, losing it, melting from cocky and confident and in control to plain needy with all that good friction to his dick.

God, what a fucking sight he is, down there, between his legs, frenzied.

#fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction

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707heart · 3 months ago

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shotgunning with sebastian

sebastian x reader (farmer)

tags: pothead seb, shotgunning, desire want and yearning

wc: 654

You knew he stood on the shore of the mountain lake every night, clutching a joint between his thumb and pointer finger.

Your crush on Sebastian was no secret to most of the town. Hell, Robin was trying to get you over for dinner to work things out with him. Sebastian was just so oblivious. At least you thought he was, anyway.

“What brings you here tonight?” Sebastian asked between a mouthful of smoke. He was a fan of smoking tricks, and it didn’t help in your burning desire to stare at his mouth until the sun rose the next morning.

You hummed, shrugging and looking off into the water to avoid looking at him. “I wanted to see you. We never see each other in town,” you replied. It was the truth. Everyone in Pelican Town was great and welcoming (for the most part), but Sebastian was such a recluse that he only set foot into the town during the handful of events each year.

“Oh,” Sebastian was at a loss for words, and the weed probably wasn’t helping. “Do you want to smoke?” He tilted the joint toward you.

You flush. It’s not like you’ve never taken a hit of anything ever, but weed was something new. You didn’t even know how to hold the joint, let alone smoke it. “I’ve never…” you trailed off.

“You’ve never smoked weed?” Sebastian finished. “It’s easy. Actually… I can help you.”

The offer hung heavy between the two of you. “Okay, yeah,” you mumbled, hoping the fall moonlight would distract from your blush.

Sebastian gave you one last look before lighting it. He took a long drag, ghosting it before blowing it away. He took another one and without warning, closed the space between the two of you. You made a sound in the back of your throat as he stood so close.

“Open your mouth,” he said, quietly because of the limited space. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears as you did what he asked. Your lips fell open, eyes still trained on Sebastian’s.

He cupped your cheek, angling your face how he wanted before blowing the smoke into it. You inhaled, the sensation burning but not enough for it to be bad. You still coughed a few times, but you gave him a thumbs up.

Sebastian laughed good-naturedly. “You took it like a champ. Wanna try again?”

His eyes were lidded, and for the first time you noticed how stoned he was. You were starting to feel the effects yourself, but it was nothing compared to smoking it from the source.

In an act of confidence, you reach for the joint between his fingers. “Let me try,” you said, giving him a smirk. You took a hit longer than intended, the urge to cough suddenly much stronger. You gave the joint back before doubling over.

You hear him chuckle again, rubbing up-and-down your back in a way that should be illegal. So comforting and caring. “Are you okay? You did great,” he soothed. He had to be doing this on purpose.

The effects of the weed made everything feel number. Your mind was quiet. Suddenly there was no anxiety about this meeting, only happiness. You let out a laugh, tilting your head back.

“I’m just so happy,” you mumble, laying your hands against his chest. You could feel his ribcage slightly protruding, t-shirt doing little to cover it. His eyes widened at the affection, and this time you didn’t miss the flush on his cheeks.

Sebastian reached down to hold your waist naturally. There was no one awake now, no chance of being interrupted. “Me too, I’m happy too,” he said, bloodshot eyes running up and down your figure.

“God, just kiss me already, you nerd,” you whined with a big smile, but you close the distance anyway. Your lips press against his, and you can taste the smoke there.

#stardew valley #sdv #fanfiction #sebastian x farmer #stardew sebastian #fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley fanfiction #shotgunning #second person pov #canon x reader #reader insert #imagine

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catgrassplantdad · 10 days ago

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weekly tag wednesday (thursday!) ⚡

i was tagged by so many pals! thank you @deedala @sgtmickeyslaughter @jrooc @mmmichyyy @sam-loves-seb @heymrspatel @gardenerian @gallawitchxx 🖤

name: jessie

age: 35

today we're going to be doing our very own Day in the Life! what's the very first thing you do when you wake up? grab my phone and check the time, then check my notifications

what are we having for breakfast? black coffee, and usually i toast a couple of frozen protein waffles and have those with cream cheese

your caffeine order, if that's your thing: light roast black coffee

today we're wearing our favorite outfit! describe it to me: i have so many outfits that are favorites! hmmm but lately i've been wearing black turtlenecks and black jeans and black boots a lot

no work today! what's the first thing you're doing on your day off? omg hell yeah. sleeping until at least 7, then ngl i'm gonna fuck around on my phone in bed for like an hour

you need to run your most frequent errand, where are you headed? grocery store!

are you driving, walking, or taking public transit? driving, because this town is not walkable and there is no public transit. american suburbs, baybee. i do like driving, though

it's lunch time and you're out and about! where are you going and what's on the menu? oh okay so there's this little deli near me that makes the best sandwiches, and i am obsessed with their roast beef sandwich and i have to stop myself from going there all the time. so, maybe that haha

while heading home, you pass the mall and decide to stop in. what's the first store you're hitting up? hmmmmm bookstore

it's time for a Little Treat, what are you getting? ice cream at one of the farms/creameries near me

you're finally home! what show are you turning on for background noise? i don't like tv for background noise, i find it really distracting if i'm trying to do stuff

you decide to do a few chores. what are your favorite and least favorite ones? i love organizing/decluttering the house, i loathe doing the dishes

it's Hobby Time! what are you doing to flex your creative muscles? i'm gonna write

time for dinner! what are we having, and what are you listening to while you make it/wait for it to arrive? i'm gonna make some veggie fried rice and probably dance around the kitchen to ted leo and the pharmacists because that's usually what my husband puts on while we cook

you're getting comfy for the evening, describe your favorite cozy outfit: sweatpants that say "slut trek" down the side in the star trek font, mastodon hoodie, slippers

time to turn on something you'll actually watch, what is it? right now we are watching andor, anthony bourdain parts unknown, and unbreakable kimmy schmidt, depending on our mood that night lmao. what a mix

it's bedtime! tell me about your wind-down routine: make my sleepy time tea and hang out with that for a bit, then when i'm ready for sleep i wash my face, brush my teeth, and read fic on my phone in bed until i actually fall asleep

what time do you usually go to bed? 10-ish

and finally, was it a good day? yeah, it was really nice!

tagging just a few sweethearts @whatthebodygraspsnot @whatwouldmickeydo @howlinchickhowl @iansfreckles ✨

#tag game #look at me actually participating!

13 notes · View notes

smoooothoperator · 4 months ago

Text

Die With A Smile

10: Nobody's Soldier

Bucky Barnes x mutant!OC (Astrid Rowan)

HYDRA victims, found family, "strangers" to lovers, emotional scars, first love

Warnings: Bucky pov, flashback, fluff, VERY LONG CHAPTER

Masterlist

previous part | next part

a/n: I know I'm coming late but.... SEB WON A GOLDEN GLOBE YAYYYY. Also, this took me a lot of time to write, so I hope everyone likes it!

Washington D.C. . 2014

The mission was easy.

It was supposed to be easy.

Then, why did I fail?

“Mission report”

The target was Steve Rogers.

I knew him, even if I didn’t know why. His name echoed somewhere in the back of my mind, like a melody that comes back. Every time I saw his face in the mission files, something cracked in me, like ice beginning to split under my feet.

Astrid never questioned the missions. She followed orders, but I could tell there was hesitation today. Her glances lingered on me longer than they should. She knew what was going on in my mind. She always knew.

“Stay close” she murmured, the misty ice of her fingers touching my hand, holding it tightly before jumping from the bridge.

“I’m with you” I nodded.

The fight started faster than I expected. Rogers and the redhead were already ready to start the battle, but Astrid moved first, sending a wall of ice across the pavement towards them.

Rogers blocked the strike with his shield, but the force knocked him back a few steps.

“Attack him” I ordered, grabbing one of my weapons and getting ready to shoot.

She was fast, running past the redhead woman and going straight for Rogers, flames flickering on her left hand and a white cold mist covering her right hand.

The redhead blocked my vision, immediately attacking me to distract me.

But then I heard it. Her scream.

I pushed away the woman and looked at Astrid, in the ground, holding her right hand against her chest.

Astrid groaned and used her left hand to attack him, throwing a blast of furious fire towards Rogers, but the shield protected him.

“Aetheris!”

I ran towards her, feeling the bond between us shake. I have to protect her, that’s what teammates do, right?

Before Rogers could hurt her, I raised my arm to stop the shield, making the metal of my arm send a shiver through all my body after the impact.

The next thing I could register before attacking was a fist against my face, and the mask fell to the floor.

“Bucky?”

The name hit me harder than the shield. I faltered, my grip loosening on the knife in my hand. Roger’s expression wasn’t one of anger or even surprise. Does he know me? I don’t remember another mission where he was the target.

I should have moved. I should have fought back. But I was frozen, rooted to the spot as something in my chest twisted painfully.

Astrid’s voice snapped me out of it.

“Soldat!”

I turned to her, but the moment had cost us both. She was already backing away, her eyes wide with something I hadn’t seen in her before. Fear.

Not for herself. For me.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, stepping in front of me and raising a wall of fire to force Steve back. “You’re compromised.”

Her words cut deep, but they weren’t wrong. My hesitation had already cost us the mission, and she knew it.

Steve was still staring at me, his hands lowering the shield slightly.

“Bucky, it’s me. It’s Steve” he said, his tone imploring.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” I mumbled, trying to go back to the mission.

Astrid didn’t wait for me to figure it out. She pressed a hand to her earpiece and called for extraction, her voice clipped and professional despite the tremor I could hear beneath it.

“Mission compromised. Extracting now.”

I barely registered the rest of the fight. All I could focus on was Astrid, her hand on my arm as she dragged me back toward the extraction point after she made sure the wall of fire could protect us and help us escape.

She didn’t look at me, not until we were out of immediate danger and safe. When she finally turned, her blue eyes burned with a mix of anger and something softer.

“What happened back there?” she demanded, her voice low but fierce.

I didn’t know how to answer her.

“You hesitated” she sighed, taking a step closer to me, placing her hand on my cheek. “Why?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could I explain what I didn’t fully understand myself?

“Mission report!”

I stared straight ahead, reciting the details of the mission. The attack on the highway. The battle with Rogers and whoever was with him. I said everything.

Except the truth.

Not the way I hesitated. Not the way Steve Rogers looked at me and called me by a name that felt like a bullet in my chest. And certainly not the way I faltered because of her.

But my handler wasn’t a fool. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he grabbed my chin, making me look at him. He slapped me after it, making me look at my side.

“You were distracted” he said, his voice cold. “Explain.”

I hesitated. Just for a second.

His lips curved into a thin cinic smile.

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

I clenched my jaw, trying to remain neutral.

“Your partner” he continued. “Aetheris”

The mention of her name said by that man made me flinch.

“No” I said flatly. “She didn’t interfere.”

“Don’t lie to me” he snapped, slapping my other cheek. The sound echoed, sharp and biting. “We’ve seen the footage. The way you moved to protect her. The hesitation. You compromised the mission because of her.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but the handler didn’t give me the chance.

“You’ve become... attached to her” he sneered, leaning back in his chair. “Do you think I don’t know? The glances. The way you move when she’s in danger. You’re more than teammates. And that makes you weak. I don’t know what your previous owner let you two do, but under my watch, that whore will no longer be your partner”

I flinched, looking at him and trying to protest, but again a slap made me look at my side.

“You failed because you let her distract you. That cannot happen again.”

I stayed silent clenching my jaw, tasting the blood on my tongue.

“You won’t be seeing her again.”

My body tensed, the meaning of his words settling in like ice in my veins.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, stepping back into my line of sight.

“We’re ending your team.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

“She’ll be reassigned, probably I will do more experiments on her since her powers are getting stronger” he said, smirking at the idea of it. “And you? You’ll forget her.”

I shook my head, a spark panic rising in my chest.

“No” I said. “She’s my partner. We work better as a team.”

The handler’s smile widened, cruel and calculated.

“Not anymore”

A door opened behind me, and two HYDRA operatives entered. One of them held a familiar device: a steel frame, wires and electrodes attached, designed to fit over my head.

The wipe.

I moved instinctively, but the handcuffs of the chair held me in place as they lowered the frame over my head. The cold metal pressed against my skull, the electrodes digging into my temples.

“This is for your own good, Asset” the handler said, his voice almost mocking. “You’ll be sharper. More focused. No distractions.”

The surge hit me like lightning, sharp and searing, ripping through my mind. My vision blurred, and my thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. Memories surfaced and shattered: her laughter, her touch, the way her eyes lit up when she used her powers, her lips, her smile.

They dissolved, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a void.

When it was over, the machine was removed, and I sat there, breathing heavily. My mind felt blank, clean.

“Good” the handler said, nodding in satisfaction with a smirk on his lips “Now, let’s make one thing clear.”

He leaned in, his voice low and deliberate.

“If Agent Aetheris becomes a distraction in the mission, you will eliminate her. No hesitation. No mercy. Understood?”

I nodded, the order settling into my mind as if it had always been there.

“Understood.”

Wakanda. 2018 (present)

I adjusted the tunic while I looked at myself in the mirror. I never thought I could wear clothes that are not black, but the moment I woke up here I was already dressed with something colorful.

Today is the day I will ask Shuri to erase the trigger words, or at least try to erase them. The moment Astrid suggested it the first time I was hesitant, not knowing if breaking free from the Winter Soldier would change something in our bond. But after the memories of us came back to me, I knew that the only chance to start over was doing it with HYDRA out of our way.

I failed and betrayed her. And no matter how many times I was with her, helping her with her practice, I knew she wasn’t comfortable with me after she got some memories back. She didn’t say it out loud, but I knew she was waiting for something I wasn’t sure how to give.

And maybe that’s why I was here now, wanting to get rid of the last of HYDRA’s control, to erase the chains they wrapped around my mind. Maybe if I could be free, I could finally give her what she deserved.

The doors to Shuri’s lab slid open as I approached, and she greeted me with her usual bright energy and loud music.

“White Wolf!” she exclaimed, leaving her tools on the table. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence today?”

“I need your help” I sighed, smiling weakly.

Her expression softened, the teasing replaced by curiosity.

“Let me guess” she said, pulling up a holographic interface. “The trigger words?”

“I can’t leave with them in my mind” I sighed. “I don’t want to live trapped by them”

Her fingers flew across the console as she brought up scans of my brain, the one she made nearly a week ago during that session with Astrid.

“I can remove them” she said confidently. “But it’s not a quick fix. This will take time, patience, and it might be... uncomfortable.”

“I’ve dealt with worse” I said.

“True” she sighed, nodding with a sad smile. “But this isn’t just about the words. It’s about who you are without them. HYDRA didn’t just plant commands in your head, Bucky. They built a system of control. Are you ready to face all of that?”

“I have to be. I need to be free from them” I nodded, clenching my jaw. “Not just for me, but for her”

“Astrid” she smiled.

“We… We are getting our memories back” I sighed. “Since that session here with you, we both are recovering the memories of each other. They made us do terrible things, but we were there for the other. Until HYDRA decided to erase her from my mind. I betrayed her, I escaped without her, breaking a promise. I don’t want to lose her again”

“And you think this will change things between you two?” she said, tilting her head.

“I don’t know. But I can’t keep carrying this. If I can get rid of what HYDRA left behind, maybe we can finally move forward. Together.” I nodded.

“You’ve come a long way, Bucky. And I believe you can do this. But don’t forget, healing isn’t just about erasing the past. It’s about building a future. Talk to her. Be honest with her. Let her see that you’re trying” she smiled, itching out and squeezing my shoulder softly. “We’ll start tomorrow. For now, go. Get some rest. Or, better yet, go find her. Talk to her. I know you two had an argument, kinda”

“Yeah…” I sighed. “I guess you are right”

“Of course I am!” she smirked.

For the rest of the day my mind was busy trying to put in words whatever I felt. I walked alone around the lake while I thought about the pros and cons of getting the words erased, about how I’m going to start from the bottom again, as well as what I will talk with Astrid about how I feel.

Because, how do I feel? Like a monster, like a human that shouldn’t have a second chance in life, but here I am, surrounded by people that constantly smile at me, surrounded by kids that want to know my history.

The night sky in Wakanda was unlike any I had seen before, filled with stars that shimmered like tiny diamonds. I sat on the bench outside the hut, playing with the small wolf made of wood a kid gifted me this evening. The air was warm, something completely different from what I am used to.

The bond between Astrid and me tensed slightly suddenly, and a wave of warmth pressed against my mind like a hand on my shoulder. She was coming. I didn’t turn right away, waiting until her footsteps joined the pull of her presence.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” I asked, looking at her with a weak smile.

Astrid stood there, bathed in moonlight, her long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, her blue eyes searching mine.

“I felt you” she said softly, stepping closer and sitting next to me. “I couldn’t ignore it.”

“Sorry about that” I sighed. “I know how bad you’ve been sleeping lately”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not something you can hide from me, anyway” she said, looking up at the sky.

“Guess not” I sighed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence fell between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Finally, I broke it, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

“Tomorrow’s the day” I said. “Shuri will get rid of the trigger words. I’ll finally be free of HYDRA for good.”

“Really?” she smiled. “That’s… That’s good”

“It is” I agreed, though the words came out with doubt.

“Then why does it feel like you’re afraid?”

I hesitated, running a hand through my hair. How can I explain it? The fear of letting go of the life I had for decades, even if it was one built on chains? The fear of losing the last thread of the person I used to be? The fear of not being enough for her?

“I’m not scared of losing HYDRA. I’m scared of what comes after. Who I’ll be without it.” I confessed.

“You’ll be you, Bucky. And that’s enough.” she smiled weakly.

“I wish it felt that simple. The only thing that ever felt real, that ever grounded me in all this, is you.” I sighed looking at her with a sad smile.

“Me?” she asked, surprised.

“Astrid, I don’t know how to explain it. The bond we had, the time we spent together, it’s like it left a mark on me that HYDRA couldn’t erase. Even when I didn’t remember everything, I still felt connected to you. And now that the memories are coming back…” I paused, swallowing hard. “It’s overwhelming.”

“Bucky…” she sighed, looking away.

“I know it’s complicated” I interrupted her, my voice firm despite the vulnerability I felt. “And I know these feelings come from the past, from who we were when we were with HYDRA. But they’re still real to me. I can’t ignore them. The thing I did with you, the love I felt for you, it was something I chose myself, not them”

She stayed silent, her eyes dropping to the ground as if searching for the right words.

“I don’t know what our future looks like” I admitted. “I don’t know what kind of life I can offer you. But I do know that I want it to be with you. I want us to have a real chance, Astrid. Not as HYDRA’s soldiers, but as who we are now. Free.”

She looked up at me then, her eyes glimmering with something I couldn’t quite place, hesitation, maybe, but also warmth, hope.

“You’re sure?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“More than anything” I said without hesitation. “You’ve always been my anchor, Astrid. And I don’t want to let that go. I don’t want to let you go.”

She bit her lip, her gaze flickering between mine. Slowly, she exhaled, her shoulders relaxing just slightly.

“You’re not the only one who feels like the past left a mark” she said softly. “Even now, I can’t separate who we were then from who we are now. But if we’re going to try, it has to be real, Bucky. No walls, no holding back.”

“No walls. I promise.” I nodded, my heart pounding hard.

She moved closer, her hand brushing against mine. The contact was brief, tentative, but enough to send a spark through me.

“Then let’s take it one step at a time” she said, her voice steady but quiet. “And tomorrow, I’ll be there with you.”

Relief washed over me, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“Thank you”

She gave me a faint smile, her fingers tightening briefly around mine before letting go.

The jet ride to Shuri’s lab was quiet, like the calm before a storm. Astrid sat across from me, her gaze was fixed on the window, and I knew she wasn’t watching the scenery. She was feeling the same tension I was feeling.

I leaned back in my seat, running a hand through my hair as I watched her. She must have sensed it because her eyes moved to mine, her blue gaze reading me like an open book.

“You okay?” she asked.

“As okay as I can be knowing that she will be in my brain again” I sighed.

“You’ll get through this, Bucky. You’ve faced worse.” she smiled weakly, taking a deep breath.

I didn’t respond, letting the hum of the engines fill the space between us.

When we landed, Shuri greeted us with her usual confidence, her bright smile making my anxiety grow a little.

“Are you ready?” she asked, guiding us towards the room where the procedure will take place.

“Let’s do this” I sighed looking at Astrid.

The lab was as clean and futuristic as always, its walls glowing faintly with Wakandan tech. The chair in the center of the room looked almost too clinical, too sterile, but I forced myself to walk toward it, having the feeling of going back to the past.

But Astrid was at my side, her hand brushing mine as if to remind me she was there.

“This will take several hours” Shuri explained as she made sure the equipment was ready. “Astrid, if you want you can leave, it will be long…”

“I’ll stay” she said without hesitation.

I settled into the chair, the cool metal pressing against my back. As Shuri began her work, Astrid pulled up a chair from the desk beside me, her hand slipping into mine.

“Talk to me” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” I smiled, laughing quietly, closing my eyes for a moment while Shuri placed something around my head.

“Everything” she said, and there was no teasing in her voice, just genuine curiosity. “I want to know the old Bucky”

“That’s a lot, I guess” I said, looking at her.

“We’ve got time” she said with a small smile.

I sighed, letting my head fall back against the chair. I thought about what I like, about things she doesn’t know. Even if we knew each other, we don’t know how we are, who we are.

“Okay. Let’s start simple. I like cats.” I smiled, looking at her.

“Cats?” she gasped.

“Yeah. I used to feed the stray cats back in Brooklyn. They’re quiet. Easy to be around.” I chuckled softly.

“I never thought you would be a cat person” she laughed softly.

“What about you?” I asked, looking into her blue eyes.

“I like cats too” she smiled. “I mean… I never saw one. I don’t remember anything from before HYDRA, I don’t know if my family had cats or if I ever saw a cat before… But the first day I went to the market with Shuri and T’Challa I found a cat, and even since that day I have been followed by cats. If it wasn’t because I don’t know if they have owners, I would bring all of them to my room”

“No way!” I laughed, making her blush. “And how would you name them?”

“Well, the first one I saw was orange. I would have called it Ginger or something like that” she smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “Then I saw a black one, probably would have named it Panther, you know, like the Black Panther”

“I always wanted to have a cat” I sighed, closing my eyes.

“Then we’ll adopt one” she smiled.

We fell into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing as the minutes stretched into hours. She asked me about my favorite foods, the music I used to listen to, the places I wanted to visit. In return, I asked her about the things she discovered in Wakanda, about her favorite dish and her favorite place here.

“I want to see the ocean” she said at one point.

“You’ve never seen it?” I asked, surprised.

“Not outside of missions. Not the way I want to. I want to stand on the shore and feel the waves, the sand under my feet. I want to see it as… as me, not as Aetheris”

“We’ll go” I said before I could think better of it.

“We?” she said surprised, and at the same time excited.

“Yeah” I said, holding her gaze. “We’ll go together. We’ll go to all the places you want to discover”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything, and silence fell between us, heavy with unspoken possibilities and promises.

“Alright, that’s enough for today” Shuri’s voice broke the silence.

The machine powered down, and I sagged in the chair, exhausted but relieved. Astrid helped me up, her hand still in mine.

“We’re done for today” she said. “Bucky, you’ll need a few days to rest before we run the final tests.”

“A few days?” I asked, tired.

“You’ll stay in one of the huts on the outskirts. Quiet, peaceful. It’s important to let your mind settle before we confirm the results. oOu’ll need the rest”

I stood slowly, my legs stiff, and Astrid helped steady me, holding my by my arm.

“Thank you, Shuri” I smiled, grateful.

“You will be fine, Barnes” she smiled confidently. “It will be done before you know it”

As Astrid and I walked out of the lab, the late-afternoon sun warmed my skin. The idea of spending a few days in solitude didn’t seem so bad.

“Will you…” I started, clearing my throat and looking at her. “Will you stay with me?”

“Do you want me to? Are you sure? You heard what she said, you have to rest” she said, concerned.

“I do” I nodded. “I don’t want to be alone”

“Okay” she nodded, smiling slowly. “Yeah, I’ll be with you”

The night wrapped around us like a soft blanket, the cool breeze carrying the scent of the earth. Astrid sat in front of me, her back pressed against my chest. My arm, the only one I had now, was wrapped around her shoulders and her head resting against it as though it had always belonged there.

Her fingers traced slow, thoughtful patterns over my forearm, the repetitive motion grounding and intimate. I let my own fingers drift, my thumb brushing over her jawline in soft, lazy strokes before curling into her hair, twirling a strand of her golden hair around my fingertips.

Every movement between us felt natural, unspoken, and for the thousandth time in these past few days, I was surprised by how quickly we had fallen into this.

It was like we have never been apart, like the years of pain and separation and fractured memories hadn’t existed. Yet, at the same time, the simplicity of it surprised me. I didn’t expect it to feel so easy to be close to her again, to hold her like this.

“You’ve been so quiet tonight. What’s on your mind, Bucky?” Astrid broke the silence first, her voice soft but curious.

I hesitated, my fingers still in her hair before moving again, slower now, resting my chin on top of her head.

“Just… everything. Tomorrow, mostly.” I sighed.

She shifted slightly, tilting her head to look up at me. Her cheek rested fully against my arm, and her blue eyes shined in the moonlight as she studied me.

“What about it?” she whispered.

I sighed, my breath ruffling a stray strand of her hair, making me reach for it and tuck it behind her ear.

“I don’t know. It feels… big, you know? Like this is the last piece of it. HYDRA, the Soldier, all of it. If Shuri is right, and the test works, then what?” I said, placing my hand on top of her head.

Her fingers paused on my arm before resuming their tracing, slower now, more deliberate.

“Then you’re free” she said simply. “Free to start over. Free to be whoever you want to be.”

“Yeah, but what does that even mean?” I murmured. “Starting over… it’s overwhelming. I’ve been stuck as someone else’s weapon for so long, I don’t know if I even remember how to live for myself.”

“You’ll figure it out, Bucky. And you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got people who care about you, who’ll help you through it.” she smiled softly. “You have Steve and the other one you mentioned… Sam?”

My chest tightened at her words, and I stared down at her, at the way her fingers moved absentmindedly over my arm, the way her voice carried so much truth. And then it hit me, like a weight settling heavily and yet somehow peacefully into place.

“I know what I want” I said softly.

“Yeah? What’s that?” she asked, looking up at me.

“I want this” I admitted. “You, me… This. I want to keep building something with you, Astrid.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, her hand stilled on my arm.

“Bucky…”

“I mean it, now and the other day” I said, my voice firm despite the nervous pounding of my heart. “You’ve been the only thing that’s felt real to me in HYDRA and after it. Even back then, you were the one thing that made me feel… like myself. And now, here, it’s the same. Being with you feels right.”

She didn’t respond right away, and I felt the tension creeping into my chest. But then she leaned her head further into my arm, her fingers brushing over my skin again and her body leaning closer to me.

“You don’t think this is too much?” she asked quietly. “Too fast?”

“No” I said immediately. “Do you?”

“No” she admitted. “It doesn’t feel too fast. It feels… good. Like it’s supposed to be like this.”

My heart leapt at her words, and before I could stop myself, I leaned in slightly, my fingers tilting her chin gently toward me. She didn’t pull away, her gaze locked on mine, her lips just a breath away. I could feel her hesitation, but I could also see the way her eyes softened, the way she didn’t pull back. Slowly, so slowly, I tilted my head closer, my heart hammering in my chest.

But just as our lips were about to meet, she pulled back slightly, her hand coming up to rest gently on my chest.

“I can’t” she said, her voice trembling. “Not yet.”

The ache of her words was sharp, but I nodded, understanding even as my chest tightened with the feeling of rejection.

“I get it” I said softly.

She didn’t pull away entirely, though. Instead, she rested her head against my shoulder, her fingers curling into the fabric of my tunic.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Believe me, I do want to kiss you over and over again” she whispered. “I just… Right now you have to focus on what happens tomorrow. This… Us… It can wait”

Her voice was soft, almost apologetic, and though the rejection stung, I nodded.

“It’s okay” I said quickly. “I get it.”

She held my gaze for a moment longer before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. The warmth of it lingered, and when she pulled back, her smile was gentle.

“Goodnight, Bucky” she said softly, standing and brushing off her dress.

I watched as she made her way back to the hut we were sharing, the door clicking softly behind her. My hand lingered over the spot where her lips had touched my cheek, and I exhaled slowly, leaning back against the tree.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but one thing was certain: whatever the future held, I wanted her to be part of it.

The night air was cool against my skin, the stars above like silent witnesses to what felt like the most important moment of my life.

Ayo stood a few feet away from me, her expression calm but resolute. Beside me, Astrid sat close, with a hand extended to keep the fire of the bonfire alive, and the other squeezing my shoulder gently. Her warmth was the only thing keeping me grounded as my chest was full of panic.

I couldn’t stop my leg from bouncing, the anxious rhythm drumming against the ground beneath me. My hand reached for Astrid’s like it was my lifeline.

And maybe it was.

“Are you ready, Bucky?” Ayo’s voice cut through the silence.

I wasn’t, not even close. But I nodded anyway, feeling my throat too dry to speak.

Astrid’s grip on my hand tightened, her thumb brushing softly over my knuckles. Her presence was the only thing keeping me from running away.

“You’ll be okay,” she whispered, so quietly that I almost missed it. “I’m here”

“I’ll start” Ayo said, and Astrid held my hand tighter this time.

The stars in the dark sky blurred as Ayo’s voice rang out, calm and deliberate.

Each word she spoke hit me like a hammer, but not in the way I expected.

“Longing.”

The familiar terror rose in my chest, threatening to crush me. I tensed, my grip tightening on Astrid’s hand. Her fingers intertwined with mine, grounding me, keeping me from spiraling.

“Rusted.”

I waited for the chains, for the darkness to claim me like it always had. I waited for the cold, mindless obedience, for the Winter Soldier to take over.

But it didn’t come.

Nothing came.

Ayo continued, her voice steady and unwavering.

“Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace.”

Each word made my heart pound harder, but nothing changed. My breathing grew irregular, and I didn’t know if it was from fear or the overwhelming hope clawing its way to the surface.

“Nine. Benign.”

I felt Astrid’s thumb brush against my hand, her steady presence anchoring me.

Then came the final word.

“Freight car.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

I froze, waiting for the storm, for the familiar loss of control that had haunted me for years.

But it didn’t come. There was no storm. No chains. No commands.

I was still me.

The realization hit me like a tidal wave, and my body shook as the weight of it all crashed down on me. The Soldier was gone. The words no longer had power over me.

I was free.

My chest heaved, and before I could stop myself, a choked sob escaped my lips. My vision blurred with tears, and I collapsed forward, my head dropping into my free hand as the relief consumed me.

Astrid was there in an instant, her arms wrapping around me as I fell apart. She pulled me close, her warmth and steady presence the only thing keeping me from completely unraveling.

“You’re okay” she whispered, her voice soft and yet full of emotion. “You’re okay, Bucky. You did it.”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but cling to her as the tears kept coming. Years of pain, fear, and helplessness poured out of me, and she held me through it all, never letting go.

Ayo’s voice cut through the haze, calm and reassuring.

“The trigger words no longer control you, Bucky Barnes. You are free.”

Free.

The word echoed in my mind, and for the first time, it felt real. I lifted my head, wiping at my face with trembling fingers. When I looked at Astrid, her blue eyes were filled with something I couldn’t quite name. Relief, pride, and something softer.

“It’s over” I whispered, my voice raw and shaky. “It’s really over.”

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“It’s over. You’re free.”

I reached for her without thinking, my hand cupping her face as if to make sure she was real. Her warmth seeped into me, calming the storm inside.

“The bond... it’s still there” I said, my voice breaking while I moved my hand frim her cheek to my chest. “You’re still here.”

“I told you, Bucky. I’ll always be here.” Her hand came up to cover mine, her fingers brushing against my skin.

The emotions coursing through me were overwhelming.

I didn’t think, I just acted. Leaning forward, I captured her lips with mine.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but it deepened as she leaned into me, her hand sliding to the back of my neck to hold me close. When we finally pulled away, her forehead rested against mine, her breath mixing with mine in the quiet night.

“I’m not going anywhere” she whispered, her voice steady and sure.

“Good” I said softly, my lips brushing against hers again. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

She chuckled softly and hugged me, resting her head on my chest, right where she belongs.

taglist

@alltoomaples @jadeofspadesxp @leptitlu @deliciousfestsalad @mendes-bae @winchestert101

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emdashbitch · 7 months ago

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In light of the fact that Bucky (Loki and Thor too for that matter, since the Chrises, Tom and Seb have all aged past their characters) should pretty much still look like he did in CATFA in-universe, it's hilarious to imagine Sam slipping up one day and calling Bucky "kid" without thinking and it's mortifying for them both. Sam has a whole list of old man jokes from his time with Steve that he now gets to reuse on Bucky, except goddamnit Bucky pretty much rebuilt his personality after a factory reset from breaking conditioning so the illusion of being old breaks down easier than it did with Steve, his sense of humor is eerily close to genz/clearly influenced by Princess Shuri, and sometimes when Sam is distracted by something else, he does let "kid" drop like he does with Joaquín.

Bucky looks disturbed because Steve probably keeps accidentally calling him "son" and "kid" during their meet ups too, since there's a strong chance he has grandkids that look Bucky's age, and now Sam's doing it as well, he's in his 100s what the hell is going on? Meanwhile this is, based on a calculated estimate on the serums aging rate, what he looks like in-universe:

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #the serum seems to delay aging by around 40%#and we can safely assume Bucky's serum is truer to Steve's than the later non radiation serums #Steve's aging in Endgame is our best estimate for Bucky's in universe aging #since he obviously doesn't match with Sebastian anymore #bucky barnes headcanons #theories #crack #not to be taken seriously

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my-stories-vault · 2 months ago

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Chapter 10 ~ The Supernatural Wars.

Pairing: English Dean Winchester X English Y/N L/N.

Blurb: When the residents of this Earth found out that they were but a draft in God's numerous stories, they decided to make noise in hopes that their creator would return. Nothing can be louder than the begs of the powerless, the cackles of the ruthless, or the unending destruction left in the wake of the most merciless wars any universe can ever see—here the bloodshed never ends. So, tell me how can two young soulmates, then, find love's shade of red under all this crimson gore?

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Language, gore, voilence, major and minor character deaths, thoughts of suicide (not graphic), substance abuse (alcohol and cigarettes), mentions of wars (I mean, it's in the name).

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Chapter 10: Hell's Frozen Over.

'That's weird,' Selina mumbled, slumping onto a couch at the doctor's lounge next to Sebastian.

'Hey, Seb - looking tired as hell!' said a fellow medic, clapping Sebastian's back. 'Night, Sel!'

'Good night, Glenn,' Sebastian said. 'The new diet seems to be working - good for you!'

'Never let him go, Sel!' the man said, winking at the woman before shutting the door on the lounge and leaving the couple some privacy before the night shift came to relieve Selina.

'I was never this popular before I started dating you, you know?' Selina said in bemusement. Sebastian rested his arm on the back of the couch, giving Selina space to curl up into his side.

'Talk about a crime,' he pecked a kiss on her hair. 'So - what's weird?'

She looked up at him with a knowing look. 'First: did you say anything to Y/N?'

Sebastian sipped on his decaf coffee guiltily, 'Maaaaybe?'

She gave her boyfriend a side-eye. 'I told you it would freak her out.'

'Why, what happened?'

'Y/N texted me her coordinates for a new case.' Dean would usually text the details to Sebastian on both of your behalves. 'Said she left Dean because she thought they could "make better use of time by being apart".'

Sebastian sighed. 'I'm sorry, but don't you think that if she freaks out so soon, that she should stay out of it altogether?'

'I've told you,' Selina replied defensively. 'Lady Y/N is a complicated person. I just think Dean was making real strides with her. I swear the other day, I heard her humming. I've neer heard the woman hum!'

Sebastian put an errant strand of hers behind her ear so he could look upon her face with a fond smile. 'If they're really good for each other, then I shouldn't be a bother - I didn't say a word that would cause them this break.'

'I guess,' she fidgeted with her phone.

'You look adorable when you're pouting,' Sebastian complimented.

'You always distract me,' she playfully rolled her eyes.

'Just doing my job as your boyfriend,' he smirked, leaning closer so their lips were tantalisingly close.

'Why don't you do it better?' she raised her brows demandingly.

A few days later, you were dead to the world when the insistent, annoying ringing pierced your dreamy reverie. You cursed like a true royal, flipping one-eighty, wrestling your sheets to reach the hotel nightstand. You swiped the green light and put your phone to your ear, flinching when a panicked string of words became your rude awakening.

'Slow-Slow down,' you griped.

The voice heeded, but there were still too many panting sobs for you to decipher it; it was all too high-pitched.

'Ms Doll?' you said. 'Please, could you calm down? Only bats can you hear you so.'

The phone seemingly switched hands, and a deeper baritone of a man spoke. Baz's words rendered you speechless with an unexplained terror.

You had been doing so well away from Dean; you'd delivered a successful Seminar, you were attending meeings, and having surprise check-ups with all the Governors. Most importantly, you were enjoying solo hunts - you'd never done that before. You could understand why Dean would love to stay away from the castle: you were getting so much done. Your productivity and popularity were off the charts!

With no one to focus or pretend for, you had felt yourself almost . . . growing. You could envision wings sprouting, and when the windows of your newly-bought car were rolled down, it must be what people felt like when they were flying.

Until now, where the call had chopped your wings and you were falling, the bottom of your stomach had disappeared, and you were weightless with mindless horror. You barely had a coherent thought after you hung up. It went something like: demons, monsters, kidnap, Boa, Sebastian, and—

His name felt like a taboo.

It would take you roughly twenty-two hours or less if you sped to Switzerland non-stop, all the way from Sweden where you'd been cooped up on a hunt-binge.

Demons rarely occupied humans because of the profound awareness amongst your faction. One would hear of one or two demonic possessions per Continent every year, but everyone had tattoos, and the dead bodies were cremated quickly to prevent ghosts and demon occupations.

But demons could occupy the dead bodies of monsters, not when those other creatures were alive for some reason, and even while they occupied their dead bodies, there would be limitations because of the gene alterations of the monster bodies. Demons essentially shared space with the souls of the things they possessed. To them, unprotected humans were pushovers, but monsters were inhabitable. Even dead, the monsters were so different than human bodies that things like teleportation would be hindered.

Apparently, about fifteen demons had invaded a shipful of dead monsters and had been steadily moving to Switzerland for some time now, where one of the Gates to Hell resided (every Continent seemingly had one at least, or more). And they were with motif: the Colt, made by Samuel Colt, fatal to all except the archangels. A few years ago, it had fallen to the hands of monsters.

You and Dean had been made aware of its presence in Europe just three days ago. The Leviathans had had it in their possession. The demons have come on the mission to extract it from the Irish waters. They'd been sneaky enough to move all the way from Ireland up to Switzerland - where they got caught by a group of Swiss hunters who thought they were hunting run-of-the-mill vampires (none survived).

You'd wiggled out of the case with Dean after a lengthy mental debate about the pros and cons; you were equal parts relieved and guilty now.

According to Baz, who'd been there with Selina, both of whom were travelling over from the Moldovian Palace, the trio of Dean, Boa, and Sebastian, along with a few from the Swiss army, had been sent in - but had been captured.

The Swiss Governor refused to lose any more men after all the Swiss soldiers were sent out in bodybags, keeping your fellow European Leader and his two bodyguards as leverage.

Involving any other countries, or even more people from your own Palace, would be like sending a red flare to the other factions. The demons already stole it from the monsters, who won't make a move while their faction is weak in the wake of the death of the Leviathans - but the angels might want the Colt. It was the duty of you and Dean, as Leaders of the human faction, to get the Colt before the others were even aware of it - that meant minimum people from neighbouring countries.

Your BMW roared in protest as you fought it for speed. You tried not to imagine your last parole with Dean . . . because if you hadn't meant to be his friend, then why is there a hole threatening to rip a void into your chest?

You were amped up on coffee by the time you reached the site of battle preparations, a few miles away from where the demons were holed up with the hostages.

You were in the main tent, staring down at the blueprints while the heater sputtered in the background, failing to make you feel any warmer than if you were a freakin' snowman.

'T-minus ten minutes left,' Baz entered the room after his washroom break.

'What?'

'It's a movie . . . thing,' Baz said, licking his lips nervously. 'Sebastian would've gotten it.'

'What took you so long?' you gritted out to stop your teeth from chattering.

Unlike Baz, you hadn't come packing your winter wear; a measly cotton shawl was draped upon you. It might as well have been decorative like your nose was about to be if you didn't find a way to unfreeze it. Taking help was weak; if someone would notice and offer, that'd be great.

'Well,' Baz ignored your rhetoric, 'how do you feel about an additional person on the case?'

'The more, the merrier,' you said, feeling a flicker of hope. 'Are they sparing someone? Because I could really use another person for the exorcism—'

'Well,' the twinge in Baz's voice made you suspicious.

'Spit it out!' you practically growled.

You hadn't had slept or eaten in the last twenty-four hours, surviving on coffee, three granola bars, and minimal workforce in a cold weather that made you want to convert into the Ice-Queen.

'It's me,' the tent doors parted for Selina to step in, in full hunter's gear that was loose on her in some places and clearly belonged to a man.

'I'm not in the mood to laugh,' you deadpanned.

'I am coming,' Selina said firmly, stepping in to symbolically show that she would be standing her ground.

Your eyes darted to Baz, who looked torn, and back to Selina, whose chin was raised in stubborn attitude.

'You can't fight, Selina,' you said.

'Because I'm a woman?' she challenged.

You blinked your eyes. 'N-No. I'm a woman. But you're not trained.'

'I'm going in there, and you can't stop me,' she snapped.

'See, your stubbornness is not going to stop me from knocking you out and tying you to a tree,' you warned calmly.

'All right,' Baz said. 'We have enough to worry about without the threats,' he was looking at you for that; you both knew Selina wouldn't stand a chance against you.

'Look,' Selina ignored him. 'Sebastian is in there. And Boa and Dean! They're my friends!' She gestured towards the tent door, 'I'm not going to be sitting around with a bunch of newbie hunters who keep tripping over their swords like some damn Neanderthals!'

The Swiss Governors had sent newbies after the first two rounds of hunters who had martyred. The Swiss Governors had even advised you to just let the demons pass - basically, give up on the hunters who'd already risked themselves; give up on your friends. You politely told them to take their counsel and shove it up their butts.

'Why don't I zip the tent shut?' Baz said, doing that. 'Getting chilly, huh?'

'You have valid concerns, Selina,' you began. 'But this is a high-stake case—'

'Oh, to hell with that!' she spoke in a disrespectful octave. 'Listen, Y/N, I don't care about your fame or the high-profile case or whatever! If you want me to sign a non-disclosure form or something - if you want all the credit - just take it!'

'This is about your safety!' you abandoned your mask, stung that she would think so low of you. 'Baz and I've barely fought with demons - what do you think an uncertified hunter like you would do in a fight like that?'

'I've seen people die, okay?!' her voice trembled. 'I-I-I-I've come close to dying myself! I think can handle—'

'Are you even listening to yourself?' you cut her off. 'This is not where any layman should be! You will distract our focus. You'll be the collateral in your insane and childish conquest to—'

'Like Layla?!' she yelled.

You reel back at the name.

'Yes. I know perfectly well what I'm getting into!'

'Are you!?' your incredulity with her increasing tenfold. 'You're risking your life for a bloke you barely know! I mean, you're not even married to the man—!'

'And you don't even know what it's like to care about a person,' she was downright screaming now. 'Let alone love them and imagine a future with them! And how could you?! You expect affection from people who've never cared about you! I mean, goddamnit, take a hint - your parents don't care! And they could never care about a person like you: you emotionless robot!'

Your shoulders lowered with that sting.

Selina blinked her eyes rapidly, her hands flew to her mouth, her motions were blurry.

Or maybe, with a belated start, you realised that your eyes were tearing and your throat was closing up. Your face, neck, and ears were all unnaturally red.

'I-I didn't mean that,' she was almost whispering now; it was as coarse as her shouting. Even she was welling up with the treacherous guilt now.

You puckered your lips to seem unaffected while you composed yourself.

'I think this has gone too far,' Baz observed.

Despite claiming to be a people-person, he'd never once set himself in the middle of an emotional conflict; it was his twin Boa that would break up fights.

Which reminded you of your original purpose.

'Baz,' you addressed; you didn't know how you were making your voice unbreakable: 'Make sure Ms Doll takes off that hideous hunter's outfit, and gets into something that is less prone to killing her. Give her the weapon she operates best, preferably something long-distance.' You put your coffee mug down (you were surprised you hadn't thrown it in your fit of anger). 'I believe it's my turn to use the facilities. We leave in five minutes.'

You decided to offer yourself as the worm to lure all the big fishes in. Baz was your safe expert; Selina would be alright with him, out of sight, retrieving the Colt from the local locker.

There were five hostages besides your team of hunters, as the Swiss had counted. When the demons had become aware of hunters chasing them, they had decided to corner themselves into this factory - which had mostly been evacuated, sans for those five unfortunate civilians. The Swiss hadn't known this until your team came barging in, guns blazing, and signaled it to the Swiss Governors, who then called the Moldovian Palace for help.

Et voilà, you are their saviours.

You surveyed different levels and dropped an enchanted cross in the sprinkler waters, praying to make it holy. It wasn't until you reached a sectioned off area of the factory floor, marked "Caution. Heavy Machinery", did you see cowering people on the floor, huddled together with fear.

You scanned the area for cameras, climbing down the stairs with your gun pulled when you found none, noting how the commoners were unbound, two of them crying and three limp on the floor. The three hunters were bound to separate metal columns that held up the factory. The smell of gunpowder was very strong down here, it was an arms factory.

Your heart pounded in forebodding - you could as well be walking down to eight possessed humans.

'Oh, my God,' came the whisper.

'Lady Y/N,' Boa was the first one to recognise you.

Instead of greeting them back, you went behind the pillars to check their bindings; you didn't want to release them until you were sure the commoners were safe.

'What are you doing?' Sebastian asked when you moved away without freeing them. You ignored him.

'Are you okay?' you crouched down to the two people on the ground, who scooted back further. You offered them bottles of water.

'Drink,' you encouraged, your finger on the trigger while you "casually" searched for a pulse on the other three; even dead, they all would have a pulse if a demon possessed them.

The humans didn't react to the holy water, and the other three were disappointingly gone.

'I'm here to save you,' you told them both. 'Wear this,' you handed them the Devil's Trap tailsmans.

You turned to the hunters, more careful than ever. Demons in humans were strong; demons in humans who were skillful hunters were downright injurious to health.

'Am I going to have to throw this on you, or are you going to be good boys?' you raised a brow, showing off your bottles.

'We're not possessed,' Sebastian said, rolling his eyes.

'Let's start with you then,' you said. You brought the bottle to his lips.

It happened too fast. Sebastian headbutted you, and the rope holding him back shredded.

Oh, right - demons were powerful enough to break ropes; they could only be detained by special metal handcuffs. How'd you forget that?

Your gun fell from your hands while the other two men broke out as well - their eyes flashing onyx black.

Well, fuck.

You received a blow to your stomach, followed by kicks to your face and limbs. You could only do so much by curling up and covering your head on the grimy ground.

Just another minute, you endured.

As predicted, Baz triggered the sprinklers, filling the air with sounds of demonic shrieks and fire alarms. Water wet you all and sizzled your team. You straightened out with groans and curses, crawling to where your gun had fallen, and you got to your tremouring feet. You shot the three dead bodies with one bullet each, making the survivors yelp and scramble back.

'Relax,' you croaked, taking some water in your hand, gargling with it the blood out of your mouth. You laid back the safety on the gun, facing the grip towards the victims.

'Devil Trap's bullets. Prevents demons from entering them,' you told them. 'You've been taught basic artillery, right?'

For the first time, you noticed that they were teenagers. If they were taught anything like the people back at Treexcel, then they had to be able to point and shoot moderately okay.

'Run out,' you instructed. 'If anyone comes too close, shoot. Don't stop until you're out of the treeline and onto the road where the camp is. Capiché?'

They nodded enthusiastically, running out of there like bats from hell.

'And don't shoot yourselves!' you called after them.

On time, Selina recited the exorcism over the . . . wait, is that a fucking megaphone you hear?

What happened to the good old distant speaker system?

Your eyes widened in horror when her voice started getting louder. Selina showed up on the staircase, reading from a book while she was trying very hard not to get wet.

'Couldn't you find a common speaker!?' you yelled at her from downstairs.

She waved you off, squinting at the written words. If she was alone, then Baz must still be finding the Colt.

You skirted towards the edge of the room.

The water was petering out.

You readied your salt-coated blade that wouldn't do much to the demons except slow them down; it wasn't like you would use an angel blade on them, or your Devil's Trap bullets. The aim was to free them and keep them alive.

'I'm going to kill you, bitch!' growled the one occupying Dean.

'No, thanks,' you frowned.

Your eyes lingered on his tortured expression, wishing Selina would hurry up; she was almost done.

With an inhuman yell, the boys, almost as if they'd had the same thought together, charged at you.

You shot upwards for the hanging chain you had strategically positioned yourself under, and you swung over their heads so they all heaped atop one another after crashing into the wall you'd been against.

You landed in the puddle, away from them, too late to notice the looming shadow over Selina who had been on the last stanza—the monster pushed her over the stairs, and she cried out in a scream that made your blood cold.

Your countering protest was just as loud, and you leaped for another chain, running for a boost. You sprinted three steps horizontally on the beam of the second floor until you had enough momentum to swing toward the demon that tried to follow after Selina. You'd used your dominant hand for the swing, so you removed your angel blade from your waist with your free hand as you went. You fell on top of him and used him like a mattress to slide down the slope of stairs, breaking your own fall. You plunged your angel blade the first second you could, down his bald head, leaving it in him as heaped at the bottom of the stairs; you rushed to your medic's side.

She was just trying to sit up, one side of her face bloody, head, eye and cheek swollen.

The water was barely drizzling out now. And you wouldn't even have noticed the glowering demons coming out of their shelter from the water behind machines where you'd left them near until Selina pointed in their direction.

You wrenched the megaphone from her, finishing the last few words of the by-hearted exorcism.

Yet, it didn't end without Boa attacking you at full speed. You ducked yourself and Selina, striking the salted blade in his calf, making him cry out as he crumpled to the floor.

Their heads wrenched back in tandem, and three black funnel clouds shot into the air with horrible gurgling sounds. The remaining two men fell to their knees as well; Boa took a spill onto the floor; all uttering sounds of pain.

'Are you okay?' you checked Selina first.

'Mm,' she whimpered. 'It's just a cut. I'm okay,' she tried to put on a brave face. 'Head traumas are just bloody.'

'Yeah,' you swallowed in doubt. You raided Boa for a handkerchief, putting it to her head, 'Just in case though, we'll get you checked.'

'I am sorry for what I said before. I really didn't mean it,' she exhaled in pain, 'I was just angry—'

'Don't talk,' you pursed your lips. You didn't want a panicked confession of guilt. 'Later, all right? Let's check on the boys.'

You left her with Boa first to check the extensivity of his wound while you went to Sebastian because he was closer. (You weren't itching to abandon all decorum and run to Dean at all.)

'How are you doing, Mr Slay?' you helped him sit up. 'How many of me can you see?'

'I thought you wouldn't come,' he chuckled lowly. 'Can I have a concussion because I'm seeing you at all?'

You rolled your eyes, letting yourself give him a bittersweet smile. 'If you can joke, you're probably fine. Go help your girlfriend.'

You moved onto Dean with a great measure of relief in your chest. He had already pulled himself into a standing position.

'Hey, hey, easy,' you reached out when he swayed. You held him with a hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest. You let him lean into your touch, trying not to meet his eyes.

'We need to get out of here,' he muttered, his anxious gaze swept over your face, then everyone else's.

Always thinking about others.

'Are you hurt?' your voice softened without meaning to.

You assessed him more for some reason, looking to see if there were any injuries you needed to fret over. You hated how you were more afraid for him than anyone else in the room; you hate that he'd grown on you enough that he would be special to you.

'I think they hit my head,' he said.

Your hand followed his shaky one, and you found the tender spot, his hair warm and sticky with blood. It pushed your heart into your throat.

'Fuck, did I hurt you?' Dean asked, eyes unfocused. His hand came up to your bruised jaw, and he swiped his thumb over your plumped bottom lip.

You'd forgotten about your injuries. There must be bruises forming on your hips and waist where most kicks landed. The headbutt had given you your busted lip, and your slide down the stairs had scuffed your knees enough that one of them bled. Your body ached as a whole.

'It wasn't you,' you said. 'The demon hurt me.'

Before you could move him, a screech rented the air. You whipped about, almost unbalancing Dean. Sebastian was out cold on the floor, next to a helpless Boa.

Dean's hands grasped your shoulders, probably to stabilize himself. (In reality, it was his way of trying to protect you.)

Selina was being pulled away from Boa's range, with a knife on her neck. The demon's black eyes flashed in your direction, his words a sneer: 'Gimme the Colt!'

'No one has to get hurt,' you negotiated, your hands raised in a surrender.

'You have the Colt!' he accused. 'Give me the Colt or it's this bitch's insides on the floor!'

'And how do I know that if I hand over the Colt to you - you won't hurt her?' you arched a brow, arrogantly pretending a casual gait. 'By the way, how'd you even avoid getting evicted from the unrented body?' you cocked your head. 'The megaphone nearly burst my eardrums.'

'Stop stalling me!' he yelled at the top of his lungs, a new rivulet of blood originating from the nick the man cut into Selina's neck. 'Give me the Colt or you'll be taking the bitch out of here in pieces!'

'All right!' you stepped forward, and maybe it was your imagination that Dean's hand tightened on you. 'Let's be smart about this.'

'Gimme the Colt!'

'How about,' you took another step forward, and this time, Dean definitely tried to pull you back. You subtly tried to shrug his hands off. 'I come over with the gun, and you just let her go?'

'You'll walk to me?' he asked suspiciously.

You smiled as if you were a defeated salesperson who'd given their best discount. To add value to your bargain, you uncovered the Colt replica from where it had been tucked into your jeans and dangled it from your index finger.

'Not even gonna try to aim it at you,' you said. 'Take me instead of her,' you point Selina with your chin.

'No,' Dean's whisper came to your ear, his fingers dug into your collarbone. You squeezed one of his hands in reassurance before stepping out of his reach altogether.

'Every step I take, she has to, too,' you said in an edgy voice. 'If anything happens to her, I will personally make your death so painful that your home in hell will be comforting.'

His greedy beady eyes were perched on the gun, thinking he had the upper hand. Selina made the exchange with you, and you didn't glance at your friend to see if she was okay. You couldn't take your eyes off the demon.

You walked right into his disgusting arms, and (how predictable) he grabbed you like he had Selina, stationing the gun at your head, cackling his relief.

'Everyone stays back or I shoot this bitch!' he yells near your ear, making you grimace.

'You demons should learn new curse words,' you said. 'Bitch is old. It's the twentieth century, you know,' you commented as he dragged you away, up the stairs, and backwards, away from the basement level of this factory. The body he inhabited stunk of staleness and rotten meat; you desperately wanted to get away from his meaty paws.

You remained silent until the factory gates were in sight. Baz wouldn't be able to find you if the demon took you out into the open forest.

'You know what I hate about demons?' you asked.

'Shut up!'

'I don't fight them often,' you answered yourself. 'But do you know why they're likeable?' you paused as if musing. 'It's because they visit Earth so less that they don't understand the difference between a loaded and an empty gun.'

You let that sink in.

'Why would we—?' He froze mid-sentence. 'Oh.'

'Yeah. Oh!' you put your all into the elbow you threw back, escaping his clutches: time for the cat and mouse game.

You jumped the little devil in the ensuing fight, you tried to get in three punches for every one of his, ducking as many of his powerful kicks as you could until he used his limited magic to pin you on the wall of the factory.

'Son of a bloody bitch,' you groaned, tasting the metallic crimson in your mouth. 'Blimey, I take it back - I hate demons.'

'Tell me where the Colt is—'

Two gunshots cut him off. His knee was shot, and his abdomen sprayed you with some dead monster intestines. You flinched, sliding down on the wall, both in exhaustion and to get away. An orange glow lit the monster up from inside out like a pumpkin on Halloween - you'd never seen the Colt in action before.

'It's right here,' came from a smug Baz.

'You wasted a bullet in his knee, you know?' you scoffed.

Baz extended his helping hand, allowing you to get up despite your aching body.

'I was aiming for the head . . . both times,' Baz gave you an innocent look when you seemed horrified.

'I must recommend you input more time at the range,' you said warily.

'Not all of our talents is shooting, Y/N,' he grinned, offering you the Colt. 'You should hold onto it.'

'Yes, I'll deposit it to the treasury,' you said. Your hands caressed the gun with reverence and awe - you'd always dreamt of it.

'No, I mean, you should register to be the Colt's official handler.'

'It is the Continent's property, Mr Griffith.'

'And you're the Leader.'

'A Temp,' you remarked. 'Dean is pretty good with guns, too. Not so much the archery; maybe he'll want it.'

'Dude, you're the Temp who saved his life,' Baz said. 'You've earned it.'

'It'll be rude to own it until I've been voted permanent by the gracious citizens of the Continent.'

'You can also own it if you get the vote of confidence from a Permanent Leader,' Baz said, a bit sing-song.

'I'm not going to ask Dean,' you said. 'I doubt he'll agree anyway.'

'I bet fifty euros you're wrong,' Baz shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, but your retort was cut short when Selina called your names. She came tearing the air, slowing down at the last moment when she realised you two could be injured.

'Is everyone okay—?'

She pulled you in for a warm, bracing hug. You usually didn't mind her hugs, but this one went on for seventy-five seconds. You patted her back to show you were giving up to no avail.

'I'm so glad you're okay,' her voice cracked.

Your heart melted, and you sighed, giving in to the urge to squeeze her back. 'Me, too. You took quite the fall, Selina.'

She pulled back, blowing a shaky breath. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her tears streamed; you couldn't imagine the tears felt fine on the swollen portion of her face.

'I'm sorry,' she shook her head. 'You were right. I just couldn't—'

'It's alright,' you said. 'I was . . . insensitive.'

That was the best apology she'd get.

'How heartfelt,' Sebastian teased, a hand on his chest. He and Dean were carrying Boa forth slowly and steadily.

'Don't make wish you'd died,' you rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging on your lips.

'How did the demons survive the exorcism?' Boa wondered.

'Three demons wore earplugs for a while,' Baz mused. 'The megaphone didn't work on them. I took the other two out.' He beelined for his brother, taking him from Sebastain. 'You okay, brother?'

Boa huffed. 'Don't smother me.'

Selina and Sebastian chuckled, gravitating to one another and slinking arms around each other's waists.

'So, Dean,' Baz said. 'Who should get the Colt?'

Dean was a little surprised with the question, but he shrugged. 'Y/N, right? I mean, what better marksperson to wield it?'

'You don't say,' Baz smiled a Chershire cat, looking straight at you.

Before you could react; 'Whoa!' Dean stumbled in his place, almost taking Boa down with him.

You didn't even realise you'd moved until you were shouldering the man. His head fell into your neck, and you gently lowered him to the ground, going with him.

'Should I—?'

'I got him,' you refused Sebastain.

'He has a moderate concussion,' Selina said.

'Call three ambulances here, Ms Doll. And ask them to send out a search party for the two survivors in the forests.'

You shifted so you could lower him into you sideways, his shallow breaths warm on your skin, his eyelashes fluttering against your neck.

'Easy,' you stroked his jaw, running your other hand down his back. Your eyes closed, and you rested your head against him, too tired to remember you had an audience. 'It's all right. I've got you.'

Everyone exchanged wide-eyed looks over your heads.

There was something calming about ambulances to you. They signaled the end of the case, no matter how bad. The red and blue flashing lights were soothing; they came closest to your dream of seeing lights on the North Pole.

Three ambulances were parked with their backs open, along with Swiss goverment cars and your team's.

You had a tea mug in your hand, standing closest to the ambulance treating Dean. You had a much better fur coat preched on your shoulders; it smelled like Dean. You would be lying if you said that it didn't calm you down, waning your brutish bitchiness until it was something you could control . . .

Okay, maybe Dean's presence isn't the worst thing in the world; maybe you are more attached to him than you've been letting on.

'I'm fine,' Dean was resisting the paramedic caring for him. He was a little embarrassed he lost consciousness.

'Oh, you're fine,' the no-nonsense woman in her fifties deadpanned. 'Why didn't I think of that?'

Dean looked to you for help. You hid your smile behind your cup.

'And you,' she suddenly snapped in your direction. 'Who gave you permission to stand up?'

'Fair enough,' you huffed under your breath.

Without argument, you went to Dean's side and sat down on the edge of the ambulance.

'You're just being a model patient to irk me,' Dean complained.

You laughed happily. 'Is it working?'

'There. All done,' the woman said. 'Now, I'm going to give you a list of instructions that I know hunters like you ignore - but it's my job. We both don't like this, so sit tight and listen.'

You sipped your drink, listening closely to what she said for Dean, all the while soaking his presence. Dean wouldn't admit it, but the feeling of the heat emanating from you calmed him down as well.

You both kept glancing at each other awkwardly and tearing your eyes away when you thought the other wasn't looking.

By the time the nurse left, your phone rang. Dean carefully watched you as your eyes lit up.

'Hello?' you excited grin was immediately dimmed when you heard the voice on the other end.

'Ms Slate,' you fought your disappointment.

You didn't say a word after that, but your face was falling gradually, and Dean recalled that expression from the last time he'd seen it, from the last time he'd seen you.

'Well, kind of you,' you forced yourself to make your voice cheerful. 'Tell them I love—' You gave Dean a transparent smile. 'She hung up.'

'What is it?' his hand itched to take yours.

'Nothing,' your voice wobbled, and you bit your lip. 'Ms Slate was congratulating me on behalf of my parents. They're busy with a dinner party.'

He pursed his lips. 'Were you hoping they'd call?'

A gloomy air descended on you. 'The last time they did—' your breath hitched, and you shook your head. 'I'm sorry, you don't want to hear this.'

'Who said that?' he scooted closer to you till his shoulder brushed yours, earnestly gazing into your e/c orbs. 'I want to hear it.'

You shyly ducked your head but . . .

'Well, they thought I was dead because I wasn't popular,' you said, blinking your eyes rapidly. 'I thought today I'd done . . .'

'A marvelous job. You were awesome in there,' he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

'I guess,' your frown dwindled. 'I wanted this case for them, you know - but you already had it, and given the dynamics of gender, I thought there could be no case I could take with you where you wouldn't overshadow me. So, I opted out.' You shook your head. 'While they were happy I saved you guys, they were also pretty mad that I wasn't there with you already.' You threw your hands in the air with defeat. 'I guess I just have to try harder,' you chuckled fakely.

'Did you,' he hesitated, 'just save us because you wanted them to call you?' He couldn't be as nonplussed as he was hoping.

You rolled your eyes in anger. 'Why does everyone assume that?'

'Then why did you come?' he couldn't help but ask.

'I don't have to explain myself to you,' you snapped, feeling a burst of anger surge forth.

'Evidently, you do,' Dean's jaw clenched. 'I don't know what your end game is here, Y/N. You can't just walk in and walk out of lives as you please.'

'All I was here for,' you clarified, 'was to save your life. Maybe get extra credit with my family as a bonus. However, don't be illusioned that I want your friendship, Dean.'

Dean's eyes pooled with hurt, and he had to tear his gaze away. Immediate regret caught you.

'Hey, Y/N.' Sebastian became your saving grace when he walked over. He looked the least scathed by the day's events. 'Can we talk?'

You excused yourself from Dean's company and followed Sebastian to another spot where the risk of being overheard was less. He turned to face you fully.

'This is important,' he said.

'Yes?'

Sebastian took a deep breath. 'I know Selina said this, but I'm sorry too,' he started, confusing you. 'For what I said on the last case. We've both been jerks to you.'

Your eyes strayed to Selina, who was getting her head patched up by the sarcastic paramedic who had treated you and Dean. Boa had gotten a team of doctors all to himself who were performing urgent care on him in the third ambulance where Baz hovered, playing some lame game on his cell to distract himself (he said it was Candy Crush, you believe it was some make-up game).

'Y/N?' his voice brought you back to the unpleasant conversation. 'Listen, we owe you. I owe you - you saved her life. Both of ours.'

'Just doing my duty,' you said uncomfortably. 'Mr Slay, you don't have to apologise to me. Neither did Selina have to. You both were protecting someone you care about.'

'That's the thing,' he said, his sincerity seeming to make his playful irises into melted chocolate. 'We treated you like someone who'd ruin things. We should've protected your interests too - we care about you, too.'

'That's not necessary,' you said.

'It's not . . . optional,' he settled on the word. 'It's reflexive.'

'That's not been my experience—'

'And I'm sorry for that,' he said, not letting this go. 'Selina told me what happened earlier today. And while she shouldn't have called you an "emotionless robot" because that's highly inaccurate, she was at least right about your parents.'

You bristled, 'Choose your next words wisely.'

'They're not here, Y/N,' he calmly said. 'They don't need your loyalty. And you certainly don't need to rule like they want you to.'

'Mr Slay,' you struggled not to bust out a snarl. 'You're crossing a line.' What was with people today? Everyone was getting on your last fucking nerve.

'No,' he said. 'I'm erasing the lines.' He took your hands in his, surprising you. 'We care about you, Y/N. A lot. Heck, we love you,' he said with overwhelming assurity. 'And we deserve your loyalty. We deserve to be your priority, like you deserve to be ours.'

You blinked at him in shock, but there was a zing of warmth spreading from your chest. Your eyes corraled water, '. . . I don't know what to say.'

Sebastian smiled kindly. 'How about, "I'll think about it"?'

'I'll think about it,' you whispered.

'Good.' He raised a fist towards you, and you had to look between his hand and his face. 'Bump me.'

You chuckled broke the tension.

He raised an eyebrow.

'Oh.' He wasn't joking.

You awkwardly clicked your knuckles against his. He opened his palm and made the sound of an explosion.

You scowled at him. 'I resent you for this, Mr Slay.'

He laughed, going away. 'Call me Seb, Deadeye.'

You were afraid it was another friendship you couldn't take back.

Before you could go find a spot to be alone and reflect on what your life had become, Baz cut your path.

'Hey, how are you?' he politely asked.

You shrugged. 'Is there something wrong?'

'We were just heading to the hospital. Might have to stay there for two days or more,' he told you.

'Very well,' you nodded. And an idea struck you. You fished your pocket for your key and held it up to Baz. 'You can have my car.'

'Oh, thanks,' he smiled. 'I'll bring it back in one piece.'

You smiled. 'I shall be assured so. Given that it's yours now.'

His mouth fell ajar. 'You're kidding.'

You shook your head. 'You found the Colt. You saved our lives. I know how much you love cars. Plus, I did lose a bet,' you narrowed your eyes at him.

'Oh, my God,' he laughed stutteringly. 'You're giving me a freaking xDrive!'

You concluded it must be the name of the car. 'I just know it's very expensive,' you mused, 'I stopped listening to the manager after he told me it was safe.'

'Of course it's expensive - that's my three months' salary!' he grinned broadly.

He earned well - what with being in your core team and an important associate. And still, it was more costly than that, but you didn't say it; you never were a bragger. Money was a luxury for you, and you barely batted an eye on most expenses.

'For you and Boa,' you smiled.

'I should bet you more often,' he grinned. 'What about you?' he then asked. 'I thought you took this for traveling.'

'Oh, cars are just metal contraptions on four wheels for me,' you shrugged. 'I'll probably take a car from our compound since I'm headed back to the Palace anyway.'

Most workers used the Palace cars for their hunts. Only Dean and you and a few of the richest employees had the opportunity of buying cars for themselves.

'I hope you and Boa will accept this as a thanks and an apology,' you said, still feeling a bit bad that you had stabbed Boa.

'Thank you,' he grinned widely. 'Can I hug you?'

'Please don't,' you groaned. 'Between Selina and Dean and Sebastain's fist bump, I feel hugged-out and some more.'

So he chose to salute you, bounding away to his new car.

Dean was disappointed to note that the lights of your Office cabin were off. Not that he would've approached you if you'd been in, but he liked to know if you were around.

Which is just damn stupid, he told himself. He just didn't know why he kept pining for you. It was so not macho or whatever the men did when they weren't daydreaming about their girl-space-friend the entire day.

He fished out his key and stepped inside with a matchbox to ignite his torches. The Palace's electrical lights shut off by nine in the night, fans and air conditioners worked, but that was about it. For light, people had to rely on torches, unless it was a really large space that was in use even at the darkest hours of the night, like the kitchen or the library. It was a small way of saving electricity.

When his face lit up with a golden glow, he was surprised to find you inside. The frame fell from your hands out of startlement, as if he caught you doing something wrong. With flaming cheeks, you righted one of his photo frames on his desk, turning to him guiltily with a candle of your own.

'What are you doing here?' he was quick to snap.

While you shuffled, Dean thought it best to head for his Office chair.

She doesn't have any power over me, he reiterated to himself as he faced you again from his seat.

'You once said that I could walk in anytime I want,' you weakly reminded him. 'I promise I wasn't trying to snoop. I just took your key under the fire extinguisher where you told me it would be.'

'My invitation is for friends, Lady Y/N,' he bit.

Your face fell, but you nodded. 'I deserve that, yes. I'm willing to compensate you. Would you like a written apology, Mr Winchester?'

It took every ounce in him to not scream.

'What do you want, Y/N?' he was tired now.

You blinked in surprise but thought it best not to provoke him. 'Mr Winchester—'

'You call me that one more time when we're out of public, and I will never talk to you again,' he warned.

You gaped at his seriousness. It troubled you that his smirky edginess was gone.

'I was only wondering after your health,' you said timidly. 'I've been worried about you.'

'What's it to you?'

He could see you were offended and struggling to hide it.

Good.

'This was a mistake,' you settled on. 'I apologise. I will send the formal letter—'

'Goddammit, stop,' he said.

'I don't know what you want from me,' you frowned.

'What do you want from me?' he reversed. 'You wanted to save my life; you did. Why do you care if I'm healing or not? You're not liable for me anymore.'

You shrugged uncertainly. 'What you're saying is making sense—'

'I'm exaggerating rhetorics in irritation, Y/N!' he declared. 'Can't you tell?'

Then your lips got the stubborn tilt to them. 'I can,' you said. 'But that's not practical.'

'It isn't supposed to be a hundred percent practical all the time,' he explained. 'You're human—of course you care!'

'I know that,' you crossed your arms.

'Then why don't you just admit that you're curious about me, that you care about me,' he demanded. He gestured to the frame. 'You want to know me.'

Your eyes wouldn't meet his, but he knew the way you bit the inside of your cheek and how your brows furrowed. It was your I'm-going-to-research-this face as you eyed the photo frame.

'That's Lisa Braenden,' Dean offered.

The best thing to do would be to send you away, get you to leave before you left him. Unfortunately, Dean had never been the kind of person who could turn others way, not when it meant that he'd be the only one who ultimately got hurt.

'She's my ex-fiancée.'

Your mouth formed a small "o".

'Why the ex?'

You were worried it would be another death.

'She dumped me,' he said. 'Told me I'm poison,' he said with a dark smirk, as if you should take the bitch's advice.

You had stilled though, disarmed by your anger. You couldn't fathom what Dean said.

Also, you thought, did I just think of Lisa, a woman I've never met, as a bitch? It had happened so involuntarily at Dean's words.

'I killed my parents,' he claimed, looking you straight in your eyes.

There was a raw grief in his eyes that plagued you. It made you gravitate to him in small steps. You were unaware of all the details of his parents' deaths, yet there was a feeling in you that refused to believe that he would commit such a heinous crime.

He took a deep, shaky breath when he pinned the curiosity in your eyes, along with an emotion he thought was too good to be true.

'I had the Mark,' he went on. 'To kill Abaddon.'

You remembered Seth telling you about a hero, a few years back who had bravely promised to take Abaddon down. Your parents hadn't allowed all the details, but your brother had sneaked you the story.

You'd always imagined the hero to be strong and admirable, someone you could idolise. You found those feelings being channeled upon Dean.

'The Knight of Hell could only be killed by one of her own,' you recalled. 'Did you . . . Did you really die and come back as a demon?'

'For a while,' he rubbed his mouth, a nervous tell. 'When I became human again, Lisa was so mad at me for dying that we decided we would take a sabbatical from hunting when I got the Mark off my arm.'

'Why didn't you give it to someone?' you asked logically.

He snorted, the darkness dancing in his eyes like he'd seen something much more horrible than what you could even imagine.

'The Mark destroys you, Y/N,' he swallowed. It was the first time you were seeing him so scared, so rattled. 'It makes you want to kill constantly. I would be gone on hunts for months on end . . . it needed the blood.'

He was talking about the Mark as if it were alive and had been trying to take over his own soul. His goodness.

'But when I got rid of it . . .' he clenched his jaw.

'The Darkness came out,' you completed. He'd told you the Mark had been a key to Amara's cage.

'I wish I'd kept it,' Dean exhaled shakily. 'Because I was too weak to handle the Mark, she came out. I unleashed her.'

'You didn't know,' you tried to comfort him. 'Did she torment you a lot?'

He was frozen in torture for too long, and you were afraid to break him out of it because it would be too personal. Although you were relieved when he shook his head slowly.

'It's complicated . . . She loved me, actually. Because I set her free,' he whispered as if it were his existence's biggest crime.

You could see his eyes glisten with a slight sheen as he stared at a fixed point on the ground. He had leaned back under the weight of his story.

'She manipulated my feelings so that I could love her, too,' his mouth made a sneer, yet his face contorted with pain of loss. 'She made me obsessed with her,' he gritted out. 'She . . . And I couldn't snap out of until . . .'

His face displayed a shock: he was replaying something so horrible and unbelievable in front of his eyes; it was a practiced shock, like he'd seen it a thousand times, and he still couldn't get used to it.

'Amara killed your parents,' you mumbled in realisation.

Dean gasped softly.

You had to lean on his table to support your adjacent pain.

'I stood there, watching them die,' he said, with too much self-hatred.

You could almost see the ghosts of Dean's past haunting his establishment. You could see their smiling faces from the photos, twisted and grotesque in death. And you could see their scars replicated on Dean's heart.

Jessica came back to your mind, the only person he lost who you had the privilege to see. And Dean's crying face came back to you, most horrific of all the images; it made you shiver more than the ghosts.

'It wasn't your fault,' came from your deepest sensibilities.

He pressed his fingers into his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, barely composing his features.

You wanted to beg him to stop hurting.

'. . . Lisa left me because she had to Ben to think about,' he cleared his throat twice through that sentence, voice constricted beyond recognition.

'You lost your son.'

'Hers,' he shook his head, but he seemed to mirror the hollowness that parents usually do when they lose their own children. 'I'd become a danger to them . . . Amara would kill everyone close to me so that I'd've nowhere to go but to her,' he said, one of his tears slid down, against his hard-earned barriers of strength.

He felt weak again; his entire world a blurry smudge when he refused to feel another wet streak trace down his cheek.

You fisted your palms, unsure what you could do for him.

'But you killed her,' you stated. 'You didn't succumb.'

'I was too late. I couldn't save—'

He lost his voice.

As if compelled, you moved to him.

He sagged in your embrace, his head resting on the lower end of your ribcage. He could hide the rest of his silent tears in your shirt; only you would know of his failure to resist the tears.

'It just kills me to know that you want to become like me,' he was suddenly fierce again.

His accusatory words befuddle you. You pulled back only slightly to look into his eyes; you both were so close that you could reach down a couple of inches and taste him.

'Like Jessica,' he gritted out, pain sinking its talons into his face. 'This is what a hero's life looks like, Y/N. And I can't believe you'd want to be that. This. Like poison—' His breath hitched with another cry.

'You're not poison,' you scowled angrily.

'Everyone around me dies!' he said it loud enough to make you flinch.

'Not to sound cocky, but I'm really hard to martyr,' you glared down at him with determination.

He scoffed, looking away with disbelief tinging his face.

You straightened his visage so he was looking at you again, both your hands cradling his jaw. He looked as if an angel were crying. A real, life-like angel who everyone could love, who protected everyone like a true guardian.

'Dean, I—'

Your phone and Dean's pager beeped, diluting the moment. Dean was prepared to ignore it until you checked your device.

Is she fucking kidding me? the thought occured even before you pissed him off; he could already see your intention.

'A new case,' you said, stepping away from him.

'You're not serious,' he said.

His tears hadn't even dried yet; he felt like an emotional fool.

You hesitated. 'I'm sorry,' you said. 'But I should take this. You're still recovering—'

'Did you not hear a single word I said?' he stood up.

You scrambled to compose yourself. 'Mr—' you caught yourself. 'Dean, I heard you, but we can't stop working because—' you cut your words again.

'Because what?' he dared you.

Your eyes widened a little, and you did what came best to you: you hid behind your professional mask.

Dean's dismay peaked when he saw your emotions vanish like a candle extinguished.

'I shouldn't have come,' you gently said. 'This was a mistake. One I don't plan on repeating. Have a nice night,' you said.

You walked out on him. Again.

To your credit, you had tears in your eyes when you answered the call.

You never thought Dean would want to see your face again, much less talk to you in a secluded spot.

'You'll have to take me back in one piece,' you joked, even as you curiously followed him up the forest trek, farther out into the woods. 'How far is it anyway?'

The previous week had been used in a hunt; it was almost the end of February when you returned, and Dean came to take you from your bedroom. You were glad it wasn't raining right now, even though your shoes were careful to sidestep the muddy patches.

It was one in the morning. You didn't know why you agreed to this when only last week you'd decided you'd avoid Dean. You lied to yourself that this would be strictly a work thing and that you would be okay with that.

'Do you have no patience?' he grunted, a few feet above you.

You pouted behind his back.

Soon, heard the running waters. Dean had led you right to a small cliff that oversaw a pooling body of water, rippling from where a mini waterfall spilled into it, a bottomless pit of iciness.

'Do you trust me?' Dean asked.

His hand extended for yours. Something about his posture clued you in.

'Ohhhh, no,' you held yours up.

He deadpanned, 'Is that, "No, I won't jump", or "No, I don't trust you"?'

'If your brilliant idea is to jump in the mountainous waters of February, I shan't trust you,' you quipped.

He puckered his lips in annoyance. 'Do you know how unbelievably frustrating you are?'

You shrugged in defiance.

'Well, too bad,' he gritted out. 'I'll have to show you then.'

He moved too fast for you to contemplate his actions until you were free-falling. Your tumble was broken by shard-like slaps of the broken waters that you swallowed upon impact. Your body went into shock until you heard a muffled splash a few feet away from you. Your brain worked enough to have you break through to the surface, gasping for air, even though all your muscles felt like they had been frozen.

'What the fuck!' you managed between coughs. 'Are you fucking insane!?'

You turned, sluggishly because of how cold it was, slower than how you wanted, to face Dean, who pushing back the wet hair from his face. You shuddered when a breeze ran through the trees.

'What the fuck is wrong with you?!'

'Y/N—'

'You threw me!' You splashed water right at him, like a child, and that made him close his eyes and take it. 'You threw me! You threw me!'

Your anger was warming you, but even that wasn't enough to keep the frigging cold out. When you would calm down and get away from this senseless man, you would start quivering like a leave for sure. Your throat ached and burned, too.

'You threw me in cold waters!' - This was pretty much all you could process. 'What the fuck?!' You'd never cursed out a royal before.

'Now you know how you make me feel,' he said calmly.

'Oh, my God!' It sparked your fuse. 'You are a fucking nutjob!'

'That's what I think about you sometimes,' he returned.

'If you don't like me the way I am, leave me alone for fuck's sake,' you slapped him with another splash of water.

'This is not about you,' he snapped back. 'I was making you understand how I feel.'

That made you pause.

'Sometimes you're all warm and toasty like a Christmas fucking morning, and the next, you're frigider than the fucking Alps,' he analogised. 'Did you know people get whiplash from just talking to you?'

'People don't,' you ground out. 'You do.'

Yet, you didn't make the point you thought you were making.

His gaze softened instead of becoming rougher. 'Are you saying I'm the only who bothers to really get to know you? Or are you saying I'm the only one you fear to talk to?'

You didn't have time for this. This was clearly a mistake.

'I'm going,' you enunciated.

'Oh, no, you don't,' he caught your wrist.

'If you don't want me to shoot your damn hand off, you'd better release me!'

'I just want to talk,' he said, letting your hand go. 'Without all the unnecessary crap you pull.'

'There are other ways to do it!' you protested.

'Talking to you is like approaching a wild horse! I don't know what I'll say that'll startle you!'

'You could've just told me that!'

'I needed you to know how it feels!' his hand slapped down into the water's surface in anger.

The splash-back made you flinch; he blinked as if your outward discomfort made him rethink this decision.

'Maybe we can do this while walking back,' he consented without more prompting.

You didn't need to be told twice.

You swam back to the shore as fast as your protesting muscles would take you. Dean was next to you the whole time, even though you knew his longer limbs could've taken him away faster. You were shivering by the time you reached the edge, mashing your teeth together to keep them from chattering and make you look like a fool.

. . . On second thought, who fucking cares?

You freely let your body shudder horrendously - maybe it was also a ploy to make Dean feel guilty. You stripped your soaked sweater and huddled it close to your body, making you feel no better.

'I guess I should've thought this through,' he said, a hint of an apology in his tone. Maybe brought a jacket.

'You think!?'

The mile back to the castle would be hell. Or more like, hell-frozen-over.

Yeah, probably that. Because the only way you would open up your feelings to Dean would be when the fucking Hell froze.

When Dean offers his hand, you slap it off and scramble to your feet by yourself.

You don't think you've ever been madder at him.

Fucking stupid moron.

It should be illegal for such jerks to be so painfully handsome as he was.

Before you could speed-walk away from the man, he took you by the shoulder and cornered you into a tree.

'We're not done talking,' he said.

'It's freezing, Dean!' you yelled. 'You're soaked, too, don't you feel it?'

'I need to talk to you,' he insisted. 'You don't hide behind your mask when you're angry. I can't give you time to think.'

That should've been your cue to think, but all you wanted to do was slap his beautiful, beautiful face.

'I will give you a minute to realise that I'm very close to bashing your head in.'

'You won't do it,' he locked his gaze with yours. 'Because you and I have a connection.'

'For the love of—!' you groaned, pushing his chest but the wall of steel wouldn't fucking budge. 'You are delusional.'

'Am I?' his face tightened. 'Prove it. Ask me to leave you alone.'

'I thought I already did!'

'No, I mean forever,' he said. 'I'm not going to fall for your tricks and do your dirty work by allowing your antics to push me away. If you want me gone, you will say it.'

'I think it's pretty obvious what I want,' you said, but your voice had lost some of its heat.

Dean half-smirked as if he had you in a lie. 'You think you're being diplomatic by annoying me so much,' he arched his brows. 'You think I'll just take a hint and go. Well, guess what, Y/N, I don't know how to quit people. So unless you clarify it to my face in plain and simple words, right here and right now, I'm going to keep driving you crazy just as you do to me.'

'Why are you doing this?'

Another feeble attempt to push his chest was made; Dean left your shoulder in compromise.

'You can't be hot and cold with me,' he declared. 'I won't have it. So tell me, do you want me in your life or do you not?'

'If I want to be successful—'

'That's not what I asked!' he snapped, making you wince. 'You say one thing, and you do another. If you truly want me away, if you truly don't want me to care, just tell me!'

'I thought I did,' you snarled, but the burgeoning tears in his eyes were not helping your argument.

He shrewdly observed that, tucking a strip of your hair behind your ear. 'If you don't want me to care,' he said clearly, cupping your cheek so you could see in his face that he meant business, 'then you can't either.'

'That's such an absurd—'

'I won't leave you in a lurch, Y/N,' he promised. 'If you care, then so will I. So tell me, do you want me gone? Because if you do, you have to stick to your word first and never come near me again.'

'We're Leaders of the same Continent.'

'Who are you kidding?' his jaw worked a muscle. 'You and I both know we have enough middle-men to never come within a hundred feet of each other.'

Your bottom lip wobbled, and you shied from his touch.

'Which is it, Y/N?' he ignored how his heart withered deep in his chest. 'Are you going to suppress our connection for the rest of our lives or are you going to do something about it?'

'I don't know,' you whispered.

Dean swallowed subtly. 'As you wish.'

You grasped his wrist desperately, a protest leaving your lips.

Lowkey, Dean was relieved. He was worried your obsession with your parents would win out.

'I'm sorry,' you whispered, taking your hand back. 'I don't know what I'm doing.'

'Just stop caring,' he suggested, knowing as well as you that neither of you could.

'I can't.'

'Why not?'

'You know,' you vaguely gestured at him.

'That's not an answer.'

You were mad at him for having the ingenious to use the frosty lake as an ice-breaker; it shattered your icy exterior. You had nothing to hide behind.

'I like who you make me,' you whispered. 'Okay?' you made the valiant effort to keep your arms by your side. 'I like that I'm socially acceptable, that I get invited to fun and games when I'm around you. I like that I can win at stupid board games without fearing that the other person's losing because I'm this rich, bratty, ruthless Leader.' You sniffled at that point, meditating your mind so your tears would crawl back up their ducts. 'I love that I don't have to pretend, Dean.'

'But you do pretend,' he pointed out.

'Because I should,' you scowled at him. '. . . I mustn't be leading you on, though. My parents have a dream and . . . you deserve a person who's loyal to you.'

Dean's face was stoic for once. You spread your hands out.

'So there,' you told him. 'Now, I shall leave you be. Starting tomorrow, I will ask Sebatsion to run correspondence between us—'

He tugged you back by the elbow again when you tried to brush past him. He invaded your personal space this time until your back flattened against the tree trunk, and his face came so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your mouth. His eyes were closer than any person's in your life, and thus his soul.

'You can leave me, but you don't want me gone,' he said. 'You care, I care - that's how it is.'

'Dean—'

'Stop me,' his husky whisper ignited gooseflesh all over you.

'From?' Autopilot.

'Kissing you.'

There was the horror of the thrill in you. 'It'll complicate things.'

'Tell me you want me gone, and I'll leave,' he did offer. 'It's as simple as that.'

When the words wouldn't unstick from your throat, Dean's head dipped down. You drew closer.

Your lips met his in a featherlight brush, testing the feel of him. It was like kissing a live wire, if you'd had space, you would have jumped back. One of his hands slipped back to cup your head. Your eyes fluttered shut. Your noses brushed. Your breaths exchanged. You think your mind short-circuited when he pressed his lips more firmly onto yours, too pillowy to seem as cracked as they did from afar.

And then Dean devoured you.

He couldn't stray far from your lips like they were magnets. He brought you closer to his body so you had to wrap your arms around his neck to be standing straight: you'd gone weak in the knees when Dean coaxed your lips apart and carresed your tongue with his.

In your head, it was unbelievable that you were exchanging your life force with a man. And he was cherishing it, he sharing his own breaths with you happily. The thought made you moan, and you clung tighter to his frame.

If it wasn't for the breathlessness, you don't think you would have ever parted with him.

More experienced, he ran down his lips along your jaw and into your neck. You shivered.

'Fuck,' he panted against your skin. 'You must be freezing,' he realised.

You were startled enough to laugh. Right now, your body seemed like it could burst into flames; Dean had sufficiently chased the death-like cold away from you (although a change of clothes wouldn't be the worst thing).

'What?' he glanced up, his own smile begging to be set free.

Your face went red under his scrutiny. How could he look at you with such fondness?

'Was that okay?' he changed his question. 'That was your first kiss, wasn't it?'

You shrugged lightly, but only if he could know that your world had tilted on its axis - or hell, it changed the bloody axis entirely. Your heart was beating faster than a hummingbird's.

'So, did I do good?' he sought assurance.

When you were unable to answer, he pulled back more to check your expression. His right hand came up to trace down the side of your face; should that have tickled?

'You okay?' he asked, concerned he'd done something wrong.

You could only nod, flustered. Your eyes would not meet his out of sheer embarrassment: that couldn't have been good for him . . .

'Hey,' he brought your eyes to lock on his by pulling your chin up. 'Words, darlin',' he chuckled nervously. Had his voice always been so molten and gravely at the same time?

'It was . . . ,' you laughed heartily despite your anxiousness. 'It's the best thing that's happened to me since . . . forever.'

'Then?' He pecked your cheek because, for him, it was taking all his strength to stay from your kiss.

'. . . W-Was I any good?'

Until now, Dean's boyish smile where he acted like a kid had been his best smile: you'd never seen a person smile so wide and happily. Now, you saw a new smile of his. His lips curled up only a little, but his eyes somehow smoldered and were peaceful at the same time - you could definitely get used to this one; it had an unnamed emotion in it that fueled the fire in your belly.

'It was perfect,' Dean said. 'You are perfect. Do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you? How many times?'

His words meant everything to you.

You had to narrow your eyes at him with mischief so the moment didn't consume you whole.

'Surely not when I'm not annoying you?' you giggled.

'Especially then,' he grinned, swallowing your witty retort with another kiss.

A/N: Who liked that ice-breaker 😂? They finally kissed 🥰🙃 - thoughts?

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