#being like 😭😭😭😭 GOD DAMN IT JOHN

[youdontknowe]

Here we go yall happy (late) Thursday!! Btw it��s literally in my calendar marking every Thursday for btg. has been since 10th of April

1. Oh not deans pov that man knows mostly suffering and anxiety

2. Eek I forgot all of Sam’s heavens were without Dean. Which I get because where Dean was John also was, and Sam couldn’t make his own choices or live if John was hovering and Dean was basically an extension of that

3. “You found me.” “Course I found you” sobbing he says it like it’s the most obvious thing

4. She wasn’t anybody’s but Dean was hers— I’m gonna rattle outta this lil cage that is their inability to fuck because GOD is a creepy possessive asshole

5. Ehehe the light assault and Dean grinning Like an idiot at her threats is my fav

6. “Maybe.” None else in that car pal your so getting chewed out

7. Dunno why but I got flashbacks to the Madagascar movie

8. He’s as bad as she is for subconsciously going oh my persons here nap time 💤

9. Adam’s probably just confused about the romantic displays and sexual tension with no explanation

10. HA shove it John all three of your kids love her!

11. giggling at the lengths they had to go to for cas to be allowed near her wards

12. She’s now equipped with the full Winchester strays pack (is this gonna be like holy trinity themes? Again my knowledge on bible stuff is non existent)

13. Agh now he’s got another thing to self loathe about and assume he can’t live up to

14. “It’s freaky” yeah they’re basically on the same level as twin telepathy

15. See what did I say he’s comparing and spiraling already

16. At least he got the he’s done more for her than god ever has

17. ‘Tugging on something to the right of his heart’ IM GETTING HOMING PIGEON VIBES

18. I need a man to sleep on me not even in a horny way but I feel like it’d be very therapeutic to have a cosy human weighted blanket

19. Giggling I love when cas just scares the shit out of dean all the time

20. I wanna bite his biceps just nom

21. Wait did cas pale cus she was in pjs? (He’d deck Dean before being afraid of him)

22. She’s so excited about talking to cas about him being old as fuck

23. Can you imagine cas pov of this just chillin watching your meant to be step mum pull out a damn glass container with your much bigger older brother in it

24. It’s good everyone’s re grouped cus they can collectively say what the actual fuck

25. I love that Sam always raises his hand to ask questions

26. My headcannon for her not being in the books other than for being a dick is she’s one of those ‘so powerful they didn’t make them cannon’

27. Bobby ain’t having none of this arranged marriage shit

28. ‘Sammys expression meant he was thinking something smart and stupid’ oh god please no pookie i beg of you don’t put my baby in the cage 😭

29. Dean could never be mad at her anymore I don’t think. Not over omitting the truth anyways

30. “Then that’s it.” UGH shot me in the heart

31. “No, de, on a horse” sarcasm queen

32. Therapy drive time

33. I hope she tells him what happened in her heaven at least the cowboy part in the future

34. PLEASEEEEE let Dean have a little sense and not say yes to Micheal I beg

35. Zach try not to be an asshole challenge impossible

36. Dean try not to be horny at the most inconvenient times also impossible

37. “It’s not like I am god-“ “yet.” Yikes that’s a biggie

38. Easy bake magic spell is amazing cus she’s just 50% that should work

39. “The little girl, running around with angles in her pockets and gallivanting with humans” just girly things

40. Touch them and you die trope when it’s the FMC saying it is EVERYTHING

41. That’s right girl! Make that asshole scared!!

42. “We’ll find out exactly what does make god come back” that is big dick energy of her. And she can back it up I KNOW she can

43. This will be the first of him seeing the mini paradise she unleashes right??

44. Quick dean grab an apple and tell me if it’s her!!! (He won’t)

45. ‘She was gonna drive him insane. He never really wanted her any other way.’ I’m currently that one vid of Pedro pascal crying

46. ‘In his stupid little jar’ giggling I love that he’s just this stupid powerful being and the bigger being just *shove* into the jar like a little beetle

47. Awh man no shake shake of the jar but I do appreciate that he still died pathetically

48. Cas just saying it like it’s the most simple thing ever

49. Yes Dean you do need to have that conversation

50. Oh Christ this isn’t gonna be a fun next few chapters is it 🥲 I’ve been thinking about the things it could entail if Sam had his soulless arc with her there and my take is owie

51. Sam and princess try not to self sacrifice another impossible challenge

52. I wonder if the reason Dean knows when she lies is because of the soul connection and souls maybe like react to telling lies

53. He’s so possessive I love it

54. It’s even funnier he’s trying to nicely (to her) go about no so subtley staking his claim against his half brother

55. Ooo she’s named the firebird!!

56. He may not he got but he’s everything (princess told me trust me)

57. I love the whole kitchen scene cas is being obvious he’s hiding something from Dean and Bobby calling them gazelle cus they travel in a pack 💀

58. “No knives at the dinner table” HOWLING WITH LAUGHTER

59. Bobby- he needs to stop I can’t stop laughing!! I had to show my mum why I was laughing

60. Awh Dean is on the verge of losing either one or both of the most important people in his life with this plan

61. I’m glad she finally has the comfort and space to tell Dean about god watching her without feeling crazy

62. The scar can mean Dean and a memory of Dean instead of that place!!

63. MORE KISSING the fact kissing has become so so exciting for me when it comes to them and it’s so special for them

64. ‘Chicago was such a stupid place to die’?? Why is it a stupid place to die

65. You know she’s amazing and powerful when death is saying she’s making people important by association and that he likes her

66. NOOOOO SAMMY

67. Poor girly he really need to communicate before jumping infront of bullets for his people

68. “I’m mad at you” she says all cuddled up

69. Oh your spoiling us with those kisses

70. End note: I can’t decide if those were good communications if it happens after the lack of communication 😭 but overall good

71. I’m anxious about Sam and the possible soulless arc cus then she has to look at Sam and see that he doesn’t have a soul and that was like a year that Dean thinks his baby brother is dead and she’ll think that too. Then they’ll have the ptsd and mental break from the torture— I’m anxious.

72. I trust your cooking and I will power through for more of Dean and princess make outs

Chapter 26 - Worth the Fight

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Dean about to take gold in the Yearning Olympics.

Chapter Title from Nettles by Ethel Cain

Word Count: 19.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Dean picks you and Adam up, and everyone makes some choices. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 25 - Chapter 27

Read on A03!

There are a lot of different types of fear, and Dean Winchester has felt most of them.

There’s the white-hot, fury-made fear he feels during hunts. That one is useful. It’s a fuel. He can brace his body and fly through the fight with ease, swinging and shooting and marching right to the other side. Just like Dad taught him. 

But then there’s the rotting fear, and that one is just annoying. It sort of festers in his throat, and then he can’t damn breathe out of nowhere, the fear having taken months to root with no clear way of how to get it out.

Sammy’s moping in the corner about unleashing the apocalypse, can’t figure out the right words to tell the kid it’s not his fault, and it’s electric under his skin that something horrible is going to happen. Bobby’s trapped in the wheelchair, and Dean isn’t a doctor, but one day that’s going to end in an empty chair and another funeral pier.

But this is the worst fear. The frenzied, wired one, that means something’s gone wrong—why the hell does something always have to go wrong—and Dean won’t be able to feel okay until it’s better.

That one can be about Sammy and the demon blood. About being forced to his knees while Anna sliced Jo’s neck open.

But it’s mostly about Her. 

In pain in his arms. Calling him and saying She’ll be in Michigan, but then Dean got to Michigan and all that was left was the Firebird. Then hunters get the jump on his and Sam, because this fear doesn’t make him useful, or delay until he can’t ignore it anymore. It’s demanding, and painful, and every single time they’d walked into a memory of Her in Heaven, Dean had wanted to grab Her and never let go. Even when he damn well knew it wasn’t Her—the memories didn’t smell like fruit, and he should’ve gotten that it was Her in the blanket fort in the first second, because She’d smelled like fruit there—Dean had felt all the air tighten in his lungs.

Then he’d lost Her.

He’d grabbed the real Her—not dead, just walking through heaven like it was nothing, because she was a freaking angel—and then watched Her vanish with Zachariah. 

The rest of the night had been a blur. A lot of Sam and Cas trying to calm him down, things breaking, and graphic threats that he wouldn’t actually inflict on them, but likely on himself. He’d roared at the sky, begging it to split open and Dean catch Her. He’d somehow lost Her again, and there was no damn point in being Her shadow or guard or friend or anything if Dean just kept fucking dropping Her, when She needed to be held like it was the world and all the stars in his hands- 

“Dean.” Bobby had frowned at him from the doorway of their room. 

Her room. Her room, that She trusted Dean to share. That had all his clothing, because they’d all stopped pretending Dean would ever be able to sleep without Her. The sheets still smelled like Her. Dean was holding one of Her notebooks, all the words in Enochian, like he could somehow read it and find a way to bring her back. 

“Don’t say anything,” Dean had muttered, closing the book. “I don’t want to hear it, Bobby, I freakin’ know-“

“She called, ya idjit.”

His head had shot up. “She-“

“Sent a text first.” Bobby had grunted. “Called ‘er, we figure she got dropped somewhere in Northern California. She’s tryin’ to find somewhere to lay low ‘till you get her, but she’s stuck luggin’ that Adam kid with her. I were you, I’d get her fast.”

The fear had been clouding his brain. She’d gotten out, with Adam, but that didn’t mean she was safe. They didn’t know what the hell the angels had done to Her, if they’d hurt Her, if She’d needed Dean and he hadn’t been there. And California was far, and- 

“She fucking hates California.” Dean had said, the only thought able to get itself out of his mouth, and Bobby had only shrugged.

“Then you’d better drive fast.” He’d paused. “Don’t get arrested. I ain’t got the time to bail you out.”

Dean had nodded, and sprinted out of the room. No need to wake Sam up for this, not when they were still a pissed at each other. All of Sam’s Heaven’s had been fucking bullshit—times he’d left Dean, shit he’d pulled off that had spurred memories of Dad spitting in Dean’s face and bruises on his jaw—and Dean had thrown a few chairs after Sam told him he couldn’t just go back to Heaven and get Her. 

They fell the fuck apart, without Her. And Dean needed Her back now. The fear had turned almost numb and electric, and slowly ebbed out the closer he got to the address Bobby had given him.

But it gave way to new fear.

Cold fear. He could sort of feel it in his bones, and he’d been able to feel it since Mom died. He’d felt it every time Dad had gone out for a hunt, and Dean hadn’t been sure he’d return—and whenever he’d fucked up while Dad was on a hunt, and he hadn’t wanted Dad to return—and he’d felt it when he’d been in the demon deal, and She hadn’t known. Felt it every damn month She’d been gone, he’d called Her, and it had twisted in his stomach that this might be the time She didn’t pick up. 

Dread. It was dread. 

And as he pulled up the final dirt street—he’d been driving for over a day without sleep, but he didn’t need sleep, he needed Her—that was the fear that sunk into his body.

The fear that She’d be in pain when he saw Her, and this time, he wouldn’t be able to fix it. 

Dean shut off Baby’s engine, but this would be quick. He just needed to grab Her—and Adam—and get home. And this was the address, but it was a dusty, abandoned looking cabin on the edge of some farmland, so- 

Something tackled him from behind, arms wrapping around his chest and a face pressing into his back. 

Anyone else, and he would’ve shot without thinking. But somehow—maybe the smell, maybe the feel, maybe just a deep instinct that told him don’t shoot the best person you’ve ever loved, dumbass—he knew it was Her. So his arm dropped to keep Her’s around him, and he let out a heavy breath as they swayed on the sidewalk. 

Dean muttered Her name, craning his head back to meet Her gaze, and found her face still buried into his back. Her cheeks were smushed, and Her hair was a mess—but still somehow shiny, even in the dust of California—and when Dean repeated Her name, she just held him tighter. 

“You found me.” She mumbled against his shirt, something soft and choked in Her voice, and Dean twisted fully in Her arms. He needed to hold Her back. To make sure she was real. 

“Course I found you,” he kissed the top of Her head—that was allowed right now, she was crying—and she was going to suffocate him. He didn’t mind. “You-“

“I’m okay.” 

Dean sighed, and took Her face between his hands, tipping it back to meet his gaze. 

Her eyes were almost blinding, and glossy. Tinted red with tears, just as her cheeks were flushed and Her lips were swollen, likely from chewing. And there was that little, worried furrow in Her brow. 

She wasn’t okay. 

Dean ran his thumb down the bridge of Her nose, and tried to make his voice as gentle as possible. He didn’t know how to fix whatever was getting to Her. He had to fucking try.

“What happened?”

She shook Her head, hair sliding over her face that Dean got to brush away with his softest touch. 

“I-“ She took a shaking breath, leaning into his touch. And he really was a piece of shit, because that was going to replay over and over in his head for the rest of his damn life. “I’m-“

Someone called Her name, and Dean tugged Her forward, wrapping an arm back around Her and raising his gun. He got Her, he had Her, she wasn’t anybody’s but Dean was Her’s, and they’d have to kill him to touch Her- 

“What’s-“ Adam’s head poked out from behind the cabin, and his eyes widened, flicking between Dean, and Her in Dean’s arms. “Oh. Dean, you, uh- I thought Sam was coming?”

“Sam was sleeping.” Dean grunted. “And I’ve got the freakin’ car- Shit-“

Dean groaned as She shoved him, right in the gut, and leaned back with a glower. 

He tried to give Her a winning smile, but it was more of a wince. “Ow, Princess-“

“Don’t Princess me, Winchester.” She snapped, and Dean’s grin felt a little more real. He was either going insane, or the hours without sleep were finally getting to him. She was so pretty, and the sun was rising, and all the light seemed to only shine for Her. Making Her almost freaking glow. “Put the gun down.”

He hadn’t realized he was still holding it. But he listened, raising his brows as he tucked it away. 

Her scowl didn’t waver. “Where is Sam.”

“I told you, sleeping-“

“So you drive here alone?!”

“Uh,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and glanced to Adam, but the kid was just staring at Her. “Maybe. But you needed help-“

“Not drive all night help, Dean!” She grabbed his face between Her hands, and Dean didn’t even bother to fight it. He was pretty sure she could try to stab him for real this time, and he wouldn’t do a damn thing about it. “When was the last time you slept?”

He wasn’t sure. He knew he hadn’t slept on the drive to Michigan, then he hadn’t slept in Heaven, but he’d been dead. That didn’t count. And She’d been missing for about a day and a half, plus the drive-

He was well over thirty-six hours.  

Telling Her that didn’t seem like the best idea. 

“I dunno,” he mumbled, and Her hands were so soft. “I’m fine, Princess-“

“Dean Winchester.” She hissed, and he might have lost all the blood in his face, rushing to other places in his body. She needed to keep looking at him like that. Forever. Like his health was something that really mattered to Her. 

He drawled Her name back, but he sounded a little drunk. This wasn’t working in his favor. 

“When did you last sleep,” She hissed—now didn’t feel like a good time to kiss Her—and he sighed. 

“Connecticut.”

Her eyes flashed, and before he was sure what was happening, they were moving. She’d grabbed Dean’s hand and was tugging him around the back of the cabin, and he was Her shadow. He didn’t know how to do anything but follow Her, wherever the hell she wanted to take him. 

Adam mumbled Her name as they passed him. “What-“

“We’re sleeping.” She snapped, and Adam frowned. 

“But-“

“Dean can’t sleep in the car.”

That was true. He couldn’t. And he didn’t know how the hell she knew that, but it didn’t matter. She was holding his hand. Half shoving him into some sort of makeshift bed before crawling up to his side, like She couldn’t bear to be away from him.

“Uh-“ Adam cleared his throat from somewhere near the door. “I thought we were going somewhere safe-“

“We’re safe here.” She shrugged, and Her hand was in Dean’s hair. He wasn’t sure She knew she was doing it. He never wanted Her to stop.

“Oh- okay.” Dean let his eyes flutter open, and Adam was frowning between them.

Dean let out a slow breath, and Adam’s attention settled on him. “We’ll drive in the morning, dude. I’ll call Sammy to get a room ready for you.”

Adam blinked. “For- me?”

“Bobby’s got a lot of rooms.” She hummed. “You can take Dean’s old one. We’ll figure the rest when we get home.”

Adam nodded nervously, and Dean felt a little guilty. He should be doing more, but his thoughts were only circling around old room. His old room. Because now they shared one, and didn’t bother to pretend.

But that wasn’t important. And even if Adam wasn’t Sammy, they were still family. Dean was the big brother. He should be helping Adam. Telling him that he was going to sleep because telling Her no took all the willpower in the world—and with Her hand in his hair and his head on Her thigh, Dean didn’t have any willpower—but then they’d go to Bobby’s, and everything would be fine. 

But he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what had happened to them, in those two days. And Adam was looking at him strangely, the same way Dad used to look at him. The way that made Dean feel like he was doing something wrong, when he was doing nothing at all. And Adam wasn’t Dad—he wasn’t going to hurt Her—but Dean didn’t like the way the kid’s eyes kept flicking between Her and Dean. 

Mostly Her. Adam kept looking at Her with an expression Dean knew from the mirror. Like She was the most beautiful thing in the universe—She was—and just a brush of Her skin against his would be a high better than goddamn heroine. 

Dean could understand a crush. Adam was just a kid, and She was magnetic. But She was sitting with Dean. And he was Her shadow. Adam could want Her, Dean wasn’t going to be weird about that. Dad might crawl out of the grave to strangle him if he ever chose a girl over family—even though She was family, and he’d only just met the real Adam—and Dean didn’t have any right to get possessive. She wasn’t Dean’s to possess. Only to protect, and hold, and maybe touch wherever he was allowed.

Another selfish thought. He should be focusing on Her and Adam’s safety and stability. On how there was a hollowness to Her features that told him something was wrong. But She was warm, Dean was exhausted, and this cabin was safe. Dean could recognize Her handwriting if he was blindfolded, even when said writing was in Enochian. Those were Her wards, the ones She’d put up at Bobby’s, and they’d had to toss three kinds of salt over Cas’ shoulder, dump him in holy water of the spring—rose water that Bobby had blessed with an eye roll—and let Her burn a lock of his vessel’s hair for him to be allowed into the yard. They’d be fine. 

Dean could turn his face to rest on Her abdomen and hear Her breath hitch, grinning to himself at the sound. He’d like to stay here for a while. Maybe damn the world and rest here into the apocalypse and after. Her fingers combing through his hair and making him feel like a dog, the smell of fruit all around him, his body relaxing because it was Her. 

And She was humming softly.

That wasn’t the voice of a siren, or an angel. It was whatever starlight sounded like, humming Ramble On just so Dean could sleep. 

He passed out faster than maybe ever in his life. He didn’t dream. And when his eyes blinked open to hazy, golden sunlight, She was watching him. 

She was so beautiful. There seemed to be a halo around Her head, and Her skin was still glowing, and Her eyes were so bright Dean was pretty sure he’d be able to see them guiding him home in the darkest storms.

He loved Her. 

She looked so tired. 

Dean reached a hand up before he could think better of it, and traced his fingers over Her cheeks. She blinked at him, leaning into his touch as Her eyes went glossy again, and something was wrong. He’d been an asshole, he’d known something was wrong, and he’d just fallen asleep like she hadn’t just been an angel prisoner-

“Feel better?” She whispered, and Dean voice was barely a rasp.

“Now I do, yeah.” He sat up slowly, keeping hold on Her careful. Tight enough that he could shift Her into his lap. Lose enough that, if She wanted, She could leave.

But She didn’t. 

She just wrapped Her legs around his torso, and dropped Her head to his chest. His arms flew up, caging Her back to keep Her steady, hands tangling in Her hair because he could.

Dean muttered Her name, and She held him tighter. “What the hell happened, after we got zapped.”

“I- I can’t-“ She curled further into him, and Dean knew that strain in Her voice. She was trying not to cry. “De, I don’t know how to- I don’t know what to do- I- I’m not-“

“It’s okay.” He kept his voice soft, swallowing down another baby. It wasn’t the time. “I’ve got you, Princess, you’re safe-“

A sob shook Her body, and Dean just held Her. If that was all he had to do right now, to be worthy of being Her shadow, he’d do it every damn time. Until Her breathing was even, and he could carefully tip Her head back and give her a sad smile. 

“I’m here.” He murmured, and She blinked at him through Her tears. 

He wiped them away with his thumb, then let it drift to the bridge of Her nose once more. Her eyes fluttered shut and She let out the best, airiest sigh he’d ever heard in his damn life. Dean could die here. With Her relaxed in his arms, their bodies tangled together, and nothing real in the world but the feeling of Her against him.

But Adam. The end of the world and Adam. 

Dean kissed Her brow, fought the urge to just kiss Her when She made another soft sound and curled her fingers on his chest, and forced himself to get up. He kept Her in his arms—She didn’t fight it, another bad sign—and walked Her outside to the Impala. After She was safely in the passenger’s seat, he went back for Adam. The kid had been sleeping in the room over, and it wasn’t hard to get him moving. 

He just had to say She was waiting in the car.

They were on the road quick. And it was a day long drive, but that was for assholes who obeyed things like speed limits.

Dean didn’t have time for that. She was being too quiet, Adam kept opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to ask questions but wasn’t sure how, and Dean could feel that cold fear again. Something had happened. Something had to have happened. Ellen was gone, all She had was her knives and a jar with something brown and sludge-like in it, and She kept looking at the skyline with that small wrinkle in her brow. 

It was going to drive him insane. He could beat his own muscle and soft tissue going black and blue over it, how he’d just fallen asleep at Her request, like he wasn’t supposed to be the one taking care of Her-

“Dean.” She mumbled, after they’d stopped for gas somewhere in Wyoming, long Adam knocked out in the backseat. “I called Sam. I think Adam’s a little sick, so they’ll be ready to look at him.”

Dean glanced at Adam in the rearview. “He looks fine-“

“He’s got a bite mark.” She was picking the skin on Her nails again, and gave Dean a sad look when his hand shot out of cover her’s. “I-“

“Don’t do that.” He muttered. “How the hell’d he get a bite mark, a freakin’ snake?”

She shook Her head, her hair falling over Her face and Her voice almost a whisper. “Me. I- I’ve never resurrected someone before. I think I did it wrong or something, because it looks like a ghoul bite, and it’s right here.” She reached up and touch the soft skin under Dean’s collarbone. A little electric shock ran through his body at the contact. He was worse than a damn teenager. 

He took a steadying breath—he was a grown man, he’d just slept in her lap, he could handle her touching him and talking to him all gorgeous and awesome—and shot her a small frown. “You’re the one who brought him back?”

She only nodded, and Dean felt the dread move deeper than his bones. Into something colorful and vital and shimmering, that knew Dean was just another thing in Her orbit, but he still had to keep Her safe.

Dean said Her name, and Her fingers twined with his. As if She was afraid he was going to let go. “Tell me what happened, sweetheart. Please.”

Her grip was death like. And it didn’t loosen, as She turned to press Her face into his arm. Her breaths muffled in Dean’s body, but She was also clinging to him like he was a buoy in a hurricane, so he just squeezed Her hand once.

There was a pause, then three squeezes in return. She didn’t seem fine. But before Dean could push it, she was talking. 

“I- I need to tell you most of it later.” She mumbled. “With everyone else. But, I – I don’t know what to do.”

He sighed. “I know, but-“

“I met Michael.” Her words were quick, and the dread was going to eat him alive. “He- He was yellow. And big. And he- he said that I-“ 

She made another weak noise, and Dean muttered Her name. “Breathe, Princess, I’ve got you-“

“Dean.” She whispered, Her chin propping on his shoulder, and when he shot Her a glance, Her eyes were big and bright on his. “Michael told me something.”

Dean frowned. “Like what? His evil plan?”

“No. Not his.”

“Wha-“

“He said I was the bride of God.” She whispered. “He- He said that’s what I was made for. That it’s why I’m like this.”

Dean couldn’t really hear anything. Couldn’t really see anything, either. It wasn’t a safe way to drive, but he didn’t care about driving right now. 

He cared about Her, half clinging to his side, Her voice far too fucking small and defeated. He cared about why She’d say like this—She was perfect, if anything, everyone else should want to be more like Her—and that Michael would call Her that. 

Bride of God.

“What the fuck does that mean.” He muttered, and his knuckles were white on the wheel. 

“Probably what it sounds like.” She mumbled, blinking up at Dean with a nervous expression. “Dean?”

He grunted—he felt like he was drowning without any water to blame—and glanced back to find Her watching him with an open, nervous expression.

“Are you mad at me?”

Dean stared at Her for a moment. That was insane. None of this was Her fault, it was God and the Angels and Hell and all these stupid fucking games with people’s lives that didn’t make sense, he understood it but he couldn’t let it make sense-

She opened Her mouth, and Dean shook his head. Her shadow. The most important thing was being Her shadow, and keeping Her safe.

“I’m not mad at you, sweetheart.” He muttered, kissing the top of Her head and forcing himself to not crash the car when She made another little sound. “We just- Guess we got work to do. We’ll call Cas. See what he knows.”

“Okay.” She dropped Her face back down to Dean’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Course.” I love you. I just want to love you Princess, cryptic douchebag archangels or not. “You’re gonna be alright, Princess. Pinky promise.

He turned his hand in Her’s, hooked their pinkies, let out a slow breath as She hummed into his side.

Bride of God.

She was the Bride of God.

Son of a Bitch, he wished that didn’t make sense. That he could just call Michael a lying asshole and be done with it.

But She was divine. Dean had always known She was divine. Ethereal and blinding, made of something he should never be allowed to touch. Something nobody should be allowed to touch, something that was too good to be stuck in the mud with the rest of them. Not just hunters and people born with no way out but a bloody one. Everyone. Even the fanciest asshole at bars—hitting on Her while Dean had glowered at his beer and shoved down the urge to march over and slam his lips against Her’s—had been beneath Her. Dean had just gotten real damn lucky, being the animal that She grew fond of. 

Or unlucky. 

Because if She was the Bride of God—if that was a real thing, and She was it, and She might as well be because Dean had always worshipped Her all the same—that meant She could never be Dean’s. That the most he would ever get was this. 

Her head on his shoulder as they drove, fast asleep and peaceful. Her hand was still in Dean’s free one—he could drive with one hand, he wasn’t a fucking idiot, and when he kissed Her knuckles she made another soft, sweet sound he wanted to devour—as he listened to the music, and got them home. 

Sam was pacing outside, when they pulled into the yard around midnight. She and Adam had both been knocked out for a few hours, and while She didn’t jolt awake as the engine turned off, Adam did.

“Wha-“ The kid blinked around, rubbing his eyes as Dean adjusted Her in his lap. “Where are we?”

“Bobby’s.” Dean muttered, glancing in the side mirror. Sammy was coming over, he could help Adam while Dean took care of Her. “It’s safe. He’s family, and the place is warded to freakin’ hell.”

Adam paled. “Like- Literally?”

“No.” She made a small noise as Dean wrapped Her arms around his neck, but didn’t try to pull away. He was the most selfish asshole in the world. “Sam’ll help you with that bite, then we’ll all meet up in the morning.”

“How’d you know about-“ Adam paused, then said Her name. “She told you?”

“Yep.” He glanced up as Sam knocked on the window, and nodded his head to the backseat. Sam understood—thank Fucking Christ—and opened the back door.

“Hi, Adam, I’ve got the medkit, and- Dean?”

Dean grunted, and glanced back to see Sam frowning at Her.

“Is she-“

“She fine.” Bride of God. “Need to get her to bed, can you-“

“Yeah, I’ve got it. You want me to-“

“Call Cas. Tell him we’re gonna talk in the morning. Is Bobby-“

“In his office. I’ll tell him you’re home.”

Adam cleared his throat, and they both looked to him with a frown. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “That’s just- It’s kinda freaky.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean adjusted Her fully, and he’d be able to carry Her like this. He’d always carry Her. “Lot more shit where that came from.”

He was being an asshole. Dean knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. He needed to take care of Her. 

Their room was untouched, from when Dean had left it. Her notebook was still on the floor. Everything was in its place. 

Including Her. Fit perfectly in Dean’s arms.

Bride of God.

Maybe it wasn’t Her place. Maybe She should be sleeping on a freaking cloud, or on vacation in Jupiter, making angel babies. Dean really didn’t want to think about Her making angel babies. It didn’t matter if it was Her destiny, he didn’t want Her to be anywhere that he couldn’t follow. Because even if She was the Bride of God, God wouldn’t hold Her like Dean could. It was an insane, absurd thought—it was fucking God—but it was the only thing that eased the frozen dread in his body. If God was out there, he hadn’t done shit for Her. Dean would do anything. He loved Her, and he loved Her like it was written into his fucking DNA, and when he eased them both down onto the bed, She wrapped herself around Dean’s body. 

Michael might have been lying.

Dean wasn’t that lucky. 

That could be what being Her shadow was. Her lover in the corners, and Her guard dog, and nothing more than just the luckiest son of a bitch alive, there for Her in all the ways God couldn’t be.

God.

Fucking God.

What chance did Dean stand against God-

She made a soft, sleepy sound, and Dean glanced down. She was drooling, right onto his chest. Her nose was nuzzled into his throat, and son of a bitch, of course She was the Bride of God. She was perfect.

But She was still sleeping on Dean. When he so much as shifted, Dean was the one who got a distressed sound and tight grip around his neck. 

Dean was Her’s. He loved Her, and he’d love Her all the way down. 

He shouldn’t have been able to sleep, with all the lingering dread. But She smelled like fruit, and She was warm around him, and- 

This place was creepy.

The ceilings were too high, everything was too clean, and the polished floor had some sort of weird engraving on it. It looked like Enochian, when Dean squinted and tilted his head. But the people around him couldn’t be angels. Angels didn’t wear fancy clothing like that, and while they did have cold, unforgiving features, they didn’t lurk in dark corners. The only angel Dean had ever seen lurk in a corner was Cas, and Cas wasn’t a normal angel. 

Angels didn’t whisper, and all these assholes were whispering. Slowly milling about until they’d formed some big sort of circle, and shooting glances at the center of the room.

Dean felt like he was supposed to go somewhere. Maybe anywhere but here. He was like a freaking match in a needle stack, surrounded by sharp, polished people, while he wore a leather jacket, jeans, and mud-caked boots. 

At least he wasn’t tracking the mud, as he tried to push through the odd crowd. Given how clean these people were, that would probably be a whole thing. 

He should just leave. He was definitely intruding on something that he wasn’t supposed to see, and didn’t really want to anyway. But something was calling him. Pulling him forward like a magnet, tugging on something just to the right of his heart and telling him to fucking go-

He stumbled forward as the crowd suddenly ended, and there She was. 

A smaller version of Her—a little doll-like with her black dress, perfectly styled hair, and blank expression that made Dean’s gut twist—but Her. Dean would know Her anywhere.

She wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on the old man standing over Her—he had the same nose She did, and different coloring, but an almost identical posture—and the blade in his hand. 

It looked like an echo of Her blade. A crude replica. And She stared at it as the man took Her hand, and flipped it palm up. 

Dean wanted to call Her name, but his voice was stuck in his throat.

The old man beat him to it. 

“First born daughter of the coven’s last born daughter, you have bled for the first time. Your second blood will be spilt in his name, the great one, Yahweh, the creator, who has promised us greatness in his service. Do you offer yourself to him, in entirely, should you be the Bride?”

He had to do something. Dean was just goddamn standing here, and She looked so young, and her voice was so soft and small and this felt like something someone should get shot about-

“I do.” She bowed Her head, and the whole room started whispering. There were some barely muffled laughs, too. As if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. They were lucky to even be in Her presence, but Dean still needed to do something, why couldn’t he fucking move and do something-

Her name escaped his throat, his voice hoarse, and Her head whipped to his. For a second, She was the version of Her Dean knew, and loved, and would drown in the mud or the ocean or pits of hell for. Then the old man sliced the blade deep into Her hand, and she flickered back into the little girl. 

It was only for a second. As Her hand was twisted so the blood fell to the floor, and the room filled with some creepy chant that nobody seemed to be trying all that hard on. Then She was back to herself, yanking Her hand away from the old man and sprinting over to Dean. She slammed into him with an almost frightening force, but Dean didn’t flinch. His arms wrapped around Her and he lifted her off the ground, their faces inches away, Her eyes blinding on his and Her lips parted with a small flush-

The room shook, and a few people screamed. Dean’s grip tensed around Her, his hand shooting to his jeans for his pistol, but she caught it first.

“It’s fine.” She mumbled, squeezing his hand three times and pressing Her face to the crook of his neck. “I- I’m glad you’re here, De. I hate this one.”

“Course I’m here, Princess.” He muttered, even though he didn’t like this one either, and he didn’t even know what ‘this’ was. “Always here.”

She let out a soft laugh, and just held him a little tighter. But Dean’s eyes were trapped on the sight before him. 

Her blood, no longer just a single stain of red in the Enochian carvings.

It was a river, running through the sigil, fucking glowing silver. Like someone had sliced a little bit of starlight, and dumped it over the fucking floor. It looked molten and dangerous and alluring, and the whole fucking chamber smelled like fruit to the point that Dean was pretty sure it wasn’t just her hair near his nose. 

Dean said Her name carefully, and She shook Her head.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She mumbled into his skin. “I- I don’t want it to be real.”

And he didn’t have to ask what. He knew. That cut had been exactly where Her scar was, and She’d always told him that her family was full of cultic assholes. That they’d thought She was destined to marry-

Son of a bitch.

She’d been right. Dean didn’t really want to talk about it either. He just wanted to hold Her a little tighter and bury his face in Her hair, as chaos broke out around him. People were shouting and screaming like this hadn’t been the whole purpose of the stupid thing, the Silver was only growing brighter and brighter, and Dean just kept holding Her. 

He’d hold her like this when the real world ended too. 

He’d hold Her until she was ripped from his arms, and he was left in the mud. 

His eyes blinked open to harsh light through the windows, and they’d shifted in their sleep. Dean was still holding Her, but she wasn’t straddling him anymore. Her face wasn’t his neck either, but pressed right against Dean’s as he lay on his stomach. Pinning Her to the mattress. Their legs tangled together and Her knee pressed dangerously close to-

Fuck.

Dean tried to shift away, but he was too slow. She mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like his name, held him tighter, and Dean groaned. Right in Her ear. 

Another mistake. 

She made the softest, most musical and intoxicating sound Dean had ever heard, and he definitely had to move now, but it was too late. Her eyes fluttered open and landed on his, and-

“Dean?” She mumbled, yawning right into his face, and Dean never wanted to move again. 

“Hey, Princess.” He sounded like a fucking idiot. “You, uh-“ His boner. He was so hard it hurt, and She was right there and so pretty with glazed eyes and sleep swollen lips. And he was all kinds of fucked up for having a nightmare then getting a hard-on for his best friend, but that’s what was happening. “Breakfast?”

She hummed and nodded, but made no effort to move. 

That was fine. Dean could move for both of them. He pushed up off of Her slowly, angling his hips carefully to keep them out of Her attention, and let just a little bit of his will falter. He ducked down at the last second, pressed a kiss to Her brow, and grinned to himself as She made a soft, sweet sound. Son of a bitch, he loved Her.

But he was still a piece of shit. He still brushed hair from Her face and ran his thumb down her nose, before shuffling to the bathroom, turning on the sink, and fisting his cock in his hand. Letting his thoughts wander to Her beautiful, heavenly features and soft skin and body tangled with his. The feeling on Her breath on his neck and the flutter of Her eyes in the low light of parking lots. The sound of Her voice saying his name in a tiny gasp and the phantom taste of Her from months ago, they haven’t kissed in over half a freaking year but Dean was still being haunted by Her touch and taste, and he could see Her sprawled out below him in bed, or maybe straddling his waist again and kissing his jaw-

He clenched his jaw as he came, choking on the groan of Her name and squeezing his eyes tight enough for it to hurt. He didn’t deserve Her. He still stopped at the edge of their bed after he cleaned himself up—their bed, he was standing at their bed—and stared at Her for a long moment like some stalker.

Breakfast.

He needed to make sure She ate, because that cabin hadn’t looked like a restaurant, and something told him she’d probably told Adam she was eating whatever rations they’d had, while giving them all to him. And the kid didn’t know how to tell when She was lying. So it was Dean’s job to make sure She ate. 

He opened the door, and almost had a damn heart attack.

“Jesus fucking-“ He took a steady breath, running a hand over his face. “Son of a bitch, Cas, what are you doing-“

Cas frowned at him, as if the answer should be obvious. “Watching over you, Dean. Well,” Cas nodded past his shoulder, when Dean could hear Her shifting in the sheets. “Both of you.”

“Dean?” Her voice was still filled with sleep, Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas, and Cas paled slightly. “What’s-“

“Nothing, Princess.” He grunted. “Go back to sleep-“

“Cas?” Goddamnit. “What are you-“

“I told Dean already,” Cas said, his words slow. “I was watching over you both.”

Dean sensed Her behind him before he felt Her. And he could be normal about this. About Her standing right next to him, Her chin propped on his bicep, his arm braced on the door. He could be normal.

“But you were standing outside?” Dean glanced down to see the prettiest frown on Her face, and Cas shrugged. 

“This seemed to be a private moment, I didn’t wish to interrupt it.” He glanced back to Dean. “You should change. We have been waiting for you to awaken.”

Dean sighed. He couldn’t punch Cas, even if he’d woken Her up. “Don’t say awaken, dude, you sound a million.”

“He is a million, Deano.”

Dean gave Her an exasperated look, and Cas frowned.

“I am actually over a billion-“

“Really?!” Her eyes went wide, and Dean sighed. 

“Princess,” he muttered, letting his hand glide down to Her lower back. Her attention turned to him, Her eyes fluttering slightly, and two boners in one morning was too many. “They’re waitin’ for us to awaken. Go change.”

She glanced back to Cas. “But I wanna ask him about dinosaurs-“

Dean gave Her a flat look, and She sighed.

“Fine. But,” She shot him a glare. “Just because Cas said we need to change. You’re not my boss, Winchester.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I got that, sweetheart-“

“Shut up.”

“Bossy.” He called after Her, watching Her stomp into the bathroom, and turned back to Cas with a sigh. “C’mon. Gotta make her majesty eggs.”

Cas nodded, following Dean down the stairs, and everyone was waiting for them. Seated around the table, frowning at Dean and Cas as they entered the kitchen. 

Bobby cleared his throat. “Dean, where-“

“Getting dressed.” He muttered, walking over to the stove. “She’ll be down soon. You guys already gone over all the shit?”

“Almost,” Sam sighed. “We know that the Angels were going to use Adam as bait for us, that we all got brought back when Zachariah showed up, and Adam says that they were in some sort of magic room for a while.”

“I don’t know how long.” Adam jumped in. “It felt like it was a while? They took me, the brown-haired lady-“

“Ellen,” Sam muttered with a grimace, and Adam nodded. 

“Yeah, her. And,” Adam said Her name, shooting Dean a strange look. “She said she had a plan to break us out. But I blacked out, and when I woke up she was fighting the bald guy-“

“Zachariah.”

“And she made him vanish, then sort of,” Adam placed his hand on his brow. “And I woke up on the side of the road with her next to me.”

Dean frowned. “Ellen-“

“Didn’t make it.”

Their attention all shot to the door, and She looked so small. Her arms wrapped around Her stomach and her words nervous, as if she was worried someone was going to try and kick her. None of them would. Ever. Even Adam seemed to understand that after a day, scrambling to his feet and pulling out the chair next to his. She shuffled over with a small smile of thanks—and a bigger smile to Dean, but he wasn’t going to let that go to his head—and dropped down with a long sigh. 

“I- Um- I got Adam.” She whispered, Her eyes fixed on her hands. “But Zachariah came back. And he grabbed Ellen. I don’t think angels can kill souls, but he- he was going to do something. I couldn’t stop it, and she said it was okay, but- I-“ She swallowed, and Dean abandoned the eggs. There were more eggs in the universe anyway. There was only one Her. 

He muttered Her name, standing right behind her chair, and Her head tipped back to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to-“

“Yeah, I do.”  

She fucking didn’t. But he wasn’t going to win this conversation. So Dean just offered his hand. 

She took it. In front of everyone. Squeezed it three times—She was fine—and took a shaking breath. 

“I don’t know what happened to her. But I got Zachariah-“ She sat up suddenly, and Dean grunted as Her grip tightened. “Fuck- My jar, where the fuck is my jar-“

“I’ve got it.” Sam cut in quickly, pulling it out of his bag on the floor. “What-“

Cas cut Sam off with Her name, his eyes comically wide. “Is that…”

“Yeah.” She sighed, pulling the jar forward. “Say hi, Zachariah.”

There was a long silence, filled with only the sound of the frying pan sizzling and brown sludge slushing around.

Bobby cleared his throat. “Kiddo, you’re tellin’ me that you got an angel in a fuckin’ jar?”

“Yeah.” 

“But-“ Sam shook his head. “I mean, how-“

“Don’t know.” She sighed, setting Zachariah down on the table. “I just… did. Then I ripped open a hole in the room, and walked out.”

“The room?” Cas frowned. “The green room?”

“I don’t think so. This one was in heaven and- Reinforced. With iron. It seemed like it was part of old Heaven.”

Sam raised his hand. “What’s old Heaven-“

“Heaven before God left.” Cas said, still watching Her. “Most of it is off limits to everyone, but archangels have access to certain areas. Did you-“

“Yeah. Micheal.”

Silence again, this time broken by Sam.

“You met Michael? Did he, like, want something?”

“Yeah. Um, a lot. He wanted a lot, and said a bunch of stuff and-“ She took a shaking, long breath, and broke into a frantic ramble. “He wanted my alliance. For me to tell Dean to say yes, just like Lucifer wanted me to convince Sam to say yes, and I know I should have told you guys that when it happened but a lot was going on and I- I don’t know. But Michael said he wanted me at his side when God returned, because I- He-“ 

Dean muttered Her name, and she shook Her head. 

“I’m the Bride of God.” She whispered. “He said it was my destiny. That I should want to speed this along, because the sooner Lucifer is dead the sooner God will return.” She wrinkled Her nose. “For- For me.”

Dean was getting really sick of the silences. They let him feel his heartbeat in his fucking throat. And he didn’t even give a shit that She’d lied about Lucifer, because he’d known She’d lied. He just wanted that last part to be a lie, for him to have a single fucking chance of keeping her.

“The Bride of God.” Cas’ expression was strange, but Dean understood it. And the last bit of his hope sank into his gut like a stone. “That is supposed to be a myth.”

Sam frowned. “Angels have myths?”

“More like bedtime stories.” Cas sighed. “But I have to admit, it does make sense. You fall into every part of the legend, Heaven bent to your will, and you were able to enter the throne room. There is… no other explication. The only part I don’t understand is how you are also the Magdalene-“

“One angel- Joshua, he said it was a cruel joke.” She said quietly. “But Michael said it was on purpose.”

Bobby grunted. “Don’t think it matters. You wanna marry God, kiddo?”

Her nails were digging into Dean’s skin. “No.”

“Then you ain’t gonna. Any other archangels tellin’ you important shit?”

She nodded, and they all just fucking kept talking. About Gabriel, and how he’d explained a way for them to put Lucifer back in the cage, with the Horseman’s rings. And it was important, and Dean felt a little damn sick when She said they’d need to find a way to get Lucifer into the cage—there weren’t a lot of options, and Sammy’s expression meant he was thinking something smart and stupid—but they needed to go back. To stop talking about the last two rings, and start talking about how She was the Bride of fucking God. Destinies weren’t easy to avoid when it was just two archangels trying to ride Sam and Dean’s ass, there was no way God was just going to take Her no thanks and walk away. 

And if She didn’t want to marry the asshole, Dean try his goddamn best to stop it. But it was fucking God. If the guy was still alive, he was going to be impossible to just sock in the jaw and kick to the curb. They needed a plan, to keep Her here. Talking to Bobby about the Horsemen—She said she’d tracked Pestilence to upstate New York as She twisted the skin of Her finger, and Dean knew She was lying, but he was already sort of having trouble doing anything except holding Her hand like she was going to vanish a flash of light—and explaining to Sam how She’d made a spell to track Eileen, but just had to alter it for Death. 

She needed to stay next to Dean. 

She needed to stay Her own. 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled that night, the day having passed in a slow inch of planning and trying to make sense of the whole, horrible situation. 

Dean spat out his mouthwash, and frowned at Her, sitting cross-legged on their mattress. “‘Bout what?”

“Not telling you about Lucifer.” She frowned at Her hands, rubbing Her wrists. “And making things more complicated.”

Dean let out a long, slow breath. He wasn’t thrilled about the Lucifer shit, but there were other things to worry about. The end of the world. Getting all the rings. How there was an archangel in a box downstairs, because none of them had really wanted Zachariah hearing their conversations.

Her. 

She was curling into Herself, and Dean was worried about Her.

He crossed the room to stand over Her, taking Her face between his hands and saying Her name as soft as he could. The way he’d say a prayer, if that was something he did. The way he’d always said it. The way that told him, yet again, that She was never his.

But She was leaning into Dean’s touch. 

And he didn’t want to let Her go. 

“Hey.” He murmured, and She looked at him under her lashes like some sort of perfectly designed sin. “I’m not pissed at you.”

She swallowed. “Why?”

He didn’t know. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t remember how to be, when Michael had offered Her paradise and she’d still chosen to be here.

“I lied.” She whispered, Her eyes wide and glossy on his. “And I- I’m not human, I’m just like them-“ She grabbed Dean’s wrists, Her words growing frantic. “Dean, I’m just like them-“

“Breathe.” He made his voice firm, commanding, and it wasn’t good for his health how She obeyed in half a second. “You’re not just like them, sweetheart-“

“Michael said I was designed to mirror god-“

“And I’m designed to be Michael’s favorite outfit.” Dean gave Her a pointed look. “You want me to be a meatsuit, Princess?”

“No.” 

“Then that’s it.”

That was it. 

Looking at Her, still clinging to his wrists and staring up at him like he was maybe the only planet in an infinite universe, Dean got what Bobby had meant. 

It was just Her. She didn’t want to be the freaking Bride or whatever, She wouldn’t be. If Dean didn’t get to have Her just because he wanted Her, God didn’t either. Dean had put in close to a decade of fights and conversations and trust and teamwork into just getting Her to kiss him once. She was here because She wanted to, so Dean would fight until his guts were lining the walls of heaven to keep Her here. 

He’d been right. He’d never been worthy of all Her light and life and smile, of the contact high he got just from being where she might smile at him.

But God wasn’t worthy of that either. And until She looked up at the sky and decided She’d rather be in the stars, Dean would care for Her in the warmth of the mud. 

“Can we-” She took a long, slow breath, and Dean’s thumb paused on Her nose. He hadn’t even realized he was doing that. “Go for a drive?”

Goddamnit. He was going to get another boner. “In… the car?”

She gave him a flat look. “No, De, on a horse.”

“You got a secret horse, Princess?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you about it-“

“Thought you trusted me,” Dean gave Her a wide grin, even as he faked a wounded tone. “Safer together, sweetheart-“

“That in no way applies here.” 

“Maybe. But you’re gonna feel real stupid when I die in a horse related emergency.”

“That means it’s an emergency with horses, Dean. Another one would not help.”

Dean laughed—She was back to being his girl, even if She wasn’t Dean’s anything—and helped Her to her feet. “C’mon, we can get a huge tub of ice cream and stick Zachariah in it.”

She sighed, but Dean could see the twitch of Her lips. She felt better. No longer shrinking into Herself, Her fingers laced through Dean’s as he pulled her outside with low whispers and Her pretty giggles carrying on the wind. They ended up at the convince store—armed, because they weren’t idiots—to get snacks, and sat in Baby’s front seat as the night crept on, and Her head landed on Dean’s shoulder.

He cleared his throat when he was about halfway through his bag of jerky, and She turned to him with that pretty, fluttering gaze. He almost forgot how to talk.

“I, uh-“ Dean coughed, and this was important. He had to ask, or it was going to drive him insane for the rest of his life. “What was Heaven like, before you jailbreaked?”

She stared at him for a beat before answering. “Different.”

He raised his brows, and She let out a slow sigh. 

“I- I don’t want to talk about it.” She mumbled. “Please.”

Dean didn’t want to not talk about it. He needed to know if he’d been in Her heaven. If he’d haunted the edge of all Her greatest hits, the same was She’d lined his. Because half of Dean’s heaven had been the better times with Sammy, and his rose-painted memories of his mother, but the other half had been Her. Meeting Her. Hunting with Her, hugging Her, two out of their three kisses—the second one a harsh, bright loop, because She’d kissed him—and a lot of moments like this. Sitting in his car, talking like things weren’t complicated. In a way that, to anyone just passing by the window, would look like two normal people in love. 

And that was exactly why Dean wouldn’t push it. He loved Her. It had been a long enough day as it was, and he didn’t want to end it in a fight.

“Alright.” He held out a gummy worm for Her, and tried not to jump on Her when she ate it out of his hand. “Who made the better case? Lucifer or Michael?”

She gave him an odd look, and Her voice fell to something soft. “Neither.”

“C’mon, sweetheart-“

“I’m serious.” She said, reaching into Dean’s lap for another gummy worm. She was trying to kill him. “They both sort of offered me the same thing. And even if I trusted one of them more than the other, and I fucking don’t, I’m not picking a side.”

Dean hummed. “What’d they offer you?”

She paused, scanning over Dean’s features so carefully, and he really hope She wouldn’t lie. Not because of the lie, but because if She didn’t want him to know what they'd offered Her, it was probably something he’d have to worry about-

“Paradise.” She whispered, and Dean swallowed. That was the truth. “Dean?”

“Yeah?” He sounded like an idiot. She didn’t seem to mind. 

“Promise me you won’t say yes to Michael.”

Dean blinked. “Wha-“

“Please.” She held up Her pinky. “Promise.”

Dean had considered it a few times. When there looked to be no way out. But then Michael had kidnapped his girl and made Her cry. And Dean had made Her cry a lot, but at least he’d been sick with guilt after. Michael probably thought he’d been right to lock Her up. And Dean would never hurt Her on purpose. So he wasn’t going to say yes to anyone who hurt Her. Ever. 

It seemed to mean a lot to Her that he promised, though. And it was an easy promise to make. 

“Okay.” He hooked his pinky through Her’s. “Pinky promise, Princess. Michael’s too tall to get on this ride.”

She let out a soft, breathy giggle, but didn’t let go. “For anything, right? You’ll never let him in?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.”

She let out a slow breath, and nodded. It calmed Her down. Dean was helping Her, and right now, that was the most he could do. 

They had work to do—planning and hunting and trying to stop the end of the world—but Dean most just had to help Her.

“I am not saying that.”

Dean glanced at Cas in the blue light of the TV, and found him glaring at a box in his lap. “Cas.”

Cas’ eyes shot up. “Dean.”

“What are you doing.”

“Talking to Zachariah.” Cas sighed, glaring back down at the box. “He was of a higher rank than I was. I was hoping he’d be able to tell me what Michael knows about the Bride of God, but he is being… uncooperative. And vulgar.”

She hummed, tilting Her head against Dean’s chest. She’d been lying there for an hour. He’d been very chill about it. “You can talk to him, in his jar?”

“Angel radio.” Cas muttered. “A one-to-one line.”

“Walkie talkie.” Dean offered, and Cas frowned.

“I do not know what that means.”

“It’s like a one-to-one radio,” Sam called from the table, not looking up from his book. “Dean’s actually right with this one.”

“The fuck you mean this one-“ 

Dean’s snap was cut off with an oof, and She’d shoved him back down onto the couch, giving him a firm glare before turning back to Cas. Dean was mostly just gaping up at Her like a dumbass. He wanted Her to shove him again, then maybe climb onto his lap and kiss him stupid, until he rolled them over and fucked Her into the couch-

“Do you think it’s important for us to worry about that?” Her voice was catious, and Dean let his hand trail up to Her waist. Just to rub small circles, and keep Her steady. “I mean, it’s not like I am God-“

“Yet.” Cas shrugged, and She tensed. “If both Michael and Lucifer want you on their teams, there may be other reasons than Sam and Dean. And if you are the Bride of God, maybe there is some sort of connection. My search has been useless-“

“Cas.” Sam cut in, his words soft. “I don’t think we should use her as just- A way to find God. This isn’t like Dean’s amulet, we need her-“

“And it’s not like God seems all that interested in what’s goin’ on anyway.” Dean grumbled. “He’s fuckin’ God, Cas, he wants us, he can make a house call.”

“No.” Her eyes were locked on to Cas’, and Dean frowned. That was a weird stare. “I- I’m with Cas. It can’t hurt to check.”

Dean sighed, “Fine.” And got a glare from Sam.

“Really, man? You’re just going to switch sides-“

“We lost, Sammy. Deal with it.” Dean looked back to Cas. “We bought ice cream, last week. We can shove him in there until he starts talking.”

Cas shook his head, and it was the only thing that saved Dean from getting hit. “That will not be effective. I do not believe he actually knows anything.”

She frowned. “Then wha- Oh.” Her eyes widened, and Dean sighed. She was going to say something stupid. “I have an idea.”

Dean needed to get better at saying no to Her ideas. They were always designed to try and fucking kill him. A good idea would be something safe and controlled, where the chances of it going wrong were slim and if it did go wrong, Dean could shoot their way out and carry Her to safety. 

This was not that. 

This was insane. 

Raphael. She wanted to use one of Her easy bake magic spells to summon Raphael and interrogate him like it was a freaking job interview. And there were about a million ways that could blow up in their faces, but Dean used all his willpower to say no to Her hunting Pestilence with Cas and Sam. And that had taken a whole argument in the kitchen, that he’d only won because Bobby cut in, called them both dramatic, and told Her that while her magic shit was still haywire, she shouldn’t be playin’ with jumper cables.

And this wasn’t much better. But at least She didn’t have nightmares about Raphael. 

So, small victories.

“It don’t like this,” Dean muttered, frowning at Her on the floor. She was knelt on the grass in the middle of the woods, drawing a sigil in the dirt. “I wanna go back to my ice cream idea-“

“If this doesn’t work, we can do the ice cream idea.” She stood up, wiping Her hands on her jeans. “Did you bring the mushrooms?”

Dean nodded, fumbling in his pockets with a small frown. “I want it down that I think there are other options,” he muttered, passing her the weird, moldy looking fungus he’d been tasked with carrying. “Jumping right in archangel wrestling is insane, Princess-“

“I’m not wrestling him, I’m trapping him.” She ground the mushroom in Her hand. “And I know you hate this, De, but I’d- I don’t want to do it alone-“

Her words ended in a squeak as Dean rolled his eyes, and tugged Her to his side. 

“You’re not doing anything alone,” he wanted to say baby. Her eyes were so bright on his, and She’d chosen to be here.

He couldn’t get away with it.

So he just said Her name, and held her gaze.

“Safe together.” He grunted, and Her throat bobbed. “All the way down.”

She nodded slowly, the tension in Her shoulder loosening. “All the way down. Are you-“

“Light it up.”

Her hand locked into Dean’s, and She looked up to the sky as she said a word that had to be Enochian. Then another word, then–right as She called the last one—the sky split open and she tossed a match onto the forest ground. 

A wildfire didn’t start. Lighting was striking the ground before him, but Dean wasn’t dying. Their hands felt fused together for a split second—skin melting into skin—but then it was over. The blinding light cleared, and there was Raphael. Frowning around the forest, then scowling as his attention landed on Her. 

“Oh.” He let out a long, heavy sigh. “Of course it’s you. And the most frustrating creature on the planet. And Dean Winchester, I thought I promised to make you wish you were never born?”

Dean shrugged, tugging Her a little behind him. “You can try, buddy, but-“

“You’ve got me in holy fire.” Raphael drawled, giving him a flat look. “I am aware. And reinforced holy fire, too. You are smart to keep such insubordinate company.” His eyes landed back on Her. “Smart to bring the whore.”

 “Listen here, you son of a bitch-“

“You want me to find God again?” Raphael cut Dean off with a bored tone. “Or maybe try to reason with Michael, when I have made it very clear I have no interest in doing so? Maybe you’re coming to your senses, and Michael’s blind faith in her,” he jerked his head to Her, and Dean was getting pretty fucking sick of how Raphael looked at Her like she was meat. “Isn’t misplaced?”

“We just want to talk,” She said, Her voice in a strange sort of song with the holy fire. “I- I have-“ She pulled Zachariah out of their bag, and Raphael’s eyes narrowed. 

“You expect me to care about Zachariah? You brought him as leverage? The most irritating angel I have ever met, including your little pet rebel?”

Dean scowled. “Cas isn’t our pet, dipshit-“

“Ah.” Raphael cut him off with a smirk. “Not your pet. I mean. Maybe your pet. But I was talking about her.” He looked back to Her, and her breathing sounded too shallow. “The Bride. The little girl, running around with angels in her pockets and gallivanting with humans, when she could bring paradise all on her own. Michael doesn’t want to admit it, but he knows.”

“Knows?” She whispered, and Raphael’s grin grew. 

“What you could be, if you weren’t you. He can see it. I can see it. But he will not accept that our father is dead-“

“He isn’t.”

Dean froze at Her soft words, and Raphael frowned. 

“What.”

“God,” She said, taking a slow step forward. “He isn’t dead.”

Raphael flinches slightly, but scoffed all the same. “You don’t know what you speak of, girl. You are still in infancy, and I have seen false prophets before-“

“But I’m not a false prophet.” She whispered, and Raphael froze. She was releasing Dean’s hand, passing him Zachariah, and walking forward. “You know that.”

“Do not tell me what I know-“

“But you do know.” She tilted Her head, and Dean could swear all the colors on the forest were getting saturated. That Her skin was starting to glow from more than the fire. “Just like you know that if you do touch Cas or Dean, I’ll hurt you.”

That was fear on Raphael’s face. Real damn fear. And Dean understood it. 

She’d stepped over the holy fire, and it had done nothing but dance along Her skin. Dean had a feeling if She turned back to look at him, Her pupils would be a brilliant silver. 

“Nobody would ever hurt again,” Raphael said, taking a step back as She walked forward, the Blade spinning in Her hands. “That father of yours would walk, Castiel’s grace would be returned, that girl, on your fingers, we’d bring her back as well, and- I know what Michael promised you-“

“I don’t care what Michael promised me.” She hissed, and Raphael seemed backed right to the edge of the circle. “And I think I can give Castiel his grace back myself. Just as I can resurrect, and heal. I don’t think I need you.”

Raphael’s eyes darted back to Dean, then narrowed. “You don’t understand what you can do. And we have a backup, while you will not get the liberty of a second choice-“

“I don’t need one.” She shrugged, stopped barely a foot front Raphael, all the wind seeming to swirl around Her. “Tell Michael that I’m out. And if he tries to touch my d- family, we’ll find out exactly what does make God come back.”

Raphael opened mouth, and Her hand pressed over it. 

Then there was a second where Dean couldn’t see anything but Her. Like a lighthouse in a storm, telling him to follow Her and dodge the swirling chaos of the lightning and thunder. It hadn’t been raining a minute ago. 

But when his vision cleared, it was pouring. The water pressing the holy fire into smoke, Raphael had vanished and She was passed out in the mud. 

Dean skid to his knees at Her side, pulling her limp body fully into his lap. She was infuriating, and if Her cheeks weren’t flushed, and if Dean couldn’t feel the heat of a fever, radiating from Her skin, he’d shout at Her for trying to give him a heart attack. He’d known this was a bad idea, and now he had to carry Her back to the car, through a whole ass forest-

The forest.

It was blooming. 

Leaves larger than Dean had ever seen, and flowers with petals that he could swear were sucking up light like a void, then spitting it back out into the air. The grass seemed to be singing, and there were oddly twisted branches spreading over their heads as Dean carried Her, as if they were trying to shield them from the storm. Strange, iridescent apples hung over their heads, and whenever Dean glanced over to the side, he could swear he saw a flash of fur or feathers, just out of sight. 

Not attacking. 

Guarding. 

Guarding Her. All the way to the edge of the tree line, when Dean stepped on concrete, and the rain seemed to triple in force. Dean half ran to the Impala, tucking Her into the seat first and pressing a kiss to Her brow before standing back upright. She was going to drive him insane. 

He never really wanted Her any other way. 

And he stared at Zachariah, in his stupid little jar, as he waited for the rain to lighten up. Baby could make it through the storm, but Dean didn’t want to risk the roads. Not when She was in this state, and seemed alright with just the heat of the car one, and Her body curled into Dean’s. He’d changed Her into the dry clothing he kept on the trunk, but kept his eyes off the goods. 

This—Her in his arms, his hand tangled at the base of Her wet hair, and Her breath on Dean’s arm—could be enough. Dean loved Her, even when She pulled crazy shit like this, so it was enough. 

He wasn’t going to say yes to Michael. And if that hadn’t made it clear enough to the feathered douchebags, he hoped this would.

Dean grabbed the angel blade Cas had given him a few months ago, kissed the top of Her head and stepped out into the storm. The sky lit up, and another clap of thunder rolled over through the air. If they wanted Dean, they could hit him. 

But they didn’t. 

So Dean slammed the jar down on the ground and drove the angel blade right into Zachariah’s ugly mug. He looked like a tiny, strange beast, reduced so small and pathetic it didn’t even make his eyes hurt to look at. And it flickered like a candle as the rain pelted down—cold and hard, like small bullets against his skull—but Dean didn’t move. Not until the light went out, and Dean got to slam his boot down, until Zachariah was nothing more than a shit-colored stain on the pavement. 

The whole experiment had failed. But he’d still killed Zachariah. And when Dean finally got to drive Her home, he got to have Her cling to his chest. Got to carry Her inside, and bring Her right to bed. Their bed. 

At least Sammy and Cas had some better luck. 

“It’s just Death, now.” Sam said, frowning at the three rings on the table. “I think we have a little time, though. He seemed surprised to see us.”

“Their plan wasn’t completed.” Cas muttered. “He and Lucifer have been working on infecting humans with the Croatoan virus-“

Dean cut in with a frown. “Like when Zachariah sent me to the future?”

“Zachariah sent you to the future?” She gaped at Dean—wrapped in a fuzzy blanket he’d forced around her shoulders—and he sighed.

“Sorry, Princess, thought I told you-“

“No, you didn’t-“

“Dean got sent to 2014.” Cas said, and Dean was going to have to get him a gift for taking that bullet. “Croatoan had wiped out much of humanity, by causing them to kill each other, and Lucifer had won. Without Pestilence on the front lines that outcome may be delayed, but demons are not idiots. They will be able to finish what Pestilence started.”

“Great.” Dean ran a hand over his face, and the rings were fucking taunting him on the table. Unable to open the door with only three, unable to just grab Lucifer when the door did open. “So we got a game plan to stop the murder plague?”

Cas shrugged. “Imprison Lucifer.”

“By what, asking him nicely?” 

“I- I have an idea.” Sam cleared his throat, and when Dean looked to him, he seemed almost guilty. Dean didn’t trust it. “I can’t think of anything better, and it’s- it feels fair.”

“Fair?” She was frowning, and Sam gave her an almost apologetic smile.

“I’ll let Lucifer in. Then jump into the cage before he can take over my body.”

There was a high ringing in Dean’s ears again. He needed to have a serious conversation with the people he loved about trying to kill him with stupid fucking ideas. “No.”

“Dean, I don’t like it either-“

“I don’t just not like it, Sammy.” Dean narrowed his eyes. “It’s fucking insane. Batshit. What if Lucifer gets the jump on you first? What if you can’t hit eject, and now you’re stuck in the cage-“

“He will be stuck in the cage.” Cas muttered, glancing to Her. “There is no external eject button.”

The color drained slightly from Her face. “What happens if Michael and Lucifer don’t get their vessels. Are they weaker?”

“Yes.” Cas sighed. “But we already know Michael has a backup plan. And I doubt Lucifer will want to fight in his current vessel, but he doesn’t need to. If he waits Michael out, he wins.”

“So we won’t wait him out, he’ll take me and then we can trap him-“

“Sam.” Dean snapped. “We’re not fucking doing that, so stop suggesting it-“

“But-“ Sam looked to Her, and said Her name in pleading tone. “Please, it’s the only way-“

She shook He head. “I- I don’t know. It’s a big risk to take, if we don’t know it will work-“

“It will work-“

“But Dean’s right.” She’d drawn Her knees up to her chest, rubbing at her wrists as she spoke. She was distressed. “What if it doesn’t work, Sam. Then you’re stuck with Lucifer and no way out, and Dean- The future you saw-“

“Lucifer had Sam.” He muttered. “Zachariah sent me there to show me what would happen if I didn’t say yes.”

“Where is Zachariah-“

“I smashed him.” Dean grunted, narrowing his eyes at Sam. “Don’t try to change what we’re talking about, Sammy, you’re not letting Lucifer ride you like a prize pony, and that’s it.”

“But-“

“No but. I said no to Michael, you say no to Lucifer, that’s how this fucking works-“

“They’re just going to try and take Adam-“

“Then we’ll keep him here. And if you don’t stop talking crazy-“

“I could do it, Dean.” Sam stared at the floor, his voice quieter than Dean had heard it in a long time. “I know you don’t want me going to hell, but you did the same for me-“

“That’s-“

“And I started this.” Sam looked up to Her. “I want to finish it. Please.”

She swallowed, Her eyes darting to Dean’s, then Cas’. And they lingered on Cas. Like they were having a silent conversation Dean didn’t get to be a part of, and he wasn’t sure what the hell they were up to, but he didn’t like it. 

“There has to be another way, Sam.” She whispered, and Sam’s face fell. “I don’t think you should do it.”

Sam sighed, and looked back to the rings. “Just- can you think about it? Until we get the Death ring?”

She took a stuttering breath, and nodded. “Fine. I, um- I’m having trouble with the tracking spell, but I’ll get it soon. Then we’ll talk about it.”

Dean didn’t think there was shit to talk about. He wasn’t going to let Sammy just jump into Hell, when there had to be another way. She could kill Lucifer. Death could kill Lucifer. Fuck, Cas could kill Lucifer if She gave him another dose of steroids, like Heaven. They’d figure out another way. 

They just had to find Death first. 

She’d been staying up all night again. They’d watch TV on the couch, Cas frowning at it like it was something to study, Sam pouring over a book at the table, and Her at Dean’s side on the couch, scribbling down notes so fast Dean wasn’t sure how Her hands weren’t getting tired. Bobby would grumble that he was going to bed, Adam would drift in and out of the room like he wasn’t sure where he was allowed to be, and She’d just keep writing. Dean would have to pull Her to her feet, when it hit one in the morning and she wasn’t showing any sign of stopping. Then She’d just sit on the bed, Dean’s head pressed near Her thigh as he tried to sleep, and wouldn’t lie down until Dean pried the pencil from Her hands and tugged the covers over Her body. 

He was worried about Her. She was acting like this started and ended with Her, when she was refusing to choose a side. She and Cas kept fucking whispering, and She’d been looking at a lot of books on angels, and Dean knew Her.

Knew when She was planning something fucking stupid. 

“You’re not gonna use your, y’know.” Dean leaned down to whisper in Her ear, after almost a week of no progress on finding Death. “Thingy.”

She blinked up at him in the dark, and She was always so fucking beautiful. “My thingy?”

“Yeah. Your zap,” He poked Her side, and tried not to grin at Her high squeak. “The magic.”

She whacked his chest, before settling right back into his side and shaking Her head, twisting the skin of Her finger. “No. I’m not.”

Lie. 

That was a fucking lie. And Dean didn’t know how to call Her on it, but he needed to figure it out. How to tell Her that, whatever She was up to, it was probably as insane as Sam’s plan. Maybe more insane. And She couldn’t just pull something without at least warning Dean, because Sam was still pushing the let Lucifer in plan, and if he lost either one of them, Dean was going to go insane. 

But they weren’t making any progress. Cas said they had time, but it couldn’t be that much. They’d gone over Sam and Cas’ fight with Pestilence—he’d tried to make them sick, had whined about humans, and Cas had cut his finger off, nothing special—about a million times in the hope it would give them ideas about Death, or a bigger picture of Lucifer’s plan, but it hadn’t. And they were stuck right where they’d started. Holed up in Bobby’s cabin with only a few small cases, trying to figure out how to stop the end of the freaking world and keeping Adam away from Michael.

“Can you shoot an archangel?” Adam asked, and Dean shook his head, reloading his shotgun.

“Not in a way that’s gonna do anything.” He muttered. “But you can piss them off, if you want.”

Adam nodded, glancing down to his own gun. “So there are no protections?”

“Not for you and me, other than telling the douchebags to take a hike.” 

“How come they’re not, like- Burning down the house, then? If they’re that desperate for us.”

Dean grunted Her name, and something to the right of his heart whined. She was in the freaking library with Cas. She was fine. “Told you, she’s warded the whole property. Nothing’s getting in that she doesn’t open the door for.”

“Oh.” Dean glanced over, and Adam was blushing. “She’s cool.”

“Yeah, she is.” He jerked his head to the lined-up beer bottles. “Shoot.”

He didn’t want to talk about how cool She was with Adam. Not when the poor kid had been making heart eyes at Her all week, and Dean had been trying to figure out if now was a bad time to try kissing Her again, every single waking moment. It probably was. Any time right before the end of the world was, She was still processing the Bride of God thing, and Raphael hadn’t been helpful in telling them about her destiny at all. All they knew was that She didn’t seem to have a 100% approval rating with archangels, she could be more, and God was alive. 

Dean hadn’t loved how certainly She’d said that. He needed to figure out how to ask Her about that, too. As well as what the hell She was planning, and how to talk her out of it without caving, and—if She got the choice, and God returned—She wouldn’t just want to not marry God, but maybe stay with Dean-

“How did you guys meet her?” Adam cut through Dean’s thoughts, and none of the bottles had been shot. 

“Case we worked in 2000. Then we just kept running into each other, and now we’re here.”

Adam frowned. “But isn’t she Bobby’s daughter-“

“Adopted.” Dean muttered. “It’s complicated. The bottles-“

“And she’s, uh- Just your friend-“

“Adam.” Dean snapped. “Shoot the fuckin’ bottles.”

Adam swallowed, and obeyed. He was an alright shot, but getting better by the day. He had asked if She could teach him how to shoot, instead of Dean, but She’d just shaken Her head and mumbled that she didn’t use a gun.

And Adam had a crush. Which was fine. It was a weird, intense crush that didn’t seem to let Adam notice how She was always next to Dean, but it was just a crush. Dean couldn’t be pissed about a crush. Not on Her. She was beautiful and smart and funny, and sweet in strange, small ways that he’d never really understand. Even when She was up until three in the morning—writing and reading in bed, swatting Dean’s hand away whenever he tried to get Her to sleep—She kept quiet so he could rest. And when Dean would roll around with a grunt, Her fingers would tangle into his hair, and he’d feel like a dog again. She kept getting all his favorite foods when She and Sam did their grocery runs. She always sat with him while he worked on Baby and the Firebird.

“You never named him, y’know-“

“I did, actually.” She was sat on the hood of Baby, parked across from the Firebird as Dean ran his maintenance. “I just haven’t told you yet.”

Dean raised his brows. “You gonna tell me, sweetheart?”

“Nope. It’s a surprise.”

“Pretty shit surprise-“

“That’s what you think.”

Dean snorted. “That is what I think. And you gotta tell me, Princess, it’s not fair to just tease like that.”

“I think I’ll tell you whenever I want.” She shrugged, leaning forward with a bright, pretty smile. “But you’ll like it.”

“I will?”

“Yeah, you will.” She glanced to Dean’s grease-stained hands. “Do you want gloves, De? It’s cold-“

He shook his head. “I’m fine. But if you gotta go inside-“

“I’m good here.” She said it like it was the plain, simple truth. She was good here. With Dean. 

So he wouldn’t let Her down. And She was awesome, all the time, so Dean would claw himself apart to be worthy of that. He couldn’t be God, but he could buy Her all the root beers in the world, and make Her breakfast, and sit with Her while she did Her research. Soothing Her when she had nightmare. Pretending that the walls weren’t closing in on all of them, as they got closer to finding Death, and didn’t have a plan to get Lucifer in the cage. 

“I can’t get it.” She glared at all Her notes on the kitchen table, shaking Her head. “Dean, I- I can’t get it-“

“Hey.” He grabbed Her hand, and She looked to him with big, glossy eyes. “You’ll get it. You need to go for a drive?”

She nodded weakly. “Or- Maybe a walk-“

“I could go for a walk.” Adam jumped in, his eyes shooting up from the lore book in his lap. She and Sam had been helping him catch up on everything, and he was taking well to it, but son of a bitch, Dean didn’t want Her to go on a walk with him. Not because of insane reason like jealousy, but the kid didn’t know how to take care of Her. How to defend Her if angels started raining down from the sky. If She started having a freak out, She’d need Dean-

“Okay.” She gave Adam a small smile, squeezing Dean’s hand three times as She stood up. “Let’s go.”

Dean gave Adam a small nod as they passed him, and he had to be fine with it. He had no real reason not to be. She’d be fine, Adam would be fine, and it wasn’t like they were storming a vamp nest. She was just being kind, and letting Adam go for a walk with Her. Probably just around the yard. Dean wouldn’t lose more family by letting that happen. 

And Sam kept pushing the Lucifer idea, in the car and the morning and every damn second of peace Dean tried to get. Bobby had put them on ingredient gathering for Her spell—Sam and Dean found them, Cas ran the errand—and Sam wouldn’t stop bringing it up. All while Adam was still trying hit on Her, and Dean had to herd Her away for the ingredient work.

She was already doing everything. She didn’t need to do more. Dean couldn’t take Her hurting herself while Sammy was trying to fucking die. She—by some miracle—gave it up. And Cas was able to sweep up all Her ingredients in a night, so the moment She got it, they’d be set. Then a whole new issue would arise, but that was a problem for after. 

She and Cas had been whispering. A lot. Sam and Dean left for two days, doing demon hunt a town over, and when they came back Adam was reading a book in the living room, Bobby was cleaning his guns, and She and Cas were talking in low voices in the kitchen. Sam shot Dean a worried look, and Dean sighed. He didn’t know what the hell to do about that. They were probably just talking about the Death spell. 

Probably. 

Son of a bitch, Dean hoped they were just talking about the Death spell.

Maybe Cas was helping with it, and they’d get this over with sooner, and She’d start sleeping properly again. Dean could see the bags getting heavier under Her eyes. She’d been eating less again, and all Her sleep had been nightmares he had to hold Her through—or, over the past nights, talk Her down from over the phone—and it was splitting him in half. She was going outside less, as well. Just a few walks with Adam, because the kid kept asking Her, and midnight drives with Dean. Every other moment had been research, teaching Adam about the lore, and whispering with Cas. 

Dean said Her name, and She looked up at him with a wide, blinding smile. She looked exhausted. “Hey, Princess.”

“Hi,” Her smile didn’t waver as She glanced to Sam. “You guys-“

“One piece.” Dean dropped in the chair at Her side, and he might have gotten away with carrying Her out of the room for research, but carrying Her to bed with it was barely dusk was going to get him stabbed. “You eat yet, sweetheart?”

“She had yogurt.” Cas said, and Dean frowned.

“You make her eat the yogurt, dude?”

“Don’t answer that.” She gave Cas a firm look, and his mouth snapped shut, but Dean understood what that meant.

“Goddamnit,” he said Her name with glare, and She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Fuck off, Winchester, you’re not my dad.”

Sam snorted, and Dean shot him a glare. 

“Shut your face, Sammy-“

“I didn’t say anything, dude.” Sam raised his hands, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I was just going to ask what they did while we were gone-“

“Death spell.” Cas said, and Dean narrowed his eyes. Cas had said that too damn fast. And Dean opened his mouth to push it, but he didn’t get the chance.

“Good,” Bobby grunted, wheeling into the kitchen. “You four travel like gazelle, you know that?”

Sam frowned. “What?”

“I find one of ya idjits, the other three ain’t gonna be far behind.” Bobby stopped at the head of the table, giving Her a firm look as he said Her name. “No knives at the dinner table.”

She frowned. “But-“

“No but. We’re eatin’ dinner now, together.”

Cas cleared his throat. “I don’t need to eat-“

“Then you can shove it down your throat and play pretend like it matters. I’m a cripple, Cas, let me have one dinner where none of us are tryin’ to run away.”

They all exchanged quick looks—Dean liked the idea, liked the thought of getting to sit with Her for a family dinner, even if it was forced, and everyone seeing his hand in Her’s or his arms around Her chair or something—and didn’t fight it. They didn’t know how many more times they’d get a chance to sit there, with the end of the world. With Cas still on the angel blacklist, Sam gunning to jump in the cage, and Her whole Bride of God thing. 

None of them had been talking about that. 

They didn’t know how. And God wasn’t going to just swoop down and take Her, so it couldn’t be the focus right now. 

Dean really hoped God wouldn’t swoop down and take Her. 

But it was a thought stuck to the back of his brain, now. All the time. He could defend Her from demons and monsters, and he’d bleed to keep Her from God, but if they guy just appeared and grabbed Her, Dean didn’t know what kind of line he’d be able to hold. Same as if Sammy decided to say yes to Lucifer, without any heads up, Dean wouldn’t be able top stop it. Then he’d lose both of them. And he couldn’t fully enjoy the mock family dinner, because all he could think about was how he didn’t know how this ended. 

It felt like they were building up to a high, horrible drop. Like the rollercoaster he’d taken Sammy on when they were kids, hovering right at the edge of a fall they couldn’t even see with no way out but down. Sam was right. Dean didn’t have a better idea to get Lucifer in the cage. And even if that worked, and they stopped the whole apocalypse train from leaving the station, he’d have lost Sam. His one job was keeping Sam safe. Keeping his family together, and fucking safe.

They were all safe and together now. Adam was still a little stiff—as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be here—but he was still making conversation, telling stories about high school and asking them all—mostly Her—nervous questions about their own lives. Cas was answering all Her questions about history, and Sam and Bobby had started to jump in with their own. She and Sammy were nerding out about some science museum that Dean had taken Sammy to as a kid, and she’d visited when She was sixteen and hunting alone. Bobby rolled his eyes and grumbled about her illegally driving, and she just hummed who taught me how to drive, old man. 

Dean wanted to enjoy it. To not feel like he was holding something that was about to break. But there was a sort feeling in his gut, and that deep, cold fear creeping back over his bones. 

And he couldn’t sleep that night. All the was running through his head was a bunch of goddamn what ifs.

What if he let Sam jump, and lost him. What if, after he lost Sam, God swooped down and tore Her from Dean’s arm. What if the world ended, and God took Her anyway. What if God was always going to take Her. And this wasn’t like the vessel deal, where they could say no.

What if, one day, Dean woke up and She was just fucking gone.

So he couldn’t sleep. She’d passed out, but Dean had never felt more wired. He just watched Her, slumped against his body and molded so perfectly against him, and tried to reason how God could ever hold Her better than this. She fit too damn well with Dean. It didn’t matter how God had made Her, Dean got Her. Even when he didn’t understand Her, Dean got Her. He was Her shadow. He loved Her. If he could, he would have made the world for Her too, but he wouldn’t have made it like God. He would’ve made it without pain.

And he wished he could take all Her pain. Instead of just running and hiding like a fucking pussy, making Her deal with it herself.

But he couldn’t.

So when She started to mumble, and the little wrinkle formed on Her brow, Dean cradled Her in his arms. He wasn’t God.

He’d never leave Her to hurt alone. 

She tried to claw out of his arms. Pushed at his chest as a small, distressed noise left Her throat, and the world started go a little brighter without a single light on in the room. But Dean just held Her. Not tighter—he didn’t want to hurt Her, or make Her more frantic—but firmly. And when Her eyes shot open with a choked scream, silver seeming to fade quick from Her pupils as She writhed and scratched at his chest, Dean didn’t move. He just caught Her hand and squeezed it three times, because nothing was okay, but She was safe. They’d spent the time after dinner tracking omen after omen, and the end of the world drew closer with every breath, but right now, She going to be okay.

“I’ve got you, Princess.” He moved Her carefully into his lap, and She melted quick.

Broken sobs shook Her body as she wrapped around Dean, and he tried not think about how this was going to work into his own nightmares.

Something would claw Her out of his hold, She’d vanish up into the sky, and the only proof Dean would have that She ever existed at was an empty room, and pile of notebooks he couldn’t read. He’d have to tell Bobby. Tell Sammy, if he was still with them. Then either keep sleeping in Her room, or find a new one and move on, but he’d never be able to move on. He loved her, and She didn’t want to leave him, but what if God showed Her paradise and she did chose to leave him-

“Dean?” She whispered, Her words muffled in his shirt. “Am I- Did I hurt-“

“I’m fine,” he murmured. She wasn’t allowed to think She could hurt him. Ever. “You’re okay. Just a nightmare.”

She hummed, Her fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah.”

“Oh- Okay.” There was a beat of silence, then- “I don’t want to go.”

Dean frowned down at Her. “Go where?”

“Back.” Her gaze titled up to meet his, and Her eyes were so soft and bright and sad. Glossed with tears and wide in the dark, and Dean sort of felt like he was drowning. “To Heaven. I- I don’t want to be one of them, Dean, I don’t want to go-“

“Hey.” He cupped Her face, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “You’re not going anywhere, Princess-“

“But what if he comes.” 

She’d been thinking about it too. And it didn’t make Dean feel better. It only made the cold dread drop right into that dark pit, splitting it wider and wider open. It would slice him in two, if She left. If the dread kept growing, and then he lost Her. 

“He’s going to come, De.” She whispered, planting Her hands on his chest as she sat up. “He- He watches me. I’ve always felt him watching me- And I don’t wanna go-“

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Dean wrapped himself a little tighter around Her. “He, uh- He watching right now?”

She shook Her head. “The windows are closed.”

The windows. And the curtains in every motel, for years. And She didn’t like going outside, and son of a bitch-

“He’s in the sky.” She dropped Her face down to Dean’s neck, and his hand shot up to tangle in Her hair. “He- He doesn’t come inside, and I don’t know why, but- He’s angry with me. I can feel it, and- He wants me to leave but I don’t want to-“

“Princess-“

“I don’t want to leave you, Dean.” She mumbled, and he froze. “I- I never want to leave you, but he- He keeps- I don’t want to leave-“

“So you’re not gonna. We’ll keep you safe-“

“It’s not up to you.” Her voice was so soft, and the dread grew. “He’s just waiting. And watching. But it’s- I don’t think I get to choose, and when he- When- I don’t want to go, De.” She held him a little tighter. “I don’t wanna go.”

Dean felt like his heart was trying to strain out of his chest. He was goddamn useless. He was supposed to protect Her, to make sure nothing hurt Her, but she said it wasn’t up to him. Or Her. 

He should’ve pushed Raphael for more answers. For what the Hell this meant, and how it all lined up. If it was something Dean could kill, or She just needed to be defended. If it was like a demon deal She didn’t choose to make, or a trade they could barter for. Dean could go in Her place, if God was just looking for a human. They could get God a freakin’ dog, if this was about companionship. Or one of those sex dolls, if that was about that-

He felt sort of sick.

Just thinking about Her with anyone had always made something to the left of his heart sour and foul. Thinking of God doing that, when She was crying in his arms-

Not now. She needed Dean here, holding Her. He’d deal with that later. 

Her breathing had steadied, but She wasn’t falling back asleep. She was just tracing patterns on Dean’s forearm in the dark, and he just watched Her in his arms. When She wanted to talk, she would, and he-

“Dean.” She angled Her face to his, Her eyes wide, and he frowned. “I think I’ve got it.”

 “Got-“

“Death.”

Dean blinked, and he wasn’t fast enough to pull Her back to bed, when She crawled out of his arms. This was something that could wait for morning, when they could make a game plan, and She hadn’t just been sobbing ten minutes ago.

“Princess-“

“It’ll take a few hours to finish.” She was cross-legged on the floor, all the ingredients spread out around Her as she worked. “Can you-“ She swallowed. “Please sit with me?”

Dean sighed, and nodded. It was the least he could do, because he couldn’t do much. And he fucking hated it. The itch over his skin of just sitting there as She mixed everything together and started talking in Enochian, before grabbing Her blade and passing it to Dean. She held Her palm open to him, a silent request on Her face, and the dread was starting to fester.

He muttered Her name, and She shook Her head.

“I raised him.” She whispered. “It will work. And the cut needs to go right over the scar, but I don’t think I can get the angle. Please.”

Dean swallowed down some bile, and gave a short nod. He had to. She’d asked him to. 

He still had never felt like such a horrid fucking lowlife as when he sliced Her hand open, and She made a small sound of pain.

“I’m-“

“It’s okay.” She drew Her hand back, and let the blood fall over the fancy bone of an extinct animal Cas had found. “It’ll take a few hours, then it should be like- sort of a compass. Can you-“

Dean nodded, and ran to grab the stitch kit. She didn’t fight it, when he helped Her to sit on the edge of the mattress, and dabbed the rubbing alcohol on Her hand. “Not deep enough for stitches.” He muttered, and She hummed. 

He glanced up, and found Her watching him. Shiny hair falling over Her face and blinding eyes, something gentle in Her face that was rare to see. The was the same position he’d kissed Her in, this first time. 

He wanted to kiss Her now. To show Her, best he could, that he didn’t want to leave Her either.

And he didn’t know how to say it right.

He’d fuck it up.

He’d make it sound like he had a claim to Her instead of God, or She owed him to stay after everything they’d been through. Like Paradise wasn’t something She was worthy of, when he didn’t know anyone who deserved it more. He’d been barely better than a demon in hell, and She’d been made for fucking Heaven, but She was still here with him.

But Dean was good at doing things.

And She was so close, and She smelled so good, and Her breath was hitched and lips parted and-

Fuck it. 

He tugged Her carefully down, winding his fingers between Her’s and starting soft. Just a light press of their lips together, telling Her that he was here. Even when it hurt, Dean was here. 

She let out the sweetest little gasp, Her fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, then kissed him back. 

She was kissing him back.

Her lips were soft and already a little swollen from chewing and crying, but goddamnit, they fit perfectly against Dean’s. And the kiss was a slow and unhurried, letting Dean taste every bit of salt and fruit on Her lips and his hands to wander. Skimming right under Her shirt and savoring Her small shiver. How She angled Her head back to try and carefully push his tongue between Her lips. 

She opened for him in a second, then moaned. Right down his fucking throat, with Her fingers tugging at his hair when he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and pulled Her into his lap, without ever breaking the kiss. Dean was getting dizzy from the high of Her skin—soft and warm and so goddamn responsive, it was going to drive him insane—and body pressed right to his, and She’d started to squirm, and-

They broke apart with ragged breaths, their brows pressed together, and She let out a high, breathy giggle.

“Good?” He rasped, because he had to check, and She nodded.

“Good, De. I…“ Her lips ghosted over his as She trailed off, her eyes fluttering in that way that make his cock twitch.

She squeezed his hand three times, and Dean dragged Her wounded hand up to kiss Her knuckles, and neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. Now wasn’t the time to have the Conversation, either. 

So She curled into his side, Dean kissed the top of Her head. He watched the bone on the floor as the night crept on, and drool began to fall from Her lips. He shifted Her to lay down on the bed, moving the hair from Her face, and let out a long, slow sigh. 

He was never going to be worthy of Her. Born in the mud, likely going to die in the mud, too. Dean was selfish. He knew he was selfish. The angels and demons had spent years warning them to stop letting Her fight, the Horsemen had said this wasn’t Her fight, but he’d dragged Her into it because he’d never wanted to lose Her. And now he was going to lose Her no matter what. She was going to do all the work to save their asses, and Sammy was going to try and take a bullet he didn’t deserve, and Dean was going to do jack fucking shit. 

Dad had been right. He was just a weapon, and he wasn’t even an effective one. All that skill and talent to hurt the people he hated and protect the ones he loved, and She was in pain, and he was on the edge of losing Sam. He was nothing. 

But he still loved Her. And She might be designed for people to love and want Her, but Dean loved Her best. He knew Her. He’d do anything for Her. 

Including, when the bone started to glow, one end turning black and spinning on the ground to angle East, something that was going to get him yelled at. But he was sick of just sitting here. Of making Her do everything, when this wasn’t Her fight. And it was like Pestilence. Dean knew She had nightmares about Death. He was just keeping Her from having more.

And She was going to kill him. Bobby was going to kill. Hell, Cas was going to kill him. 

But he was doing it anyway.

He had to.

The bone stayed on Baby’s dash for the entirety of the drive. Dean’s phone started lighting up in Iowa, but he didn’t look at the messages. Sammy might trace the call with all his nerd shit, and send Cas to come grab him. And if it was Her, She’d yell at him for doing the exact thing he always got pissed at Her for doing. But it was different. Dean had a solid plan of get the ring, even if he had to make another deal, and She had other ways to help. Dean was keeping them all out of the line of fire. It was Death, they didn’t know what the hell he was capable of, and every time She’d faced off with a horseman She’d come out sobbing and clinging to Dean in the dark.

The calls died down when he got to Illinois, the sun long over his head. He’d apologize. He’d come back with the ring, and let Bobby and Sam shout at him, let Cas glare and say low words of disappointment, and let Her shove him and scream until she decided She was done. But Dean was keeping Her from more pain.

He’d rather have Her furious with him than not have Her at all. 

And the bone kept spinning, guiding him to Death, and Dean kept coming up with ways they be pissed, and ways he’d apologize. He’d be fine. His whole life had been jumping in front of bullets, then letting blows land on him for daring to protect the people he loved.

If the bullet was Death, he’d see if it stuck this time. And if it didn’t, he’d go back and pray they still wanted him around.

The bone wasn’t turning anymore. It was spinning around and around as Dean circled a block in Chicago, and it was angled towards a Church.

Dean knew this church.

He’d been dreaming about it lately.

A lot.

And the rain was coming down right so hard he was soaked the second he stepped out of the car, but it didn’t matter.

The second he stepped through the doors, he was dry as a bone. 

This had been a horrible idea. One of his worst. He should have brought Her—She’d raised Death, for Christ’s sake—or at least a bigger gun. His steps were echoing of the walls, his seeming to be the only living soul in the whole building.

But not the only person. 

Because sat in the very front row, the was a man. Thin, pale, weedy black hair. And Dean froze in the aisle, but it didn’t matter anyway.  

“Dean Winchester.” The man’s voice was cool. Measured. Dean didn’t think he was made of anything but the dread anymore. “You’re early. I appreciate that.”

“Uh,” Dean cleared his throat. Chicago was such a stupid place to die. “You haven’t killed me.”

“I admire your bravery.” Death shrugged. “You are less than a bit of dust, floating in the air, but you are a very brave and stupid piece of dust. And I would call you inconsequential, but for a piece of dust, you are quite important. By association, of course.”

“Because I’m Michael vessel?”

Death let out a dry laugh. “No. That is like calling the shoelaces of a toddler important. He will get other shoelaces. If fact, he may have already.”

Dean swallowed, and took a slow step forward. He really was a dumb piece of dust. “Then what?”

“Hm. I’d prefer you sit first, before we talk.”

“But-“

Death turned, and his face was sunken. Bored. Almost skeletal, his eyes locked onto Dean’s. “Sit.”

Dean nodded, and half scrambled down the rest of the aisle, before dropping on the pew at Death’s side. It was really fucking weird. Death turned back to the dais with a small nod and sigh, and Dean just waited. This didn’t feel like an icebreaker situation. 

“I supposed you’re here about the ring.”

“Uh,” Dean felt sort of light-headed. Maybe Death was just getting him slowly. “Yes.”

“I am willing to give it to you.”

He blinked. “What?”

Death sighed. “I will give you my ring. That is one of the reasons you are not dead. You are a piece of dust that can swirl up quite the hurricane, if I direct you on the right wind.”

“Can we, uh- Drop the dust thing-“

“No.” Death turned to him with another, painfully blank expression. “Lucifer has me in a bind, I would like the ropes cut free. By putting him back in the cage, you will be doing me a favor, and I will let you continue to breathe until your time comes to a bloody, natural end.”

“Putting him back?”

“Letting Sam go on with his little plan. Not doing anything selfish to stop it.”

Dean opened his mouth, and Death shook his head. 

“People will die, if he does not. It is that simple.”

“But-“

“There is no but. I give you the ring, Sam goes in the pit. If you find another way, you may explore it, but not at the cost of the war lost. Understood?”

Dean nodded, glancing down the ring on Death’s finger. “There are other ways, though? That might work.”

“Not for you, Dean.” Death sighed. “As I explained, you are less than dust.”

“You said I was important.” Dean pushed back, because he could never shut the fuck up. “By association.”

Death gave him another bored look, and said Her name. Dean’s hands curled into fists. He couldn’t sworn that outside, thunder clapped. 

“I don’t-“

“You are of quite some significance to her.” Death said carefully. “More than I think you can understand. Killing you would be… a poor decision.”

“You- you know about her-“

“Of course I know about her. I was there when God decided he wanted her. She will likely be there when I reap him.”

“Reap God?”

“One day, yes.”

Dean felt sick, as he whispered Her name. “Does she- One day-“

Death tilted his head. “I am not sure. But you have yet to answer my question. Will you take the ring, and do whatever it takes.”

“You said there was another way-“

“Not for you. Just as there will never be another way for you to keep your princess. Not with a gun, or a bargain. She is the Bride of God, among other things. It is not something she will be. Not something that can be replaced, or worked around.” Death gave him an almost pitying look. “I like her, Dean. If I am being honest, I would happily spend eternity with her. And I do not think he deserves her, but I did warn him. Now, the ring?”

Dean felt like he was drifting. He took the ring with a weak smile and nod, and he made a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep, but he didn’t feel it. Death vanished, leaving Dean alone in the church, but he didn’t move for a long, weighted moment. 

No other ways. There were no other ways. 

Not to save Sammy. 

Not to keep Her. 

He checked his phone, before he started the drive back. It was a lot of missed calls from everyone, and a bunch of messages he didn’t bother to read. They’d tell him all that to his face when he got back. The only important one—not worrying about him or telling him to get back now—was at the top anyway.

Sam

Adam’s missing. Get back now.

New shoelaces. Backup plan.

Fuck. 

He drifted through the drive back, too. He brought the bone back—pissing Her off more by losing her magic bone didn’t seem like a good idea—and kept the ring in his pocket, trying not to think about any of it. He didn’t want to lose Sam. He’d promised Death he’d let the plan go forward, and that didn’t seem like a good promise to break. There was no way for Dean to keep Her, even if he didn’t see anything bright through the storm if it wasn’t Her. 

And the rain had cleared, but the sun had set. The clock on the dash read 1am, when he pulled into Bobby’s yard. And all the lights were off in the house, except for one. 

The lamp in the library. 

She just looked up at him. Nothing on Her face that he could read, not a single shout or scream. Only a heavy, exhausted expression and bright eyes tracking Dean’s movements around the room, as he shed his jacket and crossed the room. She wasn’t saying a single fucking word.

It was worse than shouting or hitting.

It was made of the dread. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly, dropping to his knees before Her. He wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch Her right now. “I trust you, Princess, and I woulda brought you with me, but Pestilence and Famine, those sons of bitches fucked you up, and-“ He didn’t know what he was saying. It was going to be the wrong thing. He couldn’t stop. “It fucking kills me, when you’re like that and I can’t do shit about it. But I got it. I got the ring. And I know you’re pissed, and you can kick my ass and I’ll sleep on the couch, but- I’m sorry.”

There was a long, horrid moment of silence, and he’d lost Her. She wouldn’t be in pain, but this had been the thing, the one that was always going to happen, and She’d leave, and Dean was never going to get to hold Her again-

“I thought you left.” She whispered, and Dean’s gaze shot up. “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

Son of a bitch. Dean could see it now. The red of Her eyes, the rattiness of Her hair and shine on Her cheeks, combined with the raw skin on Her wrists. 

She’d been crying.

Dean was never supposed to make Her cry.

“I didn’t leave-“

“You said we’d go together.” She cut him off with an almost pleading tone. “And I- I had a freakout last night, and I told you God’s watching me, and we-“ Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We kissed and I- I thought-“

Dean grabbed Her hands, rising up a little higher on his knees. “Look at me.”

She shook Her head, and they done this dance before. A lot.

Dean would keep doing it, as long as he got to keep touching Her. To brush the hair from Her face, take Her face between his hands, and angle Her gaze onto his. He’d do it forever.

“I’d never leave you, Princess.” He muttered, keeping his words low and firm. “I don’t give a shit that God’s watching you. I’m with you. All the way down.”

“Oh- okay.” She took a shaking breath. “I’d never make you sleep on the couch, De.”

He sighed. “You don’t gotta-“

“I couldn’t sleep.” She mumbled, Her gaze still locked onto his. “Needed you.”

Fuck.

Dean could be needed. He could nod, and carry Her to bed, mumbling a lot more apologies, because he was a piece of shit, but he was Her piece of shit. And once he was in bed, he changed fast and crawled into bed, because this wasn’t going to be his to keep, but he had it now. Her in his arms. Her face in his neck. 

And there had to be another way. Death said there wasn’t, but there always was. Maybe not for Dean, but for someone else, doing him a favor. There had to be another fucking way, because if the smell of fruit haunted him like this for the rest of his life, just out of his reach and crying for him to come save it from the tree, he’d drive himself mad. 

“I’m mad at you.” She grumbled against Dean’s shoulder, and he sighed.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.” She paused, Her arms wrapped around his torso, and he would fight for this. 

He loved Her. 

And if Dean was good at anything, it was breaking things for people he loved.

“De?”

He grunted, and She propped her chin on his shoulder. 

“Happy birthday.”

He let out a long breath, and took another stupid risk. It was his birthday, and the world was going to end, and She was looking at him so pretty in the dark, and-

Son of a bitch, he just wanted to be selfish. That was the only real reason. 

And it was worth it. Because he sat up carefully, until he was propped over Her on an elbow, and leaned down. Slotted his lips gently over Her’s and taking it lazy and slow, kissing Her just to kiss Her. To taste Her and know She was here and, for now, Dean’s. 

She let him. She fisted his shirt and pulled him deeper, until he was half on top of Her and he could hear only his heartbeat, and all those amazing sounds he was somehow allowed to pull from Her.

He didn’t pull away this time. Not fully. Dean kept his lips hovering over Her’s and folded his hand into Her’s, giving Her his best, widest, most come fucking love me, please, because I’ll love you until I don’t have a soul anymore, grin.

“Thanks, Princess.” He murmured, and he’d stay here forever. 

With Her. 

In the dark, as the end of the world drew closer, but the whole universe was in his arms, and he never wanted to let it go.

End Note: What a beautiful, rare win for their communication skills. Two whole kisses. They're going to be so normal about this.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Buy me a coffee!☕️

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[buckynsty]

I need to see walker fucking bob, releasing all that anger as he just absolutely uses him. bob being all whiny n crying, being so happy that walker is treating him like a fleshlight

[bigboy-lovers-unite-writes]

Imagine slapping their asses 🙏🙏

•Dutch; immediately pissed off, depends on who slapped his ass, he might push his cigar into their arm or something out of anger. Will grumble if it's his partner and shoo them away, smokes enough cigarettes after that to take away ten years on his life (it definitely made a camp deafening sound when they slapped it)

•Arthur; the most shocked face ever, just has to stand there for a minute to figure out whatever the fuck just happened. Will stumble over his words, before glaring at the person and chest bump them a few times, but secretly he's nearly popping a boner 💔💔

•John; eye twitches, trying to hold back grabbing his revolver and threatening the person. Says something sarcastic and crosses his arms like the dumb child he is. Will definitely be so damn embarrassed that he flushes as red as Sean's hair. Definitely blabs about it to Abigail later and gets huffy when she laughs

•Hosea; jumps a foot in the air and his body bends like a banana 😭 he's not mad, he'd never get mad, but he is a bit embarrassed about that. He sighs softly, tells a little story about his youth and how he would be able to handle it when he was younger as he rubbed his sore ass, then says he's too old for all that 🫶🫶

•Javier; yells out the loudest Spanish he's ever said, nearly falls forward from the shock of it as both hands go to cover his ass. Can't see it since he pulls his poncho up over his entire face, but he is burning bright red and thinking about it for the rest of the month. Will never trust being around the person again, will side eye them and cover his ass with anything if he's around them again 😢

•Bill; Two different ways this could go. One, he's drunk as a bitch and he hurls a beer bottle them and starts cursing and chasing them all over yelling about how he's no queer, even if it was a woman that slapped his ass, or he will just glare and threaten them a little bit and try to intimidate them if by god he's not drunk

•Kieran; actually stands up straight for once instead of being like a shrimp literally 24/7. Looks like a bug when you pick up a rock, eyes all wide and face flushed even pinker than it usually already naturally is. Definitely looks spaced out the rest of the day, probably can't stop thinking about it for sure

•Sean; gasps and is completely over dramatic, falling and pulling whoever slapped his ass down with him. Definitely tells everyone that the person slapped his ass, and he sounds strangely proud about it too..

•Lenny; poor boy doesn't know what to do, he's stuttering and gripping at his favorite book that he was reading, glancing around as he tried to say something. Might quirk a smile after a while, but it's whenever that person isn't around (he's so embarrassed don't do it again he can't handle it 💔)

•Micah; immediately cracks up and dares the person to slap his ass again, sticking it out slightly. He then promptly slaps that person's ass twenty times harder than they slapped his. It becomes a little game between the two whenever they see each other

•Charles; the absolute politest, might get a bit grumbly. 'oh my' is the first words outta his mouth 😭 will ask them why they did that and if it was supposed to be funny. He's like a mother in this sense, but also can't stop grinning since he actually liked it ❤️

[itneverendshere]

the first dinner having kie over as jjs girlfriend, she’s so nervous because she knows how protective you are of jj. and rafe is laughing at how intimated she is with you 😭

It’s the first dinner since JJ and Kie finally got their shit together and made things official.

You always knew JJ loved Kie, everyone with eyes did. He never thought he deserved her. So now, seeing her choose him, choose the mess and the loyalty and the absolutely unhinged love he offers, is enough reason to celebrate.

Everyone’s over at your place for a casual hang, even though there's hardly enough space.

Cheap beer, homemade tacos, shitty string lights and the speaker playing some old playlist JJ made in 2019.

You’re behind the bar setup, when you notice Kie being...weird. She’s sitting next to JJ but acting like she’s on a job interview. She's laughing at everything you say, being super polite and every time you look in her direction, she straightens up.

You're refilling drinks when you notice her practically freeze when you approach.

“Need more lemonade?” you ask with a friendly smile.

She flinches. 

You blink. “...Kie, you okay?”

“Yep! Yep—love lemonade. Big lemonade girl.”

You exchange a confused look with Rafe across the table, and he's already biting his lip to stifle a chuckle.

It only gets weirder from then on.

The entire dinner, she's cautious with what she says to JJ and keeps nodding along to everything you say, as if you're the Pope. When you excuse yourself to grab dessert, Rafe follows you inside, snickering under his breath.

“What?” you ask, pulling brownies from the oven.

He leans against the counter. "You seriously don’t see it?”

“See what?”

He snorts. “Kie. She’s terrified of you.”

You turn, offended. “She is not!”

“Baby.” He raises an eyebrow. 

“What? No, she’s nervous. New relationship jitters.”

“No, babe.” He laughs. “She’s nervous around you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He pulls a brownie off the plate. “She thinks you’re gonna throw hands if she hurts JJ.”

You stare at him, confused. “That’s insane. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“But now she’s dating JJ, and suddenly you’re his mom.”

You whip a towel at him. “I am not his mom!”

“You kind of are,” he laughs, ducking out of the way. “'Don’t let him drive the dirt bike at night, JJ forgot his inhaler again, someone make sure he eats.'”

You scoff, faux offended. “That’s called being a responsible adult.”

“Sure, but from their perspective? You raised him. She’s terrified of disappointing you.”

You pause, the realization settling in.

“Oh my god. I thought she was being weird because it’s her first real relationship.”

“Nope. She thinks you’re gonna kill her if she breaks his heart.”

Huh. That actually...makes sense. You think back to earlier in the night—how Kie looked at JJ like he hung the stars, but flinched as if you were gonna strike her down if she said the wrong thing.

“She’s scared of me,” you mumble, more to yourself than to Rafe.

He hums, smug. “A little.”

JJ’s your boy. He always has been and not in that overused, found-family, pogue-life way, but in a real way. You remember giving him half your tips to cover gas because he didn’t want to tell John B he was broke again. You sat with him all night after that fight with his dad, both of you staring at the ceiling because sleep was out of the question.

He looks happy and that’s rare for someone like him—he's spent most of his life expecting the worst. It does something to your chest, your heart's too soft tonight.

You blink fast, pressing the heel of your hand to your eye. You sniff once, aggressively. You weren't planning on getting emotional in the damn kitchen over JJ finally getting the girl.

“You’re... tearing up over brownies and JJ being in love.”

You swat his stomach, but you’re smiling again, and okay—your eyes are still watery, but who cares? You’re allowed to be sensitive about this. JJ’s in love.

You shoot him a look. “Don’t mock me, Cameron.”

He lifts his hands. “Not mocking. Just... observing.”

You glare. “That’s worse.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything, even though you’re used to being the watcher—it still surprises you how good it feels to be seen, to be read like a book and loved anyway.

“Hey,” he nudges your hip with his. “You’re happy for him.”

You scoff. “Of course I’m happy. Took him long enough.”

He laughs, pulling you in by your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder as you both look out the kitchen window, where JJ and Kie are laughing about something, his arm slung around her shoulders, her hand on his knee.

You sigh happily.

“He’s all heart, ” you murmur. “Always has been. Even when it got him hurt.”

“You’re crying again.”

Yep. Whole-ass tears now. Not sad, only overwhelmed.

You groan, watery. “What the hell is happening to me?”

He kisses your forehead. "You're real pretty when you’re emotional.”

You straighten up in his arms, “C’mon. Let’s go mess with her a little. Just for fun.”

“Nevermind."

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Undefeated Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359):

Please. I beg of you. Read all the propaganda I wrote, and then vote Minkowski. If you're still not convinced:

She's a first-generation Polish immigrant, and a huge part of her arc is about feeling like she had to hide her identity and prove herself to make it in the US. When she lets her accent slip out in episode 52, it's the sexiest thing to ever happen.

She has the entire rule book for her space mission memorized so she can better take care of her ship.

She talks to ghosts on multiple occasions.

She has a gay little dynamic with the 2024 sexiest podcast character, Isabel Lovelace.

She expertly navigates multiple hostage situations.

Along with musicals, she's ALSO really into Sylvia Plath.

She lives under a rock and does not know anything about pop culture, which is adorable.

She writes show tunes!

vote for the commander you fools, vote like the wind!!!!!!!!!

John Doe (Malevolent):

VOTE JOHN DOE EVERYONE!!!! LOOK AT HIM!!!!! MY BELOVED YELLOW GLOWING EYE CREATURE!!! HE CERTAINLY DESERVES YOUR VOTE !

PLEASEEEE VOTE FOR JOHN😭😭😭 he’s so GODDDD HES AN ELDRITCH GOD THAT JUST WANTS LOVE😭😭 (if you know me PLEASE VOTE FOR JOHN I KNOW YOU DONT KNOW HIM BUT PLEASEEEE HES PERFECTTTT!!! And also listen to Malevolent 🤩)

(vote John tho, he's such a baby, you wouldn't hurt a baby!)

i wasnt gonna say anything and just see how it turns out but PLEASEEEE VOTE FOR JOHN PLEASE MY POOKIE💔💔💔💔💔FAVOURITEST GUY EVER HIS VOICE IS SO NICE PLEASE PLEASE💔💔

Let’s not let this trans icon down guys. He didn’t fight to be who he decides for nothing. And that is the sexiest thing imaginable.

John was absolutely an eldritch nightmare BUT is literally getting better and learning empathy and consent which is very sexy

Hello my friends and random people in my phone. Please consider voting John Doe for Sexiest Podcast Character. He is barely beating Helen Distortion and eyes are so much cooler than spirals. John deserves one (1) nice thing and if that nice thing is being voted the Sexiest Podcast Character of 2024, who am I to deny that to him? Who are we to deny that to him? Use your voice, tumblr. Vote for John.

The one who’s changing and growing, powerful and terrifying but can be tender and good, capable of mind-fuckery but instead trying to be a better being and make up for thousands of years of terrible choices

John's entire identity is about defying the rules you were forced into at birth, and deciding you can be whoever you decide. And nothing is sexier than that.

Hello, we the good people at John's campaign headquarters, come to you with a very special message about our candidate and why he deserves your vote with a compilation of his best hits.

A vote for John is a vote for justice. And being your true self. And choosing your own name. And being really really cool.

John Propaganda video by @lunaescribe and @rotflea.

JOHNDOE2025 video by @curbledmiilk.

John Doe Acceptance speech by @malevolentcast.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359):

the most badass commander there is. she spent a week hunting a plant monster living on the air ducts of her station with a goddamn harpoon. she managed to keep her people alive and get them home. she managed to keep Eiffel alive for like five years and for that alone she deserves a fucking medal

She did not just spend one week hunting the plant monster, she spent TWO WEEKS hunting the plant monster. Later on, she used the very same harpoon to murder an evil capitalist WHILE SHE HAD A BULLET IN HER CHEST.

She's haunted by the memory of the first time she took a life, and what's sexier than a character with regrets?

She works out. Muscle women. Enough said.

She's devoted to protecting her crew above all else, and despite her self-doubt, she's REALLY damn good at it.

She's a theater kid! She loves musicals! She writes showtunes! Sondheim is her favorite composer!

She Russian-Roulettes a guy into not blowing up her ship, and does such a good job of it that he never even realizes there aren't any bullets in her gun.

She's been trapped in a time loop, possibly multiple times.

She's the best character in all of audio drama, I love her, she's beautiful, she's sexy, and she deserves every vote.

#minkowski my beloved. love of my life. other half of my heart. sexiest woman in podcast ever. i love her

#MINKOWSKI!!!!!! #i love her sooo much fun fact

#my girl! my favorite girl! she won! #let's keep this energy going everyone!

I don't really remember anything about Wolf 359 since I only listened to a few episodes so I'm throwing my lot in with whoever has the most compelling/funniest propaganda. I think this would be funny and I commit to nothing if not the bit

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

But. MINKOWSKI. Please read all that Minkowski propaganda I wrote and then consider voting for her. She's the love of my life and THE sexiest podcast woman, bar none.

MINKOWSKI

John Doe (Malevolent):

A fragment of the Eldritch Deity that has gained independence, attached to possibly the world's most pathetic man. Also have you heard his voice

JOHNNN, JOHN I BELIEVE IN YOU

Gonna need everyone to vote for John plz

Don't let John down, he needs a win, he's had a miserable time lately : (

his voice is jsut. really good

sorry but queer rumbling voice John Doe is too powerful to not vote for here. Also no one in canon will tell him this and he deserves to know.

ok but the way John Doe said labrynthine

If John wins I'll write him kissing Noel

Trans Icon

LISTEN TO HIS VOICE

Threatens to disembowl anyone who hurts the person he loves

Once tried to kill a priest for making goo goo eyes at his man

Was an evil warlord turned soft poetry lover

Can still throw hands when needed

Clever as fuck

Wants to see a movie SO BAD

Memorizes poems just for his wet cat -V protective of his wet cat partner

VOTE JOHN

Crew we can't let trans icon movie lover, most jealous husband in the universe John Doe lose...

If John wins I'll cosplay him again

Vote John!! he's everything. eldritch god, in a codependent relationship with a feral cat of a man, nice voice, he even likes poetry

I've actually nutted to John's voice before. /hj

like this isn't even his full power s2 voice but mannnnn he sounds so hungry and feral for Arthur all the time...

ASSEMBLING THE MALEVOLENT CROWD. POOKIES FOLLOW YOUR DUTY AND HELP THIS MISERABLE MAN OUT!!!!

do NOT let my glorious goat LOSE!!!!

JOHN JOHN JOHN JOHN JOHN J

Vote John Doe!!!

MOOTS PLEASE VOTE JOHN 💔💔💔💔

VITE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN

LETS GO JOHN DOE

malevolent fans RISE

JOHN LETS GOOOOOOOO

hey all my mutuals, do some work for your favorite yellow boy

Vote for John!! Joohn!!!!

IM SORRY BUT PLEASE VOTE JOHN HES AWESOME I PROMISE

VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN COME ON GUYS

Guys vote John Doe as sexiest podcast character please he deserves this 🙏

CMON FOLKS, JOHN DOE JOHN DOE JOHN DOE

JOHN SWEEP!

IM SORRY JOHN!!!! (I’m really not)

VOTE FOR JOHN!!!

PLEASE VOTE JOHN PLEASE

[hunzzzzz]

OBX TWEETS: part 9 (Rafe Cameron x reader x John B SMAU)

A/N: Sorry for the wait!!! I got too in my head about the plot😭 but I realized it's never that deep and I'm back now. Decided to add a little bit of writing because there's no way to thicken the plot without it. Lmk if you guys like a bit of writing here and there or prefer the social media pics only.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

You had been dancing all night, a dangerous cocktail of tequila, wine, fireball, and vodka Red Bulls battling it out in your bloodstream. It felt like a frantic race to oblivion, anything to outrun the quiet ache in your chest. And after that first shot at the club, the memories became fractured, skipping like a broken record. That was the joy, and the damn problem, with being friends with Danny the bartender; free shots flowed like apologies you didn't deserve. You’d long since lost count, each one a tiny hammer blow against the wall of grief you refused to acknowledge. Empty stomach? Who had time for food when there were feelings to drown?

You were swaying precariously, the bass thrumming up through the floor and into your skull, your neck struggling to keep your head upright under the strobe lights. Your friends…gone? Had they ditched you, or were you fleeing their concerned faces, their whispers of "home"? It was all a blurry, swirling mess.

Then, calloused hands clamped onto your shoulders. Large, heavy. You blinked, trying to focus through the kaleidoscope vision, and slowly, like a Polaroid developing, Rafe's buzzcut came into view under the pulsing red lights.

"What the?" You mumbled, the word slurring like thick syrup. Lurching onto your tiptoes, you reached out, drawn to the familiar texture of his scalp, running your fingers through the short, prickly hair. "Ewww," you recoiled with a dramatic shudder, pulling back your hand and wiping it on your already stained shirt. "Hedgehog. Definitely a hedgehog."

"Enjoying the… wildlife exhibition?" Rafe’s voice was dry, laced with an edge of something you couldn't quite place. He held your shoulders steady, a solid anchor in your swaying world, his eyes narrowed, assessing. God, he looked good.

"Was," you declared dramatically, placing your hands on his chest, intending to shove him away, to re-establish the distance, the feud. But your arms felt like lead, and instead of pushing, your palms simply rested against the firm muscle, seeking a strange kind of… support. "Until you crashed the party."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, that cocky, infuriating smirk. "You invited me, remember?" He glided his tongue over his teeth, a gesture you usually found intensely irritating, but tonight… tonight it was just… Rafe.

"Did I?" A giggle bubbled up, escaping in a rush of air. You doubled over, laughter turning into a hiccup, burying your face in the solid wall of his shoulder. You had no recollection of what you had been posting on your story all night, let alone what you had been texting people.

"Uh-huh," Rafe rumbled, his hand moving from your shoulder to your back, surprisingly gentle as he pulled you upright, enough to get a better look at your face. He leaned down, his face invading your blurry personal space. "How much you drink tonight?"

"Oh! Oh! Shots! Let's get shots!" You bounced on the balls of your feet, grabbing his hand, tugging him towards the bar, the urgent need for more alcohol overriding everything.

Rafe hesitated, glancing towards the bar, then back at you, his brow furrowed. What the fuck indeed, he thought, watching you tug him forward with the unsteady enthusiasm of a toddler heading for a candy store.

Usually, seeing you at a party meant bracing for impact – the ‘accidental’ drink spillage, the sharp-tongued insults, the constant game of one-upmanship. He remembered the bonfire, the icy plunge of his new sneakers in the lake, your delighted laughter echoing across the water… God, you were infuriating.

But tonight… tonight was different. The game had changed. You weren't playing, you were… unraveling.

You were dealing with your own shit. Shit that had been piling up for weeks, months maybe. Felt like a tidal wave about to crash. Your eating disorder was back, teeth bared and snarling, a familiar monster you thought you'd caged years ago. It was a sick comfort in a way, the control, the emptiness. Lately, your diet consisted of energy drinks and black coffee – fuel for a machine that was running on fumes. Someone on twitter said smoking weed would help with appetite. Idiot. All it did was make you nauseous and guarantee whatever pathetic bite you managed to choke down came right back up, whether you did it consciously or subconsciously, you weren’t sure.

And then there was your Mom. Always. Psych ward threats were her go-to move whenever you dared to be anything less than perfectly happy and functional. 'Get better for me,' she’d whine, tears welling up, all about how she couldn’t stand to see you like this, how as a mother, you were just killing her. It was never about you, never about what you were feeling, never about actually helping. She wanted you fixed, fast, so she wouldn’t have to deal with the mess of you. So she wouldn’t have to confront whatever it was in herself that made your pain so unbearable for her to witness.

Then Ms. Johnson died. Ms. Johnson from the bakery. More than just a coworker, really. She’d become… something else. Almost like a stand-in mom, if you dared to admit it to yourself. Over the past year, scooping dough and chatting about everything and nothing, you’d gotten close. Unexpectedly, shockingly close. You'd even gone to her place, played with her grandkids. Little sticky fingers, bright smiles… And now… gone. Just… gone.

But dissecting your feelings and dealing with the grief? No fucking way. Not happening. Instead, you did what you always did best: avoid. Deflect. Bury it all under layers and layers of noise and nonsense instead of talking about it. And tequila. Lots and lots of tequila. Because feeling? Feeling was for pussies.

Rafe let you pull him a few steps, then planted his feet, a solid wall against your drunken momentum. "Hold up, shot queen."

He steered you towards the bar, yes, but positioned himself between you and it, effectively blocking your path to Danny and his arsenal of liquor. He signaled Danny, catching his eye and subtly shaking his head. Danny, bless him, seemed to understand, nodding almost imperceptibly. Rafe ordered a water, then turned back to you, a his face was somewhere between exasperated and… something else. Something that might almost be concern. He poured the water into a glass, handed it to you with a forcedly bright smile.

"Wha’ zis?" You sniffed at the glass suspiciously, wrinkling your nose. You swayed again, catching yourself on the bar.

"Just a simple vodka sprite," Rafe insisted. "Trust me. Drink up. Electrolytes are key, you know. Especially when you’re… pacing yourself like you are."

"Pacing…" You latched onto the word, repeating it slowly, as if it were a foreign concept. Then, eyes narrowing again, you poked him in the chest with a surprisingly steady finger. "You’re not drinking anything! Why not?" You hiccuped again, the sound wet and pathetic. Rafe’s hands instinctively went to your hips, steadying you as you wobbled dangerously close to the edge of your balance. "You just tryna… get me drunk." You declared, the accusation ringing with drunken certainty. "Hate to break it to you," another hiccup punctuated your sentence, "plan… failed."

"Right," Rafe nodded, a sardonic edge to his voice, but his eyes remained fixed on you, watching you with a strange intensity. "Totally busted. Because, you know, before I showed up, you were the picture of… sobriety."

You giggled, a soft, almost childlike sound that was utterly out of place with the smeared makeup and defiant clothing. "You want… you want…" You trailed off, chewing on your lip, searching for the word. "You want…" You pointed at him, a sudden flash of drunken insight. "You want the cookie sooo bad!" You took a large sip of the water, then another, playing with the straw, your earlier suspicion seemingly forgotten.

At some point you whipped out your phone and snapped a photo of him, posting it on your story without giving it a second thought.

"Hey, uh, where are your friends?" Rafe asked, his gaze sweeping the crowded dance floor, a genuine concern creeping into his voice. You were, undeniably, a disaster waiting to happen. He’d almost take you home himself, but he knew you’d sooner spontaneously combust than let him play knight in shining armor.

"Shhh!" You hissed, whipping around, eyes wide with mock-paranoia. "Agent Double-Oh… Drunk is undercover!" You pressed a finger to his lips, smushing them together. "Hiding. From… them."

"Why are you hiding from your friends?"

"’Cause…" You swayed again, leaning into him for balance. "’Cause they wanna send me home!" You wailed the last words, drawing them out dramatically, as if it were the ultimate betrayal.

"Right," Rafe nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the bouncer who was indeed now eyeing your increasingly erratic behavior with open suspicion. When the water glass slipped from your grasp, shattering on the polished floor with a sharp crack, Rafe knew. Curtain call.

"Okay," he said decisively, turning you firmly, keeping his hands anchored on your hips. "Operation… Fresh Air. Let's go outside, yeah?" He propelled you forward, guiding you away from the bar, your body leaning back against his, trusting, for once, in his lead.

"Eeesh, fuck it's cold!" You shivered the moment you stepped outside, hugging yourself tight, your teeth starting to chatter.

"Where's your jacket?" Rafe asked, exasperation creeping back in, but it was tinged with a different flavor now, something closer to… weary protectiveness.

"Jacket?" You blinked at him, as if the word itself was unfamiliar. "Didn’t bring one."

"Why. Not." Rafe asked, the words clipped, but laced with a resignation he hadn't anticipated feeling.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, though the gesture was undermined by your wobbly stance. "'Becuz. Didn’t. Go. With. My. Fit'," you enunciated each word carefully, as if speaking to a particularly dense toddler. It was, clearly, the most obvious, self-explanatory thing in the universe.

Then he sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that seemed to carry the weight of the entire night. "Okay. Just a little further down. My car's right around the corner." He tightened his hold on your hips, guiding you forward again, away from the pulsing music and into the relative quiet of the night.

"Why… car?" You leaned your head back again, your breath warm against his neck.

"Because…" Rafe hesitated, thinking fast. Lying felt… surprisingly natural at this point. "Because… it's… uh… it's got, like, extra warmth in there. Heated seats. You know." He tested the lie, wincing internally at how lame it sounded, but you, blessedly, bought it without a flicker of suspicion. You just nodded, humming softly, content in his grip.

He opened the passenger side door of his jeep, like some overly polite chauffeur all of a sudden, and basically shoved you inside, clicking the seatbelt shut like you were a toddler escaping a stroller.

“Seat warmer…” you breathed out, sinking back into the plush leather like it was a cloud made of marshmallows and sunshine. “Soooo good. It’s a hot water bottle for my ass. Genius invention, seat warmers. World peace could be achieved with universal seat warmers.”

“Yeah?” Rafe mumbled, glancing over like you’d just announced you’d won the lottery or something equally amazing.

“Yeahhh.” You stretched out your legs, letting the heat radiate up. “It’s like… a massage. But, like, a warm one.” You started wriggling around, just to really get the full effect. “On your thighs, and… oh god…” you moaned dramatically, for added effect, “and your ass.” It was basically heaven in car seat form. “It’s like… warm heavenly hands,” you elaborated, because he clearly wasn’t grasping the sheer bliss, “just… melting you away.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Rafe’s shoulders shaking. Stifling a laugh. Rude. He was laughing at your profound seat warmer experience? Normally, sober you would’ve launched into a tirade about his lack of appreciation for the finer things in life, accused him of kidnapping, maybe even thrown an elbow for good measure. But drunk you? Drunk you just… melted. Pliant. In his car. Babbling about butt massages.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, head lolling back against the headrest, turning to him with what you were pretty sure were impressively half-lidded, come-hither eyes. Probably just looked cross-eyed, let’s be real. “Let's hear the joke then, comedian.”

“Nothing,” he chuckled, shaking his head again, but this time there was a definite grin playing around his mouth. He was definitely laughing at you. Bastard.

“I wanna laugh too!” you protested. “I can’t always entertain, you know! I need a night off!” You groaned. “It’s exhausting being the funny friend! Justice for the funny friend, I tell you! We have rights too, you know!” You might’ve punched the dashboard lightly for emphasis. “Sometimes,” you confided in a stage whisper, “sometimes I wanna say, like… sad shit, but it goes completely against my whole… mysterious aura.” It was a burden, really.

“What are you sad about?” He actually asked, his voice softer now, the amusement still there, but… something else too? Curiosity maybe?

“Just… life, man.” You muttered, turning to stare out the window at the blurry streetlights rushing by. Deep, profound statement right there. Life. So sad. So… life-y.

Before he could say another word, sober or otherwise, your brilliant brain had an idea. A fantastic idea. Window down! Wind! Yes! Like a dog! Except, like, a chic, stylish dog, in a jeep. Before Rafe’s slow, human brain could even process what was happening, you were cranking down the window, jamming the button with drunken enthusiasm, and sticking your face out. Wind. Glorious, cold, rushing wind. It whipped through your hair, like a wild, free spirit, and because why not, you opened your mouth, letting the wind puff out your cheeks like a squirrel stuffing nuts. This was living!

“Hey! Hey! Get back inside, you maniac!” Rafe yelled, suddenly all panicked dad-mode. He yanked the steering wheel with one hand, swerving slightly – oops, sorry pedestrians – and then, like lightning, his other hand shot out, grabbing your shoulder and yanking you back inside. Window up! Safety first, apparently. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed out, all exasperated and… something else? Actually worried? Nah, couldn't be.

“You’re no fun,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest in a dramatic display of wounded dignity. “You’re cramping my style.”

“You’re more unhinged than usual tonight, even for you,” he grumbled, his jaw ticking, a muscle jumping in his cheek. Definitely panicked-dad vibes. “You good? Like, actually?”

“Nah, man.” You shook your head with exaggerated solemnity, because dramatic head shaking was key to conveying true emotion. “We not doing this.”

Rafe looked at you, eyebrows raised, head tilted, classic ‘question mark’ expression. Waiting for you to… elaborate? Explain? As if.

“We not having a heart-to-heart about our… shit,” you clarified. “My shit is my shit. It’s for my eyes only. Classified. Top secret. Need-to-know basis only. And you, sir,” you pointed at him, swaying slightly, “do not need to know.” Solid logic, right there. Drunk logic was the best logic.

“Is that why you got wasted tonight? Because of your top secret shit.” he asked after a beat, his voice softer now, thoughtful. Actually thoughtful? Rafe? Who knew.

But before your brain could engage the ‘deflect and deny’ protocols, your mouth, traitorous drunk mouth, was already spilling. “Ms. J, man…” You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a weird mix of bubbly and… not bubbly. Sad bubbly? “She was a real one.” You bumped your fist against your chest twice, BAM BAM, and then pointed a finger upwards, gesturing heaven-ward. “Taken from us… too soon.” Tears might’ve even welled up a little. Damn seat warmer was making you emotional now.

Rafe actually clicked his tongue. Clicked it! In… understanding? What was happening? “So, this was… a goodbye party, in a way?” he said, slowly, like he was piecing together some complex puzzle, “A… tribute?”

“You just get it,” you breathed out, blinking rapidly to dispel any actual tears. Nope, no crying tonight. Just… tribute-ing. You smiled, a wobbly, watery smile, and lightly bumped your fist against his arm. He got it. Rafe. Actually got it. Maybe seat warmers could bring world peace. Or at least, some kind of… understanding. Between you and Rafe. Who knew? Tonight was weird. But, like, weirdly… okay.

You started feeling a bit…off. Wheezy. Yeah, wheezy was the word. And definitely pale. Looking in the reflection of the passenger window, you resembled a ghost who’d just seen a ghost. Rafe, surprisingly observant for a buzzcut-wearing jock, actually noticed. He pulled into some brightly lit gas station, the kind that smelled vaguely of stale coffee and desperation, and announced, “Water. You need water.” Like he was a doctor prescribing life-saving medicine.

While Mr. Doctor was off playing Florence Nightingale, you, naturally, pulled out your phone. Duty called. The duty to tweet incoherent thoughts to the vast expanse of the internet. Honestly, someone should have staged an intervention for your phone tonight. The tweets were… abstract. Philosophical. Probably mostly misspelled.

Rafe, bless his cotton socks, actually returned relatively quickly, brandishing a plastic bottle of water like he’d wrestled it from a dragon. He handed it over, and you immediately wrestled with the lid. Stupid tiny lids. World problems, really. He sighed dramatically – seriously, who was the dramatic one here? – and twisted it open for you. So… helpful. So… weird.

“You’re being weird tonight,” you mumbled, taking a long, slightly slurping sip of the water. “Like, weird-weird.”

“Am I?” He actually sounded offended.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, nodding seriously. “Yeah you’re being… nice.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out the angle. Was this a trap? Was he lulling you into a false sense of security before… before what? You weren’t sure. “Like… suspiciously nice.”

“I’m always nice,” he grumbled, finally putting the car back in drive, letting the blessed AC fill the stale gas station air. “You’d see that,” he continued, in a deeply wounded tone, “if you didn’t have this… this vendetta against me.” He actually said ‘vendetta’. Dramatic much?

“Ugh, stop!” you groaned, covering your face with your hands again. The dramatics were contagious, apparently. “Just… stop it!”

“I’m not doing anything,” he protested, sounding genuinely confused now, “but taking your drunk ass home.”

“No, stop being so… so fucking…” you trailed off, pulling your hands away, squinting at him in mock-accusation. His face was a perfect picture of bewildered confusion, brow furrowed, mouth slightly open. Adorable confusion. Wait, no. Stop that thought. “You’re just begging for me to kiss you!” you declared dramatically, because clearly, that was the only explanation for this weird ‘nice’ act. “Just fucking stop because it’s. Not. Happening!” You punctuated each word with a little head wobble for extra emphasis.

For a second, Rafe just blinked, staring at you, speechless. Then, a slow, disbelieving smirk started to spread across his face. “What?” he asked, his voice low and musing, like he was turning the words over in his head, examining them for hidden meanings, “what did you just say?”

“Nothing!” you squeaked, suddenly feeling a blush creep up your neck. Damn seat warmer making you feel… flushed in more ways than one now. “Just… drive!” You waved a hand dismissively, trying to act like you hadn’t just said something completely insane and possibly revealing. Nope, nothing to see here, folks. Move along.

And surprisingly, he did comply. He actually just… drove. But that stupid, infuriating, yet undeniably… smirky smirk? Yeah, that stupid smirk didn’t leave his face. Not even a little bit. Bastard knew exactly what he was doing, the smirk-wielding jerk.

Something about his face tonight… it was different. Maybe it was the soft light from the dashboard, or maybe it was the fact that your eyes were still doing the double-vision thing, but suddenly, really suddenly, you noticed… he was actually… good-looking. Like, objectively, undeniably, good-looking. Sharp jawline, those light blue eyes that weren’t just annoyed all the time, the way his buzzcut actually framed his face… Huh. Who knew? Sober you would probably deny ever thinking such a thing, but drunk you? Drunk you was all about unfiltered truth.

That damn seat warmer. It was definitely plotting something. Seriously, who invented those things and what were their real motives? Because tonight, that seat warmer was a straight-up emotional rollercoaster, engineered for maximum chaos in your brain.

First, it was all innocent. Pure, unadulterated comfort. Like sinking into a warm bath, but for your backside. A blissful hug for your thighs and… well, you knew. It was like the seat warmer was whispering, “Relax, baby, everything’s gonna be alright.” And for a glorious few minutes, you actually believed it. World problems? Gone. Existential dread? Melted away. Just warm, soothing… comfort.

Then, BAM! The sneaky bastard switched gears. Comfort turned into emotion. Specifically, Ms. J-shaped emotion. Warmth wasn't just comfort anymore, it was… tenderness. Like Ms. J’s hugs. Like the warmth of her kitchen, filled with the scent of baking cookies. Suddenly, the seat warmer wasn’t just warming your ass, it was warming your heart. Except, heart-warming in a gut-wrenching, tear-jerking way. All those feelings you’d been burying, all that grief you’d been dodging? The seat warmer was coaxing them out, like a gentle hand unearthing buried treasure… except the treasure was sadness. Dammit, seat warmer, you were supposed to be comforting, not making you cry about cookies and lost mother figures!

And then, as if sadness wasn't enough drama for one night, the damn thing went full-on rogue. Suddenly, the warmth wasn't just comforting or emotional, it was… flushing. Specifically, face-flushing. Rafe's stupid, smirky face was suddenly right there, in your personal space, and all that seat-induced warmth just… migrated upwards. Cheeks burning, pulse quickening, suddenly noticing things like jawlines and dark eyes and the general… Rafe-ness of Rafe. Ogling? Yes, you were definitely ogling. And it was all the seat warmer’s fault! It had lulled you into a false sense of security, made you all soft and vulnerable and… and perceptive about Rafe’s… prettiness. Unacceptable!

Taglist: @yktayy9669 @urmomaahoe @rafesgurl @rafesdrew @sophreakingfunny @hannaa20002000 @furiouscopshepherduniversity @mirellef2001 @colbysbrocks @drewstarkeytruelove @luzstarkey @sassyvilliantrope @wintercrows @lolasangelz @scream4mami @pixieflu @beavee11 @wtfisastiles @pandxra @Ivxstarr @kissylec @hannieskzzz @soulsearchinginkauai @mysticbby2009 @matildalittlefreak @giouvarlakia @yncoded @my-name-is-baby @harryzcherry @lilithblackkk @drewstarkeyswife-7 @ethanthequeefqueen @angelicameron @rafecameronswhoore @Imaowhatt @jun13bug @sqfewrd

[saturnxlust]

pleasee John being sweet on you and Arthur getting jealous (smut and maybe a tiny bit angst??) i love ur blog, take caree🩷

Your so sweet ily😭❤️

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Walking through the camp you could feel the young boys eyes on you as you walked, you noticed little john had always been the one to rush to your aid. Need your horse brushed? Hes brushing it, need a drink? Hes getting it.

You began to notice and so did a certain someone, his (fake) older brother arthur, arthur knew he wasnt a good looking man, but he was better then john…right? Maybe not, i mean john is young, like you, hes energetic and fun, meanwhile arthurs just a stupid old man. Shit maybe john should get you, after all, why would arthur? Hes not special?

He noticed that you were bashful at johns actions, figuring it was because you liked the boy, god damn it why isnt he good enough?! Why dont you like him? Did he say something? Is he too old? Maybe you don’t deserve him, he wouldnt keep you happy like john would.

You noticed arthurs saddened looks each time john sprang to you, you found it cute that the man had a crush on you but you weren’t interested, you should definitely plan on telling him soon, you didnt want john, No, you wanted arthur.

You saw him look at himself, you heard the way he talked about himself, and you knew you had to confess soon.

And thats how you got here, sitting at the campfire, facing him.

“Mr morgan, i have so-”

“Just arthur” he rasped out, taking a swig of his beer.

“Arthur. I have something to tell you.” You spoke firmly, making eye contact eith him as best as you could, he kept looking away, avoiding your gaze.

“i…” you trailed, the sudden confidence gone as you saw him stare at you, “i love you” you spat out, watching his face contort into anger before he stood up, stumbling.

“You…your lying, whats wrong with you.” He tried to stumble away but you stood and caught him, nodding, figuring this was a rejection but also, a god awful time to tell him, maybe he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

The next day when he awoke he found himself glancing around, looking into his shaving mirror and grimacing at what he saw, a old disheveled man staring back at him, disgusting, he thought, stumbling out of his tent and making his way to the campfire, being offered coffee by mrs grimshaw, taking it and sighing.

You walked out of your tent and froze when you saw him, standing hunched over and sipping a cup of coffee, making your way to hosea to speak to him you found yourself stopped, turning as you saw arthur staring daggers at you, a firm grip on your arm. “We need to talk” was all he grumbled, turning and walking away.

Soon you were in the sort of privacy of his tent, he sat on his cot and stared long and hard at you, “you…said something last night-”

You cut him off with apologies, immediately assuming he was upset, “imsosorry, ididntmeantospititoutwhenyouweredrunk, andifyoudontfeelthesameitsokay!” You shouted, covering your mouth as you realized you sounded a little crazy. He just grinned.

“So..you werent just playing a joke on a old man?” He asked. “What? No” you answered honestly, seeming confused by his accusation but brushing it off, “arthur i see the way that you look at yourself, and it upsets me, your a beautiful man and i dont want you to think otherwise” you grabbed his hand and he almost flinched away.

“You don’t deserve me. I see the way you look at john when he does stuff for you..” he shook his head and looked away, pulling his hand away gently, you firmly grasped his hand and intertwined your fingers, “i dont want john, i want you” you huffed and moved closer to press your lips against his. He knew he should pull away but he wanted this so bad.

He leaned into the kiss and gripped your sides, pulling you on his lap as he held you close, your arms snaked around his neck and you pulled away to trail wet kisses down his neck, pinning him under you as you decided to show this old man how much you wanted him.

He gripped your hair as your head bobbed up and down on his dick, panting and groaning as he thrusted up into your face, holding your head in place and using your throat to get off, not too long after he felt himself get close and he pulled you off him, allowing you to stroke him until his seed covered your face.

He nodded and watched as you cleaned your face, kissing up his torso and running your hands up his large arms, muttering praises against his skin as you slid up to hover over his hips, pulling your underwear to the side you lined him up with you and slowly sank down on him, whining as you felt him fill you.

He gripped your sides and you began to slowly bounce, your thighs flexing as you steadied yourself on his chest, leaning in to whisper how good he felt, making him see stars as he threw his head back, whining.

God you felt so good, better then he imagined all those times he would tug at his cock at night thinking of you. You were soft, and warm. And god were you fucking tight. Clenching around him as you began to bounce, your thighs burning from the effort of lifting yourself up and dropping back down.

“Motherfucker..” He groaned, gripping Your sides tightly. Each bounce and rock edged him closer amd closer until he found himself flipping them over and slamming you into the cot, positioning himself behind you as he began to pound into you.

Your eyes closed and your mouth gaped open as you drooled on the flat wornour pillow he used, moans and mewls leaving your lips faster then you could silence them, he was grunting in your ear, growling praises and nasty things, “feel so fucking good….so tignt darlin’ you close? Yeah? Give your old man a good one now yahear?” He snarled in your ear as you nearly passed out from pleasure.

Your vision blurred amd you tightened around him like you needed it to live, thighs shaking as you came. Letting out a loud whine and pushing back against him. He held you still as he continued his thrusts and finally ended with one last thrust deep inside you before pulling out and covering your ass with his seed.

Sweat beaded down his face as he leaned back on his thighs and sighed satisfactorily. Grabbing an old piece of cloth and wiping you clean.

[killmeprettypleasee]

Price x Ftm!lieutenant!Reader general dating hcs pls and tyy

Dating headcanons W/ John Price.

Warning: SFW AND NSFW mentioned, clingy price, mentions of killing someone, slightly possessive Price, switch Price and switch reader.

SFW

Before you and Price started dating, the two of you are already close friends, you two joined the military together and trained together back then before you guys are in your current ranks.

He is very sweet to you and supports you being a trans person.

He found out you were trans waaaayyyy back then, and the way he reacts was kinda random..

"Wait.. so your one of those transformers robots????" He looked at you dumbfounded as he scanned the surgery scars on your chest.

He was very confused.. but still supports you!

When someone was being toxic to you he WILL and not hesitate to unalive them.

He loves you too much see😭

He'll give them the coldest death stared making their bones quiver in fear.

He will cuddle you, and be hella clingy.

Imagine.

You both at the halls of the base and he's just hugging you, not caring if anyone is watching.

He would call you to his office to just hold you and have you sit on his lap.

Hell, every once i a while he'll make you skip training just to have you there with him..

He will never let you out of his sight.

NEVER.

You're his sunshine afterall, his Marshmellow to the hot cocoa, his sauce to the spaghetti, his peach to the eggplant (okay thats just weird..)

When you're both at home, he wouldn't let you go out to buy groceries and insisted that he should be the one buying.

He's just scared because he overthinks that someone will kidnap you.

He doesn't even care if you know self-defense 💀

When both of you go out on a date he'll take you out to the beautiful restaurants ever, but he rather keep it simply

He'll even buy you beautiful clothes to match your date.

One time both of you went to a Chinese sea food restaurant that serves raw and fresh sea food.

He bought himself those tentacles cus he wanna try them out.

End up sticking to his face.

Both of you gotta go to the doctor cus the tentacles suction wont let go.

He was traumatized and both of you never went to those fresh sea food restaurant.

NSFW

After ever date there should a spicy intimate time with him.

He would bend you over when you both in your car or at your house.

Just somewhere private where both of you could fuck.

He loves dominating you, but sometimes he also likes it when you're the one dominating him

He likes it when you overstimulate him till he's a whining mess when you're taking the lead.

You just loos so sexy ontop him while riding his cock while calling him a good boy.

It makes his cock twitch when you do that.

And the way you moan just sends him over the edge.

But when he's the one in control he would bend you over doggy style and hit your prostate head on with his tip.

He absolutely loves when you moan out his name.

Its just so cute.

He likes raw sex.

He wanna make sure to mark your insides aswell your body to show who you belong.

He loves it when your cunt squeezed his cock.

He'll call you a good boy for that.

When both of you are more on the romantic side he'll be gentle and loving with you.

He'll caressed your body and worship you.

He loves touching your scars btw.

He thinks its fascinating.

"God baby.. you're so damn beautiful.. such a handsome boy eh?.." He softly praised against your ear as he touched your scars.

He grunted when your cunt tightened around him.

"You're getting so tight around me baby boy.. such a good boy huh?"

Yeh...

He sometimes think about having a child with you sometimes.

This man has an extreme breeding kink...

Sometimes he'll rub your lower belly while he's fucking you cunt, whispering praises while he day dream of getting you pregnant.

He's glad you have a cunt ngl.

He could just impregnate you anytime..

But you're still a soldier and you still wanna keep the job so he respects that.

He'll wait when he's allowed to Impregnate you.

But he wont stop fucking you raw.

Sooo you have no choice but to go on birth control🤷.

[dearreaders-things]

ok ok ok the off season watchthrough thoughts bc i can't do this anymore this is so good

geoffrey and jeffrey again 😌 i truly think aj just likes repeating the last name he heard

this is all so silly and i alr love jacob

ok that first scene with sam setting up the plot is genuinely GREAT. idk maybe it's just tropey (which from a quick scroll of sfthblr i think i'll get a lot of here) but it's so fun

WHAT is sam on in the next scene i'm sobbing

tom playing an iconic woman again!! such a fun dynamic and the hints of the nuances of her characterisation too! i have a feeling i'm gonna love her

absolutely painful spiral staircase sequence. tom is gleefully killing the others

"🫲daughter." "oh, scene established."

i love luke as jacob as well he's really putting himself into it 😭 ("it" being running in circles at the moment)

of course there's a dinosaur with guns lmfao. tom's little glance back like WHAT are they doing now

the roast battle had me giggling so hard, everyone's having so much fun and tom covering his mic like he's gonna GET luke. he's holding back though 😌

okay this is such a good plot 😭

ENEMIES TO LOVERS 👀👀👀

man i am also trying very hard to work out the details of this bet. think i am also just gonna have to concede it with a "sure."

i appreciate tom's interjection into the scene just to be a loving drunk wife

"dont.👈 FUCK THIS UP FOR ME"

luke is acting his ass off and so is tom

"he moulds them in his image, and it's a terrible image." "well he's not moulding me. i am who i am" 🤌🤌🤌

"an idiot and a fool with the beautiful hair of a young leonardo dicomprio" are you kidding me with this dialogue. where are the emmys. the oscars. he DOES have beautiful hair

i didn't notice this at first but tom's character tipping a splash of water from her umbrella onto jacob oh my god 😭🙏

jacob revealing his actual accent ohhhh the gasp i gusped

height difference jokes again 😆 hate it when it's me, love it when it's tom and luke

snipers getting involved just makes everything 1000x more chaotic

girl if you don't pack the wound to stop it bleeding‼️‼️

look at that, sam forgot a name this time

aj being iconic again and getting lost

aj assisting with the montage

"👀 fiancé"

ofc they went to paris. city of love!

luke is SO lovestruck 😭 "heavenly angel", "reminds me of someone" and there is so much love in his eyes

THERE'S ONLY ONE BED OMG OMG

DOUBLE BED. NO CUSHIONS. IT'S A VERY VERY SMALL BED

this has made me so very happy

emotional conversations while circling their way up a spiral staircase how lovely

not the forgotten key AND the dinosaur again 😭 i honestly do love the way they stagecrafted going along the staircase in opposite directions

"a fifing life without strife" 🫡🫡

WHAT compelled aj to do that dinosaur walk

PERHAPS YOU COULD PACK THE WOUND

luke is very aware of the very large size of tom's hands

i loved the swipe at the nose comment lolol

DO NOT TAKE THE BULLET OUT THAT COULD CAUSE FURTHER BLEEDING AND DAMAGE AND INFECTION WHERE YOU SHOULD BE SIMPLY STOPPING THE BLEEDING AND GETTING HIM TO A HOSPITAL

ahem. me when i realise not everyone is very into accurate medical whump as me

(it's fine i am well aware it's silly improv comedy and i'm not actually bothered by the inaccuracy but it is very very funny)

but girl u went to FRANCE but not a HOSPITAL

by the way can we pls get this woman a name 🙏

anyways yeah put that bone back

HIS SMOULDER OH MY GOD LUKE

aj. brother what. didn't you just kill jeffrey how is this still about the bet

"don't try to look around i'm not anywhere i'm uh somewhere else."

sam's vaguely french humming is so funny

okay bartender slayyy

tom KILLED sam with that mcdonalds joke

this could be a 100k slowburn on ao3

the intensity of luke's expression before the kiss. he saw his opportunity and Went For It. thank you luke

french ghosts bonjour

long moment of silly silence

bonjour

"now no longer in the shadows" 🔥🔥🔥

ooh twist oh my god mrs daltrey it's getting hot in here

damn john jacob mcallister is down HORRENDOUS to be up for fucking her when he just got shot

scarlett johansson HELPP 😭😭😭😭

dinosaur count 4 is crazy

aj and sam really do go nuts when they bounce off each other

tom committed so hard so fast to the marriage idea

also committed to not having a name i suppose 😭

awwwee

dinosaur count 5

charlize theron

oooooooo double crosser scarlett

i love tom's swagger oh my lord

ooooooooooooooooo hell yeah, journalist lady whose full name is yes! hell yeah! get his ass

WOAH

helpppp not auld lang syne, luke once again seeing his chance and taking it

okay all in all that was perfect i love that they got a happy ending and justice got got

man if you stuck around for this whole thing thanks for reading!

[auspicioustidings]

Any version of Soap in any position of power would be soooo disgusting, calling IT Security reader at all times of the day and telling her that the speaker on his computer doesn’t work, while he’s clearly streaming some porno in the background 😭😭😭

You get it Lumi, he's a sick freak :) You also sent this while I happen to be working through 1k requests so bonus short for you <3

Back Chat

Words: 1k

CWs: non-con groping, just all around gross awful Soap

Sergeant John MacTavish was the reason you had poured over your contract for any get out clause that didn't cost you a fortune. You came up with nothing. The military had paid for a high end training course for you on the provision that if you left the role within 2 years then you had to pay every penny back.

Plus this job paid well and the benefits were great. You didn't even mind having gruff military personnel seeing fit to give you a bollocking over the phone because you would be following procedure whether they liked it or not and they could file a damn ticket if they wanted their issue looked at. Generally they were an OK bunch at heart, but rough around the edges and used to recruits eager to please them. When they realised your lack of any rank also excused you from being ordered around by anyone but your actual boss they usually mellowed out.

Of course you had made the mistake of chewing out one such gruff man after he called in a temper demanding that his laptop be fixed as a priority. Not even his work laptop, no he wanted his personal laptop fixed.

“Look MacTavish was it?”

“Sergeant MacTavish tae you.”

“No it isn't. I am not one of your soldiers. I work in IT for the military, your laptop is not military property so I'm not touching it. Use your big boy Sergeant wage and buy a new one.”

“Listen here ye wee bitch-”

You hung up on him and got on with your day right up until he physically showed up at your office on base. You handled IT for multiple bases, you had not considered that the person you had chewed out would actually work on this one. Oops.

He was a big motherfucker as well. Handsome. Crazy scary dog energy. Definitely not your usual soldier with his lack of uniform (unless jeans and a t-shirt that was so tight he was liable to tear out of it was uniform these days) and out of regulation haircut. You scrambled to try and stand but he was already looming over you in your chair, leaving you no space to do so as he settled his hands on the armrests and leaned over you to get into your face.

“I'll need tae settle for you then hen. Better make it good.”

“Excuse me?”

“The lassie on my laptop begs tae get it up the arse. Is a good girl for a thick cock pounding her tight cunt. Even when she's fucked oot her nut and ruined she still gags around a man down her throat and swallows like a proper bitch.”

You were flooded with fear and arousal. Nobody had ever spoken to you like that and you weren't entirely sure he was joking. He wouldn't actually do anything to you right? He was just being a dick because he wanted his laptop fixed. Just trying to intimidate you.

“And I bet she gets paid a lot more than me MacTavish, back off.”

Oh no. There was a feral gleam in his eye and a rabid grin that showed those sharp incisors. He clearly relished your response.

“Then I'll need to buy ye with, what was it? Right. My big boy Sergeant wage.”

He leaned in close and took a deep breath. Christ he was sniffing your currently greasy and messy hair. You hadn't showered in like 2 days, you were fucking IT, it wasn't like people usually came to physically see you in your little den.

“...I'll fix your fucking laptop oh my God just bring it by.”

“Atta girl” he all but panted into your ear before tugging at the lobe with his teeth and then fully tounging at your ear hole.

The sensation was truly the most awful thing you had ever felt. Your skin crawled and your body shivered uncomfortably as you tried to push him away from you. He chuckled and you choked on your own saliva as he firmly smacked your pussy before pulling away.

“I'll bring it right doon.”

You were left completely gobsmacked in your little office, your body hopped up on adrenaline and your cunt throbbing from the spank it had gotten and from the sick part of your mind that found the whole thing depraved and disgusting but sort of titillating.

When he brought the laptop back he hovered behind you while you worked on it, making you sweat. It was an easy enough fix and you sighed in relief and carefully avoided eye contact when you told him it was fixed.

“Ye’ll check it over, cannae be sending me away with a half done job.”

“You can see that it's working.”

He leant over, arms surrounding you so he could scroll over to open a video file. It was of a woman being railed hard from behind, drooling into the pillow and babbling for more. The wet squelch was disgusting, the man spitting down on her and smacking her already red ass.

“Speakers are fucked.”

You squirmed in your seat.

“I can hear it just fine.”

“Aye? What are ye hearing then?”

You remained silent, eyes fixed on the wall instead of on the screen. At least you were silent until he drew a yelp from you by groping one of your tits.

“Told ye, if ye cannae prove that it's fixed I'll need to settle for you. Bit shorter, softer and dirtier than my lassie mind, so got tae give it yer full effort.”

“I-It's working!”

“Prove it, what ye hearing?”

He made you replicate the whole script from each broken moan to the begging to the degrading. He was only satisfied when the whole video had run its course, by which time he had a hand on either tit, rough with how he groped and tugged.

“See now? Wisnae so hard to follow a Sergeant's orders was it?”

“No” you mumbled, crying out when he gripped your nipples through your shirt and twisted. “No Sergeant!”

He let go then, closing the lid of the laptop and standing with it to leave.

“Got an LT having trouble with his phone, he's naw as friendly as me though so best limit the back chat soldier.”

[thinkerer24]

Mary on a Cross

Young, sweet, inexperienced Johnny x Big, Bad divorced!Simon

Or, They both realise some things about themselves.

@gerdddds !!! This was SO much fun to write (I think you can guess because it started as a blurb but became so long 😭😭)

Also I suck at writing the accents like some people do, so just- imagine them speaking in their respective accents lmao

SMUT 18+

Simon was tired. His eyes felt heavy in his skull and a certain gritty sensation burnt behind his eyelid that no amount of squinting was getting rid of. Normally, Price's commanding voice kept him and his team in order, oriented them in the right direction, but tonight it just felt like grating in his ear. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor of the conference room, the post mission briefing seeming to last longer than the actual mission itself. He checked the clock above Price's head.

9.34 pm.

He couldn't wait to hit the bar just outside the base and drown himself in vodka (yes, he was a vodka guy secretly at heart; don't tell Price).

John signalled the end of the meeting and Simon almost leapt out of his seat to flee the room, attendance signatures be damned. He's a lieutenant for god's sake, not a child, he could-

"Boss! Wait for me!"

Simon is a very patient man, too. At least, he'd like to think so. But he doesn't know why every deity and every spirit was making it very very difficult for him to maintain his cool today. Did he piss someone off? Is this all that karma hitting back at him?

"Yes, McTavish, what do you want?"

The spritely young man jogged to keep up with Simon, who hadn't stopped walking, by the way, and looked a bit too excited for someone who'd just come back from a grueling ten-day mission in the middle of bumfuck Siberia.

"Are you going to Joe's? I can come with, if that's okay? I really really really need to get pissed, I don't think I've ever craved alcohol in my cells before but fucks sake I-"

"Fuck me, Soap, do ye ever stop yapping?"

Johnny just grinned wider, unfazed by his senior's gruff behaviour. "Sorry, LT. Lead the way."

Simon decided he couldn't really shake him off that easy and was too tired to argue otherwise, so he just wordlessly got in his truck. He turned to see Johnny right at his heel, climbing beside him with a jump. Eager pup, Simon mused.

He knows if he were a few years, hell even a decade younger, he'd have shown the youngin a night he wouldn't have forgotten. His sexual prowess was a bit overbearing to old lovers, men and women alike, a fact his ex husband both loved and hated. He was known to last hours in bed; in a relentless pursuit of pleasure and pain, until his partners were breathless and sore. One of his exes was once rushed to the hospital, too, on account of certain, let's say, sex injuries, that had the entire ER blushing under their masks. It was safe to say he wasn't allowed to touch her for an entire month.

Now, sitting in the dim lighting of the bar in a greasy countertop right next to the ancient stereo, he stares at Johnny and maps his features in his brain. He'd never noticed the scar on his top lip that almost disappeared when he smiled, or that he had flecks of green dusted in those blue irises. He's rambling about some video game he's eager to try out, Simon couldn't be arsed really, but he realises that Johnny's brows tick upwards whenever he gets too excited and he makes the funniest face when he's being sarcastic about something the game developers have said.

"You got a bird waitin on you, boy?" Simon interrupts him, taking a long swig of his beer.

He'd never seen a grown man blush such a deep shade of red so quick.

Cute.

"Uh, no LT. Don't reckon I got the time, you know? The missions are just too stressful, and training usually takes up most of my day, ya know? I mean, some of these girls, LT, I wouldn't even know what to say, like, hey, I'm super tired most days because I'm in a super secret special ops force and My team gets sent to highly confidential locations regularly and oh, I could die too but no big deal, see ya soon, keep dinner ready for me? My hand does fine, thank you very much."

He's rambling now, clearly tipsy, and Simon quirks an eyebrow. "Who's talking about a relationship, Johnny? You could pick up literally anyone you want at this joint- shag 'em and leave 'em? Ever heard of no strings attached?"

Johnny ducks his head and Simon realises he's hit a nerve. Unlucky for Soap, Simon relishes in making boys like him squirm.

"I- I don't know how to say this but, eh fuck it, LT-- I haven't really fucked anyone, Like, ever? I know- I know what you're gonna say, boss, but I don't wanna hear it, okay; it just- never happened, yaknow? Fuck, I really do sound like a bumbling virgin but, fuck, LT, I-"

Simon decided to put the kid out of his misery and leaned forward to put his hands between Johnny's legs and grip at the stool he was sitting on. He effortlessly slid him closer and Johnny squeaked in surprise but instantly shut up as Simon bracketed his thighs with his own and placed one large palm on his jeans, frighteningly close to his bulge.

"It's okay, kid. Stop overthinking."

The heat from Simon's palm burnt a hole through his jeans and Johnny felt a bit lightheaded. He raised his hand and slowly traced the gold wedding band on Simon's ring finger. It felt like both a reminder of his experience and a taunt- he belongs to someone else.

"He left me a year ago," Simon says softly, making Johnny shift in his seat. "Wasn't exactly- husband material, you could say."

This was the first time Johnny had ever heard about his lieutenant's private life, and also, maybe, the first time Johnny was silent for so long. He stared into Simon's eyes, eagerly swallowing every word that left his scarred lips.

"I couldn't sleep for months. The Paris job almost killed me, and Parker couldn't take it anymore. He'd begged me to retire, take a desk job, anything. I refused. Said we needed the money. I woke up the next morning with his side of the bed empty and a note that said his lawyers would contact me soon. No goodbye."

Johnny raised his palm and cupped the side of Simon's cheek. He just stared back with an intensity that made something stir low in his belly.

"I want to take you back to my house. Strip you of all your clothes, and lay you in my bed. Dismantle your thoughts until all your pretty brain can think about is me. I want you to go limp in my arms and beg me to stop. Do you want that, kid?"

Johnny could feel himself nodding desperately, mouth agape, before his mind could even catch up to his actions. He swallowed roughly, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Is this really happening?

"W-wait. Simon, Simon."

Simon was half dragging him out of the bar already but he slowed down to look at him. "What, pup? Something wrong?"

Pup. The word made his dick twitch in his pants but Johnny braved through, " Simon, are you sure? Like, absolutely sure?"

Simon scoffed. Poor boy doesn't know what he's getting into.

He tugs him further and leads him into the truck, wordlessly getting into the drivers seat. "I meant what I said. I'll make it good for you, kid, I promise. Is this what you want? Think about it, we've got the whole ride back."

Johnny nods and looks at his side profile as he drives them to his house. He wants this. He's tired of avoiding all physical contact because of the stupid voice in his brain- "you're not smart enough, you're not wanted, no one wants you, no one could want you". He knows Simon can make that go away, he can feel it in his bones. He knows his LT will take care of him. He feels braver than before and inches his fingers slowly over Simon's regulation khakis, almost palming his bulge.

"Behave."

One word, and Johnny freezes. He'd always been the perfect soldier, hanging onto his LTs voice. Not surprising that it would be the same outside the battlefield, too.

They reached the barracks in record time, Johnny almost breaking the seatbelt buckle in his eagerness. They reach Simon's door and Simon leads Johnny into the room. He's been here several times before but now? It feels like he's a newborn fawn stumbling into the world for the first time. He tries to be sexy and turns to look at Simon but he bumps his toe into the center table and curses, before deciding to just, sit his ass on the sofa and let Simon take the lead.

Simon observes the entire thing with a glint in his eyes, desire stirring low in his belly. He closes the gap between them and sits on the floor in between Johnny's open legs. He places both hands on his thighs, leans up close to his face, and he can almost see Soap's neurons short circuit at his proximity.

"You don't have to do this, lad. No hard feelings".

Johnny whines low in his throat and grabs Simon by the nape of his neck. He jerks forward and clumsily presses his lips onto Simon's, and they both groan at how right it feels. Simon lets him lead the pace, explore what feels good and what doesn't. His tongue wearily circles his own and Simon sucks on it gently, making Johnny gasp. His hands run themselves into that goddamn mohawk, scraping at the buzz cut and massaging the scalp there. Johnny all but melts under the watchful care of Simon, and almost forgets what he was actually here for. Well, until Simon used one hand to press into the bulge that's straining against his pants and Johnny gasps.

"Go to the bedroom, kid. Take off your clothes and wait for me, yeah? Can you do that?"

Johnny nods eagerly and all but sprints to the single bedroom, making Simon scoff out a laugh. He enters the bare room and frantically takes off his clothes, but something in the bedside table catches his eye.

A framed photo of Simon and another man, in front of the Sydney Opera House. Both had matching grins, and Simon looked a good ten years younger. They were wrapped in a tight embrace and looking at the camera like nothing else mattered, because it didn't. They had each other and everything would be okay.

"It's been quite some time, John." Simon's quiet voice seemed to echo in the tiny space and Johnny almost jumps. His broad biceps encircle around his waist completely and Simon rests his chin on Johnny's shoulder, inhaling at his neck. "Don't dwell on the past. I know I don't."

John turns around in his grasp and looks at him longingly. "I don't want to make this sappy, Lt, but I think I'm a bit scared".

Simon nods, as if he had already anticipated it. He knows, he always knows. He's his lieutenant, his leader, his friend. He'd know what he's thinking, what he's feeling before he even frames it in his head. Soap knows that, and he would leap from a cliff if it was what Simon wanted, only because he knows Simon would be on the other side to catch him.

"I want you to touch yourself for me. Can you do that? Can you show me how you make yourself feel good?"

Simon lays him down on the bed and kisses him so deeply it makes his breath stop in his chest. His tongue delves into Johnny's mouth as his hands grip his waist, his hips, palming everything he could get his hands on. He pulls away and a string of spit connects their lips. Johnny looks fucked out already and Simon feels his heart thud louder.

Johnny nods along with him, humming low in the back of his throat as he slips a hand over his dick- fuck, it was as hard as a rock already. He rubs the head with his palm as Simon drops his head low to watch his motions. Johnny continues pumping his hips into his closed fist, increasing the pace frantically and panics when he realises he's so, so close already. His precum was making the entire ordeal so sticky, and Simon's intense stare wasn't helping his case.

"Kid, slow down, come on, easy, baby. Yeah, that's it." Simon places his hand over Soap's and guides him into a slower, more languid pace. His head felt syrupy, his stomach cramping already with how hard he's clenched it. He doesn't think he'll last any longer when Simon bends down and licks his tip gingerly.

"Fuck, FUCK Si, I-" he grabs onto Simon's head with both hands and almost smothers him by shoving his entire length into his mouth. Simon doesn't even gag, that fucker, and starts sucking his cock, making it so sloppy, so loud, Johnny doesn't think he'll survive this. The sight is downright obscene- Drool drops down the side of his mouth and his lips form a tight suction as he bobs his head up and down and up and down and up -

"I think I'm comin- fuckfuckfuckfuck,"

Simon pushes him further into his throat just as he climaxes, and Johnny gets tears in his eyes at how well Simon's throat clenches his cockhead. He doesn't know how long he's coming for, but knows that Simon doesn't let up for one second, constantly licking and laving at his dick and working him through the orgasm right into the territory of sweet oversensitivity. He's about to push his head away when one of Simon's thick fingers circle his asshole, and Soap feels like he's ascended.

"Is this where you want me, little pup? Do you want me to stretch you open, fill you till you're leaking with my cum? You wanna cry tonight?"

Soap sobs in agreement, fisting the bedsheet and twisting his torso to escape the pleasure as Simon pops the lid of the lube and generously pours over his taint and shaft. He pumps a finger in cautiously, making Johnny's breath catch lightly, huffing out tiny breaths to regulate himself.

"Breathe, kid. That's it, you're doing so good for me. I'm gonna bend my fingers just so, yeah? Oh- oh, is that the spot? Yeah, baby? Is that your happy spot?"

Simon's fingers hook inside in a way that makes them hit his prostate so deliciously- Johnny screams and bows his entire body up off the bed. Simon has to use his other hand to keep him pinned down and chuckles, starting to pump even harder. His fingers stretch and fill him, making him pant like a dog in heat now. He thinks he's going to come again, but he's not sure that's anatomically possible.

"Si, please, I need you, oh, I need you inside me, I need your cock, pleasepleaseplease Simon, I can't come like this, I-"

"Okay, okay, baby, breathe, breathe, yeah, my good boy wants my cock? Huh? I'll give it to you, I'll give you anything, fuck."

He pours some extra lube over his dick while his other hand continues to fuck into Johnny's tight hole. He caresses his dick slowly, thoroughly coating every inch in the sticky lube and slowly notches himself right up against Soap's asshole.

Feeling the blunt head against himself makes Johnny zero in on the moment; as if everything's faded away and it's just him, and just Simon, and there's nothing in between. They don't need to say anything, don't need more reasons to delay, and Johnny nods once, his eyes tearing up slightly. Simon understands- he bends forward to interlace his hands with Soap's and kisses him so so sweetly as he pushes inside.

The moan that leaves Soap could only be described as pornographic, as he feels every inch, every ridge and every vein breach his virgin hole. He stutters into the kiss, almost babbling as Simon grits his teeth together and powers through the tight embrace.

"Holy shit, kid, you're so tight."

"You're so big, sir".

Simon grips the back of his neck tighter and slightly massages the skin there, making Soap melt and relax a bit further. The last inch was the most difficult, Simon's girth found it almost impossible to make his rim stretch further, the sight of it so perverse it made Simon's mouth water.

"Let me on top, sir. I can take it."

Simon didn't really have the energy or the will to argue and effortlessly switched positions such that Johnny was on top and his dick never even slipped out.

"Go easy, yeah? I don't want you to hurt yourself"

Johnny nods with newfound vigor and plants both his feet on the bed, giving Simon a show for the ages. He takes a deep breath and lets gravity do most of the work as he slams himself down the last inch, right upto the thick base of Simon's god like member.

"Holy fuck, kid. I told you to go easy." He admonishes, but there's no real bite in it.

Soap grins, and oh, there's my boy, Simon thinks, "Sorry Lt. I'll be, fuck, more careful".

He starts a decadent rhythm, making both of them roll their eyes and moan loudly, neighbours be damned. It feels like heaven, like coming home after a long day at work, like the first sip of water after a hangover.

He realises soon enough that bouncing on his cock feels better than the grinding, and this knowledge makes Simon grip onto his hips tighter to help him along. Soap has his head thrown back, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and onto his chest, eyes rolled into his skull. Look so perfect, Simon thinks. My boy.

His pace gets harder and faster and Simon realises he's not going to last longer. "Come for me, Johnny. Paint me with your cum, baby."

His hips stutter as he releases a whorish moan, probably waking up the entire base as he climaxes all over Simon's chest, his belly, heck some even went up to his face. He holds onto Simon's arms that were around his hips and crashes his lips onto his. This sets Simon off as he pumps once, twice, and buries himself deep in his ass and comes hard. They're both shaking and groaning, the kiss sloppy with sweat and spit, and their orgasms melting into each other's.

After a long time, Johnny pulls apart and stares into Simon's eyes. Those big, beautiful eyes that made him feel like home. They were slightly dazed and not all coherent and Johnny just grins.

"Let's do that again, sir."

[ell-does-stuff]

MAKING A BIG OL POST OF EVERYTHING I GOTTA SAY ABOUT THE NEW SPOOKY MONTH BECAUSE HOLY SHITTTT THERES A LOT

‼️‼️SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY‼️‼️

THE THIEVES ARE BACK WOOOOOOOO!! IVE MISSED THEM SM

also eepy lila

while gathering images for this ive noticed that the "pile of dexter" as im calling it is staring at the thieves the whole time they're in the attic (specifically fat thief)

is he somehow still alive???? just possessing a pile of dead doll????????

so cool to see the big ass spider get some actual relevance!! def gonna be important next episode for sure

ROSS'S DAD!!!!!!!!

also jaune is so pretty with her hair down like omggg... love to see her being such a supportive friend to lila as well

"are you throwing away dad's stuff mom?" WAAAAAA MY POOR BABYYY IM GONNA CRYYY

HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN

theyre so me

DEXTERRRRJRJRJRHSHSHDBBDBSB!!+!!!!!(!!

"this cat looks sick im taking it to the vet" BULLSHIT i know what you are. 👁️👁️

DEXTER'S MOM!?!?????!?!?!?!?!!!??? i had no idea she would ever show up like wow i did not expect to see her at all

poor little babies and their lack of parents

ok sorry ik im joking here but MAN this scene made me feel bad 😭😭😭

THE FUCK.

pretty sure this dude is the same guy as the "costume bob" in the last episode??? i felt bad for him last time but here he seems like kind of a pathetic and weird ass man ngl lol

RADFORRRRRRDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!(!!(;+;!;(;;(;??;(;;!!(+!!++!(++!

HES SUCH A GOD DAMN SILLY NERD MAN LIKEEEEE "he even sounds like he does in the movies!!!!!!" BROOOO I LOVE HIMMMMMMMMMM DJJDGWHDHSHFH

he is EXACTLY how i pictured he would be!! my brain is not gonna shut up about him for the next few days i just know it HAHAHAH

also my caramelpopcorn (thats their ship name right?? or was it candycorn??? i forgor lol) heart is completely full, i loved actually seeing him and kevin canonically interact, they are perfect <3

HES IN THE CANDY CLUB OUTFIRTBD RJSHNF EBDJFBSBDJC EJDUFBEBW DKXN SCUEBFNFBRJSJCJCHDB!!!!(!!!!!;+;(;!!(+!!

"im... uh... like an uncle!!" "i just wanna help the children..." BROO??? feeling kinda bad for frank rn, these are like the only kids he genuinely cares about and hes being turned away from em

ik hes a shady guy but STILL

GREGOR LOOKS SO GOOFY DOING THE DANCE JDBDHSHFHD LIKE WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THATTTTT

also i made this gif myself yall better like it

aaaaaaaaaand dexter's mom is dead.

like son like mother i guess 💀

love how ignacio's door has small little boards on it from when they bashed it with a hammer HAHAHHA

also, looking at the inside of ignacio's house, is that john's family on the little table there???

one of the images in the arg gives a better look at this, but i had no idea it was in IGNACIO'S HOUSE of all places. why does he have that??? and right by the gun too.... what is this silly cult man planning......

(the arg image in question if yall were wondering)

"we understand you" "we're here for you dude" "thank you guys, i just wish things weren't so..." HATZGANG FRIENDSHIP WAAAAA!!!!!

also ROY HAS BEEN THROUGH SHIT MY POOR GUYYYY i wanna hug him mannnn 🥺

IMAGE LIMIT IS KILLING ME SO IM GONNA REBLOG THIS WITH MORE SHIT TO SAY BECAUSE I AM NOT DONE MANNN‼️‼️‼️‼️

[rosieveltsworld]

Here is two things that make me cry in malevolent.

In Ep-40 Part-2 (SPOILERS!!)

What made my heart absolute break was not only the part when noel got shot, and when john betrayed Arthur's trust. The part where it broke me was when Yellow was being defeated by John.

I may not like him that much, but I can't help but picture John and Yellow as the Older and Younger sibling. When yellow asks why John was the chosen one, he sounded almost, like a younger brother who was jealous of his older brother. When parents always compare their children towards each other, or just pick favorites, in this scenario, John was the favorite while Yellow was the forgotten one.

Yellow believed that he was the true king because he believed he was way more stronger than John and Arthur. But when John immediately just shuts Yellow down by saying he was weak,...that part was what broke me. Because Yellow actually sounded, confused, and jealous...why? Why was John the favorite? What does John have, that he Yellow himself doesn't have. That's almost a similar way when the younger sibling asks their parents what their older sibling has that they don't have.

In Ep-43 (SPOILERS!!!)

This ep was truly just...John Forward, it revealed so much of what John is like, what he was like when arthur wasn't there. Sure some of the part of what he says, is horrible but he ADMITS it. Before he would always try to deny the fact that he...he misses a little bit of being the king. But his other half, his partner, the one who was always there for him, and always forgave him, Arthur was John's Light. He was his hope, his purpose, his.. Soulmate.

It doesn't matter what anyone says, Arthur and John were always Bound To Be Together in every reality, in every universe, like John and Martin. No matter how anyone sees it, Whether it's Platonic Soulmates or Romantic Soulmates, they are...Soulmates.

"My Love for Arthur" like what do you mean?????😭😭. He literally just confessed his love and care for Arthur, that he truly actually CARED about him. It's fine if you guys don't ship it, but you can't deny the feelings that John has for Arthur. Even the amount of times the Two always bicker and fight, and constantly blame each other for everything, they know, they know that they'll always forgive each other, and that they'll always stay with each other no matter what happens. The faiths choose them as a Pair, "The God and The Monster", that's what I've been calling their trope. Arthur is a man who has made mistakes, he has killed many, some were accidents while others...we're because he hit Bedrock. He became a Monster, But because it was to help people, to help those around him to try and mend his mistakes. He became a Monster out of Guilt, Anger, Sadness, to help others, not because he was a Monster, no no.

That was the damn motherfucker bitch old ass wrinkly old ass bitch fucking Larson😒.

Anyway but yeah that's it, I just wanted to rant all this, mainly for my poor broken heart, and Harlan.

You better leave your doors and windows unlocked because you BETTER PAY FOR MY FREAKING THERAPY.

[soularsss]

some heavy spoilers for thunderbolts under the cut

John saying on your left before smashing the power box was so stupid i love him 😭

When he shielded bucky in the sentry fight </3 my boys UGH

SENTRY!! THE VOID!! he was so fucking good oh my god. I really enjoyed the talk of him having delusions of grandeur and that sorta flowing into how fast he detached himself from Val, like it made it really believable that he’d go over the edge like that so fast!

I loved his lines as sentry they were just soooo well chosen. I can’t remember quotes directly but there was the whole part where he was like “why would i need to kill them, they’re no threat to me” ME. I fucking loved that LMFAO Even if they were a threat to the public, Val realllly didn’t put any thought into making him care about the public

Also his logic about being a god because there’s a god in the avengers was so funny to me.. like yes king.. im following your logic and you are SO right

The way they showcased his powers reminded me somewhat of Omniman (the flight aspect at least) But I thought that entire fight scene was so fucking cool i LOVE me an egregiously powerful goober!!! When he pinned Yelena to the roof, dropped her AND caught her all in quick succession.. man that was cool.

I’m curious to see the extent of what HE can do, outside of the void stuff! The void was super super cool too

over all i think they did a really good job making him really FEEL as powerful as they made him

i THOROUGHLY enjoyed the movie, I would have loved to see everyone’s Void Rooms to be honest, i think that’s the only real complaint i have? I loved having Yelena as the star but I would have also really liked to see the others overcome their own problems a little more?

there was no real mention of their struggles except when they were bickering with each other

Like Walker didn’t get to process tfatws much (if at all), we didn’t get anything from ghost, and nothing from THE WINTER SOLDIER? I know the movie was relatively long and they probably felt it would be too heavy but i really adore all of the thunderbolts so obviously i want them all to get the opportunity to come to terms with what they’ve been through? I know the general beat was they can lean on eachother and that was the takeaway and in that aspect i think they did really really well!

some rough ramblings about walker, they might not make total sense because i am yapping into the void and not proofreading but hopefully u get what i mean:

I can’t lie i adore Walkers story so much mainly because it’s just such a realistic rabbit hole of events and he may be an ass but I found his entire storyline so far to be really compelling. He just feels so real and raw and like that really could be what happened to a person put in that situation :(

I think he’s going through a serial case of big strong military man can’t talk about or process what he’s feeling because HELLO the complete denial about his family leaving him

I had a feeling she was going to i can’t lie.. John is so damn focused on himself and consumed by trying to come to terms with who he is, it’s certainly a shame because i feel like one of the only tethers he had to his sense of who he should be, was his wife?

he denies that outwardly by putting up that big asshole facade and acts as though he is sure of himself, i think he also is still trying to act as the person he thinks the others are expecting him to be

i think it happened very passively in the background of watching Yelena progress as the protagonist but John was definitely improving throughout the movie, easing into a more team oriented position? He has years of experience working in a team so I think it was probably somewhat like relaxing back into himself, or at least the version of himself before his major mental health crisis in tfatws

im super happy to know he’s returning in doomsday! With such a massive cast again im not going to hold out for much individual character progression LOL

aaanyways.. Walker is an asshole in this movie (especially to Bob! the poor guy LOL) but i can’t help it.. he’s so compelling

i really enjoyed getting to see the light shine through his walkerness occasionally:) The fruit scene is the obvious example! But i think there were quite a few moments where he was very subtle but keeping an eye out for his buddies, he’d never point it out though.. god no.. far be it for mr big tough guy to help his friends!!

one thing from the trailers i was HOPING to see and didn’t, was the fight in the vault between him and the swat guys 😔😔 That’s just me being a Walker enjoyer and wanting to watch him kick some ass though. It was fun seeing him in action against the other thunderbolts! To be honest i just enjoy watching the super soldiers do super soldier things LMFAO it’s really a non issue

P.S Bob PLEASE unbend the taco shield

WHY IS IT STILL BENT IN THE END CREDITS SCEEEENEEE

P.S P.S i can’t believe he actually called it a taco in the movie 😭 I (and other people im sure) have been calling it that since seeing it in the trailers, so when he said it in the movie i fucking died

[quinngefail]

idk if you've already posted abt this before but im really curious on ur general thoughts and feelings abt hoffman :3 he's my favorite character literally ever so im very curious

- 🍩

YEAA Okay so like I do think he's funny as hell in his entire presence and the way he carries himself. He's truly god's most suspicious man who just walks his thick ass around, saying and doing only the most incriminating shit to + around law enforcement. The same man will tie himself up, gag himself with that fuck ass red cloth, and have his fat tits out with a sweat-and-blood-coated body and all. I also think he, Strahm, and Perez all have a very fun dynamic with one another, both in fanon and canon :) And I do think his whole setup is interesting, with being a copycat Jigsaw to cover up a murder and avenge his sister and all. He and Amanda beefing with each other is funny as fuck too, also I also just love him being John's mf Disappointment Child HRKSKGKG. And I desperately need to study him in a damn lab for saying shit like "epic bad luck" like 😩😩😩

BUT...... Where I regularly just go and think and think and think and think and think about characters like Adam and Lawrence, I just don't have the same brainrot for Hoffman at all :( idk. I just feel very neutral on him as a whole, where I don't necessarily love or hate him. He just kinda exists to me, and I haven't been able to get myself to get further invested in him 😭

At this point I have only seen 4-6 once, so maybe rewatches would spark some more interest- but right now, I'm just kinda eh on him, y’knowww

[flo-zoinks]

Headcanons for if anyone sat by them at the campfire and just started pulling strands of their hair out…😈

Chlo boo u high-key a freak but I fw it💀❤ I was laughing for a solid minute when I read this oh my goodness😭😭

WHAT I IMAGINE WOULD HAPPEN IF U SAT AT A CAMPFIRE AND STARTED PULLING OUT CHUNKS OF EADH RDR2 GANG MEMBERS HAIR.. (MY OPINION)

(Again as reactions differ greatly between people we are assuming here it's someone similar to John in terms of age gender and likeness around camp)

Arthur - exclaim like "what the hell are yu doing?!" Then leave camp for like a week until hes not mad

Hosea - lean back away from you and tell you off for being such a weird idiot, then just go back to whatever he was doing unfazed

Sadie - literally pounce on ur ass until someone like Arthur pulls you too apart, but she swears its not over and now you sleep scared

Dutch - push you off whatever your sitting on and tell you to leave camp until you get your head straight, then immediately go to the nearest mirror to fix himself

Molly - slap your hand away and look really offended, tell Dutch, then adjust her routine to be furthest from you in camp from now on in anxiety

Sean - be really confused, but try and laugh it off that you want to take his gorgeous looks out of jealousy

Lenny - probably would think it's a bit racially motivated so shove you and tell you that its not okay to do that then leave for the night to talk to Sean or Hosea

Abigail - slap ur face and ask what the hell you think you're doing, and make sure Jack stays away from you

John - give you a confused look and tell you smth like "what's wrong with you man" then leave

Javier - start shouting his ass off at you in spanish for ruining his fine looks and punch u to the ground. He dont freak w someone messing up his vanity

Jack - cry and tell Abigail who then slaps you for being a fool and 'nags' John to do something about it until he eventually tells you you're weird for that but stop because Abigail is annoying him

Mary-beth - move away and stare at you for a solid 10 seconds before saying "what the- please don't do that" then leave. Miss Grimshaw wouldn't let that slide though, and Tilly and Karen would give you evils for a good while

Tilly - exclaim (near shouting) "go away _ that's not normal!". Same as Mary-Beth past that w Grimshaw and Karen

Karen - shove you or punch you real hard, then go for a beer to calm down. Tilly would give you evils for a while. Karen would probably shout at you drunk hours after

Kieran - IM NOT AN O'DRISCOLL STOP IT!!!! Javier, Sean, Kieran and Bill probably jeered you on and patted you on the back after

Pearson - hair? Chunks of it? Be fr now

Charles - "stop that."

Trelawny - try and scare you with a magic trick pulling out some animal really close, then whilst your distracted from pulling his damn hair out he slaps your head and ridicules you

Strauss - (had to look up if he had hair lol) stand up offended and tell you off for your improper behaviour then leave to go work

Micah - firstly that hair would be greasy ass but if you chose to continue he'd try scare you to stop suddenly then talk for a good 5 minutes that you like all people are out to get him as hes a rare winner in a world of losers. If you were any minority he'd call you a slur too and blame ur identity. If you were a woman though he'd probably be into it

Grimshaw - tell you off for a good minute and say you've ruined her night as she goes to bed steaming. The girls would later get really mad at you for putting her in a bad mood

Reverend - insist you are hurting a kind priest, but whilst drunk ask you why you hate him then vent that so does God

Bill - beard hair right....? Grab your hand and pull you UNCOMFORTABLY close to warn you, then shove you away angrily saying you got lucky this time loser

Uncle - same w the beard hair right?? Yell out at you the most ABSURD CRUEL insults then tell you that you can pull chunks of his ass hair to. Hopefully you leave before he flashes you.

Thanks for asking me omg💀💀!! Tell me who I forgot yall xx