#like i think it is actually fucking over for me. i think i am going to end it. (not my life but something fundamentally important to it 😻👎💔

[rawme-price]

Price who is constantly talking abt his beloved "wifey" and "the missus" but never actually let's anyone meet the special gal, right?

Like, he appears totally lovestruck to the normal observer, constantly bringing up his wife in conversation with a dopey grin. He wears his wedding band obsessively when not on ops, fiddles with it while he smokes. The guys are desperate to meet her, but know better than to push the subject.

This does not, however, stop them from snooping. Gaz hears muffled voices from prices office and a very distinct groan that has his cheeks heating for a moment. Still, if theres a chance to meet this wife he *will* linger even if he has to hear what price sounds like when making out (hot). But, the more gaz listens, the more concerned he becomes. He swears he can hear price and another masculine voice, one that actually sounds alot like you.

You, as in the very much married civilian contractor that works alongside with 141. Suddenly gazs little stakeout becomes serious. Its bad enough price is cheating on his wife, but with someone he has authority over? Its enough for gaz to lose respect for the man.

Gaz sees u walk out of prices room, casually adjusting the sleeves of ur button up. He doesnt confront you, but he does confide in soap abt it. And if soap knows then ghost knows, and suddenly ur favourite soldiers are being assholes to you? They only talk to you when completely necessary, and only the bare minimum. Never smiling or joking like before.

Price gets a similar treatment, though the thin veil of respect stays up. It gets to a point where u ask the captain wtf is wrong with them that he decides this needs to be a meeting. So he calls them all together, expects to chew them out a bit, and is completely baffled when they call scold him instead.

They go on and on abt how disrespectful and manipulative it is to be fucking the secretary when hes got a wife at home, and suddenly its *you* bursting out laughing. "Oh my god! That's what all this is about?" Ghost seems about ready to fight you, so you explain. "I am his wife! Well, Husband. But John calls me wifey as a little inside joke."

Suddenly the guys cant meet ur eyes, mumbling embarrassed apologies under prices glare while u just smile, happy they stood up for u even if they were thinking of prices wife lol.

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋’𝐒 ! ❞

　stalking your social’s is literally their hobby ! pt. 1

ft. various characters , insensitive jokes , for all girlies !

❤️ 2.5mio. 💬 173.9k. ⌲ 882.7k.

official.worldnews ❗️model and actress [name] [lastname] sighted with an unknown man❗️

ryuassei.only THAT SHOULD BE ME, HOLDING YOUR HAND. THAT SHOULD BE ME, MAKING YOU LAUGH. THAT SHOULD BE ME, TH

　⤷ ultrasadist_hio this definitely counts as harassment right???

　　⤷ rinnie_poo yes, now report him.

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi get him banned already, i’m tired of spam reporting

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 II secnd whaz isagi sayd

　　⤷ ryuassei.only of fucking course he got his bf name right 😹😹

　　⤷ theonlymikageheir the gays

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi we know damn well u ain’t the one talking rn 🤐

　⤷ rizzninja0010 stop being a harassment to my girlfriend

　　⤷ cawcawssassin get this grandpa into the white room again, I think he’s in for another hour…

　⤷ rinnie_poo mf got his phone taken by ego, the world is healing.

bunnythebunny oh? we got caught already? but nevermind, let the world know we’re one, corazón ❤️

　⤷ itoshisae.official since when are poor people allowed to be delusional?

　　 ⤷ bunnythebunny oh I didn’t know mr. “I am going to be the best striker” is aware of the meaning behind delusional

　⤷ userrando6969 just because my phone got taken away doesn’t mean ur fugly ahh gets to steal my wife 😂

　⤷ nessfetchthis I’m so done with delusional people

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi omfg AIN’T NO WAY YOU JUST WROTE THAT

ichigostwin y’all what are the chances that I will be that guy in the future?

　⤷ ryuassei.only ZERO JS LIKE UR DREAM TO BE SOME GOOFY AHH HERO

　⤷ theredpanther dare I say, chances are higher than shidou’s?

　　⤷ u20oliverawr ofc princess, if it’s you saying that 😏

　　⤷ u20oliverawr can I slide into dm’s like this?

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi no offense but what are even the chances you’ll meet her��

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 not zerow

　　⤷ theredpanther you ALMOST got it 😔

　　⤷ ichigostwin I’ve been waiting for too long for Bachira to write ONE sentence properly

　　⤷ ultrasadist_hio why we blaming bachira’s autocorrection?

　　⤷ ryuassei.only delusional final boss

userrando1083 i’m scared of that pedo in the comment sections

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi you’re so right, gay AND pedo

　　⤷ ifuragirlhmu who are we talking about

　　⤷ userrando3928 blud is SO desperate — y’all please look at this username

　　⤷ userrando0283 AHAHAHAHAH WTF

　　⤷ ifuragirlhmu you’re laughing but it actually worked

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi desperate x desperate

userrando2048 PLEASE ONE CHANCE.

　⤷ ryuassei.only gtfo 🥀

view all 173.9k comments.

❤️ 2.1mio. 💬 99.3k. ⌲ 121.8k.

mrs.worldwide thank you for taking the picture @itoshisae.official 🫶

ryuassei.only ofc my glorious king took this divine picture ❤️ ugh let’s have a threesome right now. you two must be the most glorious, elegant, intelligent, charming, kind, thoughtful, strong, courageous, creative, brilliant, gentle, humble, generous, passionate, wise, funny, loyal, dependable, graceful, radiant, calm, confident, warm, compassionate, witty, adventurous, respectful more.

　⤷ theonlymikageheir you reek of gayness

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi for once, i’m shutting my mouth and silently agree.

　⤷ rinnie_poo god can’t someone just ban him already? just seeing him makes me feel harassed

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 reprt scamming doeznt word 💔💔

　　⤷ ultrasadist_hio translation: report spamming doesn’t work!

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi thanks I think I srsly needed this translation for once

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 u think I haven’t tried already? tried my best 💔

　　⤷ cawcawssassin seems like your best wasn’t enough

itoshisae.official of course. I’m glad you liked the pictures I took of you.

　⤷ mrs.worldwide when’s the next date? 🤭

　　⤷ itoshisae.official whenever you want.

　⤷ ryuassei.only pictureS??? THERE ARE MORE? pls send them over, senpai 👉👈

　⤷ ultrasadist_hio oh? what if I just hack into your phone…

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 arn’t wee goof frIENDS??? PLZ I ALSI WANT EM

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi bachira is right… aren’t we good friends, hiori? ☺️

　　⤷ cawcawssassin remember who was always wise towards you and always gave you the nest answers to your mind breaking questions ❤️

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 remember the pen I lend you when we had an exam?

　　⤷ cawcawssassin boy stfu we didn’t attend the same school

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 you HATE me, don’t yoi?

　　⤷ cawcawssassin you* and yes, I do cheating manwhore

bunnythebunny is this considered as cheating? this surely wounds me like one… you should invite me too next time

　⤷ itoshisae.official fuck no

　⤷ mrs.worldwide oh I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings ☹️ I will make sure to invite you too next time!

　　⤷ itoshisae.official please just don’t.

　　⤷ cawcawssassin are my eyes deceiving me or is THE itoshi sae saying please?

　　⤷ ryuassei.only DADDY LONG LASHES CAUGHT SAYING PLEASE BUT NOT IN BED?

userrando4939 ❗️Petition to ban Shidou Ryusei from Instagram❗️Here is the link: https://www.signhere.com/official

　⤷ theonlymikageheir this isn’t fast enough, I’m ready to pay to ban him.

　　⤷ rinnie_poo hurry up

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi what are you waiting for?

　　⤷ sharkdududu plz do !!!!

　⤷ ryuassei.only I will fucking remember all 19.357 users who signed.

　　⤷ userrando6458 19.358 now

　　⤷ userrando2938 make it 19.359

　　⤷ userrando1048 19.360

　　⤷ ultrasadist_hio 19.361 lol

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 19.370

　　⤷ ryuassei.only schizo dude can’t even get the number right 💔

　　⤷ ichigostwin no bachira’s right if you checked the numbers. he used his nine accounts. and make it 19.371

view all 99.3k comments.

❤️ 3.2mio. 💬 288.4k. ⌲ 428k.

mrs.worldwide thanks for keeping me company today @bunnythebunny 🫶 and sorry for calling you so late at night, I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother 😅☹️

ryuassei.only now THIS is cheating wife but I can’t find myself to leave you 🥀 our seven kids and papi sae needs you so of course you’re forgiven 😣😣

　⤷ theonlymikageheir say bye to insta

　⤷ rinnie_poo gtfo creep

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi hide or run, it’s that weirdo again

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 for once, I’m giving you right

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi oh god fuck off

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 ho is u breaking mah heart AND stomping on it? 💔💔💔

　　⤷ cawcawssassin that’s how I know I raised them right ❤️❤️

　⤷ ultrasadist_hio alexa play shut up by ariana grande

　⤷ ryuassei.only mf YOU ALL HAVE A SERIOUS PROBLEM WITH JEALOUSY UGH. OR IS IT ENVY??? Y’ALL ENVY IS A SIN BTW

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 plz stfxu

　　⤷ ryuassei.only not the schizo dude again 💀💀 I’m not claiming this energy 🙏

bunnythebunny of course :) I’d keep you company any time, just give me a call

　⤷ mrs.worldwide I hope I’m forgiven for last time! 😣

　　⤷ bunnythebunny you’re always forgiven, don’t worry your pretty little head about it

　　⤷ ryuassei.only I’m puking

　　⤷ bunnythebunny good.

　　⤷ ryuassei.only oh wait nvm lemme post an edit where I’m smiling all the time

　⤷ rinnie_poo god I hate people like you

　　⤷ bunnythebunny I didn’t doubt this for a second, just like your big bro

　⤷ userrando2047 OMFG ARE MY TWO FAV CELEBRITIES DATING???

　⤷ userrando5948 ARE YOU DATING??

　⤷ userrando3958 OH EM GEEE!!!

userrando9374 y’all should stay loyal to sae x [name] wtf??? what’s wrong with you

　⤷ userrando0448 YUH ALL THE WAY? SAE X [name] SHIPPER TILL THE DAY I DIE

　⤷ userrando3048 UGH YES I WAS WONDERING WHY EVERYONE WAS SWITCHING ALL OF A SUDDEN?

　⤷ userrando9374 I’m in enemy’s territory

　　⤷ userrando4048 then gtfo?

　⤷ userrando8474 I FOUND MY PEOPLE ❤️

　⤷ userrando1000 UGH YESSSS SPEAK THE TRUTH GNG WALK THE WALK TALK THE TALK

　⤷ ryuassei.only sae x [name] x ryusei hehe 😛

official.worldnews ❗️BUNNY AND [name] ARE DATING❗️

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi oh god before we get shidou banned, what about this acc

　⤷ theonlymikageheir not those stalker again 🥀 worse than shidou himself

　　⤷ ryuassei.only heck yeah

　⤷ ultrasadist_hio I will just burn them all down…

　　⤷ cawcawssassin his dark side came out y’all… take cover and all

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 it’s giving “now there's a devil on my shoulder where the angels used to be and he’s calling me the queen.” ahh

michahhel.kaiser alright, is this how it is?

　⤷ nessfetchthis no michael!! they’re just friends so don’t worry :))

　　⤷ theredpanther “just friends” proceeds to hang out at midnight with those couple ahh pictures? be SO for real???

　　⤷ nikoniko_nii not even he himself can believe what he just said lol

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi alright who invited THIS mf? crawl back into the corner you came from ugh

view all 288.4k comments.

© kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

[iamactuallysocute]

hi its the anon who commented on the freakyness of Romance,,,, I also forgot to ask like, Does Romance ever like.... mention he saw reader bum ass naked because he stole her from the shower. It would be geniunely so funny if the others didnt know and upon learning they were like, a very dissapointed sounding "bro..."

I ALSO have to ask; Does Romance keep the fact he got a undershot view of reader in a thong to himself or like Does he brag about it to the other boys afterwards...? Like in a taunting way he's flaunting he got to see that and the others have to imagine what he saw. Romance seems like the type to brag about it.

Also ALSO I think it's hilarious reader just doesnt give a fuck to care and literally steps over him. Icon behavior i would be down bad too, the fuck.

ALso ALSO ALSO on the huntrix girls I am obviously biased on the matter but ultimately i encourage you to write them how you prefer!!! You think im gonna complain about my meal you have so deliciously cooked....??? No..... im gonna ENJOY IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GONNA SAVOR IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! RAHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! RAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ANYWAYS YEAH HAVE A GOOD DAY <3 <3 <3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He bragged, and the others simply do not give a FUCK about his bullshit anymore😭😭 I mean they believe him—but don’t really gaf. I think sometimes he talks and they don’t even pay a fucking mind to him because they know he’s not going to say anything smart.

You have a good day too queen and y’all have definitely convinced me on the HUNTR/X matter soooo… yeah, don’t expect anything to actually happen between them and reader tho. Just painful little crushes and the defeat of literal demons getting the girl and not the three hunters who liked her from the start :P

[thelawfulchaotic]

On minors & discomfort & the internet

I don't think I've ever had to make a policy on this before, because 1) I'm not evil and I know pretty much anything I do is going to be aboveboard (and I can control that!), 2) I know the law regarding minors/juveniles better than the vast majority of the American humans, and 3) I believe that healthy communication and interaction between adults and minors in hobby spaces is a good thing.

I'm pretty sure that the post regarding minors and legal representation, though, has made me feel like a Safe Person, and I have no doubt that some of my (insane numbers of!!) new followers are underage in their jurisdiction.

First of all: you can stay. I know I couldn't stop you, but I want you to know that you are actually welcome.

Second: I do post about difficult topics. Quite a lot! However, I think kind and compassionate takes on difficult topics are far from the worst thing that children and teenagers can be exposed to on the Internet. I believe you have the growing ability to decide for yourself how you want to experience the world, and if what I say makes you uncomfortable or sad, take care of yourself. Speak to someone about it.

Third: Just because I look and act safe does not mean I'm safe. No one is safe on the Internet because you do not know them. Any time anyone asks you to do things you are uncomfortable with, whether it's a stranger online asking about fanfic or a "friend" coming on to you in an unwelcome way, your discomfort is telling you something. If it feels wrong, it's wrong. Full stop. You do not need reasons or a factual basis or anything -- this is why people say things like "No is a complete sentence." IMO, "fuck off" is an even fuller sentence.

This is, of course, more complicated than I'm summarizing here. There are good types of discomfort that are about moving you out of your literal comfort zone and learning new things about your capabilities and strengths. But if an adult is pestering you about something you don't want to do, asks yourself how that adult benefits from it. Why do they want it. Is there a genuine reason that makes sense and feels true? Does it empower you? Or does it make you feel gross? People who are trustworthy don't put you in positions where you have to just trust them.

What I'm saying is: be safe out there.

A philosophy of being kind and compassionate is all well and good from me; I'm in a position of power. I am an adult and a lawyer, in a respected profession in the community, who interacts with real power on a daily basis. You should be safe first, and kindness should not put you in a position where you're unsafe.

Last lesson: The number one thing that predators look for is kindness, especially in someone who has less power than them. That's the secret, folks. It's just kindness. When they make a fuss over their own feelings and blame those feelings on their target, is the target kind enough to take responsibility and go out of their way to soothe them? Then they have their "in." Soon, everything they feel and do will be their target's fault, and their target will believe it too, because the target will blame themselves for not being kind enough. Not being good enough.

That's probably a whole other post, though.

[kayotical]

Heyyyy so um...is it cool if I request a short Bucky Barnes x reader (nb or afab is cool!) fic where he shows up at the reader's house with injuries and gets patched up and there's ~tension~ but nothing really happens cause they're ~friends~ but, ya know...the ~pining~

Thank you for your time and consideration!! <333

Thank you so so soooo much for this request! I absolutely loved writing this one! I hope you enjoy it!🫶 @eeveedream

Oh, You Have Got To Be Kidding Me

Pairing: injured!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky allows himself to be talked into trying one of Alexei's crazy hobbies, and he calls upon you to help put him back together in the aftermath.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Mild mentions of blood/injuries, mild mentions of violence, mostly fluff and angst

Bucky panted hard as he leaned up against a nearby building.  He knew he shouldn’t have joined in on Alexei’s underground fighting hobby, but he was single, bored, and needed somewhere to burn energy. Beating the shit out of on-the-run criminals seemed like a good place to exert his energy. 

At least…at the time it did. 

“Winter Soldier! You honor your ancestors with your fighting! I could not be prouder, comrad!” Alexei’s booming voice echoed down the empty street. 

Bucky winced at the volume, “Thanks…I think.” He said timidly, nursing his right arm as he pushed off the wall. 

“Where you going? Tower is this way!” Alexei exclaimed as he pointed towards the direction of the New Avengers’ tower. 

“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Alexei!” Was all Bucky provided as he walked off into the streets of NYC. 

He pulled his phone from his jean pocket with mild discomfort and dialed your number, praying to God you were still awake. It was 1:32AM on a Thursday, and he couldn’t exactly walk into a hospital sporting some significant flesh wounds that were dealt by an alleged skinhead. He was supposed to be a New Avenger afterall. 

“Bucky?” Your voice sounded over the phone, groggy and hoarse. He found himself smiling softly at the sound, his heart rate picking up a beat as you spoke. 

“Hey, did I wake you up?” Bucky asked gently. 

You laughed over the phone, “Of course you did. It’s almost 2AM, normal people are usually asleep at this hour, Buck.” 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Y/N, but I could really use a favor right now.” Bucky said, hissing in pain slightly as he moved in the direction of your apartment. 

“Are you…oh, Buck. Don’t tell me you actually went with Alexei tonight?” You scolded lightly over the phone, eliciting a weary chuckled from Bucky. 

He had told you about how Alexei was constantly trying to get him to come to his fighting ring. He tried to persuade Bucky by telling him it was usually wanted criminals who signed up so he’d be “Doing the city a service!” But you always talked Bucky out of going, so the fact he actually went tonight was a genuine shock to you. 

“Yeah, I know. I fucked up. But lucky for me one of my greatest friends in all of NYC just so happens to be an RN.” He said. You could just tell he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face just by the tone of his voice. 

“You’re lucky I tolerate you, Barnes. Just get here in one piece. Preferably alive.” You said to him, scolding him like a toddler. 

“You’re right, I am lucky! I’ll be there in 5.” He said before hanging up the phone. 

Bucky stuffed his phone back in his pocket, a wide smile on his face, and sped up as he walked to your apartment. 

***

The line went dead on your end and you rolled your eyes. 

“This fucking guy…” You chided, tossing your phone on your bed and exited your bedroom. 

You walked down the hallway leading towards your bathroom and flipped the light on. Opening the closet door, you took inventory of all your (stolen) medical equipment before reaching to grab some gauze, a couple stitch kits, butterfly bandages, some surgical gloves, and a bottle of antiseptic. It was times like these that you didn’t feel quite as guilty for lifting medical supplies from the hospital you worked at. Clearly the shit came in handy. 

You exited your bathroom and made your way to the kitchen table, setting up the supplies accordingly. You found your spotlight that you normally used for stitching practice and placed it beside the table. You had a feeling your practice was going to be put to good use when Bucky arrived. 

A soft knocking came from the door of your apartment, and when you opened it, you let out a shocked gasp. 

“Jesus Christ, Buck! Did you even try to fight back?” You asked him as he entered your apartment. 

“I’m fairly certain I broke both his legs if it makes you feel any better.” Bucky tried an anecdote, but received an eye roll instead. 

“No, it really doesn’t.” You supplied, turning away from him to put gloves on. 

He had a gash across his right cheek bone that would definitely need stitches, and what looked to be a bloodied area around his chest. 

“I need you to take your shirt off so I can assess the rest of your wounds.” You told him. 

“You just wanna see me without a shirt on, Y/N. No need to create excuses for it.” Bucky teased you, but the amusement left his face as he tried to remove his jacket. 

“You’re an idiot.” You retorted. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?” You asked him. 

“I think I dislocated it.” He hissed out, finally managing to peel himself out of his jacket. 

“You have a cyber-kinetic arm, and you let some random shmuck dislocate the only real shoulder you have?” You asked him, a look of incredulity etched across your face. 

“Well, I didn’t want to kill him, Y/N. I had to make it look like a fair fight.” He flashed a sarcastic smile at you and you almost slapped it clean off his face. 

‘Wouldn’t have had to make it fair if you just listened to me in the first place!’ You thought to yourself. 

He was left in only his bloodied t-shirt now. It clung onto his skin, kissed with blood and his own sweat. It took everything within you to not keep staring at him. So to distract yourself, you launched into assessing his shoulder, and when you noticed the disconnect of his joints and bone, you grabbed his arm and held it out straight. 

“Okay, on the count of three, I’m going to pop this bitch back in there, okay?” You said, positioning yourself to get ready to twist his arm back in with all your might. “Try not to scream too much, you’ll wake my neighbors.” You teased him this time. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” He said, though, no amusement was present in his voice. 

“Okay, ready? One-“ 

*SNAP!*

You twisted his arm right back into his socket and Bucky doubled over immediately. He was biting his tongue- hard- but surprisingly didn’t scream out in pain. 

“What the fuck happened to ‘two’ and ‘three’?” He asked weakly, clutching his shoulder in agony. 

“You’ll get over it, baby girl. Now get up, I need to cut your shirt off of you so I can patch you up.” You told him. 

This time he didn’t make any jokes. He sat down at the kitchen table and let you cut open his shirt with a pair of old kitchen scissors. Once it was fully removed, you noticed deep purple bruising along his back side. Without even thinking, you ran the tips of your gloved fingers down the length of them, not even noticing when goosebumps began to raise on Bucky’s arms and a shiver went running down his spine. 

“Are you sewing me up or admiring my opponents artwork?” He asked, his voice suddenly dry. 

“Ass.” You muttered under your breath, but returned to the table nonetheless and began to douse his cuts in antiseptic. 

He winced in pain again, but held as still as possible for you as you cleaned his cuts. His eyes followed you as you worked, not focusing on your hands however, but on your face. He was watching your reactions, and you’d bet your kidney on the fucking black market that he knew how frustrated you were with him right now. 

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Y/N.” He apologized, the words soft as they landed. 

You dropped your hands from the wound on his cheek and looked him in the eyes. Really looked him in the eyes. You could see his regret and conflicted emotions clashing with each other in his eyes. 

You sighed heavily, “Bucky, I know these last few years have been hard on you. I’ve been there through them all, so I know what you’ve been going through. With Steve. Now Sam. This feeling like you have this empty, gaping hole inside you that needs to be filled. But trying to get yourself killed in an underground fighting ring won’t fill that hole. If anything, it’ll just make it bigger.” You brought your hand to his face, the pad of your thumb gently stroking the cheek that didn’t have a gash etched across it. “I just wish you’d allow that hole to be filled properly. I know you’re scared, everyone is scared sometimes. But facing those fears head on and allowing yourself to be scared at the same time is how people progress through life for the better.” He was smiling softly at you now. “It’s okay to be scared, Bucky. It is not okay to let fear run your life.” You finished, staring at him for just a moment longer before dropping your hand completely from his face. 

You turned around to open a stitch kit when Bucky finally responded. 

“You should’ve been a shrink.” He teased lightly. 

You spun around and smacked his chest, not caring that he was already injured. “You take that back!” You raised your hand again as if to hit him once more. 

He raised his vibranium arm up in surrender, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hit me!” 

You lowered your hand again and brought your focus back to the kit. 

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m not really good at the whole…talk about my feelings thing. I needed to hear that, so thank you.” He said to you. 

You turned your head and gave him a soft smile and a nod. You approached Bucky and turned on the spotlight, angling it at his chest. “I don’t have any local anesthetic, so you’re going to feel all of this. Sorry in advance.” You said before beginning the stitches on his chest gash. 

Bucky grunted in pain as you stitched him up, neither one of you speaking. He was too overcome with the horrific sensation of having his skin pulled and tugged to even think of words to say. Meanwhile, you were far too focused on making sure the skin lined up with each stitch you made as to leave minimal scarring on Bucky’s skin.

Finishing up on his chest, you applied butterfly bandages for extra measure before moving on the gash on his cheek. You had to get a lot closer to him, close enough that you could feel his warm breath against the skin of your neck. It sent a shiver down your spine and you fought hard to not allow a blush to form on your cheeks. Your eyes flickered to his and found he was already watching you, his eyes narrowed from pain. You gave him a faint smile before continuing on with the stitches on his cheek. With the final knot, you pulled away abruptly, and you could’ve sworn you heard Bucky snicker as the sudden movement. 

He stood up from his seat and made his way down the hall and into the bathroom. “Nice work!” He shouted out to you.  

You rolled your eyes once again, “You sound so surprised.”

“Absolutely not, I knew you’d do a fantastic job.” He shot you a genuine smile, “Why do you think I woke you up in the dead of night to patch me up?” He winked at you. 

“Because the PR nightmare of a New Avenger getting his ass handed to him in an illegal fighting ring wouldn’t have been good for your image.” You replied flatly. 

Bucky walked around to the table and picked up his jacket, tossing it over his good shoulder. “Yes, there’s that. But, you’re the only one I trust to do the job and not leave me disfigured.” He teased you. 

“I wouldn’t go around giving me ideas like that, Barnes.” You quipped as he took a step closer to you. 

You picked up his cut up t-shirt and tied the ends together to create a make-shift sling. “Here,” you helped to put the sling over Bucky’s head and placed his bad arm in the sling, “you’ll need a better one. But for now, this will do.” You said, giving his arm a squeeze before dropping your hands from his bicep. He attempted to put his jacket on, but with the restriction of the sling, you had to help him slip his vibranium arm through the sleeve and zipper the jacket up to help secure his right arm in place. 

“Thank you, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He said earnestly. 

A small blush crept up your neck and into your cheeks, “You’re welcome, Buck.” 

Bucky bent his head down to your level and placed a kiss to your cheek, lingering for a second longer than either of you anticipated. When he pulled back, you could see a slight blush making its way into his own cheeks. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said, his tone hardly above a whisper. He headed for the door and tugged it open. 

“Goodnight, Buck.” You said back, watching as he gave you a small smile in return before closing the door behind him.

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Masterlist

[evieskies]

CHAPTER 8: LIKE A COMPLETE BITCH

POV: 2nd Person.

— Word Count: 1k+.

Warnings: Depressing themes. Self deprecating thoughts.

Author’s Notes: No beta reader, we die like Neji🫡 Something short and sweet.

I just want my best friend back. 

Felix’s text flashed in your mind persistently, a nagging feeling that made you feel like the biggest bitch in the world. 

But why did Jisung blame himself for your accident? You couldn’t think of a moment between you two to cause it.

You must have said something to him that night. Something you don’t remember. 

Something that caused him to shut down over the last year and a half. 

Your hands smoothed over the floral duvet you had just laid down and you let out a heavy sigh. 

“That doesn’t sound good.” 

You looked over your shoulder and to Chan standing in the doorway to your room. Well, technically 3RACHA’s guest room. 

“What’s wrong?” Chan asked, stepping further into the room. “Did Changbin not dust good enough? He was in here for a good two hours cleaning.” 

“No it’s not that,” you said sitting down on the queen sized bed. “It’s great in here. Really. Thank you again for letting me stay. I owe you.”

Chan smiled at that and sat next to you. “You don’t owe us anything.” He gave a playful nudge to your knee with his own. “So what is it?” he asked. “Jisung?” 

You nodded, your head dropping. “I feel like shit,” you said. “Like a complete bitch right now.” 

“You are not a bitch, Y/N.” 

“I am though. He blames himself. And probably for something I said that I can’t remember.” 

“You don’t know that,” Chan said. “And even if you did say something, you can fix it. You can apologize. Talk to him about it. Jisung will understand.” 

“Being in pain doesn’t excuse what I said, Chan,” you grumbled. 

“Y/N,” Chan said, voice firm. He grabbed your hand. “You almost died.” 

Your eyes met his and your heart clench at the pained look he gave you. 

“That night we nearly lost you, do you understand that?” He said. “All of us. We didn’t think you were going to make it to the morning. Hell, even your doctor was shocked when you woke up the next day. It was a miracle. All of us were hysterical when he told us you were going to be okay. I think Felix almost fainted from relief.”  

You pouted a little. “I actually think that was the first time I’ve ever seen Minho or Seungmin cry.” 

Chan laughed a little— though strained. “Those two love you. Way too much. Even if they deny it.” His expression turned more serious. Darker. “Especially Minho. I don’t know what would happen to him if we had lost you. I… I don’t—“ 

“Please don’t say it,” you muttered. 

Chan hummed a little. “He almost went to jail for you.” 

“Yeah I know,” you said. “I was right there for the the screaming match remember? In my hospital room. At eight am. I yelled at them to shut the fuck up.” 

That got a genuine laugh out of Chan this time. “Oh my god I remember that. The trucker just came to apologize.” 

“And then Minho punched the guy in the face and broke his nose,” you said. You cringed a little at the memory. “The blood. So gross.” 

“Definitely not his uh… best moment?” 

“Does he have a best moment?” 

“He would beat you if he heard you say that,” Chan chuckled. 

You gasped, offended. “No he would not.  He loves me as much as he loves his cats, remember?” 

“No?” Chan asked confused now. “When did he say that?” 

“When he was shitfaced at your birthday party last year,” you said with a triumphant grin. “He FaceTimed me— in the bathroom, might I add— whining about how much he missed me. Sadly that was before I knew I was coming back, so I couldn’t comfort him much.” 

“You should have recorded it.” 

“Now that probably would end up with me getting my ass beat.” 

The two of you shared a look before breaking down into a fit of laughter. 

“God I can only imagine that,” Chan wheezed. “He had to have been completely gone.” 

“It was your party!” You squeaked. “You don’t remember how drunk he was?” 

“No because I was gone too. I do not remember that night at all.” 

You blinked at him before shaking your head in disbelief. “Good lord,” you muttered. “I go to America for sixteen months for therapy and you all turn to alcohol.” 

“That’s why all of us are so happy you’re back now,” Chan said. “Even Jisung.” He squinted at you. “And I can’t believe you think he hates you. I think that is the wildest thing that you have ever said.”

“I hurt him,” you said voice small now. “And something makes him think that my accident is his fault.  

“Look,” Chan said. “The two of you have always had a weird push- pull relationship. You two were worse than him and Hyunjin used to be when you first met. Some of the fights you’ve had have genuinely scared me. But then you’d go back to just… neutral? Like the fight never happened and you could semi-stand each other again? Then take your first year of university. You two hung out with each other multiple times. By yourselves. And for some reason were perfectly fine.” Chan shook his head. “Don’t even get me started on that. It gave me whiplash.”

“We shared classes that’s all,” you said with a shrug. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say. But my point is— you two have been through so much together. And you guys almost developed an actual friendship before your accident. So, this, whatever this is that has happened between you two. I think it can be solved. You know, if you actually talked to one another.” 

“I know.” You sighed. “And I should have apologized to him before I left for America. I had two full months of rotting in that damn hospital room to do so.” 

“Mistakes are made. They make you human. Take the chance to fix it.” 

“How will I do that when he’s not here?” you ask.

“Break in to his studio like Minho suggested,” Chan said. “You and him are probably the only people Jisung has never kicked out of it before. Hell, he’s let you sleep on his studio’s couch before, remember?” 

“Yeah…” you trailed off. 

Chan gave you his annoying endearing goofy grin and nudged your shoulder again. “Go fix this so we can all get annoyed with your two’s bickering again. Please. We miss it.”

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[spicywriter]

Title: Fingering Character: John Price > when John fingers his wife at a public bar.

We walked in silence as we headed to the bar. Once we arrived, John opened the door and held it for me. Thanking him, I entered before he walked in after me. The scent of grilled food and stale beer wrapped around us, and I looked up at John, waiting for him to decide where we'd sit.

"Over there." he said. His hand was on my lower back back, guiding me through the crowd and toward an empty booth in the corner. I slid in, with him following close behind.

As our waitress came and took our orders, we waited patiently as we chatted about random things. Within a couple of minutes, our food had arrived. John immediately reached for his burger, taking a bite as I started with my fries. As much there was going on around us, I was more focused on how his jaw tensed and relaxed as he chewed.

"Stop staring love and eat," he murmured, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes. "That damn kid keeps staring at us."

I scoffed. "What, your wife can't stare at you? and you think that kid figured out I gave you a blowjob an hour ago in your truck?" I shot back, wanting to tease him.

"Y/N." His voice was low, harsh. He was being serious and warning me. "Don't provoke me."

I grinned. That was hot. I remained silent and decided not to push.

The bar had grown busier while we finished eating. The crowd thickened, conversations growing louder, but it was like we were in our own little world. At least, that's what it felt like to me.

I looked at him again, licking my lips and studying his face for a moment before asking, "Let's pay and leave. Head back home." I said, taking his calloused hand and interlacing it with mine.

He eyed me closely as his hand gently squeezed mine. I couldn't quite read him. He was thinking hard as if what I had asked was the toughest question ever. Even after a moment, his answer still hadn't come. He kept watching me, and his hand moved to my thigh instead.

"Can you be quiet?" he asked me, surprising me.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes or no."

"Uh, it depends. Yes." I said, my voice a faint breath. Only when he wrapped his hand around my left leg and lifted it over his lap did I understand his plan.

"Are you sure, love?" He shot me an amused glance. "I'm not the one needing to keep quiet while getting fingered in a bar full of people. You need to be sure."

If he kept talking like that, I would get naked right there, putting myself on the table for him to take me in front of everyone. I don't give a single fuck, but I had to hold myself back, knowing damn well I won't actually do that to embarrass myself.

"I am sure." I told him, sighing as he ran his fingers along my inner thigh.

"Good. Unbutton your pants."

I didn't argue, nor did I hesitate. My jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped in seconds, and I parted my legs more to give him better access. He glanced down, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I can smell your arousal. Fuck, love, you're not making this easy for me."

"It doesn't have to be hard," I told him with a raised brow. "We can still go home."

"No." His hand cupped my pussy, with his fingers pressing against it over my jean's fabric. "This is way more fucking exciting."

I was glad he changed his mind. I liked his daring side and wanted to see more of it in the future. I bit my bottom lips and looked down before leaning back in the booth, breathing deeply. I was ready for him to do whatever he wanted to do.

JOHN

My cock was throbbing against the hard fabric of my jeans as I pushed my fingers into her panties, feeling her wetness immediately. "Goddamn." I muttered, my jaw clenching. I teased her entrance with my fingertips. circling it slowly and feeling her pussy clench at my touch. Her body was tense, but she was good at not showing her emotions on her face.

"Relax." I murmured seconds before I dipped two fingers into her.

She gripped my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. "Fuck." she choked.

"Shh. We don't want to attract an audience now."

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, her hips pressing forward as I pulled out of her slightly.

"Don't move." I ordered.

She stilled. and I slid my fingers back in, deeper this time. I thrust my fingers in and out of her in a slow and steady rhythm. My eyes wandered around the bar occasionally, making sure nobody was paying attention to us. I continued, feeling her inner walls pulse around my fingers. Her breath caught as I curled them inside her, finding that spot that made her squirm. I pressed my thumb against her clit, circling it slowly, building the pressure gradually.

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting slightly. I could tell she was fighting to keep quiet, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each shallow breath. I leaned in closer, my lips brushing her ear. "That's it, love. So, fucking sexy." I whispered, my voice low and husky.

I increased the pace of my fingers, thrusting them deeper, harder. Her hips bucked slightly, and I pressed my free hand against her lower back, holding her still. I felt her start to tremble, her thighs quivering against my hand. Her fingers dug into my forearm, her nails leaving marks on my skin. I could sense her climax building, her pussy clenching in a steady rhythm around my fingers.

It turned me the fuck on, watching her try her hardest not to be too loud. Her face was filled with emotions.

I curled my fingers inside her, pressing firmly against the right spot while my thumb kept on working her clit in circles. Her breathing grew ragged, coming in short, sharp gasps. I felt her whole body tense. She shuddered violently, her pussy clenching down on my fingers tightly. A strangled whimper escaped her lips, barely audible over the music. I held her right there, watching as she rode out her orgasm. Her body was shaking with wave after wave of pleasure and the pulsating of her walls around me.

I continued to stroke her gently, drawing out her climax for as long as possible. Her hips rocked subtly against my hand, chasing every last tremor of ecstasy.

As her quivering lessened, I slowly withdraw my fingers from inside her. Her eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated with lingering desire. I held her gaze as I brought my fingers to my lips, inhaling her sweet scent before sliding them into my mouth.

She was watching me intently, her chest rising and falling. Her cheeks were flushed, a rosy glow spreading down her neck.

"Delicious." I murmured as I pulled out my fingers. "But don't think this is it. Once we head back home, I will take my sweet time with my head between your legs later."

This time, she stopped breathing, her eyes widening.

I made her speeches. Good.

Returning back to my food, I continued eating my fries before taking a sip of my beer before speaking. "Button your pants. We're leaving."

©spicywriter, 2025

[gunwoo-bh]

you like because, you love despite part six [date night] - myg

date night

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

summary »» Your friendship always made sense to you and those around you. It wasn’t difficult when both your parents grew up together as best friends too. Your moms always used to refer to your friendship as being written in the stars, whereas your dads believed it impossible for you two, being girl and boy, to be best friends. Your mothers constantly remind them how wrong they’ve been to believe that. Or were they?

cw »» fluff, pet names, some tooth rotting stuff for sure, yoongi being scared of feelings, reader being the same, cussing, two idiots in love and oblivious about it, heeeaavy flirting, more cuddles, yoongi is horny as hell

wc »» 7.6k

author’s note »» HI EVERYONE! I appreciate all the love you keep giving my story, this fic has been a labour of love honestly and I love it so much. I will be taking the smallest break between this chapter and the next, not only to write it because of how important this next part is but because, if I'm being honest, I am feeling burnt out in my personal life. I hope everyone understands. But for now, enjoy the chapter! :D

“What do you mean you chickened out?”

“Exactly what that means, man!”

“What happened?” 

“If I say it you’ll think I chickened out over some stupid reason…”

“I can’t tell you that until you tell me though, bro…”

Yoongi can’t help but glare at his friend, holding no animosity behind it but conveying his annoyance at the situation, “I can’t even be mad at it either…it’s dumb. I’m dumb.” He scoffs, rubbing his face harshly. 

“Stop! Tell me what happened. Come on.” 

Yoongi glances at Namjoon, chewing the corner of his lower lip, “We were sitting in her living room and she went to clean up, insisted I stay on the couch so I did, because I am not gonna fight her…”

“Smart man, she is always right. Get used to that.” He teases. 

Yoongi snorts, “Okay, well, I am sitting there finally getting the courage to just get her attention so we can talk and I can tell her.” He clears his throat. “And she starts screaming ‘oh my god’ over and over. For a second I thought something bad happened but no, and here comes the thing that stopped me from just telling her,” he takes a deep breath and releases it, “Seokjin sent the engagement announcement text and photo to the group chat.”

“Oh.” Namjoon covers his mouth, staying quiet. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh shit.”

“Yup.”

“What did you do?”

He sighs, “I considered riding the coattails of the happy moment, but I felt like a dick the moment the thought even crossed my mind…”

“So, you said nothing?”

He shakes his head, “We just talked about the engagement for a bit…she said one day that’ll be us,” Namjoon’s eyes widen, “but she didn’t mean us ‘us’ just that we’ll be married some day to other…people.”

“And that was it?”

Yoongi nods. 

Namjoon sits arms crossed, reaching for his beer and sips it, “Wow.”

“Yup.” 

Sitting in a tent restaurant in the middle of November, Yoongi had spent the last week bottling all of his feelings down and not updating his friend since sending him that clear, yet cryptic, text. Both men are around a table of ramen and booze, the first time in a while since they’ve managed to hang out. 

“Actually…” Yoongi starts, Namjoon’s eyes snapping to him, “something else has been happening…”

His friend senses the reluctance in his words, “What’s that?”

Yoongi points at him, “What I’m about to tell you stays between us, yeah? And I don’t wanna hear any jokes about it because I am aware of how it’s gonna sound when I say it…”

“Gotcha. Go on, say it.”

Yoongi sucks in a breath, “For the last few weeks…her and I have been sleeping together,” Namjoon’s eyes widen, “and not like that, but just…sleeping over at each other’s place like, in the same bed…”

His friend is quiet for a moment, “Like, you guys are, like, just sleeping there?”

“No, we cuddle and I hold her…” He lets the sentence hang.

“That must confuse the fuck outta you…”

Yoongi scoffs, “Yeah, no shit…”

Both men sigh, reaching for their beers and quietly taking a sip. It’s late now, Yoongi far more than aware that he should head home to get some rest.

“And she’s going on a date?”

Yoongi sighs, eyes closed as he breathes in deeply. 

Ah, yes. This. 

He found out from Jimin three days ago that a colleague of yours had set you up on a date. He didn’t know the details of how it came to be, but Jimin, in his infinite wisdom, had shared it to Yoongi in the hopes he had some information. 

Yoongi didn’t even know that was something you were entertaining. It had come as a complete shock to him and he hated how caught off guard he was when facing Jimin. He didn’t want to text and question you from finding out about it from someone else. He wanted you to come to him, but since the day he found out, almost like the universe shifted, he hadn’t seen you at all, or heard from you much. 

He was slowly going insane from not knowing what was going on in your head. 

“Yeah.”

“Shit, dude.” Namjoon rubs his mouth. “You okay?” 

Yoongi finally lets go. 

“It fucking sucks, but I have no one but myself to blame for that. I keep looking for the right moment to tell her and I keep waiting too long. What do I do then? Shove my head into the ground and ignore this feeling,” he taps his chest, “until the next time I get the guts to tell you and when it inevitably fails again…” he huffs a dry laugh. 

“Do you even know if she’s going on the date? She could decide not to go…” God bless his friend for trying to cheer him up. 

Yoongi sighs loudly, “I don’t know. I know fuck all. We’ve barely texted these last few days and I haven’t seen her in about three…”

His friend frowns, “That’s…unusual for you guys…”

“I just…I’m starting to think I just need to move on, y’know? To let go of my feelings and maybe just let myself stop holding on…” Yoongi’s heart hurts as he even utters those words. Not loving you feels like a mockery to the universe. 

Not that he would ever admit to this out loud but Yoongi does wholeheartedly believe he was born to love you. And he is – was? – okay with that. He is okay with that. Yoongi can’t just stop the way he feels about you, he just knows as such. 

“We both know, even if I haven’t known you for as long, that you have loved her for too long to just let go…” 

“I know, but it feels like the only logical next step…”

“Or,” Namjoon carefully tries his approach, “you tell her anyway. Let her make a decision.” 

Yoongi has thought of that more than a few times because maybe, just maybe, it was possible you could feel the same. It would be the easiest way to go about it and then, if it all falls apart, the only thing to do is live with the awkwardness for a bit and move on. Be friends. What you’ve always been. 

Yoongi rubs his face, “I want to…”

“She’ll always love you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know…”

Namjoon sighs, “Maybe the date won’t work out…”

Yoongi laughs, “I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but every date she’s ever been on has ended in a relationship. No matter how long it lasted…” he sighs, “god, I sound so fucking bitter…”

“You’re in love with your best friend…it’s gotta fucking hurt…”

Yoongi stares at the condensation on his beer can, licking his lips, “I still have her in my life at least…”

“Just text her, bro. She’s probably overthinking the whole thing too.” Namjoon kicks his foot under the table. “I mean, think about it. It must confuse her too how you’re both into cuddling and sharing the bed now, and now she has a date? I think she’s probably in her head as much as you are…”

“She asked me to stay…”

“But you went for it. You didn’t have to.”

Yoongi sighs, “I’ll see what happens…with her date.” 

Namjoon nods, “Good idea. Go see her. Or text her. It’s weird to think you’re not talking right now…”

Yoongi digs for his wallet and takes out a few bills, placing it down on the table as he stands, “Let’s share a cab and go home.”

Namjoon follows his friend as they hail a cab, dropping Namjoon off first and leaving Yoongi a few minutes more before finally getting home. He stumbles up the steps, already hating the slight hangover he is going to battle first thing in the morning before work. The entire time he stumbles through his apartment he replays the conversation he just had with his friend and as he pushes into his bedroom, his eyes settle on the messy bed. 

He misses you something awful.

Yoongi doesn’t even bother changing into different clothes before throwing himself on his bed, patting the side of the bed you had been sleeping on and hating the emptiness.

“Getting too fucking old for this shit…”

Yoongi hates the feeling in his chest. It’s like the weight of the world is pressing against it, with his ribcage caught between it and unimaginable pain. That’s what loving you felt like in that moment. The sensation is probably worsened by the alcohol coursing through his body. Right now, it may feel like anger directed at you, but Yoongi knows it’s all weighing down on his shoulders. Your not knowing how he feels isn’t really your fault, but his.

He pushes himself off the bed, reluctantly undressing to get ready for bed. He drags his feet back from washing up and slipping on his shirt when he pauses in his shuffling. He swears he just heard knocking, but in his state, it could very well be in his head. He smooths out his shirt, rubbing his chest as he waits and is shocked when he hears knocking again, this time louder. He’s not imagining things.

He peeks his head out of the bedroom, waiting to hear it again, only for it to be the doorbell, causing Yoongi to rush to the door. He doesn’t even think twice before swinging it open, and the wind gets knocked out of him when he sees you standing there. He stands tall, licking his lips nervously as your eyes meet. 

“Hey…”

You smile timidly, “Hi…”

“Excuse me?”

“Remember you asked me to set you up with a nice guy? I got you a date with a friend of mine.” Jiwoo, your colleague, proudly announces to you. You obviously can't tell her you're no longer interested in that idea. I mean, yes, you could. 

“Oh…so, have you told him about me yet or…?” 

She's so excited, “Yes! And he's looking forward to it. He usually doesn't let us set him up on dates. I showed him a photo of you and he was sold!” 

Biting your lip, you chuckle dryly, “I see,” you suck in a breath, “what's his name?”

“Kim Woohyun. He owns a marketing company. He's thirty-four. He's my brother-in-law's younger brother.” She opens her phone to find a photo, which she shows you as you take it from her. 

He's handsome, stereotypically so. You can't deny that but you can't help but be disappointed at your lack of interest in the guy. Before your growing feelings for Yoongi this guy would have hit every single requirement on your checklist for a man. Handsome? Check. Successful? Check. Age appropriate? Check. Good references? Check. But now? None of that mattered. 

“I guess, it wouldn't hurt to go on a date?” You hope she hears how unsure you sound. 

“Oh my god! Awesome! I will give you his number and I’ll give him yours so you guys can figure a time and date! You are going to love him!” She’s so excited she doesn’t catch your lack of it. 

You give her your phone and it doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes before you receive a text from Woohyun confirming he was given the right number. As you sit in your office texting him, it occurs to you that for the first time in the few times you’ve been set up? You don’t actually care to go on the date. 

No, you’d rather be somewhere else. 

Present Day

“Do you also enjoy long walks on the beach?”

You snap yourself out of the reverie you’re stuck in, “Shoot, sorry?”

Woohyun laughs gently, sipping his glass of wine as he leans back in his seat, “Am I boring you?”

You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I am so tired. I probably should have started with that.”

“Long shift?” 

You nod, hoping the reasoning is enough to get him off your trail, “Yeah. I had a lot of appointments to squeeze in today and I basically got ready at work to come here…” you tuck a strand of hair in mild embarrassment. 

“I think sometimes my life is crazy, but I can’t imagine what being a doctor is like…” he shakes his head, smiling at you. 

Woohyun is charming. He’s well mannered, kind, a good listener and patient. You texted him on your way to the restaurant warning him you would be late a tad and you had felt truly embarrassed at that even though you never intended on going on a second date. Your heart truly wasn’t in it. 

“It can be but I’m lucky compared to some other doctors. I still work insane hours sometimes though. As proven by today…” you take a sip of your wine too, hiding your nerves. “And don’t you also work some insane hours? You own a marketing company.”

“Did you look me up?” He grins, shamelessly flirting with you. 

You mouth the air, feeling awkward, “Uh, well, yeah…who doesn’t in this day and age?” 

Woohyun smiles at you, not taking his eyes off of you as he brings his glass to his lips. You almost feel like you’re being scrutinized when he watches you that way and you don’t enjoy how judged you feel as he clears his throat, leaning forward to look you in the eyes. 

“Who is he?”

Your jaw goes slack, mouthing the air for a few seconds, “What?”

“The guy.” You continue to play dumb, hoping the subject gets dropped. “The guy you’re not over.” 

“Oh! Oh no! I don’t have–There’s no–I mean…” you trail off.

Woohyun chuckles, “Look, I may be single and looking to mingle, but in the last couple of years of going on dates I’ve become really good at figuring out if a date is going anywhere and this,” he gestures between you, “is not going anywhere because your heart isn’t in it.”

You almost want to fight. To prove him wrong but he gently grabs your hand as he speaks again, “I’m not offended, just so you know. But I can see it all over your face that you have someone else on your mind…” he sucks in a breath, “so, who’s the ex?” 

You freeze because it is far more complicated than it seems, “Not an ex.” 

“Oh?” He looks surprised. “Unrequited love? Friend’s ex?” You make a face. “No. Then, a friend’s brother? No? Okay. Uh, co-worker?” You sigh loudly. “Childhood best friend?” You choke on your wine and sigh loudly as Woohyun breaks out into a smile. “Ding ding! Childhood best friend it is then…”

“Why am I even entertaining this? Is this a joke to you?” You sigh. 

He shakes his head, “No. I can imagine how much your situation sucks.”

“You really shouldn’t be this eager to find out. Your date turned into a dud…” He clicks his tongue at your words. ��Is this how you entertain yourself after a failed date? You try to get them to open up about their feelings to revel in the bullet you dodged?” 

He continues smiling but this time it’s gentler as he puts his hand against his chest, “I’m sorry. I may have become jaded by failed potential dates, but really? If you’re not into me? Then odds are, as gorgeous as you and let me say that you are a fucking ten outta ten, I am not into you either…” you mouth the air, “but also, you’re obviously having a shit time with whatever is happening with your childhood best friend?”

And you don’t know what it is about Woohyun that makes you open up and answer, “Yeah…”

“Childhood best friend, gotcha. I don’t know what’s going on there but I could tell you would rather be with him or her…?” he trails off.

“Him.” 

“With him, then.” He leans back when your meal arrives, and you suddenly feel awkward letting the meal continue, but Woohyun seems almost unbothered by the whole situation. “So, we can either really awkwardly end dinner and go our separate ways? Or,” he takes a bite of his steak, “we can try to be friendly, and you can tell me what’s up. Because right now? I don’t know much, but if you're torn over your best friend like this? He’s either an idiot or he has no idea that you have feelings for him…”

You huff a breath, in disbelief at his ability to read a complete stranger, as you smack your lips. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You wonder over and over, thinking through all the ways this could go wrong if you’re not careful. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy, and under any other circumstance, this date might have been a success if it wasn’t for your heart essentially belonging to your best friend now. 

“He doesn’t know…” you look at your plate, hesitantly picking up your utensils to begin digging in. 

“Ah…so, how long has this been going on?” 

“It’s recent…” Woohyun watches you and urges you to tell your story. And just like that you unload everything that’s happened these last few weeks, not going in depth but covering all your bases so a stranger can share his opinion over the wreck that is your current love life. 

You don’t realize how nice it is to just let everything come out with someone who really won’t have any bias or personal feelings about your situation. Woohyun listens without interrupting, only asking questions for clarification but he doesn’t share his opinion yet. The meal on your plate progressively gets smaller the more you talk through your history with this complete stranger who, after all this, may not be a stranger anymore. 

“So, you basically ghosted your best friend when we got set up on that date because…?”

You're glad you switched over to water when your glass of wine was empty, “Because it means having to face the reality that I am falling in love with my best friend and that is terrifying…” you thank the waiter who picks up your plates, “and I can’t– I won’t lose him…” 

“Mhm.”

“Mhm, what? What does ‘mhm’ mean?” 

He chuckles, “I’m sure you might have been asked this before but uh,” he clears his throat, “have you ever considered he might feel the same about you?” 

You laugh, unable to stop yourself as you blush when people around you look over to your table, “No. Never, because he’s…there’s no…” you let the sentence, and confidence, die right then and there. 

“Ah, just give it one second…it’ll hit you soon enough…” Woohyun is a little shit who thinks he knows everything and maybe with good reason, because some of the truths he’s dropped on you have hit harder than ever. You sigh softly and look at him, “There it is. It’s hitting you right now, right? That maybe all this denial you’ve buried yourself under this entire time might actually hold some truth…”

“But why wouldn’t he say something?” 

He chuckles, “For the same reason you don’t want to confront what you’re feeling…at least, I think.” You wait for some enlightenment coming from Woohyun. “Because he doesn’t want to lose you. Losing you is probably the last thing he wants.” 

“I just…never thought about the fact that somehow he could maybe feel that way towards me…” you confess. 

“It never crossed your mind that for the same reason you’re not telling him anything, he’s doing the same…?” He leans his chin in his hand, staring at you. “Look, I don’t know you very well and I don’t know him, but from what you’ve told me you two are as thick as thieves, right?” You nod. “I am not gonna hold back, okay? But it sounds to me like you two are a bit slow…”

You gasp at the insult, prompting him to laugh, “Ouch! Rude much?!” 

He’s laughing while watching you, “Look, I am telling you this as a guy who tried going on a date with you who has now heard your entire dilemma? Sounds to me like you two have feelings for each other and you have no idea what to do with that information. That’s all I’m sayin’...” he shrugs.

You sit back, “Fuck you.” He laughs harder as you shush him, other guests in the restaurant staring at you two. “Shhh!! Sh!!” 

Sitting there in comfortable silence with this man you’ve just met – who under any other circumstance would have been a fantastic date – makes you reflect on where your heart is at the moment. There is no more confusion about where you are emotionally. You’re falling in love with your best friend and trying to figure out what it means for you two. 

“I can’t believe I figured it out while on a date with another guy…” you mumble.

“You’re welcome. My services are free today…” He snarks, making you chuckle. “Where is he right now?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know…I’m thinking right now he’s either home or…I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a few days…” you admit. 

Woohyun takes his wallet out while looking at you, grinning softly, “Tonight’s on me. I had fun even if the date didn’t turn out the way I had hoped…” You are about to protest but he stops you. “Go find him. Even if nothing happens, you want to be with him tonight and it shows. You haven’t stopped blushing since mentioning him…”

Staring at him in shock you can’t help but chuckle, “Thank you, that’s very kind of you…considering…” You rub the back of your neck. 

“Do me a favour and you don’t owe it to me obviously but,” he sits straight, “don’t wait too long to do anything, because it sounds to me like you two are just so afraid of losing what you have that you are missing what could be instead if you just let things happen…” he stands up, “and stop missing out on that, mhm?”

He extends his hand and you take it, “Thank you. I don’t know if it would be weird to…stay in touch but…”

“Oh please, keep in touch. I wanna know what happens because I’m a sucker for romance and plus, I want an invite to the wedding.” He winks as he guides you out of the restaurant after paying. The nearly freezing December air chills you to the bone as you turn to Woohyun, “I’ll get you a cab. Please shoot me a text to say you made it safe…”

“I will.” You smile timidly, looking up at him as he hails you a cab with ease and opening up the door for you. “Thank you.” 

“Sure thing.” He gets you in and before shutting the door he playfully eggs on. “If you do have a friend looking to date a guy that’s decent please send her my way?” 

You burst out laughing as he shuts the door and you lower your window, “I will. I feel like that’s the least I can do now…”

He looks at you, gentlest smile on his lips before he shuts the door for you and waves you off, the cab driving off. You look back for a moment and he’s still looking at you as you smile gently to yourself. 

This was good. Meeting Woohyun was a good thing even if the date didn’t work out the way he had hoped. Given that things weren’t going to be awkward, you might have made a new friend for life. You open your phone and shoot him a quick text thanking him for being a great listener.

Woohyun [10:39 PM]: Any time! Text me when you make it safe, mhm?

The ride to Yoongi’s feels longer than it actually is. You know this because, from anywhere in the city, you’re aware of how long it takes to reach his place. But this journey gives you the time you need to mentally prepare your explanation for Yoongi about your disappearing act. You sincerely hope he understands and forgives you since neither of you is known for pulling a stunt like that. It just isn’t like you at all.

The cab comes to a full stop, startling you enough to make the driver laugh as you blush. You pay your fare and step out, staring up at the familiar building. You sigh, wrapping your coat tighter around you as you climb the stairs. You shiver when you reach the door, standing in front of it. You could let yourself in, but you hesitate. So, you knock and wait.

Nothing.

There are lights on, so you know he’s home. You shift your weight from side to side, feeling the chill settle in your bones as you knock once more and wait. Still nothing. The longer you wait, the more uneasy you feel, leading you to ring the doorbell, hoping he maybe couldn’t hear you. Just as you start considering leaving and going home, you hear his footsteps approaching the door.

The door swings open, and there he is, looking like he’s ready for bed and surprised to see you standing there at his door.

“Hey…”

“Hi…”

Yoongi hates that his first thought when he sees you is how beautiful you look. He realizes within seconds that you must have just come back from your date, and jealousy creeps up his spine at the idea of another guy enjoying your beauty this way. He doesn’t usually consider himself a jealous person, but when it comes to you lately? He hasn’t been able to stop his feelings from overwhelming him. 

But there you are in front of him, wearing a stunning outfit he hasn't seen on you before, and the way your hair cascades in gentle curls down your shoulders reminds him of how much he loves you. He’s also immediately willing to forgive and forget your lack of communication. However, judging by the look on your face, it seems to weigh heavily on you because you look concerned. 

He clears his throat and moves aside, “Come in, it’s cold..." 

You walk past him, and Yoongi tries to shake off the beginnings of his hangover as he holds your arm while you remove your heels. You look up at him as you suddenly reach your normal height, neck craning to meet his eyes, and Yoongi sighs softly as he asks if you’re okay. 

“Yeah, thank you…” 

He releases you, and you carefully step into his spot, with Yoongi following closely behind. He rubs the back of his neck, watching how timidly you shuffle around, arms crossed over your chest as you turn to face him. His eyes roam the length of your body, taking in the way the skirt you’re wearing clings to your hips and stops midway down your thighs. Damn, what a guy he is, he thinks as he wonders what it would feel like to slip his hand between your legs, and damn, he’s never let his thoughts go that far. He knows he’s in trouble now, with his feelings growing wildly out of control for you. And something else. Calm the fuck down, Yoongi.

“You okay?” 

You hum, “Mhm. Just…just wanted to see you…” 

He licks his lips, huffing a quick breath, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” He knew this was coming. “I felt weird spending the nights with you when I said yes to going on a date.” 

His chest tightens, “Why?” 

“I felt like I was doing something wrong…” You confess and Yoongi understands right away what you mean by that. 

“You weren’t.” 

You hum, “I know that.”

“You wanna stay over?”

He’s never seen so much hope shining in your eyes when you look up at him, “Could I?”

“Yeah, of course you can, silly.” 

The dam must break for you because you rush into his arms, crashing into his body as he wraps his arms around your waist. He lowers himself when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, Yoongi burying his face in the crook of your neck as your feet dangle when he stands at full height. 

“I missed you…” you mumble in his ear. 

He chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I missed you too…” 

He feels your legs moving, for a moment wondering if he grabbed at one if you would wrap them around him. Yoongi wants to know what having you pressed against him that way would feel like, carrying you to bed like he’s so badly wanted to do every time you two stayed over. But instead he puts you back down, pulling back as you keep your hands on his shoulders. Yoongi shamelessly looks at you, admiring your date outfit as he plucks at the fabric of your top. 

“You look beautiful…” he meets your eyes as you gasp at his comment, blushing furiously. 

“Yeah?” 

“Why do you sound surprised?” 

Giggling, you squeeze his shoulders, “You’ve never…said that before that’s all…”

“I have. I must have.” But you’re shaking your head, making him realize he hadn’t. “I’m sorry, I should have more often…”

You shrug, “It’s okay…” 

He clears his throat, “How was the date?”

“Good. It was good.”

Yoongi’s heart sinks as he tries not to overthink it, “Yeah?”

“I’m not seeing him again, not that way any way, but yeah it was good.” You chuckle, pulling away slightly but Yoongi doesn’t let you go, pulling you against his chest. 

“Why wouldn’t you see him again if it was a good date?” He swallows thickly. 

“We hit it off more as friends, but he did say I was a ten outta ten so,” you chuckle, timidly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I guess my ego is feeling pretty good right now, but we agreed to try being friends. He wants me to set him up on a date.” 

You seem happy with the outcome, “And you’re not upset it didn’t work out?” 

You shrug, “I honestly didn’t want to go on the date…”

He looks down at your outfit, “You look like you wanted to go on the date…”

You grin softly, laughing, “Well, what if it worked out, right? Wouldn’t hurt, so I made an effort.” 

He wants to thank your date with a lifetime amount of meals at his restaurant for turning the date friendly. He’s never been so grateful. 

“Speaking of,” you officially pull away, Yoongi missing your warmth, “could I borrow some clothes?”

Yoongi nods, taking your hand in his and tugging you to his bedroom where he finds a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, handing them to you. He sits on the bed when you disappear in his ensuite and he’s not even spread out on his bed for longer than twenty seconds when you come back out, wearing his t-shirt but still sporting your skirt. You're tugging on the edge of it when you walk to him as he sits up.

“This stupid thing is stuck again and no amount of tugging on it is doing anything. Help?” 

You stand between his legs and he swears the universe is constantly testing his resolve, testing how long it will take him before he snaps and finally does something about his feelings for you. He grabs your hips, angling you sideways as he tugs on the flimsy zipper, concentrating on the task at hand and not on the way your hand holds the back of his neck for purchase. He gives a firm tug on your hips, earning a gasp out of you as he looks up.

You’re staring at his face, lips parted and pupils wide as he smiles gently, “Got it.” You snap your eyes to his fingers and he’s tugging the zipper down, your breath visibly catching as he grins. Oh. For the first time in all the years he’s known you, Yoongi gets a hint there may just be some requited attraction between you two. He pats your hip and lets go of you, “Go get changed…”

You're holding onto your skirt as you disappear again and Yoongi puts a hand to his chest, chuckling at how hard his heart is beating in his chest. His nerves are getting the best of him, urging his brain not to overthink what’s happened between the two of you recently. 

When you come out of his ensuite again you’re dressed head to toe in his clothes, the sight making him feel warm as he looks at you. You’re both smiling gently, staring at each other. 

“You ready for bed?” 

“Mhm.” You nod.

When you both crawl into bed, you easily snuggle in his side as you hook your leg over him and he pulls you as humanly close as possible. Yoongi worries you’ll feel his heart beating out of his chest as your fingers trace patterns on his chest when you look up at him, chin on his chest when he looks down at you.

“Hey…” your voice is small, playful and even flirty. 

“Yeah, doll?” 

“Why do you call me that?” 

“You don’t like it?” 

“No! I do, I do…” you are quick to assure him, making him chuckle. “I was just wondering…”

“I like it, that’s all…” 

“We’re okay, right?” 

He licks his lips, “Yeah, always.” 

You both fall quiet, the feeling of your gentle breathing nearly lulling him to sleep as you speak up again, “I haven’t slept well these last couple of nights…”

“Yeah?” He’s surprised by your confession. 

“Mhm.” He licks his lips. “Me neither, if I’m honest.” He looks down to you as he asks, “I missed having you here…”

“Is this weird? Us…sleeping together like this…”

The question lands heavily and the air shifts in the room, “I don’t think so…I think it’s very us actually.” 

You laugh, “We’ve never done this before though…” 

“Well, I guess, even after years of friendship things can change and evolve…” 

You giggle, hiding in his chest but Yoongi cups your cheek, forces you to look up at him and you glance at his lips before meeting his eyes, “Yeah, I guess so…”

“You did look beautiful tonight…by the way…” he clears his throat, his thumb gently caressing the high point of your cheek. He feels your hand crawl its way up his chest and you do the same, cupping his cheek and gently holding him.

“Thank you…” your breath catches again, “you know what I miss? And I am aware how random this is…” you giggle.

He frowns, shaking his head, “No?”

“Your black hair.” He’s caught off guard by that one. “What?”

“I thought you liked the blonde?” He chuckles.

“Oh, I like it but I think black suits you better, makes you look more handsome.” Your hand moves from his cheek and you drag your fingers across his scalp as he moans softly at the feeling. “Okay…” you chuckle.

“Shit, sorry…that…that just felt nice…” he’s blushing, feeling warmth rushing to his face at his reaction. You do it over and over again, massaging his scalp and earning little breathy moans out of him. Yoongi is willing himself to stop but each time your nails go over the spot, he grows putty in your arms. He’s breathing softly as his eyes snap open, pulling your face up to his as he stares down at you, “Doll, I need you to stop that…” he pleads with you. 

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s breathing until he feels his chest heaving, your hand rubbing it in order to ease the intensity of his breathing. 

“Okay…” 

You’re in love with him. You’re certain of that now. 

Getting such a reaction out of him is all the evidence you needed to know he felt something for you that wasn’t just about the physical. There’s reassurance in this newfound knowledge and you feel relieved for the first time in weeks. Now, it’s all about taking the steps to explore the changes in your friendship. How do you suddenly go from being best of friends to being best of friends who are going to explore dating? Slow down, you tell yourself. You need to tell him how you feel first.

Your face is so close to his, glancing to his mouth and pulling back slightly, “You okay?”

He’s nodding, looking down at you, “Yeah, I’m sorry I just…”

You sweetly shush him, running your fingers through his hair, “It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

He slips his arm under you and around your shoulders, pulling you in closer as you end up a mess of tangled limbs hugging each other. You feel his lips against your forehead, pressing a few kisses to it as you settle like this together. A comfortable silence falls, making you believe he had fallen asleep but you feel his hands squeezing your body gently. 

“Yoongi,” he hums, “how did you know I was on a date?”

You feel him go rigid for the quickest moment before you hear him mumble, “Jimin.”

You laugh, feeling him pull back to look at you, “What a gossip, I love him…”

Yoongi looks concerned, “Was he not supposed to…?”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t under any obligation to hide it. I’m just, I’m not surprised he told you…” you’re just looking at each other, your fingers gently combing through his blonde hair. 

“What was he like?”

“Huh?”

Yoongi sighs, “Your date.”

You snicker, “He was nice. A bit older than me. Woohyun. He owns a marketing company. It was a fun dinner and I think, if anything, I made a friend, which I’m sure is not what Jiwoo hoped for.”

“Jiwoo. Nurse?” 

You shake your head, “Nah, she works in OB. Woohyun is her brother-in-law’s brother I think…”

“She wanted to be a matchmaker, huh?” He chews the inside of his cheek.

“She tried, but she maybe gave me another friend…” 

“And he was okay with that?”

Your chest feels heavy, not quite ready to tell him how Woohyun had called her out on having someone else on her mind during their date, “Yeah, there was no ‘spark’ other than it felt like talking with a friend. Honestly, it felt like one of my regular gossip sessions with Jimin.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I’m glad you at least made a friend.” he leans into your touch as you continue combing through his hair, “You weren’t too disappointed?”

“No. Not at all.” You look at him. “I went on the date to make Jiwoo happy but I was going to tell him my heart just wasn’t in it, y’know? But he caught on.”

Yoongi breathes out deeply, “Good guy.”

He almost sounds jealous, the thought making you chuckle, “He really is. He’s going to make some other girl really happy…”

“You sure you won’t have any regrets?” He looks like he regrets asking that the moment it leaves his mouth. 

Your hand stops its movement in his hair, now resting at the nape of his neck, “None. Whatsoever.” 

“Good.”

Both Yoongi and you relax, falling silent as you let sleep take over with the feeling of his hand rubbing up and down the length of your back as you snuggle closer. You don’t realize how quickly you fall asleep, just that you do.

You open your eyes with a yawn, covering your face with your arms before stretching in bed. When your hand doesn’t hit Yoongi’s body you immediately assume he’s gone to work but when you grab your phone, which he must have plugged in for you. Sitting up in bed you smile when you notice your outfit from last night neatly folded on his dresser. 

Things feel different.

You grab your phone, noting that the time is just past eight that morning. You respond to a few texts when you hear the door open, and Yoongi pokes his head in before swinging it wide as he leans in the doorway with a small smile. He has an iced Americano from the coffee shop at the end of his street and walks over to the bed, sitting in his empty spot. You scoot closer as he hands you the drink, and when your eyes meet, he glances at your lips, and you catch him in the act. You break into a smile, thanking him as you sip the divine drink he got for you. 

“Morning.” He chuckles. 

“Morning. Thank you.” You mumble with the straw between your teeth. 

He stands up again making you protest as he chuckles, “I brought breakfast, I’m just grabbing it…”

You laugh, watching him disappear before returning with a container you recognize, “You ‘brought’ breakfast. You raided your own restaurant…”

He shrugs, “Perks of being the owner?”

You scoff as he opens the container to reveal seaweed soup, “Oh yes. Thank you.” 

“Easy,” he pulls it away, “we’re sharing.” He hands you a spoon as he holds one in his other hand. 

He runs to the kitchen to grab a tray for the soup and you both have breakfast in bed, talking very little between each bite of the delicious meal he brought over. You look up at him, snorting as he looks at you.

“What?”

You shake your head, “Why haven’t you given me cooking lessons? I basically rely on you…”

He’s mid-bite, eyes squinting at you like you’ve said the most ridiculous thing on the planet, “You have me. You don’t need to think about that.”

It’s your turn to squint, staring at him, “Uh, basic life skills? Maybe I want to cook? What am I gonna do when I have a husband some day and I can’t cook him anything?”

He swirls the spoon in the soup, “Don’t worry about it. Maybe he’ll like cooking?” 

His nonchalant attitude about it makes you grin, “You little shit.” 

He chuckles as he steals your drink to steal a sip of it, handing it back to you and you can’t help but shake your head, crossing your legs as he shrugs, “What?”

“You just don’t wanna teach me.”

“That’s not it!” he insists. “You don’t need…to concern yourself with that.”

Did he just insinuate he would always be there for you to be the cook in your life? He sure did and he said it with certainty, like it was the most obvious thing. You hum, content with life as of this very moment as you sit in your best friend’s bed, eating delicious food and in his company. 

And this is what you imagine happiness to be as you look at reels on your phones, showing the funny ones that pop up on your feeds and laughing at this absurdness of it all. This is being happy. You spend the few hours before he has to go open together in bed, snacking and drinking coffee as you laugh over silly reels, talking about your date or talking about your plans for the holidays.

“So, holidays. Are we driving up together or separately?”

You snort, “Every time I try to offer going separately, we always end up going together because you wanna save on gas. So, I’m just gonna say together…”

He chuckles, “Alrighty, then.”

“Have you heard from your grandma?” You tentatively ask.

He nods, “Yeah, her doctor has her on pain management meds right now. He’s still trying to convince her to get treatment but even I’ve realized she’s not going to. She’s tired but she’s still the same, pretty much…”

“Good. I mean, that’s as good as it can be.” You smile, hoping it was comforting enough to him. “I’m glad we get to see her for a week though. It’ll be nice to see everybody.”

“Mhm. My mom is beyond happy we’re both coming down.” You smile at that, looking forward to the chaotic holiday week you were bound to have there. 

“I bet she is.” You giggle as you move closer to him. “I can’t wait to sleep in for days in a row and not have to wake up butt ass early…”

He laughs, “Don’t say that. You always end up disappointed because you’re always awake bright and early even when you’re on vacation…” 

Pouting, you grab his hand, “Let me live in the fantasy now and be disappointed later, okay?”

He laces his fingers with yours, “Alright.” He squeezes your fingers before sighing, “I should get ready to go down…” your pout makes him sigh, “are you okay staying here? Or are you working?”

“Not until tomorrow…” he unwillingly untangles his hand from yours. “I can stay if you want me to?”

“Please, I’d like that.” He stands up, looking at you. “I’m letting Jungkook close up to get him used to it, I can’t physically do these twelve hour days anymore…” 

“So, you’ll be back around…?”

He frowns, “Somewhere around seven or eight. Maybe earlier if it’s quiet…” 

You push yourself to your knees, dragging yourself to the edge of the bed as he watches you like a hawk. You surprise him when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he latches his around your waist, pulling you closer as he buries his head in your neck. You’re both humming contentedly as you hug, feeling him squeezing you periodically before he pulls back first. 

“I’ll see you later?”

Smiling at him, you nod, “Yeah. Have a good day at work…” he squeezes your waist once more before letting go completely. You sit back in his bed as he gets ready, popping in and out of his bedroom as he waltzes in one more time to grab his charger as he looks at you. 

He walks around the bed to your side, eyes trained on you like a man on a mission as he cups your cheek and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead as you break out into such a giddy smile, your cheeks growing bright pink. 

“I’ll see you later, doll.” And with a grin, he walks out.

author’s note »» Part six is over and done with! Reader and Yoongi are being such flirts now, and I can't wait to explore more of the flirtiness these two will have! I really hope you enjoy this! I will see you all soon after I take a small break! :D

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[starlostjisung]

you could call me babe for the weekend

chapter five: was it?

wc: 4.6k

cw: smut (wrap it before you tap it guys)! don’t interact if you’re a minor!!!!

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a/n: please make sure you read the author’s note at the end of the story, after reading the chapter

you were sure you hadn’t heard him right. that at some point you must have fallen asleep and this was all a dream. that chan was not really there, in the middle of your apartment. that you two hadn’t almost completely fallen apart and that he hadn’t said that he loved you.

you were sure this was not happening.

“wh-what?”, you blinked trying to make some sense of what was happening because it all felt surreal

chan closed his eyes and turned around, like trying to distance himself from the moment. from your apartment. from you.

you could see how he had lowered his head and was shaking it. like he could not comprehend what was happening.

neither did you.

“chris”, you stepped closer to him, “what did you say?”

he turned around again and you saw it. you saw everything.

you saw the tears in his eyes. how tired he was. of what? you didn’t know.

you could see how defeated he felt, like he had been in a battle and he had raised the white flag. he had surrendered, he was protecting himself of further pain.

he couldn’t do this anymore.

he let out a tired laugh, “do you ever get tired of pretending?”, he said, his voice low

your heart stuttered, “pretending what?”

“this”, he gestured towards the space between the two of you, “us”

silence. a beat too long.

“i can’t do this anymore, i’m sorry”, he raised his head and you saw the tears threatening to fall, “i can’t keep acting like it doesn’t matter. like you don’t matter. like i don’t feel anything for you that’s not platonic friendship. i can’t keep pretending that i don’t think about you all the time and that everything i do is for you. every song i write. every thought that i have revolves around you. or when i’m at the studio and my phone lights up and i hope that it’s you looking for me. or when i’m at home hoping you’ll walk in at any moment because y/n that’s all i ever do”

you were breathless now. you could feel your heart beating so fast you thought it was going to come out of your chest and fall right into his hands.

the place where it actually belonged.

“i know we said we’re friends”, you saw a sad smile on his face, the exact one you had mere minutes ago, “but that’s not what this is. at least not for me and… it has never been”

he rubbed his temple and ran his hands through his hair, trying to come up with the right words because he felt like all your friendship had come to this. he could lose you if he didn’t choose the right words.

the tightrope was in a critical condition on the floor, but maybe he could climb up again and try to cross it. hopefully with you.

he sighed again and looked at you. really looked at you.

this was it.

“i’ve been in love with you since the very first moment i saw you. since the first time i saw you walking into the room and lighting everything up with your smile. with your laugh. and then you stopped right in front of me, introduced yourself and i knew i was gone then. i still am”

he swallowed, slow. his eyes fell to the floor, while he shook his head again trying to come up with the right words, and then he looked at you again.

“i thought i had come to terms with the fact that we would never be together, and i thought i was fine with that. i honestly thought i was okay. but when you came up with the trip and the fake relationship and all that, i decided that i was going to be selfish. for once in my life. just this one time. i knew that i couldn’t have you in real life. but if my only opportunity to be with you was in a fake relationship for a weekend, i was fucking sure i was going to take it”, he closed his eyes and sighed again, “it turns out i’m still not over you”

the silence between you felt heavier than ever. none of you knew how to continue from that. the moment felt incredibly delicate, almost fragile. you were scared to even breathe.

“i-i didn’t know you felt like that”, you stepped closer to him again

he choked on a sad laugh. the first tears fell then, “because i never said anything”, he smiled sadly, “that call the other day, what you’ve told me, that was the only thing you heard, right?”

you nodded, “i didn’t want you to find out i had heard you and i honestly couldn’t be there listening anymore, so i left after you said well… that”

he ran his hands through his hair again, a bit frustrated - at himself - this time, “i get it, i really do. but you didn’t hear the rest of the call. you didn’t hear what i told changbin then”

you looked at him and his face showed you everything you both were feeling. fear. hope. honesty. everything tangled up together.

“what did you tell him?”

he walked closer to you this time, still leaving space between the two of you to not make you uncomfortable.

“that we could never be together because you deserve someone better than me. that i’m the one not worthy of being in this relationship. us not working would be because of me. not because of you. never you”

you were lost for words. confused. you didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

someone better than him? was that even possible? you doubted it.

“chris, i honestly don’t get it, i-“

“you deserve someone that can give you everything you want. the entire world. someone that can be there for you whenever you want him to be. someone that isn’t working all day and night and that doesn’t leave you for weeks or even months to go to the other side of the world and leaves you here alone”, the tears were still falling down his face, harder this time, and you just wanted to reach out and kiss them away, “you have no idea how much i’ve always hoped and dreamt to be that person for you, but unfortunately i’m not, i-i can’t be-” he was choking on his own tears now

“what do you mean you’re not chris? no one treats me better than you do”, you crossed the space between you and grabbed his head with your hands to make him look at you

he had his eyes closed, he was shaking his head, “chris, chris, please, look at me”, you pleaded him

he opened his eyes and saw how yours were exactly like his. full of tears, showing all of your emotions, showing how vulnerable and exposed you were at that moment.

it was now or never.

“i don’t want that person you’re describing, i’ve never wanted that person. i only want you. i only need you”

he gasped. he swore his heart stopped beating, “what? you do?”

it was your turn to choke on your own tears, “of course i do, chris. i’ve been in love with you since forever, but i thought you would never feel the same way about me, so i never said anything. i was scared of losing you”

he closed the space between you even more, putting his forehead on yours. you could feel you heart stuttering once again.

“you will never lose me, you heard me? never”, he told you while closing his eyes

you smiled softly at him, feeling your tears continuing to fall down your face, “you will never lose me either”

he opened his eyes only to find you already looking at him.

“chris, this weekend has made me realise that i don’t want us to only be friends anymore. i can’t do that anymore. i can’t continue pretending not to be completely in love with you. the only person that i want to be with is you, and i hope you want to be with me”, even though he had just confessed his feelings for you, had told you how in love with you he had been and still is, you couldn’t help but leave your vulnerability out in the open. at the end, this was going to change everything.

you only hoped it would be for the best.

chan saw your eyes, full of tears and hope and fear.

and that’s all it took.

he put his hands on yours waist and kissed you. he kissed you like he had been holding it in for years. like he had dreamt of this moment every day since you first met. like this was all that he could ever ask for. like every lyric, thought, wish, were only about you. only you. like he hadn’t fully existed until now.

you kissed him like your life hadn’t even started until this point. like you had begged, looking at the sky for him. like everything you could see, hear and feel was him. like everything you needed was him, his arms around you and his lips in yours.

he pulled away, just enough to whisper against your lips, “i love you”

“i love you too”, and with that, you kissed him again

one of his arms moved to place his hand on your cheek. your hands - that were still holding his face against yours - moved to his hair, trying to pull him closer to you, even if that was impossible. your bodies were so close together it was impossible to know where one began and the other ended. you were just one, as if it was meant to be this way.

one kiss led to another. and another. and another. your hands were tracing different parts of your bodies, as if they were learning the other in a new way. a more intimate and delicate way.

“stay”, you told him against his lips, “stay with me please”

“always”

he made you jump and put your legs around his waist. he moved the both of you to your bedroom, slowly, like you had all the time in the world. because now, you did.

he closed the door behind him and walked towards your bed. he placed you on your back on your bed, delicately, like you would break if he didn’t do it slowly. like you were the most delicate treasure he had the honor of protecting now.

he placed himself on top of you and slid his hands underneath your shirt. you felt his fingertips brushing your skin, tracing every part he could find, memorising every inch of you. you did the same. your hands moved from his hair to his neck, to his jaw, any place you could reach. trying to anchor yourself to this moment. to him.

“you have no idea how long i’ve dreamt of this”, he mumbled against yours lips

“me too”, you opened your eyes only to find him looking at you. you both smiled putting your foreheads together once again, like you both couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

“is this okay?”, he asked you quietly

you nodded, “yes”

he kissed you again, deeply, more passionate this time. he moved his lips down your neck, exploring, learning, holding you. his palms pressed against your back, pulling you closer to him. you clutched his shirt, trying to take it off of him. he helped you and got rid of it.

he then did the same with yours. he lifted your shirt, while checking your face for any sign of hesitation. when he found none, he took it off completely and moved his lips to your collarbone, marking you there.

“chris…”, you moaned his name, grabbing his hair once again, pulling him closer, arching your back towards him

“fuck… you’re so beautiful, love, so beautiful”, he moved his lips to the other side, kissing the curve of your shoulder, moving his lips to your ear. you moved your head to give him more space.

you could feel yourself trembling. he was too. the moment too delicate and beautiful. he was nervous, and so were you.

you moved your head, looking for his lips. he kissed you pouring everything in the kiss.

all the i love yous.

all the i need yous.

all the i want yous.

you didn’t know where you got the strength from, but you pushed him on his back and got on top of him. he let out a surprised gasp, a gasp that was quickly silenced by you, kissing him again.

your hands were everywhere. his chest, his pecs, his arms. his hands were on your waist, on your back, on your hips. you were learning each other, but also appreciating. adoring. admiring.

his hands reached your bra, “can i?”, you nodded

you felt your bra falling somewhere in your room, and his hands on your chest. your lips were on his neck, where you found his soft spot. he groaned, clutching at your skin.

“y/n”, he moaned against your ear

you looked at him and he captured your lips in a kiss, the type of kiss that showed how enamoured you were, the type of kiss that showed how long you both had waited for this.

when you broke the kiss, you moved down his body, leaving kisses everywhere that your lips could find. once you reached his waist, you looked at him, making sure he was fine to continue.

when he nodded, you got rid of his pants and underwear at the same time. once you freed his member, you took it in your hands, slowly moving up and down, smearing the pre-cum that was already on his tip.

“shit… just like that baby please”, he involuntarily pushed his hips towards your hands, while you used your free hand to grab his thigh.

he couldn’t stop moving and you couldn’t help but feel powerful from the sight, he was like this because of you. his hands were everywhere, his hair, his eyes, the bedsheet. he was trying to hold on to you, but you were too far.

you were going to help him.

you lowered your head, and took him in your mouth, “y/n”, he moaned even louder and you saw his jaw tightening. he moved his hands to your head, grabbing your hair with his hands, “i-i’m already close, i’m not going to last very long”, you could hear his breathing quickening

“it’s okay, i’ve got you”, you took him in your mouth again, using your hand on the parts that you couldn’t reach

he swore he had never felt as good as in that moment. he felt his climax almost there, and he wasn’t able to hold it anymore, “baby, i-i”

“let it go baby, i got you”, and that’s all it took

you felt him spilling in your mouth and you swallowed everything. he felt like he had been spiralling and was slowly regaining consciousness. you held him through all of it, making sure he was okay, before you moved any further.

once you saw his breathing becoming more steady, you let go of him and moved up his body, leaving kisses again. you kissed his jaw and he grabbed your face to pull your lips towards him. he moaned into your mouth.

when you broke the kiss, you saw him looking at you, with a look of incredulity on his face.

“what?”, you laughed at him

“nothing you just… you just gave me the most mind blowing orgasm of my life and you’re here, looking like an angel sent from heaven, honestly did it hurt when you fell from there? i’m pretty sure it did”

“chris, stop it”, you hit his chest while the both of you laughed together

the laughs softly stopped and he moved the both of you again, placing you on your back once more. he kissed you slowly, while his hands went slower until they found your breast.

you moaned against his mouth, a whine that he swallowed with his lips. his lips went from your mouth, to your neck, to your collarbone until they found your breasts.

he softly bit one of your nipples while he used his fingers on the other. you let out a broken breath, arching your back towards him, trying to entangle your bodies together. you needed him closer, this wasn’t enough.

he swapped places, making sure each breast received the same attention.

“chris, please…”, you said

“patience baby, we have all the time in the world”

he moved his lips slower, until they found the waistband of your pants. he asked you permission to lower them and once you agreed, they were gone.

his eyes were on yours the entire time. you both felt like the only people in the world, like nothing else mattered or even existed. that’s how chris made you feel like.

he dragged his hands up your thighs, spreading your legs open, so he would have enough space between them. he put his lips on one of your knees, tracing kisses from there up to your thigh.

you couldn’t stop moving, so he placed both of his arms on your waist, trying to stop you.

“don’t tease me please”

“i’m not, i’m just admiring you, my love”, he said while he moved to the other leg to do the same thing

you could feel yourself dripping for him, needing him more and more.

just when you were about to beg, you felt his fingers, tracing your folds, slow and teasing. you back arched one more time.

“baby, you’re dripping, shit, you’re so beautiful”, he told you, closer to where you needed him the most.

you whined, your hips twitching, “chris…”

“i know”, he kissed the inside of your thigh, “i’ve got you”

and just like that, he kissed you there. he wrapped his lips around your clit, at the same time you felt one of his fingers entering you.

“chris”, you almost yelled, your hands going instantly to his hair, to pull him closer, to pull him away, to ground yourself, you didn’t know for what exactly. you weren’t in control of your body. this was all him.

he stroked you slowly, slipping another finger inside, curling them just right. his lips weren’t just kissing you, they were venerating you, learning and memorising all the right places that made you lose control and fall apart for him.

“i-i can’t, this… too much”, you weren’t even sure what you were saying at this point

“i know baby, i’m here for you”, he moved away just enough so that you could feel his lips brushing you with every word he said.

you felt on the edge, you were just about to fall. but you knew chris was going to be there to pick you up. a sweet landing.

“i’m close chris, i-“

“let it go baby, i’m here”

and with one last kiss and his fingers hitting the right places one more time, you let go. you let yourself fall into chan’s mouth and fingers. you weren’t losing control, you were passing it to him.

he held you through it all, making sure you were alright all the time.

once he made sure you were fine, he licked his fingers and moved to kiss your forehead, “you with me?”, he asked you while he traced your cheek delicately

“yeah, all good”, you let out a soft and tired smile, he swore he felt his heart exploding from the look on your face - in a good way this time.

you blinked, in a daze. he kissed you slow and softly, and then gently moved his body so he was between your legs. he didn’t rush anything, he just laid there, kissing you.

you moved your hands to grab his shoulders, leaving some marks that you were sure would be there the next morning. his hands didn’t leave your face, his lips never leaving yours.

“do you have any condoms?”, he asked you

“in the drawer”, you felt him reaching for them, and then putting one on

you brought his face to yours and kissed him this time. you could already tell that you would never get tired of kissing him. luckily, he felt the same about you.

“you sure you want this?”, he asks you one more time, looking at you again, to make sure you were telling him the truth

“yes chris, i want you”

he swore under his breath, closing his eyes for a second, letting his forehead fall against yours, “you have no idea how many times i’ve dreamt about this… about you”, he told you while kissing you again

“me too, i’ve dreamt about you for so long”, you grabbed his back now, pulling him closer to you, feeling his member close to your entrance.

he gripped himself in one hand, lining himself up at your entrance. this was it. the moment you two had dreamt of.

then, he’s doing it, slowly, carefully, trying not to hurt you. he’s slowly pushing himself inside you, giving you all the time you needed to get used to him.

“oh my god”, you gasped against his lips, “chris-“

“shhh”, he soothed you, putting his forehead against yours one more time, “i know, baby, i know”

he pushed himself in more, slowly, “you’re doing so good baby, just like that. that’s it”

you felt like you couldn’t breathe. like you couldn’t form any words. a good type of suffocation.

you felt yourself stretching around him, both of your legs trembling as he filled you. you could feel how he was holding himself back. he moved his hands to your hips, trying to ground himself to you. he was completely inside now.

“you okay?, he whispered against your lips, his voice breaking

“never better”, you looked at him and felt some tears falling from your face

“hey, is there something wrong? did i hurt you?”, he instantly got scared, thinking he may have done something wrong, he may have hurt you. he got ready to move away from you.

you grabbed his back again, pushing him towards you while you shook your head, “no no, i’m fine, it’s just… i’m really happy right now”

you looked at him, with the brightest and most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life. he couldn’t help but let some tears fall as well, and smile at you the same way.

“i’m really happy too”, you kissed again, feeling the tears of the other, falling down both your faces. soft, sweet, desperate.

you moved your hips slowly, finally ready and used to his size. he started moving again, making sure he hit all the right places he had memorised before.

“that’s it”, he breathed against your mouth, “my good girl”

“i’m yours chris,” you moaned against his lips

“fuck… and i’m yours too, baby”, his movements started gaining speed

you sobbed into his mouth, your nails scratching down his shoulders and back. his hands were everywhere now, one of them placing both of your legs around his waist, the new position making him go deeper.

“shit, chris, just like that”, you felt yourself losing control one more time, but it was just as sweet and safe as the first time

he kept talking and praising you, you did the same. whispering between kisses, moaning into each other’s mouths. showing how much you loved each other. saying i love you at any chance you could.

you needed each other, you couldn’t take it any more.

“you are everything i’ve ever wanted”

“i don’t want to be apart from you ever again”

you both were close. he reached between the two of you, and rubbed your clit in tight circles, making you cry out for him. you clenched around him, making you both almost completely lose it.

“chris i-i can’t… i’m so close”

“i know baby, me too”

he kept thrusting into you, making you both reach the point of no return.

“so good for me… let it go baby, i got you, i’m with you”

your body snapped. you clenched around him, pushing him over the edge with you. he gasped your name, you moaned his. you both let out broken moans and whines against each others mouths. he held you tight, as his hips came to a stop. he fell forward into your chest, you placed his head there while tracing your fingers in his hair. both of your breathing unstable, trying to regain it. your eyes squeezed shut.

you both were sweating and shaking, with your arms wrapped around each other, like you were afraid of letting the other go. your lips brushed his temple, he hugged you tighter against him.

“you okay?”, you heard him whispering

you nodded, burying your face in his hair, smiling, “more than okay, and you?”

he looked at you, with a smile on his face, “never better”

“good because, that was… intense”, you both laughed

“yeah, it was”, he looked at you, with the sweetest look on his face you had ever seen and kissed you again.

he kissed you slowly. full of everything he hadn’t said until now, but knew he had the rest of his life to say.

promises of your future together.

your life together.

he leant his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed.

“i want to stay with you, tonight and forever”, he told you

“i wasn’t going to let you go anywhere”

you don’t remember falling asleep. after you both had gone to the bathroom and cleaned yourselves, you went back to bed, and laid there in each other’s arms. at some point the two of you must have fallen asleep, entangled in each other’s bodies. like you had always dreamt of.

you saw the rays of sunshine sneaking in your bedroom, the early morning waking you up. you felt chan’s arm around you, and you couldn’t help but let a smile on your face.

he must have been already awake and sensed you moving, because he pulled you closer to his chest and kissed your shoulder, “morning, love, did you sleep well?”

you turned around to face him, “never better, and you?”

“really good, thank you”, he said while leaving a kiss on your forehead

you pulled his head towards yours and kissed him, morning breath and all that long forgotten.

you felt him deepening the kiss, curling his arms around you even tighter. you grabbed his neck, pulling him towards you even more.

you pulled apart to breathe, but even then you didn’t stay from form each other, putting your foreheads together.

you opened your eyes and smile at each other. he let out a soft laugh against your lips and smiled softly again.

“what?”, you asked him

“nothing it’s just… i’ve just realised what i’m wearing”, he told you while bitting his lips

you frowned looking at him confused, because none of you were wearing anything.

“what are you wearing?”

“the smile that you gave me”

“oh for fuck’s sake, chris”

you let your head fall against his chest, while he kissed the top of your head and the two of you laughed.

it was crazy to think everything that had happened in the past two weeks.

you had been really close to losing each other, but now you had everything you had ever wanted and more. and you would never change it for anything in the world.

“chris, was it?”, you asked him quietly

“was it what?”

“a bad idea?”

he knew what you were referring to. the trip. the lie. all that had happened these past two weeks.

he kissed your forehead and pulled you closer.

“no, it definitely wasn’t”

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chapter 5 is out my loves!!!! if you saw the first post of this story, i’m sure you saw this was the last chapter, however… there’s going to be an epilogue!!!!

to be brutally honest with all of you, this was the ending of the story for me. when i pictured the story in my head, before i wrote it and shared it here, i thought this was going to be the ending and there would be no more story.

however, seeing all your reactions and your love for the story has made me really happy and i’m so thankful to all of you. so, we’re getting a special chapter after this. it’s not going to be as long as these chapters - i think - but it’s my way of saying thanks to all of you for all your love for the story 🩷

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taglist (ask in comments to be added)

you could call me babe for the weekend taglist: @beyunjinnn @emmiesoverthemoon @skzbiasot8 @havennz @hyunjinxxs @reetheratt @heartwithoutaname @ahseyy @hyvneluv @domicaru @annyeongffs @necrozica @lavunyan @0x1lovesong1 @leylaasroom @bluesungology @sleepyzeiff @velvetmoonlght @encoredesires @sammhisphere @we-are-bloody-inspired @straykids4lifeee @xxestxays @4ng3l-ch1ld @geni-627 @how-are-you-not-fine @luvbangchan @btch8008s @the-life-of-stella @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @strsforjsb @n3ha @idiotmaterial @skinnyjeans-tanktops @wolfhallows4 @lyftyyy @infinite-lucid-daydreams @artfairyyyyy @sofix-hc7 @sunflwerstar @lomllino @alifeinthelifeof @sayuri122014 @changbinshearteubeateu @aniski @iamlazychip @beabidoobee @cherie31 @scarletwitchywitchbitch

[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

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JUST STAY HERE TONIGHT (SATORU X YOU ONE SHOT)

If you like my one shots, pls consider reading my fanfic <3 wc: 7.4k

**** SELF WRITTEN. NONE OF MY WORK IS WRITTEN BY AI.

————

The day has pressed down on you like a weight.

You can't name exactly what tipped you over the edge. It wasn't anything dramatic, really. Just a slow build of little things. Exhaustion. A voice too loud. A glance too sharp. A silence too long. And now it's like your body's gone quiet in self defense. Numb, almost.

You sit curled up on Satoru's couch, legs tucked under you, staring blankly at your phone. Messages sit unread. Notifications blink at you, ignored.

He's in the kitchen making tea.

You barely hear him moving around the apartment, just the occasional clink of a mug, the shuffle of socks on hardwood, the quiet creak of a cabinet opening.

You're still curled up on the couch, trying to focus on your phone, but the words are all swimming. Notifications blur. You scroll aimlessly, not even reading. Just doing something.

Then, without a word, he returns and sets a mug of your favorite tea on the table in front of you. No fanfare. No comment. But the steam is curling toward you, familiar and comforting.

He disappears again. Another shuffle. Another drawer opens.

Then a box lands in your lap.

You blink down at it.

Pocky. Your favorite kind.

You glance up, and he's already plopped himself down beside you, leaning back against the cushions with a satisfied little sigh.

"Okay," he says, as if beginning a very serious investigation, "what shitty guy did a shitty thing this time?"

You groan, half laughing, half exasperated, and give him a shove.

"Shut the fuck up, Satoru."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, completely unfazed. "If some douchebag made you look that sad, I think I'm legally allowed to break his nose."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, but your lips tug upward. Just a little.

"I won't even use cursed energy," he continues, like he's negotiating a plea deal. "No Infinity. Just straight hands."

You snort.

"That man wouldn't even see my fists coming," he mutters proudly. "I'd go full grade school playground. Elbows. Swings. Maybe a little hair pulling."

That actually makes you laugh. A real one. You hide your face in your shoulder, but he hears it.

His shoulder brushes yours.

"There she is."

You peek at him, narrowed eyes. "You're insufferable."

"You love it."

You don't answer that. But the warmth in your chest betrays you.

He gives you that look; the one he does when he's not trying to be funny. Like he sees more than he lets on.

You try to smile. He tilts his head.

"You didn't answer my question."

"There wasn't a guy."

He nods slowly. Doesn't ask again. Just leans back, reaches over you to grab a blanket from the back of the couch, and drapes it over your shoulders without a word. Then he settles beside you, close but not crowding. You feel his warmth. Hear his quiet breathing.

It's the softest thing in the world.

He nudges your foot gently with his own, eyes still on the TV neither of you are really watching.

"Okay but seriously," he says, voice low. "What's wrong. You can tell me."

You glare at him. He doesn't look at you, but his voice carries that Satoru tone - playful on the surface, but serious just beneath it.

"Who do I need to fight?" he continues. "A stupid man? The president? God? Period cramps? PMS? A rogue paper cut?"

You roll your eyes. "Oh my god."

"I'm serious. Give me a name. I'll take 'em out."

You huff, turning slightly toward him. "Am I not allowed to just be quiet?"

He finally looks at you then, head tilting slightly.

"You think I'm stupid?"

You blink. "I didn't say-"

"You're not just quiet. You're mute. You've got that sad little puppy face going on. Like that time your hamster died in middle school and you didn't talk for two days."

Your mouth twitches, despite yourself.

"Or when you tried to adopt that stray cat and it scratched you and ran off and you cried in the 7-Eleven parking lot while eating a corn dog."

You groan, dragging the blanket up over your head. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I've known you forever," he says, nudging your knee with his, "and I can tell when something's eating you alive."

You go quiet again. He doesn't push, but after a beat, you hear him sigh like he's coming to some great internal conclusion.

"Okay, fine," he says. "Eat your damn Pocky. Let me put on that stupid show you like so much."

The blanket drops from your face immediately. "It's not stupid. It's informative."

"Yeah, informative," he huffs sarcastically, grabbing the remote. "More like nightmare fuel. I mean, come on, how many times have you watched the Jeff Dahmer documentary? A hundred?"

You frown, but you're already taking the Pocky from your lap and opening the box. "Only like... five. Maybe six."

He whips his head around to stare at you like you've committed a war crime.

"You're a fucking psycho."

You shrug, already chewing. "I like the suspense."

"You like the suspense," he repeats, deadpan, turning on the TV. "What a deeply comforting and normal sentence to hear from a person I let into my home."

But despite the dramatics, he scrolls until he finds your comfort watch, for some unhinged reason, and puts it on without another word. The opening theme plays like muscle memory.

You sink a little deeper into the couch, blanket pulled tighter around you. You don't say thank you. You don't have to.

And he doesn't comment when your shoulder leans into his. Or when your feet scoot to rest just beneath his legs. He just rests one hand casually across his lap and grabs a piece of your Pocky without asking.

"If I get murdered tonight," he says, biting into it, "I want the Netflix rights to my case to go to you. Since you'll probably already have a color coded spreadsheet of suspects."

You smile. Small. But real. And the worst day you've had in weeks suddenly doesn't feel so heavy.

The true crime intro music fills the apartment - ominous, overly dramatic, unnecessarily bass heavy. You curl deeper into the couch, finally starting to thaw from the weight of your day.

Satoru shifts beside you with a long, theatrical sigh.

"Why do all these shows sound like horror movie trailers? Like, this guy's gonna talk about brutally dismembering people, and the producers were like, you know what this needs? A cello."

You smile. Barely.

He glances at you, sees it, and grins.

"Also? This narrator sounds like he eats gravel for breakfast. Like... just once, I want a true crime doc voiced by a guy who sounds like he works at a gas station and makes dad jokes."

"Stop," you mutter, laughing a little. "Let me suffer in peace."

"You're not suffering. You're spiraling. It's different."

He grabs another piece of your Pocky without asking. You smack his hand lightly, but don't put much effort to actually stop him.

"Okay," he says, chewing. "But now that I've warmed you up with humor and snacks... tell me what's actually wrong."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is this a hostage situation now?"

"Yup. You, me, murder shows, emotional vulnerability. We're locked in."

You hesitate. Eyes flick to the screen, then away again. He waits. Patient, even though he pretends not to be.

You sigh, voice small. "It's dumb."

"Everything you say is dumb, and I still listen."

You snort. Then fall quiet again.

"I just..." you start, then falter. Try again. "I don't know. I don't feel like I'll ever get married. Or have kids. Or anything."

That gets his attention. He sits up, brows pulling together, ready to crack a joke, but you keep talking.

"Maybe I'm just destined to love and not be loved. Like... I'm just gonna be that crazy cat lady. Or animal lady. Or cryptid lady who adopts raccoons and talks to them like they're people. I don't even know anymore."

You laugh once, weakly. It doesn't reach your eyes.

He stares at you. Suddenly very, very still.

"Wait- hold on." He blinks. "Are you serious?"

You nod, eyes locked on the TV but unfocused.

"Oh shit," he says quietly. "You're serious."

The air shifts - no more banter. No more sarcasm. He's looking at you like you've just said the most impossible thing he's ever heard.

"You really think that?"

You don't answer. You don't have to. Because instantly, you can feel the shift beside you, sitting upright, not touching you, but suddenly so hyperaware of you that it makes your skin buzz.

"Uhh..." He flounders. Hands in his lap. Knees bouncing. "Okay. Okay, I'm gonna be honest. I don't really know what to do in this situation. Do you need to sleep? Do you need to cry? Do I need to fight someone? Do I need to cry? What the fuck."

"It's fine," you say, trying to ease him off the ledge. "I just... like being here. With you."

His brows furrow, still flustered. Like he's trying to solve a problem with no cursed technique in sight.

Then, he goes oddly still. Too still.

"Nuh uh. No. No way," he says suddenly, like he's decided. "My girl is not gonna feel like this."

You turn slowly to look at him.

"...Your girl?"

His soul leaves his body.

"Ah. Fuck. Wait- no. I didn't mean- well, I did, but not in a weird way, I mean... fuck. Okay. Listen. Listen. That sounded more unhinged out loud than it did in my head."

You just stare.

"Shit," he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. "Okay. You know what? Fine. Fuck it."

He turns to face you fully, face red, hands wild, like he's preparing to either confess his undying love or run headfirst into traffic.

"You're not just my girl, you're like... the girl. You've always been the girl. Since we were kids and you socked that guy for calling me annoying. Since you cried when my mom died and wouldn't let go of my hand at the funeral. Since you snuck me snacks during training because you said my metabolism was 'tragic.'"

You blink.

"And... and I know I'm bad at this. Like, horrifically bad. I flirt with everyone. I'm obnoxious. I talk too much. But with you it's always been different. You've always been different."

Your heart is in your throat.

"So yeah. You're my girl," he finishes, suddenly very quiet. "Even if you've never known it. Even if you never feel the same."

He looks at you, flushed and vulnerable and raw.

"I've been in love with you since before I even knew what love was."

The documentary plays in the background, some haunting orchestral cue announcing another murder, but you barely register it. Because your best friend just accidentally confessed a lifelong crush in the middle of a serial killer binge watch.

And the wildest part? It makes perfect sense.

You're staring at him. Just... staring. Blinking like your brain is trying to reboot mid software update.

"Well," Satoru says quickly, voice a little too high pitched, "I mean... hopefully you're shocked enough that your bad mood is gone...?"

You don't answer. Because what the actual, everliving fuck is happening right now?

You open your mouth, then close it. Then open it again. "What the fuck," you whisper, mostly to yourself. "What the actual fuck is going on. You're my childhood best friend. You used to put bugs in my hair."

"Okay, first of all," he interjects, holding up a finger, "that was one time and it was a very educational beetle-"

"I swear to god-"

"Second," he barrels on, already halfway into a spiral, "you're having a bad day and I just told you I've been secretly in love with you since we were like ten so obviously this is the perfect time to go full rom com panic mode-"

"Satoru-"

"No, no, just... listen. Okay?" He points at you. "Here's what we're gonna do."

"Oh my god."

"You're gonna stay here tonight."

"That was already the plan-"

"And I'm gonna take care of you. Like, emotionally. No serial killers. Just me. Maybe ramen. Or rice balls. Or… take out. You pick."

You stare at him. Wide eyed.

He scoots closer, like he's trying to physically pin you to the moment before you can escape.

"Can we just... pretend we're dating tonight?" he says, suddenly weirdly soft. "Just to see if it'd work? We don't have to kiss. Unless you want to. But maybe you'll let me cuddle you? Or hold your hand? Or tell you you're perfect until you start believing it?"

Your brain goes completely flatline.

"Let me process this," you say, stunned. "What is happening. You're my best friend. You've seen me puke ramen through my nose."

"Yeah," he says dreamily. "And I'd still marry you tomorrow."

You slap a hand to your forehead. "Jesus Christ."

"He's not invited," Satoru mutters. "This is our thing now."

You stare at him, still short circuiting, while he just blinks at you like a hopeful golden retriever who dropped a ring box instead of a tennis ball.

"Are you actually serious right now?" you ask, voice tight. "Or are you just being a fucking idiot?"

He gives you this look. Offended. Affectionate. Fond.

"I'm always an idiot around you," he says with a crooked smile. "Come on now."

"Satoru-"

"But I'm serious."

And something about the way he says it - quiet, sure, almost small, makes your heart stutter. He sits back, exhales slowly like he's trying to physically hold himself together. Then laughs softly, almost self deprecating.

"God, I don't even know how to do this. Like... this. The whole being real thing."

You just watch him. You've never seen him like this. Not even close.

"I've been trying to not feel this way for so long," he continues, words spilling faster now. "Because I thought if I ignored it, I wouldn't fuck anything up. Because you've been in my life forever, and you're... you."

His hands gesture helplessly, like your name alone is too much to hold.

"You're home. You've always been home. Since we were stupid and you broke your ankle jumping off a swingset and I laughed at you, since you patched me up after training with that dumb Hello Kitty Band Aid, since you made me soup that one time I got the flu and refused to admit I was dying."

He huffs out a breath, clearly spiraling, eyes wide.

"And every time you dated someone else, I was like, 'Yeah. Cool. I'll just sit over here and rot.' Every time you cried to me about some other guy, I'd want to punch a wall and also bake you cookies because I'm deranged and hopeless and I love you in a way that's so stupidly real it makes me want to scream into a pillow."

You're staring at him in stunned silence, and he doesn't even notice. He's in it now. Rambling. Eyes wild. Hands moving like he's trying to physically sculpt his feelings into something that'll make sense.

"I remember everything. The first time you held my hand and didn't let go. The way you always say 'shut the fuck up' when you're overwhelmed. The way you love people like it hurts. The way you look at me when you're trying not to cry, like right now, and I swear to god I've never wanted anything more than to be the reason you don't feel like that ever again-"

He finally cuts himself off. Panting. Blushing. Eyes wide and frozen in horror at the words he's just flung into existence.

"...So yeah," he says, voice suddenly very small. "Serious."

You exhale through your nose and deadpan:

"Satoru. You're having a fucking stroke."

He lets out a breathless laugh, shoulders still high, eyes wild.

"Yeah. No-... yeah. I know."

He looks genuinely panicked, flushed from his ears to his collarbone, running a hand through his hair like he's trying to physically cool his brain down.

"It's like- god, I don't know, it's like this dam broke. Or like... like beating that one Digimon level I could never clear as a kid. You know? The demon boss one with the wings and the lasers and the weird final form? And now I'm just free. Emotionally constipated since age ten and now I'm just out here screaming 'I love you' into the air like I'm in a K drama."

You can’t stop staring at him. Like you’re unsure if you want to hug him or call a psychiatrist.

He's so dumb. He's so sincere.

"Satoru..." you say, softer now. "One thing at a time."

He finally stills a little. Looks at you, breath catching.

"Why didn't you tell me for so long?"

That sobers him.

The frantic energy softens - not vanishes, but shifts. He looks down at his hands in his lap, twisting the hem of his hoodie between his fingers.

"Because," he says quietly, "you're the best thing I've ever had."

He glances at you, barely. Just a flicker.

"And I was scared that if I told you, I'd ruin it. That you'd look at me like I was someone else. That I'd say something stupid and it'd be like... like throwing a match into the only place that's ever felt like home."

His voice drops, raw and real.

"I can handle a lot of things. But not losing you."

You take a deep breath. "Well," you say softly, "if there's anyone I'd ever wanna fake date for a night..."

You reach out, hook your finger under his chin, and gently tilt his face toward yours.

"It's you."

His breath catches.

"So..." You smile, slow and fond and so done with him. "Yeah. Come here and take care of me, you idiot."

His entire brain short circuits.

"Wait- wait. Are you serious? Like, actually? You're not fucking with me right now? Because I will spontaneously combust if you are-"

You raise a brow. "Satoru."

"Okay. Right. No, yeah. Coming."

He scrambles up like his limbs have stopped cooperating, knocking a pillow off the couch in the process. Then he finally settles beside you, body pressed to yours, both arms wrapping around you like he's anchoring himself to reality and using you as the chain.

"Can I... can I kiss your hand?" he asks.

You blink.

"Just once. Or like... maybe twice? You don't have to count if you don't want to. I just... God, your hands. They're so pretty and soft and you're letting me cuddle you and I'm really overwhelmed right now and I think I might actually be blacking out-"

"Satoru."

"Yeah?"

And then you kissed him.

Right on the mouth. Soft. Steady. Final.

And for a second, he doesn't even move. Just freezes like his soul left his body and had to circle back around. Then he melts into it, like gravity doesn't apply anymore.

You pull back from that first kiss, and he's just... Staring. Wide eyed. Dumbfounded. Destroyed.

"Okay," he breathes. "This might be the greatest day of my life."

"Shut up," you murmur, your eyes completely locked on his.

"Never," he says, already smiling against your hair. "But I will take this opportunity to say: if this is fake dating, I'd like to put in an early application to make it aggressively real."

"Satoru."

"Just letting the universe know."

His mouth is still parted slightly, like he hasn't caught up yet.

"Can we do that again?" he eventually breathes. "And again. And again and again and again until we can't breathe or we're dead. Actually, I genuinely don’t even care if we die right now. Holy shit."

You blink at him, unimpressed. "Satoru."

"No, I mean it. Put me in the dirt. Call it. Bury me with honors. You just kissed me and my soul left my body and is doing laps around the moon."

You shove him lightly. "Shut up."

He grins. A little shaky. A little stupid. A lot in love.

And then he leans in again. This time, when your lips meet, it's slower. Deeper. Like something snapped between you, and neither of you are quite ready to look at it head on, but you feel it. You both know.

His hand lifts tentatively to your cheek, hovering for a second like he's asking without words.

"Is this okay?" he whispers between kisses.

You nod.

"Are you okay?" he asks, breath soft, lips brushing yours.

You nod again, hands curling in the front of his hoodie.

"You didn't change your mind?"

"No," you whisper, lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

"This is real?"

"Yes."

He lets out a shaky breath.

"Am I dreaming?"

"Want me to pinch you?"

"That depends. Where?"

You laugh against his mouth, and he melts. Fully. Arms pulling you closer, mouth moving against yours with more purpose now - still gentle, still reverent, but laced with something long simmering.

"You make me feel human," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. Your jaw. The tip of your nose. "You make me feel like I never have to be anything else."

His hands are trembling a little now - still so careful, still asking without asking every time they move. Your fingers curl into the collar of his hoodie, tugging him closer again, and he exhales like he's just been pulled back to Earth and set on fire all at once.

"So," he breathes, between kisses. "You promise you're staying here tonight?"

"Yes, dumbass."

"Okay, but like... will you sleep in my bed this time? With me? Instead of kicking me to the couch like I'm a stray dog?"

You smirk. "We'll see."

He groans dramatically against your mouth like you've just taken away all his human rights.

"You're so mean to me," he mumbles, kissing you again, "and I'm still so down bad it's physically painful."

You don't answer. You just kiss him again. And this time, it's different.

There's more pressure behind it. More hunger. You shift your weight and pull him forward gently until you're lying flat on the couch, his body half on top of yours. His eyes widen, lips still parted, but he doesn't say a word.

You trail soft, open mouthed kisses along his jaw, his neck, back to his lips, and he's not breathing properly. You can feel the tension in him, the shaking restraint.

"Is this okay?" you whisper, right against his skin.

His head lolls back as he lets out a strangled little laugh.

"Am I a man with white hair and crazy blue eyes?" he says breathlessly. "Yes. Yes, of fucking course this is okay. I've been dreaming of this since before I even knew what being naughty was."

You grin and slide your hands beneath the hem of his hoodie.

He sucks in a breath, muscles jumping under your touch like he can't believe this is real.

"Shirt off?" you murmur.

"Shirt off," he confirms. "Shirt very, very off. Shirt should be a concept we leave in the past, actually."

You laugh softly and pull it over his head, revealing the long, lean lines of his torso, scarred and porcelain. He's blushing so hard, it's like the sight of your eyes on him is frying his ego and his soul.

Then you pull him back down and kiss him again - slow, deep, intentional. And he just melts.

His hands find your waist, tentative, reverent. His lips part under yours like he's giving you every word he doesn't know how to say.

"I'm gonna combust," he whispers, as you kiss down his throat. "I'm combusting. This is my combustion arc. Tell the higher ups I died happy."

He breaks the kiss to stare down at you. Swallows.

"Okay," he says quietly, "I'm not gonna ask you to take your hoodie off, because I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, obviously, but... if you did, just know I would kiss the ground you walk on for the rest of our lives. Like, not metaphorically. Physically. I will get on my knees and stay there. Forever."

Your brows knit together. Then, wordlessly, you sit back a little and peel your hoodie off over your head.

You're not wearing a bra. His entire body malfunctions.

"What the fuck-" he blurts, pushing back slightly like he's just been tasered. "Wait- waitwaitwait. Are you- wait. Okay. Okay. First of all, do you never wear bras? Is that, like, normal? Is this a you thing or a girl thing because I feel like my entire worldview just shifted-"

You smirk, amused. "I mean. Unless I have to? No. Not really."

He slaps a hand to his forehead like he's overheating.

"Oh my god. I'm dead. This is death. This is the end of Satoru Gojo. You killed me and I'm not even mad about it."

He's trying not to stare... but he's staring. His jaw is slack, his eyes are doing the "please screenshot this memory for eternity" thing, and you swear he might actually be having an out of body experience.

"Sooo..." he says weakly, eyes still bouncing between your rib tattoo and your chest like he's struggling to maintain eye contact with God.

"Do you want a dog? Because I'll bark. I'll howl. I'll dig a hole in the backyard and bury myself if that's what you're into, I swear to god-"

You're laughing so hard your head collapses against the back of the couch, and he catches you, arms wrapping around your bare back like he can't believe this is real.

"You're actually insane," you mutter against his neck.

"Insane for you," he says without missing a beat, voice muffled as he presses his lips to your shoulder. "Completely fucking feral. Would commit crimes. Would eat a cursed object raw. Would-"

You kiss him again just to shut him up, and he melts. His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing skin like he's still in disbelief, like he's touching a dream that might dissipate if he's too rough.

"You're so pretty," he breathes between kisses. "I'm losing it. You're literally perfect. I'm gonna say dumb shit. I'm gonna say so much dumb shit-"

And as promised… he didn't stop saying dumb shit.

Your bodies move in sync now - clumsy, breathless, aching to close the distance you've both spent years pretending wasn't there. The couch creaks softly beneath you as you press closer, skin brushing skin, your lips slotting together like they were meant to find each other in this lifetime.

"This is literally my dream," he whispers into your mouth, his voice shaky with disbelief. "I'm not even being dramatic. I've had dreams like this. Night after night. You, me, this. Except usually I wake up right before you kiss me again and have a goddamn heart attack in the shower."

You giggle softly, and it's the most dangerous thing you could've done. His hands slide along your sides, fingers reverent as they trace the shape of your waist, your hips, your bare back.

"God, I wish someone was taking a picture," he murmurs, eyes flickering over your features like he's trying to memorize the curve of your mouth, the flush in your cheeks, the way your lashes flutter every time his thumb grazes your side.

"Wait- fuck, no. That's weird. Ignore me. I'm broken. You broke me."

He's rambling. And you let him, because you know he needs it. Because this is the only way he can process something that means everything.

Then his hand dips lower. Just a little. Just beneath the waistband of your sweats. Then he jerks back like he touched fire.

"Shit. Sorry- fuck, I didn't mean to- I just-"

He's panting now. Red faced. His fingers twitching with restraint as he stammers through his guilt. "I can't help it. I can't fucking help it, you're right there and you're you and- fuck, I'm sorry, I'm so-"

You don't say anything. You just take his wrist in your hand - slowly, deliberately, and guide it back. Placed it exactly where you want him. Let him feel it.

Your eyes meet his. No longer wide and doe eyed. Now they're darker. Lidded. Languid. Seductive.

You look at him like you're the one in control now.

"Don't stop."

His brain explodes.

"Okay. Okay. That's illegal. You can't say that to me and look at me like that," he says, voice breaking. "That is an actual war crime. You- your face, your eyes, your voice- I'm not built for this."

He cuts himself off with a choked noise when you kiss his neck, sucking gently just under his jaw, leaving heat in your wake.

"If you keep doing that," he says, desperate, "I'm actually going to cum in two seconds and we'll both be disappointed and I might die and I- fuck, are you trying to kill me?"

You pull back just enough to smirk.

"Is that a challenge?" Your fingers trail down his chest, grazing every twitching, shivering muscle. "Or a threat?"

His hands grip your thighs like you're his only tether to this plane of existence.

"Ohhhhh my fucking god," he whines. "This is so much worse than my dreams. Because it's real. And I'm so not okay. I mean I'm amazing, but I'm also not okay."

You press your forehead to his, your breath shared, your body flush against his, and let the tension build. “Satoru, breathe.” You murmur with a giggle.

He's Desperate. Unraveling. Worshipping you with his eyes, his mouth, his hands. Every part of him trembling with restraint and awe and the urge to fall completely apart under your touch.

And he's not hiding it.

Your breath fans against his lips, your eyes locked, heavy with heat.

"I don't want you to do anything to me," he says, voice low. Not a whimper, but a vow. "I don't deserve it. Let me do everything to you, okay?"

You open your mouth to argue, but he's already bringing his free hand to your lips.

"Shhh," he hushes gently, finger brushing across your bottom lip. "Don't argue with me. You'll win. And I'm too far gone."

He leans in, barely touching, so reverent it aches.

"Just let me have this. Let me touch you like I've dreamed of. Let me make you feel how I feel about you."

Your heart lurches.

You reach for his face again, brushing his messy hair from his forehead. But he's still flustered. Still babbling.

"Okay so um... how do you like it?" he asks, flushed and already breathless. "Like, tell me? No, wait. No. Don't tell me. I'll figure it out. Trial and error. Mostly trial. And a little bit of dying because you're so hot I think I'm actually flatlining-"

You shut him up with a kiss again. A deep one. You push your hips against him and he groans into your mouth, full bodied and needy.

And then his hand, still resting at your waistband, moves. Slides in. Down.

He watches you.

Eyes locked on your face as his fingers part you slowly, reverently. Testing, circling. His breath catches when he feels how warm and wet you are, the way your thighs tremble just slightly at the first real touch.

"Holy fuck," he whispers. "You're- this is- oh my god-"

You gasp when two fingers slide inside, slow but certain. His thumb brushes where you need it and your head tips back.

"There she is," he murmurs, voice raw, lips brushing your jaw as he moves his fingers gently in and out. "My girl."

Your hips grind into his hand instinctively and he lets out the softest, most ruined sound you've ever heard.

"You're so good," you whisper.

He moans, guttural and low, fingers curling inside you, searching and finding that perfect spot like he's memorized it in a dream.

"You can't say that," he breathes, eyes wild and blown wide. "You can't say that unless you mean it because I will start crying right now. I'll cry and I'll still be finger fucking you and that'll be so awkward for both of us and I don't even care."

You choke on a laugh, but it turns into a whimper as his thumb presses just right.

"You're gonna cum for me, aren't you?" he whispers, lips ghosting your ear. "Christ. Let me have it. Let me see your face. I've wanted to see it so bad-"

You can barely speak. Can barely think. His hand never stops. His lips are on your shoulder, your jaw, your mouth, kissing and murmuring and worshipping every inch of skin he can reach.

Your breath becomes shaky against his neck as you orgasm. He's holding you like he's scared it'll all be a dream if he lets go - arms wrapped around your waist, lips brushing your temple, breathless and flushed and entirely, completely undone.

And it was messy.

"Holy fuck," he whispers against your skin. "That was... thank you. Thank you. What the fuck. Thank you again. I don't know what the protocol is after that, but thank you."

You laugh softly into his neck, and he's just rambling now, words spilling out like a faucet he can't turn off.

"You're real. You're actually here. That just happened. That just fucking happened. I'm gonna pass out. I'm gonna cry. I'm gonna write a poem. I- thank you. Jesus. I'm gonna light a candle. I'm gonna tell every single version of myself in every single multiverse that I WON."

He pulls back slightly, eyes sparkling and overwhelmed and so in love.

But you just smile sweetly. Tilt your head.

"Silly boy," you murmur. "We're not done."

He blinks. Once. Twice.

"I'm sorry. What the fuck do you mean we're not done? Done as in, like, we're still going? There's more? You’re gonna let me do more?"

You lean back just slightly, eyes hooded, lips curled in a lazy smirk. "You didn't think that was it, did you?"

He makes a sound like his brain just stopped working. You're pretty sure you can see smoke coming out of his ears.

"Okay. Real talk. I don't even know if I can fuck you. I'll cry. I will literally cry. I'll start sobbing mid thrust and it's gonna be so embarrassing for both of us but I won't stop because you're so hot I'll probably have a brain aneurysm."

You giggle, and he's still panicking.

"No. I mean it. I'm not okay. I'm feral. I'm in love. I'm unwell. Please. Just... just be a pillow princess for me. Please. Please. I know you don't seem like one but for the love of god let me do everything. Just lie there and look pretty and let me serve."

You arch a brow. "What makes you think I'm gonna let you fuck me?"

You say it sweetly. Casually. With that teasing little smirk that undoes him.

He freezes. Completely. His face drains of color.

"I- I'm sorry. Oh my god. I'm an idiot. I didn't mean to assume, I just- fuck, that was- fuck, you're right, I'm so sorry, I just thought- god I'm such an IDIOT."

You burst out laughing. "I'm joking, dumbass."

He exhales like he's been revived from the dead.

"Don't do that to me," he gasps, hand over his chest. "I saw my life flash before my eyes. I thought I offended you and I was about to go drown myself in the bathtub."

"You're so dramatic."

"I'm in love with you and I currently have your cum on my hand," he says, dead serious. "I earned the drama."

You lean forward, kiss him slow, and tug his sweats down with a quiet urgency.

"Don’t you want my cum in other places too?"

His eyes go wide again. Mouth parted. Already breathless. "Oh my fucking god-"

You wrap your hand around him, just for a second, and his head snaps back with a choked whine. "Oh fuck, oh my god, wait wait wait I'm not gonna survive this-"

He's flushed down to his chest. Hands shaking. Every inch of him pulled taut like a bowstring as you guide him over you, your lips ghosting against his chest, your legs wrapping around his waist like you've done this a hundred times.

"Satoru," you whisper, and it's all it takes.

He lines himself up, every motion trembling with restraint. Eyes locked on yours. Voice wrecked.

"I... fuck, I've thought about this so many times," he breathes. "So many fucking times, and I thought it wouldn't be half as good as I imagined and I was still wrong. This is already better, you're so warm, you're so- shit,"

And then he's pushing in. Slow. Careful. Every inch sinking in with a gasp. First from you, then him, and then his whole body locks up.

He whines. A real, broken sound, desperate and helpless as he buries himself inside you, barely holding himself together.

"Oh my god, I can't. I can't. You feel so- fuck, I'm gonna... please tell me you're okay, please- are you okay?"

You nod. Barely. Whimpering, your head tipping back as he bottoms out. And that, that little sound, ruins him.

"Oh my fucking god, you can't do that," he pants, hips twitching as he fights to stay still. "You whimpered. You whined, that was- you sounded like- oh my god, I can't think, I can't-"

He's breathing hard. Brows furrowed. Eyes searching your face like a man starved.

"Can I... fuck, can I go slow? Or fast? Do you want me to talk to you? Should I talk? Should I shut up? Am I too heavy? I don't want to crush you. But also if I stop touching you I might die. Just say the word, I'll explode. I don't even care. I'll-"

You roll your hips slightly and he shatters.

A low, guttural moan tears from his throat and he moves. Hips rolling slowly, rhythm deep and tender, grinding into you like he's learning every inch of your body through motion alone.

"That sound," he chokes. "Oh god, that sound. Please. Please keep making it. I need, I need it, I'll do anything-"

And he does. He moves just to draw it out of you. Adjusts the angle of his hips until he finds the spot that has you gasping again, your nails digging into his shoulders, your whines a little louder.

"Yes. That's it. That's fucking it," he moans. "That sound. That exact sound. That's how I know I'm doing it right. I'll keep going until you can't say my name without moaning. Please let me stay here. Please let me keep fucking you like this."

You kiss him, hard, and he groans into your mouth, swallowing every sound you make like it's oxygen.

He's everywhere. His hands, his lips, his voice. "You're perfect. You're so tight and wet and perfect, and you're mine, I think? Fuck it, Say it. Please? fuck- say you're mine-"

You whisper it against his lips and he loses it, hips stuttering, face buried in your neck, thrusts growing messier, rougher, but still so full of care.

"I wanna touch everywhere," he pants against your skin, voice trembling. "I wanna kiss your spine, your ankles, your fucking kneecaps if you let me- fuck. I don't know where to start."

He's still moving inside you, deep, steady, a little erratic when he hears the right sound spill from your lips.

You're breathless. Overwhelmed. Body arching into his, slick with sweat and pleasure. Every touch is hot, consuming. And even with the mess of it, his rambling, the frantic kisses, he's still so tender.

"Is this okay?" he whispers into your neck. "Is this too much? I don't wanna hurt you, I'll slow down- fuck, you feel so good, I don't deserve this-"

You cup his face.

He's panting. Blue eyes blown wide. Lips parted, just barely trembling.

And you whisper, soft, certain:

"You must actually be stupid if you can't see I've felt the same way the entire time."

He freezes. His whole body tenses. He stares at you like he's seeing you for the first time. And then the words registered.

His mouth crashes into yours. His hips stutter, his rhythm messy, his fingers tightening around your waist. You hear him whimper against your lips - raw and real, like something freed inside him.

"Fuck," he gasps. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum- I can't- you love me? You love me? You- you've always-"

He cuts himself off with another kiss. Messy. Desperate. Like he's starving. Like he's praying.

"Say it again," he begs. "Say it one more time. Just once more. I swear I'll be good, I'll be everything you need, I'll never let anyone hurt you again, just please say it."

"I love you too, you absolute dumbass of a man."

And he loses it.

He buries his face in your neck with a sob, hips snapping into yours as he thrusts faster, deeper, chasing the edge like it's the only thing left keeping him alive.

"I love you," he chokes out. "I love you, I love you, I love you- fuck, I'm gonna- shit- "

Your legs wrap tighter. Your nails dig into his back. The pleasure builds, hot, all consuming, everything.

You cum first. And the second you do, your body pulsing around him, his name falling from your lips like worship, he officially loses his mind.

He groans - loud, broken, trembling like a leaf, and cums inside you, deep, thick and warm, kissing you through it like he can't stand the thought of not being close enough.

Afterward, he collapses on top of you with a breathless laugh. Then another. Then he's full on laugh-sobbing into your collarbone.

"I knew I was dreaming," he murmurs, lips brushing your damp skin. "This is some kind of coma hallucination. Someone check my vitals."

You cup his face again.

"You're awake," you whisper. "You're just finally home."

And he melts. Again.

You're both quiet for a while.

His hand drapes lazily across your hip. Your fingers are carding gently through his damp hair. He's breathing a little steadier now, but you can still feel his heart fluttering like a hummingbird against your ribs.

"Sooo..." he says, voice low, casual, suspiciously light. "Are we... still fake dating?"

You blink. And then you laugh.

"Seriously?" you murmur, shaking your head against the pillow.

"What?" he says, full of wounded innocence. "You said pretend. I just need to know when the simulation ends. Are we like... in a beta test right now? Did I pass? Is this a trick question?"

You laugh harder.

"Satoru, we just had sex."

"Fake sex?" he tries, hopeful. "Was it method acting? Did I get too into character? Because if so, wow. Someone call Hollywood."

"You came inside me."

"Right. Okay. That does complicate things a little."

You roll your eyes. He's grinning now - half smug, half terrified.

"I'm serious," he insists. "You said pretend, so I'm just asking... is this like a trial run? A 7-day boyfriend free sample? Do I get a punch card? Is there a subscription model?"

"Satoru."

"Because if there is, I'd like to formally sign up for the lifetime plan. Zero cancellations. No refunds. Oh my god, I'm already annoying, aren't I?"

"Painfully."

"God, I'm such a simp," he groans, flopping dramatically back into the pillows. "I'm like, one more forehead kiss away from baking you a cake and proposing."

"What happened to taking it slow?"

"Dead. Gone. Buried. I held your hand during sex. It's over for me. I'm already picturing our cat's name."

You stifle your laugh, burying your face in his shoulder. He smells like warmth and skin and whatever shampoo he used hours ago.

He quiets down. Just for a moment.

"...But seriously," he murmurs. "I wasn't dreaming, right? You want this? Us?"

You lift your head to look at him - messy hair, flushed cheeks, dumb little hopeful smile that barely masks the crack in his voice.

"What do you think?" you whisper.

He stares at you like the sun just rose in your eyes.

Then he swallows hard.

"I think I've loved you since the day you yelled at that guy in the mall parking lot for insulting my shoes."

"He deserved it."

"They were limited edition!"

You both laugh again.

And then he pulls you in, buries his face in your neck, and sighs like he's exactly where he's meant to be.

"Mine now," he mumbles into your skin. "For real. Not fake. Just mine."

And you don't correct him.

Because he's right.

[pollywog-frog]

I wrote a little fic.

Content Warnings: Post-season 8, so post-Major Character Death. References to Helicopter Crash. References to past suicide (Tommy’s mum). References to past child abuse (Tommy’s dad). References to past child neglect (or whatever the hell we’re calling the Buckley parents version of childrearing).

Despite all of those tags I actually think this is pretty soft and sweet. More comfort than hurt, anyway. My friend says it reads a bit like prose poetry.

Ship: Bucktommy

Buck has this thing.

It’s a thing he does, a… a ritual, of sorts.

He started it back when Tommy’s helicopter crashed. It was almost exactly four months after they’d lost Bobby, when the grief was still fresh but not as overpowering anymore. They’d been working the night shift when the tones had gone off, and Hen had shot Buck this look, like what she’d really wanted to do was pull him to the side and tell him to stay back. But she hadn’t – maybe she’d realised it wouldn’t have worked, that there wasn’t time to explain why, or maybe she’d just thought that he didn’t deserve that, not after everything else – and Buck is still hit with this wave of gratefulness whenever he thinks about it.

She’d told him on the way to the scene what was happening. That they were there to rescue Tommy, after his helicopter crashed on the edge of a small lake in a park. Buck had been the first one out, and he’d run, water splashing up onto his turnouts. The burning wreck of Tommy’s helicopter lighting up the night sky. He’d screamed as he pulled Tommy out of the chopper, had sobbed as his hands pulled up the sleeve of his flight suit so his fingers could wrap around his wrist and feel a weak, threadbare pulse.

That’s where it started, Buck thinks.

It kept going, for the week Buck spent in a cramped hospital chair, pulled up as close to Tommy’s bed as he could possibly get without actually being on it. His hand had stayed there as he waited for Tommy to wake up, fingers wrapped round Tommy’s wrist, feeling the steady thump thump thump pulsing against his skin. The heart monitor hadn’t been enough.

They’d talked, after Tommy woke up. Buck had yelled – cried – at him that he had to stop leaving, because Buck couldn’t take losing any more people that he loved. And then he’d really cried, actually cried, full snot and tears and all, at the look of shock on Tommy’s face, because fuck, Tommy hadn’t known, and Buck had realised that’s what he should’ve said, both the night they broke up and the morning after they hooked up, and hell, he should’ve said it in the helicopter too.

‘I’ll say it every day from here on out, you absolute asshole.’

‘You don’t know me. Not really. You just know the person I tried to be.’

‘I do know you. And I want to know you even more. I already love you.’

They’d kissed, and they’d talked some more and then Tommy had fallen back asleep. They kept talking, being far more vulnerable in the days leading up to Tommy’s release from the hospital than they ever were during those first six months together.

‘I was born for spare parts for a brother I didn’t even know I had until I was thirty, and I failed at that, and my parents’ were so consumed by their grief that they ignored me for most of my life and let my sister parent me. I ran around all over the Americas for years, trying to figure out who I was and where I fit in. I do stupid, reckless things because I think the only way I’ll get attention and care and love is if I’m hurt, and I am so scared of being abandoned that I keep making impulsive decisions to try and get people to stay.’

‘My mother slit her wrists when I was seven and my father blamed me for not finding her and saving her in time. He tried to beat every soft part out of me and sent me to military school when he didn’t succeed, where they got rid of the last bits. I realised I was gay when I was fifteen, and I started running. I ran from my father and I ran from myself, I ran so far I ended up in the air, flying through a combat zone in a foreign country, and when I came back home I was so full of shame and hate for myself and instead of doing something about it, I ran and hid for another decade. I’m a coward who pretends to be confident. My first relationship with a man ended in a disaster and I figured that meant I wasn’t built for long-term. I leave before I can be left because I’m scared and terrified and can’t imagine a world where someone thinks I have enough to offer that they’d love me enough to stay.’

When Tommy’s released, Buck comes with him. He moves out of Maddie and Chimney’s office-turned-guest-bedroom and into Tommy’s house. This time, the honeymoon phase comes with all the heavy conversations they’d ignored the first time.

And Buck has this thing.

Whenever he grasps Tommy’s hand while they’re out and walking, his thumb will linger over Tommy’s pulse point before falling down, their fingers locking together.

Tonight, he wakes with terror choking his throat, eyes burning with the last image he has of Bobby glued to the back of them, the last words Bobby ever said to him ringing in his ears, the phantom heat of Tommy’s burning chopper licking his skin.

He turns on his side, towards Tommy. Tommy, who’s sleeping on his back, one arm laid over his own torso, the other resting on the mattress between them, palm up and open like it’d been waiting for Buck.

He reaches out and takes it, drawing himself closer so he can hug it to his chest. Buck’s heart is still racing, his breathing hitching, and neither one calms until he finds his finger wrapping around Tommy’s wrist, thumb pressed to his pulse and eyes locked on the steady rise and fall of Tommy’s chest.

You’re okay, he tells himself. You’re alright. He’s alive. Bobby’s gone, but Tommy’s right here. He’s right here.

He knows the moment Tommy wakes, sees it in the change in his breathing, feels it in the way his pulse quickens.

“Go back to sleep,” Buck whispers.

“Mm,” Tommy hums. His eyes open slowly, and he turns his head, facing Buck. “Bad night?”

Buck doesn’t answer. He just pulls Tommy’s hand up to his lips so he can kiss his knuckles.

Tommy blinks sleepily at him, his smile soft. “Held or hold?” he mumbles.

“Need to hold you.”

Again, Tommy hums. Buck lets go off his hand as Tommy turns on his side, back to Buck, and scoots backwards and a little down, pulling his pillow with him.

His naked back connects with Buck’s bare chest, and Buck sucks in a sharp, shaky breath, the way he always does on nights like these when he feels their bodies click together like jigsaw pieces. He tangles his legs together with Tommy’s, and wraps his arm around Tommy’s waist, his hand locking around his wrist again. He buries his nose against the nape of Tommy’s neck, breathing in the comforting, familiar scent of Tommy’s shampoo and body wash, the lingering remnants of cologne with the underlining, natural smell that’s just Tommy.

Most nights when Buck wakes like this, this is what he needs. He likes to go to sleep lying on Tommy’s chest, the steady thump of his heart lulling him to sleep. But when he wakes like this, plagued by the past or the fear of a future he doesn’t want to imagine, this is what he needs.

This illusion that he can protect Tommy, this all-encompassing knowledge that for now, at least, they’re both alive and together, this feeling of holding the most precious thing in his world safely in his arms.

“I love you,” Buck whispers against Tommy’s sleep-warm skin.

Tommy brings Buck’s hand up to his lips; Buck feels them press against the back of his hand, soft and a little chapped. “I know.”

[idliketobeatree]

@wordsinhaled NICK, MY DEAREST INDEED!!1! it's FINALLY time for me to yap after a weekend of work

i've had this gifset on constant repeat (charli style) for the whole past two days (might have spent as much as an hour at once just. looking.. so longingly... listening to the mix you sent me... envisionig, thimking even.....) and i NEED to hear out your director's cut! because!

truly i can't get your scene choices out of my head. like, i have a list prepared.

first gif already had me on the floor because, you see, i've started the poem with this maudlin expression tetheering on pained, but your “dearest charles” has this? lovesome, silly over, lightly exasparated quality that makes me yell! come one!!! when his name is on edwin's lips, what could ever feel wrong? INSANE. AND making the sconces PINK, i see you!!

I LOVE how you added the caseboard but specifically from the scene where charles says edwin is "proper missable", it puts the gifset firmly into that post-canon setting i really wanted to explore and it matches up PERFECTLY! all along, the agency moves on and the jobs keep getting jobbed. A++ scene

THIS IS THE ONE I PROPERLY LOST MY MIND OVER, the giddiness, the sheer HOLD on him that charles has is so palpable here. i loved wordplaying with the expression of "half brains" as in edwin gently chiding himself for acting a bit silly around charles, but also recognising that charles' own brilliance is balanced out between them two when it comes to the work. also, using their giggling to show that they've stayed like this for WHO knows how long, weeks or months after the confession those bitches still kick their leggies and blush like two schoolgirls. unmatched. kithing you on the nose for this

"I choose to believe" HEY NOW when i say i didn't EXPECT the actual confession thrown into the bit. THE TRUST IN HIS EYES. THE NODDING. he's just one conversation with niko + a google search away from blurting out "whatever you say beautiful" and it's killing me here

okay, but the way you coloured the green here is?? so utterly lovely? and i am once again not okay about your scene of choice (edwin looking down at the shoulder touch and charles smiling in the off-view??? fucks me well up) something about edwin suspecting charles knows here. knows what he's doing. well. well now

DEFINITELY UP THERE IN THE MOST SCREAM-INDUCING GIFS SECTION feeling his dead heart beat again my BELOVED

and my jaw fucking dropped when i saw this. i think i've spent like, 20 minutes on it alone. you were insane. god. edwin pointedly LETTING GO of the window frame over "ghosts / who cannot let go" (from the same PILOT) + charles' goddamn singlet beauty on "body--pliocene" like HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION EVER AGAIN AAAAAAAAAAAAAH OF COURSE THE EPOCH FAMOUSLY KNOWN FOR HAVING A HOTTER CLIMATE AND BEING A TIPPING POINT WOULD BE HIM ANEW AND REBORN AS A GHOST, BUT JUST AS ANCIENT AAAAAAA

i need to hunt you down for sport btw. jesus christ. i am so weak for, for almost confession!edwin being this mess of conflicting feelings that are too much for his body, nervousness, excitement, being bodied by the enormity of his affection and describing it like it's a threat, but he wouldn't have it any other way. his prey insticts locked in and he pushes through, because it's important. charles is the most important. UNWELL

THIS IS MADLY INGENIOUS btw i can tell (maybe more fully confirm lol) "the Magician's snow" was a reference to the Major Arcana Tarot card, which represents the connection between the spiritual and physical realms and it pairs up wonderfully with the wing of Death taking the spirit over as well. ofc the actual snow is just cherry on top. i don't think i even remembered they had the romantic snow falling around them scene when writing the bit and that it was. canon. ofc they did. smh

BELOVED CRICKET BAT of course i think edwin would be so fine about it, it's canon-- love the way the gif really focuses on the movement but it keeps edwin's pov in the back, won't let you forget about his presence

literally crying on the cold wet ground with him. this one surprised me THE MOST, because well, the original meaning was leaning more heavily towards "edwin wants charles to break through the last of his walls, but isn't sure how to ask for it"; making charles the focus of that line is a far more fitting and frankly better interpretation and i have zero shame in claiming it fully. like, they can coexist, sure, but this is cleary superior. and i am hurting so much. thank you thank you thank you

AAAAAAAAAJBDSHHDJFSFDFGNJNVSCDNW3OI2H5N34J53K4H5B345345HB345H345U34K6HB5MH6B45JHB52H4B53M4H6BM36B34H525B25B3H56B3JYEAH YEAH THIS GIF RIGHT HERE MISS DEATH [INSERT SCREAMING CAT EMOJI] god DAMN it edwin's pained expression at being REALLY left out and shut out when all he wants is for charles to let him IN is. i mean. sick an twisted also why did i write that and i'm so thankful you loved it enough to do this

+ an extra bcs WHAT DO YOU MEAN "ONE OF HOW MANY MORE" DO YOU WANT TO KILL ME (P((PLEASE)))

all in all, i am kissing you for a thousand years and loving you for a thousand more AND your playlist is going to put my soul into a blissful resting state if i'm not too careful!!!1 ! !

how i be looking upon this gifset and you for the next eternity:

— “decimal places, countable ticks” - a Payneland / Dead Boy Detectives poem by @idliketobeatree written for @mellxncollie

[alotsgonnachange]

Stuff About the Antivan Crows That I Decided To Make Up

***please don’t view this as me saying they are good guys or heroes, i am fascinated by them anthropologically thank you***

**if i’m fucking something up in the DA canon: my bad 🙏🏽**

I think maybe standardized/fancy antivan is Italian — Used in official government documents, ceremonies, etc

Then maybe there’s southern/northern variants and it also depends on the city.

There are dialects similar to how there are dialects/variations of spanish and italian

some dalish clans in antiva will mix one or both of the language into elven

I think that Pre-Veilguard the crows are very decentralized — Our only knowledge came from Zevran/House Arainai, and evidently that was a house that had little regard for morals, safety, decency, etc

WHICH IS NOT TO SAY OTHER HOUSES ARE MORALLY SOUND

And even in Veilguard seeing bits of Dellmorte/Cantori/De Riva, we’re maybe seeing the more “privileged” houses, who are afforded some more luxuries or allowed to get away with things that crows in another house may not have to

When crows say that their crow training is brutal, they’re not only talking about the physical and mental torture, but having to take Etiquette tests and being able to name every fork and knife and spoon on a dining table and where it should go

Or horribly boring Orlesian language and culture classes

Of course, there are the infamous seduction classes that people talk about, but I imagine those would get restricted to those who succeed in other things first and once you’re at or above a certain age

Fledglings will have mentors that study them and encourage them to focus on certain specializations — A Warrior crow with a large form and a lot of brute strength is not necessarily going to be taking Stealth and Espionage classes, though there is an understood baseline

I also think, depending on the house, there are some crows that may have been rushed through training, and have to figure shit out on the job

I think (and maybe the wiki says this) it’s very common for crows to be a bit more into #freelove or having multiple lovers/polyamory because literally. what if one of them dies?

I imagine crows could scout from within arts and entertainment organizations in Antiva — why tf do you think they own that big ass opera house?

Like yes, we want those strong, lithe and light and sexy ballerinas — they will make PERFECT assassins.

I think there’s a Big dance culture in antiva SORRY.

Like at night i want those streets to be full of Bachata, Merengue, Salsa, YOU NAME IT.

Of course there are more courtly dances — ballroom and tango style — but a good crow MUST know basic dance steps.

Some say, the dance classes are the most torturous of all…

Like multiple styles, partnered, solo, people have actually lost their lives over dancing. It’s that fucking serious.

And Lucanis is a great dancer but is humble about it (look at his animations — bro is GRACEFUL) Illario is a dramatic dancer

Watching Teia and Viago dance will literally take the air out of the room because the vibes start to give “are they gonna fuck in front of everyone???”

There’s at least several days of the year during the infamous house de riva dance lesson time where viago is straight up abbie lee miller dance moms screaming at everyone for fucking up steps

Dances that seem very steamy and sexual to outsiders are not really a bother to antivans!

There will probably be like. How To Dress Yourself classes as well - both formal dress and armor

Your house better have some damn money because a crow MUST look their best. If you are killing someone, you must look your best, if you die, you need to look good doing it

Lucanis is 100% not the only person who has tried to hit on Viago and failed. So many people want him. Not even for power but his neurotic swag is so sexy

You think younger crows aren’t sitting at a bar, drunk as hell saying some shit like “Okay fuck marry kill, First talon, fifth talon, seventh talon.”?

Yes, you can get in trouble for saying who you would kill during fuck marry kill

Addiction and drinking is unfortunately probably very common among crows, especially older ones.

Yes short lifespans but girl this is Thedas everyone is fighting for their lives. Older crows who made it far probably mostly teach the Young’uns and do paperwork lol

I think there are a lot of crows who don’t spend much time killing and stabbing every day but just doing really boring shit! Think about all the “eyes” viago has on people and places during the occupation. Sometimes the contract is being a nosey bitch!

Crows DO have ostentatious balls for many occasions throughout the year.

I think maybe once a year, newly initiated assassins will get shown off to the organization as sort of a Debutante type vibe.

Obviously individual houses will have parties, but it’s important for all houses to show off.

So they all come together and yes, each and every (living) new assassin will be presented, likely dressed in their best finery, to get oohed and ahh’d at.

This could be for talons to get new blood, to make another house jealous, to cause beef, and for young crows to just meet each other and make alliances

Crows often joke that what happens at the Debutante stays there because of all of the impromptu hook-ups that tend to happen

There’s some annual crow party for the whole organization called La Percha (i dont speak spanish. It’s supposed to be like the nest or the roost.) , but not every house goes every year (except for the talon houses)

This one is just to celebrate their accomplishments and show off, and kind of send any messages they would like to the rest of the org.

At crow parties, who you dance with and how you dance with them sends a message — especially when it comes to alliances.

The dances in the beginning of the night are ballroom like and courtly

By midnight its high tempo salsa

by 1-3 am its a lot of couple dancing and god knows how long it goes until

La Percha is usually themed, there’s different themed floors and rooms and areas at the venue

if you know the right people, there are secret areas you can access while wearing a mask to get really freaky with it with no identity revelation.

Again, don’t snitch policy, what happens at the party stays at the party!

But because crows are crows someone is probably gonna die or get stabbed

or there will be a dramatic falling out or kiss or someone “falls” off a balcony or gets poisoned.

There’s also more open to the public balls, more for nobility and sometimes even the public — especially during satinalia, but these are smaller and more specific.

I think every crow has a set of very beautiful, meaningful and ornate “good knives”

Like you bring your good knives for good luck, maybe on a date, to a ball, on your wedding day, to a memorial

[cat-mermaid]

Nobody has even once questioned why Gerson's dust+hammer was in a fucking drawer in the church, when its fucking supposed to be in the graveyard. In the ground🪦

years ago, when i first saw this scene, i knew we were gonna see Gerson again. I read this scene as Alvin being anxious about digging up his father's remains an hucking 'em into a dark world. I actually had this whole other theory back then about the Boom family being behind everything, but that was then, this is now

what i fucking want to know is: did Gerson leave instructions to his son to dig up his remains and leave them in a certain part of the church at a certain date? Did Gerson pull a back to the future part two and have a mail courier deliver a letter at a certain date to Alvin with exact instructions?

whats nuts is that the old man has been dead for awhile:

I don't know how many years ago Susie first moved to town but i wanna say it couldn't have been more than 4 years ago?

So unless Alvin is up to somthin stanky all by himself, Gerson has been plotting to be involved with the prophecy since long before he died. After all, he's also a historian, he might have found somthing really important in his research because-

Lost pieces? Missing parts of the prophecy? Um thats kinda fucking HUGE

We know by now that Ralsei gave us the "Kidz Bop" version of the prophecy, just like he did with Raise Up Your Bat, but who's to say that the windows we saw in the church are the whole story either? All that is stuff the dark world made from the holy books in the church. Gerson might have found somthing big before he died, and he knew he had to keep his cards close to his chest and not let anyone know, not even his son (unless Alvin actually is secretly in on it too but pretending to be clueless)

Gerson figured he wouldn't live long enough to get involved so he set everything up in advance and...

now that could be how it went, but somthing still really bothers me

alot

the pink hair thing

now i know the first explanation to reach for is "DUH ITS HIS DARKNER FORM"

Chara Violet on twitter made a chart that explains one theory i'm sure plenty of people have:

and when you compare his darkener colors to Alvin:

huh...

hmmmm

Huh

HUH

its almost exact except Gerson has more yellow in his green... (i don't know why png maker made his eye white)

"but they have different shells! But Alvin doesn't have visible nostrils! But his hair is shorter! But-" look how fucking different Ralsei looked from when we first met him to after he took his hat off. He didn't even look like he had arms or a real face. Things work differently in the dark world and theres just one thing i can't stop wondering:

Why the fuck haven't we seen Alvin's eyes yet?

SUS

SUSSY BAKA

now am i implying that Alvin pretended to be his own father? YES, but thats just one spin on this theory, cos this could go a few ways:

🐢ONE: Alvin carried out Gerson's last request to move his remains to where Susie and Kris find them in the church. Alvin has no idea why but does so out of love and respect for his father

🐢TWO: Alvin carried out the last request because he was in on it, and placed the dusty hammer where instructed because he and his father knew what was coming before his father's death

🐢THREE: Alvin put on a big show for us out in the graveyard in chapter two, muttering about the hammer loudly as we steered Kris towards the exit. Then he moved the hammer to another location and created a fake replica to hide in the church, fake dust and all. Then put on some makeup, his father's old clothing, some prop dentures and a cover over the top of his shell that looks identical to the one his father had in life

Why all that for number three? Well it would certainly be convenient if you wanted to get close to the heros, but wanted to make sure that anyone (Us/Kris/The Knight/Carole/Gaster???) watching would think "oh fuck that Gerson guy could be a problem with the plan (whatever it is) but thank god he's dead and can't be brought back easily! After all, he didn't come back when Susie made a dark world!" but then at a critical future moment, PSYCH!!! HE'S FUCKING ALVIN, THE BAD ASS MINISTER WHO WAS SECRETLY TRAINED BY HIS BAD ASS FATHER HIS WHOLE LIFE

OR

even better?

Alvin put on this whole show so that the ominous they would be sure that Gerson was super dead and not going to throw a spanner in the plan (watever dat is) but oh. oh no. uh oh.

GERSON WAS NEVER DEAD. HE FAKED THE WHOLE THING, LAID LOW FOR YEARS, ALVIN WENT THROUGH ALL THE MOTIONS BUT HE WAS IN ON IT THE WHOLE TIME and now ya'll are boner'd

yeah this is getting into fanfic territory but it all feels plausible, because Gerson is a smart and crafty bastard. Remember how ready for us he was in Undertale?

Remember his dialog in the genocide route?

he fucking knew that he was untouchable as a store vendor, some fucking how he'd gained some secret knowledge of his reality, of being a video game character

so whats to say that in Deltarune, what we just experienced with Gerson in the dark world isn't him using knowledge of the game's mechanics to his benefit again? It could be as simple as deceiving us, the player, or it could be that as a darkener he'll have far more power to change things then we could have ever imagined...

yeah like dat :)

[itadooori]

my slightly cohesive squid game s3 thoughts (SPOILERS)

obligatory disclaimer that i am NOT trying to tell anyone that they're stupid or illiterate if they don't agree with this. you're more than entitled to your own feelings about s3, these just happen to be mine. i'm not looking to fight with anyone, i just thought i'd share some things that may help someone come to peace with season three a little more. buckle up folks this is a YAPFEST

To preface this, I want to say that whenever I interact with a series and it makes a decision I don't like and/or don't understand, I try my hardest to figure out why it's there. This is essentially what this post is: me figuring out why the things that happened in squid game s3 happened. Some of the things still bother me despite the reasons I've seen, and some things I've made a bit of peace with.

Over the weekend I've been formulating my thoughts about s3 and the finale. I also read some interviews explaining certain choices, as well as posts from people who liked the ending/the season and people who disliked the ending/the season. I wanted to give myself a bit of time to post about this with a clearer head, and also wanted to try to understand the message HDH was trying to send.

I've given myself some time to process Gi-hun's death, and I think I'm actually okay with it? I've always kept his death as a real possibility in mind, so the fact he died didn't shock me, but did devastate me as he is my favorite character. I honestly loved the journey that Gi-hun's character went through this season as a whole, it was so full of grief and despair and was extremely heart-wrenching.

Some posts that helped ease my mind a bit about Gi-hun's choice (as well as some of the finale as a whole) are this and this.

(I also found this post to be interesting and it opened my mind up to some deeper thinking, so I'd give it a look if you're interested!)

Now. I want to admit: I am not as unhappy with the ending as much as I initially was. After reading some of HDH's words and other peoples' analysis on the ending, I'm starting to understand the angle it's going for, and I do appreciate it.

Obviously, my critiques haven't vanished -- I have my fair share of things I'm not happy about. I wish that In-ho had a bit more screen-time. I heavily dislike how Jun-ho's character was handled in s3. I also think that the pacing was off in places, notably in the latter half of the season. And of course, I do wish that the reveal scene had a bit More to it.

Also I just dislike the idea of an American spinoff so I was bound to dislike that last scene LMAO but that seems more like Netflix meddling than anything HDH wanted.

HOWEVER, there were also several things this season that did hit me very hard, and that I hold close to my heart. Many, many people have brought up (and rightfully criticized) the things I mentioned above, and I feel that elaborating on those points would be regurgitating what's already out there. So I'll spend some time talking about the things I DID enjoy in s3:

• IDK if this is a hot take or not, but I really loved the Dae-ho and Gi-hun stuff. It was so fucking dark and the furthest we've ever seen Gi-hun fall and I enjoyed every second of it. I don't think Gi-hun was simply mad at Dae-ho about the ammo; that was only part of it. Dae-ho I think on a narrative level served as Gi-hun's internal monologue towards himself, and I think this is backed up by the fact Seon-nyeo tells him that killing Dae-ho will clear his bad karma. And in that altered state of mind, induced by a psychotic break, he believed that. Obviously, when he killed Dae-ho that caused some sort of Realization, which is why he switches from "it's your fault" to "it's my fault" as he attempts suicide again. Also, on the topic of Dae-ho, if you're upset about the military reveal, I'd recommend reading this post because Netflix fucked up the subtitles and I think the more accurate translation falls more in line with his character.

• As a trans person, I honestly liked how Hyun-ju's death was handled. Her death did not strike me as uniquely gore-y or horrible, nor was it tied to her transness. It was tied to her core traits of kindness and commitment to other people. Her death, imo, continued to humanize her. I hope that her existence helped open up some peoples' minds.

• I loved the callbacks to Sae-byeok. First, the more subtle one of Gi-hun telling Geum-ja that he's "not that kind of person" just hit me like a TRAIN. I teared up. And then when Gi-hun had an outright flashback to Sae-byeok when he once again thought about killing someone in their sleep, I actually bawled.

• The entire Gi-hun/In-ho flashback sequence with the dagger. I have no notes. That was beautifully done and one of the best scenes in the entire season imo.

• MIN-SU'S ENTIRE JOURNEY IN S3 WAS REALLY COMPELLING TO ME?? I already really liked him before, but I was absolutely enamored by what they did with him. The hallucinations were genuinely terrifying, and him finally taking Se-mi's hand in death actually made me tear up. I love that lil guy. He straight up went thru every circle of hell.

• Geum-ja's speech to Gi-hun was very very touching. Both of these characters just went through the worst day Ever and yet she still shows him kindness and a reason to keep going. I love all the subtle expressions LJJ displays in this scene too.

• I liked that No-eul got a good ending. She deserved it. I'm glad that she gets to reunite with her daughter, a reflection of something Gi-hun didn't get to do.

• The tragedy between Geum-ja and Yong-sik....goddddddddd I wept.

• Seeing Gi-hun carrying around Jun-hee's baby was like cocomelon to me. The way he smiled at her had me sooo weak I love him so much.

• Woo-seok's little side plot was fun and I liked seeing him get some spotlight.

• Jun-ho not wanting to become a cop again LMFAO I loved that the story still sticks to its dislike of cops and the justice system.

• Of course, as always, the cast's acting was absolutely phenomenal. Even for scenes I don't like, the actors did the best that they could and I think they deserve recognition for that.

There are some more things I could list, but this post is getting long enough lmfaoo

Now, I believe that my feelings on season three are more complex than they were initially. I feel a little isolated from the majority of the fandom right now because while I have my issues, I don't Hate it. Far from it, honestly. It feels more like a "i enjoy many things about this, and i understand and appreciate the message being sent, i just wish that some of it was done Better" type thing.

I've also been looking at squid game, especially season three, similarly to how I'd look at a Greek tragedy. Squid game shares a lot of key elements you see in them: dramatic irony, hubris, hamartia (a fatal flaw or lapse in judgement leading to a character's downfall), peripeteia (a sudden reversal of circumstances), catharsis (emotional release), and moral dilemmas. The themes also overlap, and I'm reminded of tragedies like Electra. And I think that some of s3's choices make a little bit of sense if you see the story as emulating a Greek tragedy; I'm not saying you have to like it, but for me it made me more understanding of the message being conveyed.

Finally, I want to say that my love for squid game hasn't diminished at all, and I won't be leaving the fandom any time soon. Even with my complicated feelings about s3, I still think s1 and s2 are incredible and it's worth sticking around even just for them.

TLDR; my thoughts are still complicated, but i don't think the season is as bad as i initially thought