satin doll ❦

♉︎ 𝖙𝖆𝖚𝖗𝖚𝖘

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ offers you the bed, then ends up sneaking next to you ๋࣭ ⭑ he tries to be noble for approximately five minutes before realizing the couch is awful and you look way too comfortable. you don’t make a big thing of it, which is exactly why he relaxes. you just lift the blanket slightly, sleepy and unbothered, and dean grumbles his way into the bed like this wasn’t what he wanted the whole time. you’re warm, steady, not fidgety. by morning, he’s stolen half your pillow and refuses to acknowledge it. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ wants to share the bed ๋࣭ ⭑ you’re safe in a way that doesn’t make him feel cornered, so sharing feels practical… until it starts feeling soft. sam is very calm about it. suspiciously calm. he says there’s no point in either of you sleeping badly when the bed is big enough, then proceeds to lie there extremely still because now he’s aware of every breath you take. you fall asleep first. he doesn’t. not for a while.

♊︎ 𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ puts pillows between you, but wakes up cuddling anyway ๋࣭ ⭑ he calls it a “safety wall,” you call it pathetic, and by sunrise the whole system has mysteriously collapsed. you talk too much. he tells you this several times. then keeps answering. then starts laughing. then rolls closer without meaning to. the pillows don’t survive the night because apparently banter is a gateway drug to accidental cuddling, and dean wakes up with your face near his shoulder looking deeply betrayed by his own body. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ shares, but overthinks the entire thing ๋࣭ ⭑ he thinks it’ll be fine because you’re fun and easy to talk to, then remembers you are also impossible to predict. sam tries to read before sleeping. huge mistake. you keep asking questions, making comments, stealing glances, turning the room into a podcast studio. eventually he tells you to go to sleep, but his voice is too fond to be convincing. he wakes up still on his side, careful as ever, with you having somehow stolen most of the blanket.

♋︎ 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖗

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ shares, no pillow wall ๋࣭ ⭑ he trusts you not to make him feel stupid for needing rest, which is basically emotional nudity for him. dean tries to act normal, but he’s softer with you from the start. he takes the side closest to the door without discussing it, because of course he does, and lets you settle in before he turns off the light. you don’t tease him when he stays awake a little too long. you just say goodnight quietly, and that somehow ruins him more. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ offers the bed, then ends up sharing and cuddling ๋࣭ ⭑ he wants to do the gentlemanly thing, but you refuse to let him fold himself onto a motel couch like a tragic lawn chair. you can tell he’s tired before he admits it. so you pat the empty side of the bed and give him that look—the one that says you’re not arguing about this at midnight. sam gives in because he trusts your care. by morning, there’s barely any space between you, and neither of you says a word about it.

♌︎ 𝖑𝖊𝖔

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ insists on sharing ๋࣭ ⭑ he acts casual, but the second you look too good sitting on that bed, his confidence starts doing dangerous little flips. this becomes flirtation with a mattress involved. horrible idea. you take up space so naturally, so warmly, so beautifully, and dean pretends he isn’t affected while absolutely being affected. he says, “don’t hog the blanket,” then proceeds to hover near the edge because touching you by accident suddenly feels too loaded. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ puts pillows between you ๋࣭ ⭑ he needs a barrier because you have too much presence, and his self-control is already filing complaints. sam respects you. admires you. is deeply, privately flustered by you. so yes, the pillows appear. not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he does not trust himself after the way you smile at him in low light. by morning, the pillows are still there, but his hand is resting over one of them, close enough to count.

♍︎ 𝖛𝖎𝖗𝖌𝖔

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ lets you take the bed, then gets dragged into sharing ๋࣭ ⭑ he tries to sacrifice his spine until you calmly inform him that being stupid is not actually heroic. you do not romanticize his nonsense, which is why this works. dean says he’ll take the floor, you tell him he has bruised ribs and terrible judgment, and he complains while obeying you. the bed is shared with military precision at first. then he relaxes. then he falls asleep faster than he meant to, because around you, he feels handled in the best way. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ shares very responsibly ๋࣭ ⭑ you both pretend this is a practical sleeping arrangement, which is hilarious because the tension has receipts. sam likes that you’re sensible about it. no drama, no teasing, no weird performance. you each take a side, set alarms, agree on blanket distribution, and somehow that makes it more intimate than if either of you flirted. he wakes up before you and stays still, because your hand is near his wrist and apparently that is enough to destroy him.

♎︎ 𝖑𝖎𝖇𝖗𝖆

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ shares, but teases you the whole time ๋࣭ ⭑ he cannot let the room stay normal because you look too pretty under ugly motel lighting and he needs to make that someone else’s problem. dean turns it into a bit. “don’t try anything,” “keep your cold feet over there,” “this is a professional arrangement.” meanwhile, he’s the one watching you too long when you laugh. you fall asleep first, peaceful and smug, and he lies there wondering when exactly sharing a bed started feeling less funny and more dangerous. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ offers the bed, then shares ๋࣭ ⭑ he’s too polite to assume, you’re too charming to let him suffer, and suddenly the couch has lost the election. sam starts formal. painfully formal. you take the bed, he’ll take the couch, no problem. then you tilt your head and ask if he’s seriously planning to sleep with one leg hanging off the end, and he folds. not quickly, but he folds. by morning, you’ve stolen the blanket and he lets you.

♏︎ 𝖘𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖕𝖎𝖔

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ shares, but the tension is obscene ๋࣭ ⭑ neither of you says anything inappropriate, which somehow makes it worse. this is the quietest disaster. dean takes the side near the door. you notice. he notices you noticing. the air turns thick with things neither of you is brave enough to name, so you both lie there in the dark pretending sleep is an option. it is not. by morning, you’ve barely slept, and somehow it still feels incriminating. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ prefers the floor at first ๋࣭ ⭑ he does not trust how deeply you read him, and sharing a bed feels way too close to letting you win. sam says he’ll sleep on the floor. you stare at him until the silence becomes a weapon. eventually he gives in, because he’s exhausted and because pretending he’s unaffected by you is taking too much energy. he sleeps on the edge, careful and guarded, but wakes up turned toward you anyway. traitor body.

♐︎ 𝖘𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖚𝖘

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ shares, steals the blankets ๋࣭ ⭑ you make the whole thing too funny for him to be mature about, so naturally the night becomes a low-stakes war. you flop onto the bed first, claim the good pillow, and dean immediately acts personally attacked. the two of you bicker over space, temperature, and who is breathing too loudly. he steals the blankets, you kick him, he laughs, and somehow it becomes one of the best nights of sleep he’s had in weeks. annoying. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ chooses the couch, regrets it instantly ๋࣭ ⭑ he thinks distance will protect his peace, then remembers you have zero respect. sam tries to sleep on the couch because you are chaos with a pulse and he knows you’ll keep talking. you do keep talking. from the bed. across the room. about nonsense. eventually he gives up, gets into the bed with the exhausted patience of a man accepting his fate, and mutters, “go to sleep.” you do not.

♑︎ 𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖓

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ prefers the floor, but you don’t allow it ๋࣭ ⭑ he tries to out-stubborn you, which is bold, considering you are professionally stubborn. dean says he’s fine on the floor. you say no. he says he’s slept in worse places. you say that’s not the flex he thinks it is. eventually he gets into the bed with the dramatic irritation of a man who has lost and knows it. you both sleep stiffly at first, then wake up closer because apparently control is fake. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ shares like adults ๋࣭ ⭑ he appreciates that you don’t make it weird, until the lack of weirdness somehow makes it extremely weird. sam trusts your composure. you trust his. so sharing should be easy. clean. mature. unfortunately, quiet tension loves responsible people. you both keep to your sides, but there’s something painfully intimate about the restraint, about knowing neither of you would cross a line unless invited.

♒︎ 𝖆𝖖𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖚𝖘

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ insists on taking the couch ๋࣭ ⭑ he does not know what to do with your emotional independence, so he chooses furniture-based avoidance. dean acts casual, but he’s suspicious of how unbothered you are. you don’t beg him to share, don’t tease him into it, don’t make the obvious joke—and that bothers him more than if you had. he lasts the night on the couch, then complains all morning like he didn’t make the choice himself. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ shares, with a pillow between you ๋࣭ ⭑ he likes your mind too much to risk low-light vulnerability without at least one sad little fabric boundary. sam is curious about you, comfortable with your strangeness, but still cautious. he puts the pillow between you almost apologetically, and you don’t even argue, which makes him feel ridiculous. by morning, the pillow is on the floor. neither of you knows who moved it. both of you are lying.

♓︎ 𝖕𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖘

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 ⭑ gives you the bed, then ends up sharing ๋࣭ ⭑ he tries to protect you from discomfort, then folds the second you softly ask him not to sleep on the floor. you don’t push. that’s the problem. you just look at him with those tired, gentle eyes and say there’s enough room. dean grumbles, acts put-upon, makes one joke to survive the tenderness, then climbs in. he sleeps closer than he means to. wakes up with his hand near yours. pretends not to notice. absolutely notices. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐦 ⭑ puts pillows between you, but wakes up cuddling anyway ๋࣭ ⭑ he thinks boundaries will help, but you’re warm and soft and sam is only human despite the giant moral burden aesthetic. sam is careful. always careful. he makes space, checks that you’re comfortable, says goodnight in that low voice that makes the room feel quieter. then somewhere around dawn, all that carefulness disappears, and he wakes up with you tucked close against him. he freezes, panics internally, then relaxes for one stolen second too long.

dex was coming home late again.

you knew he was busy, especially with what he was doing saving New York from the Fisks and the Anti-Vigilante Task Force. you knew what he did in the dark of the night, you knew everything. but you accepted him.

there was no changing him.

when you first found out about it all, it was because you had found the mask hidden in the wardrobe the two of you shared. his suit tucked away behind several different jumpers, jeans, quarter zips of his that you thought needed washing. when you approached dex about it, he was surprised. there wasn't any anger or fear in your voice.

you spoke to him the same way you always did. the only thing that you showed that was different was worry. your main concern was that dex was okay and was taking care of himself rather than anything else. you held his hands in yours and made him promise that he would come home to you every night.

he always did.

nothing could keep him from you. dex would've slaughtered New York if it stood in the way of him returning home to you and your quiet snoring. you were his and he was yours.

when he pulled himself onto the fire escape, he smiled. you always left the window slightly open for him to come home easier this way. otherwise he had to get changed in the alleyway next to your apartment building and that was something you hated. you had gotten possessive over him, asking what if someone saw him change whilst dex was more worried about someone following him into the alley.

his eyes landed on you stood in the doorway with a glass of water for him, wearing his shirt and a pair of tiny bedtime shorts underneath it. he couldn't help but smile underneath the mask.

how had he gotten so lucky that he could commit such foul atrocities then come home to you?

you froze when he let himself in through the window. you had seen the suit before, but you'd never seen him wearing it. you'd never seen it on. your breath hitched on your throat. he towered over you and your apartment, making everything seem so small and belittled. his biceps looked huge - moreso than normal - and his thighs looked so much thicker. your mouth hung open as dex scanned you for any sense of worry. you felt your hands grow clammy and sweaty as your eyes met his. all you could see was his hypnotising eyes that made you bite your lip.

without thinking, you placed the glass of water on the bedside cabinet and jumped into dex's arms. you wrapped your legs around his waist and instantly kissed him - forgetting all about the mask - and tugged onto the fabric of his suit. dex couldn't help but chuckle at your eagerness, he didn't expect this reaction from you for the first time you had seen him in the bullseye suit. the material was soft on your lips and tongue as you moaned into his mouth.

"slow down, sweetheart." he laughed and pulled away from you, causing you to whimper. "what's got you so hot and bothered-" dex raised his hand to pull the mask from his head and you could've sworn you'd gone to heaven just then. his greying hair a mess from the mask, his cheekbone scar glistening in blood. "what's got into-"

you couldn't help but surge back to kiss him.

how had dex gotten so lucky that you would kiss him in a suit covered in blood?

you, his North Star, indulged in his secret activities throughout the night. it kept him balanced. it kept him sane. were you worried for the bartender who would hand you your change after buying drinks and their hands would linger a second longer? you always were. but dex needed you.

and god forbid anyone who thought they could tear him from his North Star.

he tightened his grip on your hips and laid you down on the bed, hovering over you as he continued the embrace. "first time seein' me in the suit got you all worked up, huh?" you mumbled something he couldn't understand and all he could do was laugh. "want me to make you feel good, huh?"

dex pulled away from you (causing you to whimper at the loss of contact) and noticed blood smeared on his clothes that you were wearing. his eyes widened as his hands instantly pulled your clothes up to scan you for any injuries. he had faced nightmares just like this. that you would be pulled from him in a moment of intimacy as the universe's punishment for all of his crimes committed.

"you're hurt, where?" his hands tore his shirt from you whilst he panicked and searched for any potential harm you were facing.

"dex, it's all the blood from your suit, honey." you giggled as he placed a hand on his suit and pulled it away, examining the blood on his fingertips and he sighed in relief. "or maybe I've been committing crimes and you've finally caught me, bullseye." you smirked and dex shook his head.

he couldn't help but laugh.

how did you match him so well?

when dex pulled your shorts from you and curved his fingers between your legs, he wrapped a hand around your hair to ensure you kept eye contact with him. making sure that you were always looking at him. the ever consuming gaze of the masked vigilante before you made you ridiculously turned on - you knew he knew that from the glisten on his hands when he pulled away from you.