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Hello, Lovelies!
I hope you all are surviving and thriving! Here are my fav fics that I read in April, May, and June. A huge thank you to all writers who post their work on this clusterfuck of a website; you are absolute treasures and I adore you all. I wish all of you writers and readers the best, and I hope that the next three months treat you well.
Happy reading and lots of love,
Violet đ€
Untitled By @pellucid-constellations
Drabble; Best/childhood friends to lovers; college!au, frat!bucky, college!reader; angst
"You're the one person I promised myself I would never cross that line with."
Through A Window, Darkly by @intrepidacious
Drabble; winter soldier!bucky, agent!reader
Prompt: A photo from your vacation shows a face staring through your hotel window. You were on the 9th floor.
HOLD ON TO THE MEMORIES, THEY WILL HOLD ON TO YOU... AND I WILL HOLD ON TO YOU by @bkchron
Established relationship; soft angst
You and Bucky deal with the lasting effects of the memory wiping.
Taste Test by @metal-armed-muse
Coworkers to lovers; Executive chef!bucky x sous chef!reader
Bucky Barnes doesnât lose control. He doesnât blur lines. But when his new sous chef looks at him differently, control doesnât feel so important.
Blue Moon by @godmadeaterribleerror
[18+] Series: complete; 40s!bucky, strangers to friends to lovers
In the early 1930s, your path crosses with a young, bright eyed boy who doesn't seem to know the pain of the world. You ask him to wait. He does with a smile. Through time and war, you love him with the burn of all your heart. Across oceans and between worlds, he loves you so much he swears he could never forget.
Domestic Headcanons With Dean by @violained
Established relationship, fluff
You Can Feel, Pretty by @/violained
Drabble; established relationship; fluff
patching up dean's arm but his bicep is right there!! and it's so pretty!
Taste Test by @cowboylike-dean
Drabble; Established relationship, fluff
while helping you clean your room, dean gets distracted by your lip balm collection and uses it as an excuse to kiss you over and over
Untitled by @candytoothed
Drabble; angsty angst;
A stranger seeks your help
Safe In The Dark by @wendichester
Drabble; Established relationship, comfort
after a nightmare rips you awake, dean is already thereâwarm, steady, and whispering quiet reassurances until the fear fades and you can breathe again.
The Wrong Mouth Saying Your Name by @/wendichester
Drabble; Established relationship, angst with a happy ending
with two deans in front of you, the only thing left to trust is the part of him no monster can steal cleanly
The Very Serious Business of Stealing Blankets by @/wendichester
Drabble; Hunter!reader, friends to lovers?, fluff
dean starts a ridiculous argument over blanket rights
Wherever You Fit by @/wendichester
Drabble; Friends to lovers?, Hunter!reader, fluff
dean hates feet on his seatsâjust not yours
Stay Right Here by @/wendichester
Drabble; established relationship; fluff, smut adjacent
dean doesnât say âi love youâ. instead, he proves it in the quiet moments after
Are You Listening Yet by @stargazedwinchester
Hunter!reader; Angsty angst
The Ring Thing: One & Two by @/wendichester
exes to lovers?; pining!dean
1. dean runs into you at a park, sees the ring, the kid, the lifeâand tries very hard not to want something that was never his
2. years after dean walks away, a chance reunion in a park turns into a very casual, definitely-not-a-date dinner where monster goo, too much cologne, old feelings, and second chances all end up sharing the table.
Loop by @sorryitamyfirstdayonearth
[18+] Exes to lovers, time loop, angst with a happy ending
Dean gets thrown back into the day things between you and him fell apart. Thereâs something heâs supposed to learn, he thinks, something heâs supposed to solve. Itâs tough, though, since heâs incorporeal, and thereâs also no way in hell youâd ever forgive him. Or is there?
The Space Between Us by @atwistoffate
Series: complete; friends to lovers; angst with a happy ending
You and Dean get hit with a curse, one that really hates distance. And it keeps tightening the longer it lasts. Seems like youâre stuck side-by-side now⊠good luck with that.
King & Queen by @/sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth
Drabble; Established relationship; hunter!reader, bunker era; fluff
You beat Sam at chess for the first time, and you are a very ungracious winner.
you've always had trouble with retaining information to do with monsters and hunting. you think you've reached a dead end with studying, but sam swoops in with new perspectives to make you feel better.
Rent Free (In My Head) by @/stargazedwinchester
Hunter!reader; angst with a hopeful ending
sam has always had a crush on you. you're oblivious, of course, and sam leaves the feelings lingering.
The Long Way Home by @/wendichester
Drabble; Friends to lovers; hunter!reader; fluff
you mention loving sunflowers once, and sam quietly builds a whole ritual around bringing them back to you
sam keeps dreaming about a stranger he canât name, canât find, and canât stop drawing
Lazy by @/wendichester
[18+] established relationship; hunter!reader; smut, fluff
after a brutal hunt youâre too tired to lotion your legs, so you ask sam to do it.
Sad Little Puppy Boy by @/wendichester
Missouriâs niece!reader; strangers to lovers?; soft angst
sam comes to your auntieâs house looking for answers, and you see too much of him too quicklyâthe grief, the guilt, and the want heâs trying very hard not to feel.
Secretly Daring Soldier Boy by @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds
Headcanon; Established relationship
Hungry Love by @godmadeaterribleerror
[18+] Headcanon, fluff
The ways Ben loves you
Untitled By @castielthinkr
Drabble; Supe!reader, strangers to lovers?
is like lovesick or basically head over heels when meeting her. Tries to show off and get her to be with him, reader likes seeing him that way and just teases along
Look Out For Me by @/godmadeaterribleerror
[18+] doctor!reader; strangers to lovers, soft angst
after being woken up, soldier boy found a woman, promised he'd never leave her, then did. two years later, he's back and looking for one thing only. you.
Cuteness Aggression by @aseafullofstars
[18+] Established relationship, fluff
it's not your fault you think soldier boy's just adorable first thing in the morning
Mouth Like That by @notmeolive
[18+] series: ongoing; human!reader; enemies to lovers, slowburn
youâre part of butcherâs crew, heâs the weapon they barely trust, and somewhere between missions, insults, blood, and bad decisions, soldier boy becomes the one person you should stay away fromâand the one person who keeps coming back.
summary. sam lost his soul. and when he gets it back, heâs changed. he wants to stay changed. but the expectations are always too damn high when it comes to his humanity.
pairing. sam winchester
wordcount. 782 genre. angsty angsty vibes
warnings. postâsoulless sam winchester, identity loss / permanent personality change, emotional repression, dehumanization, grief for a past self, others projecting expectations onto recovery, lack of empathy / emotional disconnect (in-universe), anger and violent impulses (referenced), psychological distress
notes. read this text from @bedpissercastiel and it inspired me to write this, so credits to them!
Not in the obvious wayâno guns raised, no salt lines, no holy water hovering near his throat. Itâs worse than that. Itâs the glances that linger too long. The pauses after he speaks. The way Deanâs eyes flick over him like heâs counting pieces, checking inventory.
Heâs back, they say.
Whole again, they mean.
Normal, if theyâre being generous.
Sam doesnât correct them.
He has his soul again. He knows this because he remembers the pain now. Because guilt has weight. Because regret doesnât slide off him the way it used to. Because sometimes, late at night, he wakes up choking on images that feel too sharp to be memory and too familiar to be dreams.
But the thing no one wants to hear is this:
Getting his soul back didnât undo what happened.
It just made him capable of feeling it.
There are parts of him that never went away. They just learned to sit still.
He still reacts too fastâanger flashing hot and immediate, violence coming easier than it should. He still feels desire like a switch being flipped, sudden and consuming, with none of the soft lead-in he used to have. Empathy comes slower now, like it has to wade through something thick before it reaches the surface.
He notices. Of course he does.
He notices how Dean tenses when Sam smiles without humor. How Bobbyâs voice gets careful when Sam says something blunt and true and sharp. How Cas tilts his head, studying him like a math problem that doesnât quite balance.
They want the old Sam back.
The Sam who hesitated.
The Sam who second-guessed.
The Sam who felt things the right way, in the right order, at the right volume.
They say itâs for him. They say it with concern wrapped tight around their throats. We just want you better, Sammy. We just want you whole.
But Sam can hear the part they donât say.
They want to be comfortable again.
They donât want to look at him and see something that reminds them how fragile the line is. How easily a person can change into someone unrecognizableâand still be standing right in front of you, breathing, talking, existing.
So Sam performs.
He softens his tone.
He waits an extra beat before responding.
He forces concern into his voice when someone dies, even when his first instinct is just⊠acceptance.
He learns which parts of himself to lock away.
The efficiency.
The cold clarity.
The way he can make hard decisions without flinching.
Those parts are dangerousânot because theyâre evil, but because they donât match the version of him everyone is grieving.
Dean watches him like a shoreline watches the tide. Always braced. Always waiting for something to pull back too far.
âYou okay?â Dean asks, again and again, like a mantra.
Sam nods. Smiles. Lies.
Because the truth is more complicated than anyone wants.
The truth is: Sam doesnât want to go back to who he was. Not entirely.
That version of him broke just as badlyâjust slower, quieter, with more apologies. That Sam carried the weight until it crushed him, until he thought sacrificing himself was the only way to matter.
Soulless Sam didnât hesitate. Didnât doubt. Didnât bend himself into knots trying to be good.
And that terrifies them.
So they push. Gently, sometimes. Desperately, others.
They praise him when he reacts âright.â
They go quiet when he doesnât.
They measure him in inches and call it progress.
Sam feels the pressure build, day by dayâa dam holding back something volatile and boiling. He keeps it together because he has to. Because if he lets them see how much of that version of him still lives under his skin, theyâll panic.
Theyâll try to erase it.
They wonât ask whether he can survive that.
Some nights, alone, Sam wonders if the soul came back wrong. Or if this is just what happens when you stitch something torn too many times. He presses a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeatâsteady, human, hisâand tries to reconcile it with the truth heâs not allowed to say out loud.
He is changed.
Forever.
And even when he does everything rightâeven when heâs good, and gentle, and carefulâthey still look at him like theyâre waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Waiting for proof heâs fixed.
Sam exhales slowly, schooling his face into something acceptable.
He can be what they need.
He always has been.
But somewhere deep inside, the part of him that survived being empty, that learned how to exist without permission, is still awake.
Still watching.
Still waiting.
And one dayâ
the dam is going to break.
ê. all works ; writing guidelines ; writing schedule
ââ .⊠requests are currently closed.
âŠRead on aO3! - Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Chapter 71âŠ
âŠsummary: you go in for the killâŠ
âŠwarnings/tags: friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action, smut, no use of y/nâŠ
âŠauthor's note: dean's about to make big money movesâŠ
Jan 5th â 2012
Princess,
Itâs really freaking cold.
And I know what youâre gonna say. Itâs winter, De, course itâs cold. Cold happens in the winter. Weâre further away from the sun right now, so all the heat is gone, but you can go make a fire and we can cuddle and thatâll be warm, cause Iâm warm and youâre warm and body heat is real good for combating cold. I love you. Go feed the monsters.
I donât think youâd say that. I mean, you might. Parts of it. Iâm not a great actor, sweetheart, but I do know you. And I know youâd get all nerdy on me, but Iâd probably have to tell you the cuddling part. That could be a pretty good move, actually. If I use that on you later, you have to pretend I didnât tell you it was coming. Thatâll ruin my charm. My seduction. Sammy used to call me a manwhore sometimes, and he mighta been right, but I was just honing my skills. Charming you is my white whale, baby. You donât land a hot wife by fucking around, and trust me. Iâm gonna land you. We can get married wherever you want (not a church) and go on the most awesome honeymoon the world has ever fucking seen.
After we take care of this, of course. I promised, and my word ainât worth much, but everything that comes outta my mouth when Iâm looking at you is the truth. I talk in oaths when I see you, princess. Used to scare me, but it grows on you. Kinda gave up on trying to pretend I was a goner a while ago. Not worth trying to push you out when Iâm gonna die at your feet. Just means I gotta crawl a little further, and Iâd rather use that energy to keep looking at you, right until the sun goes out.
Youâre in the other room right now. Working on the plan with Cas and Jo. I donât love it, but you know that. Told you, I donât lie. Iâve said this is stupid to your face, Iâm gonna say it here too, and I wonât even say I told you so when this goes sideways. My money is on Crowley stabbing us in the back again, but Iâm keeping an eye on him. Iâll be ready. You and Jo can do your shit, Cas and I will take care of Dick, and God, if heâs got any damn spine, will offer us some kinda grace or gold for saving his ass.
I really wish you were a little meaner sometimes, baby girl. Not cause I donât think youâre perfect, but
Jesus, we could just let them go at it. We could open up that gate and toss God to Jaws. Theyâd mash him up for us, and weâd gank them right after, and everything would be in the clear. Yeah the angels would still be dicks, and Crowley would still be a pain in the ass, but theyâre like swatting flies compared to freaking God. Youâd be free. we could be free, if youâd just. You know. Do the wrong thing.
I know you wonât. Like I said. I know you, and I know youâre gonna wanna do the right thing, even if you donât always know what the hell that is. I donât really know either. Who the hell does, you know? Everyoneâs got their own screwed up ideas of whatâs up and down and left and right, and you turn around and it changes, and all we can do it try and keep track of where the hell we are. Donât even know where weâre going. Donât know how weâre gonna get there. Maybe this is gonna work, maybe it wonât. Long as I got you and Sammy, I think Iâm good wherever we go.
Was thinking about Heaven last night. Hoping that, if you got a normal one, Iâd be in there, same way youâre in me in mine.
I hope I make you happy, sweetheart. Thatâs what Iâm getting at. I hope that when all this is said and done, no matter where the hell we land, Iâm still making you happy.
Iâve gotta go, before one of you barge in and start asking me to vote on things again. Itâs nice that youâre trying to include me, even if I know this ainât a real democracy. Jo vetoed my last three votes cause she says Iâm just always gonna side with you, but thatâs not true. Her plans were bad, and I sided with Cas that one time, and
Donât know why Iâm telling you this, actually. You were there. Next to me. donât ever leave
Iâm gonna go. See you out there, baby. Love you.
Yours,
DAW
The knife was long. A bone that Dean had spent hours carving into a proper blade. It had been grueling. He had callouses on his hands in places he didnât think were possible, and his neck was aching from bending over for hours. At one point, about halfway throughâwhen his fingers started to cramp and his leg was bouncing restlesslyâheâd joked to Sammy that maybe heâd just leave it as was and bludgeon Dick over the head. Sam had sighed and told him it had to be a flesh wound, or the blood wouldnât stick.
âI got that, Sammy, I was just-â Dean had cut himself off, running a hand over his jaw. âNever mind.â
No one seemed in the mood for jokes right now. Dean wasnât a big fan of them either, but he didnât exactly know how to fucking stop. Sometimes he got a sweet giggle out of Her, or a snort out of Charlie. When he really hit it on the nose, Sam made that tight face that meant he was wound too tight to show joy, but still capable of feeling it. Even Cas gave him a few twitches or long stares, whichâfor Casâwas basically a standing ovation and knee slap. Â
It was really good to have his Cas back. Felt like when theyâd finally pulled that barrier off of Sammyâs soul, and Dean had been able to look the kid in the eyes and know thatâin the way things ever were and ever could beâthey were gonna be alright. Scrambled up and fried Cas had been fun when Dean didnât need him, but then Dean had needed him. Then theyâd be stranded in the storm, captain overboard and their mast torn up, and Dean had been pretty much be praying to an octopus that wouldnât stop playing snake on a phone. Heâd wondered if theyâd ever get out, or if he was gonna be stuck trying to speak octopus for the rest of his freaking life.
But Cas was back. Dean looked his friend in the eyes, and didnât wonder if the angel was seeing him, or just a bunch of waving spaghetti light.
Cas had been avoiding him, though. Theyâd been planning the move against Dick and Eve, and Cas had stood across the table, avoiding Deanâs gaze. Dean would try and say something to him, and heâd just be met with one of those weary stares and nods, before someone called them away. It didnât make him miss crazy Cas. It just made him feel sort of hollow. Maybe Cas was still pissed at him about the whole Purgatory thing. They did have to explain the past six months to him, from the moment heâd taken on the Purgatory souls to when Dean fed him magic ice cream.
âThe last thing I remember,â Cas had said slowly, frowning around the kitchen. âI was here. You were here,â heâd nodded to Dean. âAnd-â Heâd said Her name softly. âShe was in danger. Gabriel⊠He said she was dying. And I- I had made a promise, I had pledged all my grace, so I-â Cas had gone silent for a moment, his mouth in a tight line and his gaze cast down. âI must have-â
âYou took on the souls, Cas,â Sam had finished gently. âRowena moved them into your body, and you vanished. Jo found you, then-â Sam had said Her name. âShe and Rowena found Jo-â
âAnd me,â Meg had added. âI also found Jo.â
âYou didnât find anything,â Jo had muttered, and Meg had shrugged.
âWhine all you want, blondie. I was part of the team on that one.â She shot Cas a grin. âAnd you were cuckoo bananas, Cassie. Just all⊠Sunshine and rainbows.â
Cas had frowned. âI have never been sunshine. Or rainbows. Angels are made of grace.â
Dean had snorted. That was Cas alright.
âGood to have you back, buddy,â heâd said, and Cas had just given him a strange, taut look. Dean had swallowed, and tried for a smile. Cas hadnât returned it. A lump had formed in his throat.
âDo you really not remember anything?â Sheâd said, that little brow wrinkle even tighter than normal.
Cas had given her an apologetic shake of his head, and Sheâd let out a slow breath.
âThatâs okay,â Sheâd murmured, scanning over Casâ sad little face. âItâs okay. Weâll figure it out.â
And Sheâd always had a way of saying that. A way that made Dean believe it, even when he didnât know how the hell She could figure out fixing angel brain damage. Theyâd already fed him the magic blood. They werenât gonna get a new shot until the phoenix chick grew, and who the hell knew how long that was gonna take.
Dean needed to put stronger limits on what kinda animals he was letting into his house. Limits heâd been able to enforce, because heâd said no cats and suddenly Sheâd soul bonded with a dragon. Then heâd said just the dragon was fine, and she dragged in magic kitten. Dean had let her have that oneâeven though that kitten was gonna be a lion one day, and Dean was a real big fan of not getting his face eaten offâand said no more, and now they had a freaking phoenix.
He was never gonna tell her the unicorn. Sheâd ask if they could track it down, and Sheâd use her pretty little pout and bounce on her feet and Dean would forget the word no.
âThis is it, Princess,â he muttered that night, staring at the phoenix chick on the dresser. âWeâre running outta room.â
âI know,â She said, and Dean wasnât sure she did.
âIâm serious-â
âMhm.â
Dean said Her name, and she leaned out of the bathroom, brow raised. Her hair hung, wet and tangledâframing her cheeks and making her look like a freaking mermaidâand Dean had sighed.
âCâmere,â he extended a hand, and She flushed.
âI- Um- Iâm not-â She looked down, voice dropping to a mumble. âI just got out of the shower, De-â
âYeah, I worked that out.â Dean beckoned, smiling affectionately. âCâmere.â
She looked at him under fluttering lashes, lips parted and fingers gripping the doorframe like she was afraid of falling. Dean pushed down a laugh. She wouldnât as a reaction to her borderline absurd cuteness. He beckoned again, spreading his legs wide and leaning a little forward, keeping his voice low and soft.
âNothing I ainât seen, baby,â he said, and Her lip quivered. âJust gonna brush that out for you.â
âYou donât know how-â
âYou think Iâve been watchinâ you for eleven years and havenât picked up how to do your hair?â
She blinked at him, then looked back to the bathroom. Dean sighed.
âPrincess, just- leave the towel.â
She pressed those pretty lips in a thin line, and Dean patted his knee. He wouldnât even make this a sex thing. Not right now. He just wanted Her to be as comfortable in her skin as he was. Looking at Her skin, not being in it. Sammy might call him obsessed sometimes, but he wasnât hitting Bates level. If anything, he was the perfectly healthy level of obsessed with Her.
Who wouldnât be? What kinda sick bastard would look at Her and not fall to his knees?
She slipped out of the bathroom with Her head still down and her back curved. Dean knew trying to hide when he saw it, but he was patient. Her walking around naked was a big step, and he wasnât about to push it. The Lady hopped off the bed and rubbed against Her ankle, and that pulled a small smile to Her face. She bent down to rub her between the ears, and Dean waited. He let himself stare just a little at Her cleavage. Heâd put his face there and never move, if She let him. Best pair of boobs in the freaking world.
âSheâs getting on well with the bird,â Dean said, watching Her pet the kitten. âThought for sure we were gonna have a Tom and Jerry thing going, but- Guess having a Disney Princess for a mom makes them all peaceful.â
She laughed softly, looking at Dean under dark, wet lashes. âI think you just want everything to be a cartoon, Deano,â She said, and Dean swallowed.
âNot everything, baby,â he muttered. âI kinda like you in 3D.â
That got a tiny flush, and She looked back to the kitten. Dean knew that face, though. Trying to hide a smile, to pretend She didnât hear Deanâs compliments. She could take Her sweet time absorbing them and see if he cared, but Dean wasnât ever gonna let Her get away with ignoring how much he loved Her.
âGet over here,â he murmured, and She looked back up with those shining, nervous eyes. Dean flashed Her his best, charming smile. âPromise I donât bite.â
 Unless you ask, baby. Iâll bite you all over, if you give me the green light.
Dean punched himself, internally. Yeah, She had a perfect body and very bitable, soft skin. Yeah She smelled better than Heaven and made sweeter noises than any Zepplin song, but this wasnât about that. She crawled over to him with her pretty ass in the air, and Dean fisted his hand. He wasnât gonna bend Her over and see what kind of colors he could make her turn. He let Her settle between his knees and watch him with a shallow breaths, keeping himself perfectly still. She leaned up until their noses bumped, and Dean took Her face between his hands.
âHey, Princess,â he murmured, and She dug her nails straight into his damn thigh. Dean grunted, and She tried to pull back.
âIâm so- Oh-â
Dean didnât give Her a chance to apologize. He pressed his lips over Herâs, kissing slowly. Lazily. They might not have all the time in the world, but the damn thing could stop spinning for just a few hours while he took care of Her. It owed him that much.
She folded over Dean like a ragdoll, when he hauled Her into his lap. Her fingers curled on his collar, one hand wrapping around his neck and combing through the short hairs at his nape. He shivered slightly, groaning into Her mouth, and she made a pretty little noise that made his cock twitch in his pants. Her knee bumped against his crotch, and he bit Her lower lip to stop his moan.
âSo soft, baby,â he muttered, pressing lighter kisses over her cheeks and nose. âAlmost askinâ for it, arenât you.â
She cooed in response, chasing Deanâs mouth and almost climbing over his chest. Son of a bitch, Her boobs were pressed right under his damn face, and when Dean grabbed Her waist, she arched right into his touch. It took the willpower of a damn hero, for Dean to pry Her away and flip her over. She squeaked, trying to turn back around, but Dean locked Her to his chest with an arm.
âTakinâ care of your hair,â he kissed under Her jaw. âThen we gotta get some sleep.â
She sighed and dropped Her head against his shoulder, glaring at him under hooded, glossy eyes. Dean chuckled and slid his hand around Her throat, tipping her a little further back. He kissed Her with every, infinite drop of love in his body. It was a storm that started to the right of his heart and never ended. A storm that belonged to Her. She got wiggly, when Dean pushed his tongue down Her throat, and he had to pull away. If She kept squirming against his dick, he wasnât gonna be able to keep this PG.
Maybe PG-13. She was naked, and his hand had glided down on insistent, a magnet being dragged to the greatest treasure it would ever find. His thumb grazed Her clit, and she grabbed his wrist with a tiny, breathy moan. Dean sighed, kissed the corner of Her mouth, nipped her jaw, and pulled away.
âSorry, Princess,â he murmured, and She just made a disgruntled sound, wrapping Her arms back around her stomach.
Dean sighed, positioning Her carefully between his legs, and She drew her knees to her chest, folding into a pretty little ball as Dean set to work on her hair. It was harder than Sheâd ever made it look, and Dean was sorta worried about hurting her.
âUh- If this is- I kinda gotta yank real hard-â
âItâs okay,â she mumbled, and Dean swallowed.
It didnât sound okay. He didnât think it had much to do with the hair.
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the words that would make Her understand. It wasnât like he didnât want to fuck her. He thought about those promisesâthe ones heâd made to her, about helping Her figure out what she likedâalmost every night. Sheâd press up against him in the dark, drooling and loose and soft, and Dean wanted to wind Her up and watch her burst in a million different colors. He could smell how wet She was, and he wanted to drown in it. Press Her into the mattress and lie under her hips, kissing and eating out her pussy until she screamed. He dreamed about putting her over his knee and just letting her drip all over his hands.
But She was the only woman heâd ever had where it was about more than sex. The only relationship he ever had that actually, really, unendingly mattered. Deanâs selfish, perverted thoughts could wait until She was on steady feet. They were the best kind to sweep out from under Her. When he fucked Her until she cried, he really wanted to make sure those were some happy tears. Hell, his balls were heavy and blue in his sweats, but She wasnât getting her mouth on them until Dean was sure she wasnât just trying to prove something.
He cleared his throat, so close to finding the words, but She cut him off with a small voice, and he swallowed them all down.
âDo you think the plan will work?â
Deanâs hands faltered. He didnât want to lie to Her. But when things were so small and thin and fragileâwhen every step felt like a tightrope and Dean couldnât really see the bottomâhe wasnât sure what the hell to do.
âI think weâre gonna be alright,â he tried, and Her shoulders sagged.Â
âDeanâŠâ
âI know,â he sighed, pressing his face into Her neck. âI know, Princess, but- I donât fuckinâ know.â
She leaned against him with a slow, shaky breath, and Dean wrapped his arms around Her stomach. Sheâd been eating better. It made Her warmer. Easier to hold onto, to dig his blunt fingernails into Her hips and leave tiny bruises like a claim he was allowed to make. She grabbed his forearm, and Dean hiked his legs over Herâs. He was trying to tie them further into a knot. A proper one, that nothing would be able to undo.
âWe get through it, right?â He said against Her skin, letting his lips brush that sensitive spot that always made her melt. âWe always get through it, and sometimes we come out in some pieces, but we put each other back and we keep goinâ. Right until the road runs out, and then-â
âAll the way down,â She whispered and Dean nodded tight.
âThatâs right. Weâre gonna be alright,â Dean sucked a tiny mark under Her jaw, then kissed the tip of Her nose. âAll the way down.â
She passed out in Deanâs arms, only a handful of minutes after. Heâd barely finished Her hair when he felt the drool on his arm. He smiled to himself, and settled into the bed. It took a while for his eyes to close, but he counted every second awake like a kid counting presents. He had what heâd been looking for since he was an idiot kid. He had more than heâd let himself dream about, right at the tips of his fingers. It was so close, he could almost taste the apple pie. He just had to hold on, a little fucking longer.
Always a little longer. Just a few more stepsâless than he dared to countâand theyâd be out of the woods.
Dean had learned the past few nights, that the little phoenix chick glowed in the damn dark. Made it a little harder to sleep, but he could find ways to appreciate it. Free nightlight, if their kids were afraid of the dark.
âWe could start a business,â he joked to Charlie in the morning. âYou make one of those websites, I breed the birds, weâd make a killing.â
âThatâs animal traffickinâ, genius,â Jo grumbled from across the table, and Dean flipped her off.
âYouâre just mad you didnât think of it first.â
âOh, yeah, Iâm real jealous I didnât think of your bird breedinâ crime.â
Dean wrinkled his nose. âAlright, what the hell crawled up your ass?â
âI donât know what youâre talkinâ about.â Jo said flatly. âIâm a ray of sunshine.â
Dean frowned at her, but everyone clambered into the kitchen all at once, and this didnât feel like a good place to try and get Jo to open up. There wasnât really a good place to get Jo to open up in general. There were places that would get him shot, and places that wouldnât. Dean was gonna gun for the latter.
âI think we have the plan,â She announced, dropping at Joâs side. âCrowley says he knows where Eve and Dick will be this weekend.â
âI was supposed to rendezvous with them after my little Heaven vacation,â Crowley said, standing stiffly on the edge of the kitchen. âI can get the boys past the door, but after that-â
âWeâre on out own,â Dean muttered. âLike usual.â
âI will be with you, Dean,â Cas said. âAnd I have been told that I can handle Leviathans myself.â
âOh, are you like, extra magic?â Charlie said eagerly, and Cas frowned.
âI am not magic.â
âBut- Youâre an angel,â Charlie titled her head. âIsnât that like- Obviously magic?â
âAngels are magic the same way humans are, actually,â Kevin told Charlie. Dean thought of Bobby, and the kid of tantrum the old man would throw at the amount of people in his sacred kitchen. âThere are a lot of complex classifications and stuff. I- I donât really understand most of them.â
âWe are all creations of God,â Cas said, shrugging like it wasnât that interesting. Like She and Sammy and Kevin werenât gonna start drooling over the information. âAngels have always been taught that he started with us, and worked his way out. But, for a while,â Cas sighed. âI have been wondering how much of that is true.â
âNot a lot, if Azrael was telling Dean and I the truth about Eve,â She muttered. âBut- It doesnât matter right now. Eve and Dick-â
âThatâs what we go for,â Sam finished, rubbing his legs with a pinched face. âThatâs what we have to finish.â
She nodded, and everyone else followed suit. Dean caught Her eye over the table, and gave her a small smile. Weâll be okay, he tried to tell Her with just his eyes. Itâs all gonna be okay.
For a second, Dean thought She could hear him. Something about the way She let out a sharp breath, the way her mouth twitched, he really wondered. She offered him a small smile in return, and looked over to Jo. Still sulking about something. Dean would figure out what later.
The plan was, on paper, pretty clean cut. Cas, Sam, and Dean would go with Crowley to pass the apple to Dick. Dean would go stab stab, the Leviathan Queen would fall, and the rest of them would go out like the weird little hive mind they were. On the other side, She would take Meg and Jo, find Eve, and take care of the bitch with Her Blade. That was the part Dean didnât love. He made that real clear, when they were round tabling.
âSheâs tried to kill you, sweetheart, of course Iâm not good with you running into her open murder arms-â
âI didnât work,â She said, crossing Her arms. âIâm still like, super alive.â
Dean gave Her a flat look, and She shrugged in challenge. âIâm just- Iâm thinking,â Dean took a deep breath, leaning forward. âIf any part of this is gonna be a trap-â
âShe canât trap her majesty,â Meg drawled. âAinât you heard the gospel, Dean?â
âYou stay outta this,â Dean snapped. âDonât call her that, and donât- She can very easily get trapped.â
âShe is very kidnappable,â Crowley murmured, earning him a weird look from Sam and a scowl from Jo and Dean. Crowley rolled his eyes. âPlease, itâs not like Iâve kidnapped her. I am just- You must have noticed the little pattern-â
âIâm not getting kidnapped!â She shouted over him, chin tipped up. âI can take care of Eve, she wonât kill me, and thatâs it. Okay?â
She glared around the table, all of them quietly staring back. She slammed Her hand on the table, and a little more than the ground shook. Dean almost felt it in his ribcage, like a bass drum loud enough to make the earth quake.
âOkay?!â
They all mumbled agreements, and she smiled wide.
âOkay!âÂ
And that was it. They had a plan. Team Get DickâJo came up with the name, and Sam and Dean didnât have the votes to get it rejectedâand Team Eveâs a Bitch would do their jobs, meet back up, get out, and-
âKeep going,â Dean said, the words low and rough in his throat. âWe just- We keep going until itâs behind us.â
They all nodded, and Dean knew they heard what he wanted to say.
We keep going, and then we move on.
Charlie was the only one who wouldnât be sticking around for the finale. She protested about it, but She didnât have the field training, and they didnât know what kind of mess theyâd be walking away from. Dean wanted her safe. He was already worried about Claire trying to hitch another ride, and he couldnât have another kid he was worried about misplacing. He couldnât have another person who bled out in his arms.
âThis is stupid,â Charlie grumbled when Dean walked her to the car. Sheâd get Bobbyâs old pickup, all the money they could offer, and a free gun. One of Deanâs good ones, too.
Maybe he was trying to apologize for kicking her out. He was still gonna stand by it. Better pissed and alone than dead. âYeah, I know, but- If anything goes wrong-â
âYou donât want me stuck here,â she sighed. âYeah, I know. I was just hoping, I donât know. Team Get Dick isnât exactly for me, but I could still be helpful- What if you need someone to hack you through a door-â
âCas can fry anything,â Dean said, a little apologetically, and Charlie slumped.
âYeah. I know.â
Dean sighed. âLook, weâll find you again after, alright? But youâre smart, you probably got a better life out there-â
âOh, I definitely have a better life out there,â Charlie said. âBut I like this. I like you guys.â
Dean couldnât fight his smile. He didnât get it. Heâd run to the hills the moment he knew She and Sam would follow. But heâd take it.
âWe like you too, kid,â he said, and Charlie beamed, spreading her arms wide. Dean pulled her into a hug, and prayed he actually would get to find her. And that when he did, sheâd have a life she didnât want to leave behind to rejoin their shit one.
âI still think itâs dumb that Kevin gets to stay,â Charlie grumbled. âIâm like- way better at fighting.â
Dean snorted. âYeah, well. I trust Kevin to stay in the car.â
Kevin, if anything, had begged to go into hiding with Charlie. Or get sent to Jodyâs, or join Rowenaâs boytoy club. When theyâd been prepping Charlie to hit the road, Dean had been pretty sure heâd open up the trunk and find Kevin hiding amongst the bags. But Charlie wasâin the way of being humanânot very important. Kevin was the prophet, and Dean didnât want him stuck in an angel barricade or something.
âKevin is still resistant to the plan,â Cas said quietly as Dean watched Charlie drive away, the tires kicking up dirt in their wake. âI understand your worries, Dean, but there is no safer place in the world than Bobby Singerâs house.â
Dean grunted, crossing his arms. âWhat about when we donât come back, buddy? Things go sideways, Crowley does a double back or Eve slips out, the angels pop down or something?â
âKevin would be under the strongest wards in the world-â
âHeâd be alone,â Dean snapped. âI ainât leaving him alone-â
âDean,â Cas said, quiet and steady. Dean could feel his damn gaze, burning into his head. âI understand your fears-â
âIâm not fuckinâ afraid.â
Cas sighed. âYour hesitations, then. We have not always been good at staying together, but bringing Kevin right into Eveâs nests- Itâs foolish. And you know it.â
Dean said Her name. âShe didnât have a problem with it.â
âShe is occupied with other, more important things.â Cas took a step forward, until he was right in Deanâs periphery. âShe trusts you to care for the others. I can support sending the human girl off, but the prophet-â
âIf you call me stupid, man, Iâm gonna freakinâ sock you.â
Cas sighed. âI would never call you stupid, Dean. But- I also believe you know Iâm right.â
Dean swallowed, his hand curling into a fist. He did like that, and he didnât fucking like knowing that. Charlie getting out was a chance to free her from the life. Kevin was tied to it, but Dean should be trying to keep him away from the blood, not dragging him alone in the car. Thatâs what Dad wouldâve done for him. And look at Dean, heâd turned out just fine. Stable and happy and-
He shook himself off, fighting a bitter laugh. He finally looked at Cas and tried not to let it sting at how he leaned a little away. The permanent bags under Casâ eyes were back, and his hair looked messier, his tie looser, and Dean hadnât seen him this put together since damn March last year.
âI doubt the angels are going to be a threat,â Cas said. âI have been getting radio silence since I returned, but-â He frowned at the air. âThat may just be their fury with me.â
âYou should get that checked out by a doctor, buddy.â
âThere are no angel doctors. I do not contract illnesses, or infections-â
âYeah, but youâre what, a thousand?â Dean grinned. âItâs alright. Perfect normal age to start getting performance issues, I hear.â
Cas frowned, giving Dean that confused, purely Cas look that always made Dean laugh. âI am⊠Not a performer, Dean.â
âOh, I ainât either. But I still donât get issues.â Dean winked, and Casâ frown deepened. âYou can ask my boss, sheâs been giving me five stars, âcross the board. Iâm her star employee.â
Cas blinked, and said Her name slowly. Dean nodded, and Cas sighed. âYou are not her star employee.â
âWhat-â
âThat would be Joanna Harvelle. They seemed to have a profound bond, similar to ours. In fact,â Cas tilted his head. âSam may have a bond with her as well-â
âI have a freakinâ bond with her,â Dean grunted. Iâm her soulmate, so everyone can shut the hell up. âAnd youâre talking friendship, Cas. Iâm talking sex. Romantic sex.â
âOh.â Cas was silent for a moment. âThat was⊠Not clear.â
Dean rubbed a hand over his face, and dropped down to sit on a tire. âYeah, I got that, buddy.â
Cas didnât respond, staring down at Dean with that strange expression passing back over his face. Clouds moving in, threating to block Dean back out, when theyâd just started talking like normal again. Dean cleared his throat, clasping his hands between his knees. Cas gave him a curious look, but didnât move.
âYouâre talking to me again,â Dean muttered, and Cas tensed. âWasnât sure it was gonna happen.â He was trying to say it like a joke. It wasnât coming out like one.
âDeanâŠâ
âLook, I know the last time you were you, I was kinda-â Dean waved a hand. âPissed or whatever-â
âYou wanted to kill me,â Cas said flatly, and Dean gave him a flat look.
âWell, you stabbed me in the back and stole my girl, then brought her back half dead. I was a little freakinâ annoyed.â
Casâ mouth worked slightly. He took a step back, and Dean sighed.
âCas- Wait-â
âI regret my actions, Dean,â Cas raised his voice, holding Deanâs gaze. âBut I do not regret taking her.â Cas said Her name, and Deanâs hand fisted again. âShe was in danger. I kept her safe.â
âYou almost got her killed-â
âAnd you wouldâve protected her-â
âYes!â Dean shouted, and Cas blinked. âI woulda worked somethinâ out, I woulda called all hands on deck for both of you. You never wouldâve fucked off to the woods, she never woulda gone chasing after you, I wouldâve stopped that shit, if you both got your heads outta your damn asses and-â
Dean cut himself off with a sharp breath, trying to wipe the heat of anger off his face. Heâd thought he was over this. He hadnât even really thought about it since Jo and Sam locked them in the panic room. Sammy said bottling things up made them burst. It was really annoying when Sammy was right.
âI am sorry, Dean-â
âDonât,â Dean grunted, glaring at Casâ shoes. âIt ainât your fault.â
Cas paused. âIt sounds like it is⊠Almost exclusively my fault.â
Dean, in a very small but loud part of his brain, agreed. It was Casâ fault Sheâd ever left him. It was Her fault she hadnât trusted Dean or told him how to help. It wasnât Deanâs fault. He was coming out, clean hands and chin up.
But his hands had felt pretty fucking dirty the whole time, and it wasnât like heâd ever really been able to put his chin over his neck. Dad had been good at it. Sammy still was. Dean bowed his head and followed like a dog. Maybe if heâd looked up he wouldâve seen things going wrong sooner. Maybe if heâd seen he wouldâve fought and gotten them to stop. He couldâve told Cas that theyâd help with whatever he needed, and he didnât need to worry about sneaking around or asking too much. He couldâve told Her that she didnât need to worry about losing him, even if he didnât think sheâd listen to it. Cas wouldnât either. Sheâd felt Dean die. Cas had pulled him, broken out of hell. Dean couldnât imagine it. Just thinking about them in pain made his stomach cramp and twist.
And Dad wouldâve said none of that mattered. Betrayal was betrayal, no matter how you cut or frame it. But Dean wasnât trying to be Dad. He was trying to be Bobby. And Bobby wouldâve told him Cas already felt bad enough. Bobby wouldâve told Dean to grow the hell up.
âIt wasnât,â Dean met Casâ gaze. âYour fault. We all did some stupid shit.â Â
Cas didnât answer. He blinked at Dean, silent and cautious, and Dean sighed.
âIâm not angry, man. I promise. Iâm over it.â
Cas frowned. âOver it,â he echoed, and Dean shrugged.
âItâs been months, man. Iâve sorta been frying bigger fish.â
âBobby?â Cas said softly, and Dean sighed, looking down to the dirt.
âOther shit too, but- Yeah.â
âI am sorry, Dean. Bobby was a good man-â
âI know,â Dean grunted. âDidnât save him though, did it.â
Cas was silent again. When Dean looked back up, he was shifting on his feet awkwardly, glancing at the empty stretch of tire next to Dean. The corner of Deanâs mouth twitch, and he scooted over, patting the rubbed, and Cas shuffled forward like he didnât know what to do with his feet. He sat with a tense noise, his posture rigid and legs pushed out, and Dean fought back a laugh.
âI am sorry,â Cas said suddenly, and Deanâs teasing died in his throat. âAbout⊠all of it.â
Dean sighed. âYeah. I know.â
Cas nodded slowly, and they both fell silent. And as Dean watched Cas scoot around, trying and failing horribly to sit comfortably on the tire, heâd never wanted to tell someone more. That last secret, that he might be keeping too long. Bobby had known for a week before he died. Sammy had known and forgot. Death and Joshua knew, but that was like your teachers knowing about a high school crush. Wasnât anything they were gonna do about it.
Cas wouldnât do anything either, but at least Dean would have someone who knew. Someone to actually help him figure shit out. And Cas would get it. He, of all people, would understand why Dean hadnât told Her yet.
But Cas had just gotten back. Heâd just stopped keeping secrets, and Dean- He couldnât ask him to keep another one. That wouldnât be fair. So instead he just bumped Casâ knee with his own, and gave him a small, easy grin.
âIâm glad youâre back,â he said, and it was the truth.
Cas didnât smile back. Dean hadnât expected him to. But he bowed his head, and his voice got rougher. âThank you, Dean. I am⊠glad to be back.â
Dean nodded, and looked back to the house. He should go in and tell Kevin it was his lucky day. Heâd be stuck home on pet sitting duty. Basically a vacation.
But something kept him sitting down. Something ugly and selfish, that started with a bad feeling in his gut and moved through an angry part of his heart, that got vigilant and hot when She was in danger. Deanâs drummed his hand on his knee, and took a slow breath. It wouldnât matter if nothing happened. And if it did happenâŠ
âCas?â
Cas gave him a questioning look, and Dean let out a slow breath, holding his gaze.
âYou gotta make me a promise.â
Cas sat impossibly taller. Made Dean feel short. Maybe Sam was right, and he slumped too much. âOf course, Dean,â Cas said. âWhat do you need.â
Dean swallowed. He shouldnât. But he had a feeling Cas would offer Dean the moon for his forgiveness right now, and Dean didnât give a shit about the moon. He only needed one thing. One small thing, that Cas was probably gonna do anyway, but he had to be sure.
âNext time,â Dean said slowly. âNo matter what, no matter how itâs looking- You gotta promise me youâre gonna do the right thing.â He gave Cas a meaningful look. âNot what you think is the right thing. The right thing.â
Cas blinked. âDean, I do not-â
âIâm saying not more for my own good bullshit, Cas,â Dean said. âYou and I both got the memo, thereâs only one person whoâs good really freakinâ matters, and it ainât me.â
âI amâŠâ Cas glanced over to the house, frowning slightly. âNot sure I agree, Dean. And I donât think she would either-â
ââCourse she wouldnât,â Dean dismissed. âThatâs part of the damn problem. Weâre both gonna follow her, and sheâs gonna say save Dean, and youâre gonna dive âcause sheâs the one that matters, right? Thatâs how this is always gonna go?â
Casâ frowned deeply, but didnât deny it. Dean sighed, his words staring to get sore like a bruise.
âIâm just askinâ you to promise me that wonât happen again,â he muttered. âYou owe me that much.â
And he hated the words, the second they left his mouth. Cas didnât owe him anything. No one owed Dean anything, and of their little team, he was the one who was gonna go out the easiest. Hell, heâd still be out, if it wasnât for Cas.
But Cas nodded, and Dean didnât have it in him to feel bad about that. âOkay,â Cas said. âI will⊠Do the right thing.â
Dean clapped Cas on the back, and Casâ mouth pulled into one of those awkward smiles. Dean would let himself feel guilty about this when the job was done and the right thing just turned into Cas siding with him in a stupid argument about where they should build their farm. But he was never gonna feel bad about keeping her safe. That was his one damn job, and heâd sworn he was never gonna fail it again.
Cas went inside, and Dean followed. He needed to get some practice with the knife. It was balanced all wrong, and heâd never been a fan of close combat weapons. Anything shorter than his arm was too close for comfort.
âYouâre holding it wrong.â
Dean chuckled, leaning back as She wrapped her arms over his shoulders. âAinât smart to sneak up on someone holding a knife, Princess.â
âIâd disarm you,â She mumbled, pressing her face into his hair. Dean grinned, leaning back so She had to meet his gaze.
He reached up with careful fingers, and held Her chin. She blinked at him and bent a little further down, her hair tickling Deanâs face. He pecked Her upper lip, and almost laughed when She pouted.
âNot enough, sweetheart.â
She wrinkled Her nose, pushing on his shoulders to get away, but Dean wasnât letting Her go that easy. He caught Her hand and tugged her around the chair, setting down the knife and placing Her between his legs. She glanced back at the blade on the table, Her brow furrowed all tight and cute, and Dean rubbed her hip gently.
âEyes on me,â he murmured, and Her head immediately turned.
Dean didnât know how the hell heâd gotten so lucky. If Sam tried to pull that, Sheâd grab the knife and ask him if he wanted to try that again. Not her star employee, Dean scoffed. Wasnât like anyone else got to have Her between their legs.
âI was holding it wrong?â He teases, and She sighed, running her fingers over the collar of his shirt.
âIt was just- The grip. It looked too tight.â
âToo tight- Iâm tryinâ to stab Dick, not do a circus performance-â
âAnd do you think heâs going to be standing in one place for you to stab?â She raised Her brows, and Dean shrugged, grinning smugly.
âSammy and Cas are gonna tag team him for me.â
She gave him a doubtful look, and Dean chuckled.
âYou donât think I can do it?â
âNo,â She murmured, resting her palm over Deanâs chest. âI think youâre going to cut a finger off, then do it.â
Dean grabbed Her, light and testing, around the wrist. She stilled, but didnât freak out. Dean guided Her up to his mouth, kissing Her knuckles, then her palm, then her wrist. She watched him with unsteady breaths, but heâd take it. Better than the full freak out.
âYouâll stitch me back together,â he murmured, and Her throat bobbed.
âIâll stitch back your finger?â
âCasâll put it on ice for you-â
âWhy canât Cas stitch it together-â
ââCause heâs got a terrible beside manner, baby,â Dean grinned, twining their fingers together. âAnd youâre a sexier nurse.â
She flushed and shuffled a step forward. Dean laughed softly as she pulled Her hand away and wrapped her arms around his head, all but shoving his face into Her boobs. If this was supposed to be Her being pissy, he was good with it. If anything, the only punishment was that he couldnât mouth at Her breasts and sweet little nipples in the living room without getting smacked.
âI have bad bedside manner,â she mumbled, pushing Her face back into Deanâs hair. âIâd get really mad at you.â
âI know,â Dean hugged Her middle, splaying his hand on Her lower back. âItâs gonna be real hot.â
She laughed, breathy and small, and Dean smiled into Her chest. He had a feeling She didnât love this plan that much either. Heâd suggest pair up together, if that didnât leave Sammy with Crowley and Meg, and Dean third-wheeling Her and Jo. It had to be a Man of God who stabbed Dick. She said Sammy got the title from being a Winchester, but the bylaws werenât clear or something, if letting Lucifer possess you got that title stripped. Crowley had suggested calling the tiny little Winchesterling and my whore mother, but Dean didnât want Adam around this. Hell, if he could get away with sidelining Sam, he would.
Sheâd floated that, in the early stages. Dean had given Her a pointed look, and Sheâd dropped it with a scowl. The rest of the planâafter thatâhad been almost all Her. Dean still didnât think She was a big fan.
âIâm gonna be careful, Princess,â he murmured, dipping his hand under Her shirt. âSwear on my Baby.â
She made a doubtful sound, and Dean kissed Her chest, then Her collarbone. He pressed his hand over Her lower back and propped his chin on Her chest. She leaned down, pressing their brows together and staring at Dean with shining, glossy eyes.
âPinky promise,â he said, even gentler than before. âOnly way Iâm gettinâ back to you is one piece.â
Her lip trembled. Her voice was hoarse. âHow about you just get back to me,â She whispered, and Dean nodded.
âDeal.â
He pressed one, light kiss to Her parted lips. She hummed, eyes fluttering closed, and Dean barely managed to take a sharp breath before he was pushing back up. He traced his tongue over Her lower lip and cupped the back of Her head, moving to his feet. She opened for him with a soft whine, and Dean pushed Her back to the desk, keeping their bodies tight together and caging Her with his arms. She grabbed his face, kissing him back like she was drowning in thirst, and Dean groaned, pushing his hips down against Her core. The knife clattered to the floor, and Dean caught Her chin before she could get distracted.
âPick it up after,â he grunted, playing with the waistband of Her pants, and she nodded airily, fisting Her hands in Deanâs shirt.
He smiled against Her mouth and settled between Her legs. His bugle grinded against Her core, and he slowly kissed Her down, until she was lying on the deskâDean finally got why bosses in pornos went after their secretaries, this was hot, and he could really get down with that fantasyâand Her legs were spread wide in the best invitation Dean was ever gonna get. He ducked down, sucking a dark bruise ont that one, soft spot, pinning Her down with a hand on her tummy.
âDe- Dean-â She gasped, arching off the desk. âDeeeean-â
âDean!â Samâs voice cut through the air, tight and annoyed, and Dean groaned, dropping his face back into Her boobs before twisting around with a glare.
âAinât you able to see weâre busy?â
âYeah, dude.â Sam glared back. âItâs kinda all I can see, itâs-â
Sammy made aâvery dramaticâgagging sound, and She shoved at Deanâs chest.
âWe- We didnât think anyone was around,â She fixed her hair and adjusted Her shirt with trembling fingers, and Dean sighed, taking over in a second. She gave him a nervous smile, and he kissed the space between her eyes, smoothing out Her shirt andâjust for fun, because Sam had ruined the rest of itâsnapping Her shorts against her waist. She squeaked, and Sam groaned again.
âYouâre in the library. Why would you- Never mind,â Sam sighed, and Dean smirked to himself, running his thumb over the thin line of bruises heâd left on Her hips. Damn right never mind.
He thought about licking the tiny marks heâd put on Her throat and collar. Sam could fuck off, Dean had a mission, and nothing else was gonna come first-
Sam said Her name, and She sat further up. Dean sighed. Never a damn moment of peace.
âCas is looking for you,â Sam mumbled, a hell of a lot softer than heâd been speaking to Dean. âHe and Meg want a clearer picture of the building, and, um- Crowleyâs not exactly being cooperative- I think Joâs stopping any murders, but she might just- You know- Kill Crowley herself-â
âIâm coming,â She pushed Dean fully off, and he slumped back with a groan, catching Her hand as she smoothed her shirt on more time.
âThatâs not how you were supposed to be sayinâ that,â he grumbled, and laughed when he got smacked.
âDean Winchester,â She hissed, and Dean winked, kissing the back of Her hand.Â
âYou free tonight, pretty girl?â
She flushed. âMay- Maybe. Why, are you-â
âAskinâ you out?â Dean shrugged, reaching forward to redo the button heâd gotten on Her jeans. She went totally still, gripping Deanâs hand tight enough for his bones to hurt. He let his knuckles brush Her crotch, and she made a high, half confused sound. âMaybe. You gonna say yes, if I am.â
She nodded, leaning into Deanâs hand, and Sam coughed loudly.
âCrowley. Jo. Everyone about to fight,â he said Her name, and Dean rolled his eyes.
âIâll grab you after dinner,â he told Her, smacking her ass lightly. âGood luck with the yardfight, Princess.â
She made a disgruntled sound, but still walked away with a glare out the door. Dean leaned back in his chair, smirking after Her. Sheâd been pent up enough the past month, to the point that Dean was worried denying Her again might end up with his dick getting in trouble. And that cut off hadnât even been his fault. He was a little worried She was just gonna kill Crowley herself.
He sighed, and looked to the knife. Sheâd been right. He had been holding it wrong. He shouldâve asked Her to show him right before she got pulled off to play mom.
âYou guys seem happy,â Sam said softly, and Dean smiled to himself.
âWe are. Sheâs a little pissed at me âcause-â Dean cut himself off. Sammy didnât need to know that. Dean didnât really want him to know that. âUh- Stuff.â
Samâs nose wrinkled. He seemed to have put together what the stuff was on his own. âYeah⊠Right.â He coughed. âUh- Howâs the knife thing going?â
Dean grunted. âI miss my sword, Sammy. Coulda avodided the whole damn scaveneger hunt if I still had it.
âWe can try to look for it, after,â Sam offered. âI mean, I think we should, even if you didnât want it. Itâs a weapon of Heaven, itâs an artifact- Maybe we shouldnât let it go back into combat, for preservation, or leverage against Naomi- She seemed kind ofâŠâ
Sam trailed off, and Dean snorted. âBitchy?â
âYeah,â Sam sighed, dropping in one of the spare chairs. âThat.â
Dean nodded, frowning at the knife. He picked it up and spun it on the desk, watching the blade catch the light. âItâs my sword, Sam,â he muttered. âWe get it back, I ainât donating it to science or whatever.â
âBut- We can just get you another sword, Dean-â
âDonât want another sword,â Dean said flatly. âThat one- It felt like mine.â
âHow can a sword feel like yours?â Sam asked, and Dean just shrugged. He couldnât explain it. That thing had just felt like a second limb, and he was always gonna be pissed at himself for leaving it in the Leviathan hive. He knew heâd lost it for a good reasonâgetting Her out, getting Her safeâbut he still figured he got to be pissed about it. He didnât ask for much for himself. All he freakinâ wanted was pie, his girl, and his magic freakinâ sword.
And a farm. And Sammy to be safe, and Cas to not go crazy again. For Jo to stay alive, while he was at it. Bobby back. Her and all Her animals to be safe. Kevin to stop freaking out. Maybe some good dinnerâhe was pretty hungryâand for all the cops in a America to piss off and go back to eating their donuts. For God to really fuck off. And everyone in the world to chill the hell out.
Dean asked for too much, maybe.
âHey, Sammy?â He asked, still watching the knife spin. Sam hummed in acknowledgement, and Dean sighed. âThis works, and- You know- Thatâs it-â
âI donât know what happens next, Dean,â Sam said, before heâd even damn finished. âNone of us do. That- Thatâs kind of the point.â
Dean shook his head, glaring at the knife. âNah, it- Thereâs gotta be more than that- Youâre the one who was always telling me we gotta have an end-â
âAnd youâre the one who told me you wanted out five years ago, Dean.â
The knife clattered onto the desk, and Dean tried to glare at Sam, but he was just met with those tired, damn puppy eyes.
âYou remember that?â Sam asked, and Dean couldâve snorted.
ââCourse I remember it.â Theyâd been working one of those cases that bled his will dry. Dad hadnât been dead five months, Sheâd been in the windâDean had been sure Sheâd abandoned himâand Bobby hadnât been cluing anyone into her location, making Dean feel like there was a phantom every time he visited that house. Heâd only had Sam, and Sam had been keeping secrets. Heâd been tired, not much left to fight for, even less to live for. Heâd told Sam that. Sam had told him they had to keep going, just for now.
For now turned into Dean dying, then the end of the world, then two more just for nows. They were coming up on a third. Dean felt a little sick.
âHowâs Eileen?â Dean asked, watching Sam closely. The kid went a little red
âGoing underground, like I told her. Just- You know.â
âIn case of the worst,â Dean muttered, and Sam nodded tightly. âWeâll get her after.â
âI know.â Sam paused, glancing back up at Dean, looking half his damn size. âIf youâre still looking for land, she- Um- She actually found a pretty big stretch of it in Maine. Not even that expensive.â
Dean swallowed, wrapping his hand around the knife. âGuess she can show me when we get her then, huh.â
âYeah,â Sam said softly. âGuess she can.â
And it was a silent promise that neither of them had ever been good at keeping. You go and Iâll move on. Dean wondered when theyâd stop lying about that. He wondered when theyâd never have to bother making that promise again.
Sheâd managed to break up the fight without anyoneâeven Crowleyâgetting killed. Jo was still fuming and red-faced, when Dean walked into the kitchen, but the biggest causality seemed to be a pie sheâd smashed into Crowleyâs face before things de-escalated.
âI wanted to eat that,â Meg mused, leaning against the counter with a smirk. âDoesnât look as tasty on your face as in Blondieâs hands.â
Crowley scowled, Jo looked three seconds from murder, and Dean stood in the doorway with a miserable gape. Heâd wanted to eat that. It had been his pie. He got the ingredients with Claire last week, and heâd promised to save her a slice, and now she was gonna accuse him of neglecting her again, and he wasnât getting any pie-
âWe can go to Melâs in an hour, De,â She said as She passed Dean, pulling Jo behind her. âWeâll get you some more, okay?â
Dean relaxed a little, and nodded. Jo sulked after Her up the stairs, and Dean turned back to the kitchen with a sigh. Cas was frowning at the bit of pie that had made it to the floor, Crowley was wiping himself off with the good towels, and Meg was giving Dean the smirk that made him wish Jo had pied her instead.
âShe taking you out for pie, De?â Meg drawled, and Dean ignored her, stomping over to Crowley.
âGo take a freakinâ shower,â he yanked the towel away, and Crowley scowled.
âI am a demon, I would not need a shower if youâd let me through your little power block-â
âNope,â Dean snapped. âGuest bath is third floor, first door on the left.â
âGuest bath?â Crowleyâs lip curled. âI will not be bathing in the guest bath like a- a common street rat-â
âThen Sammy can hose in you in the freakinâ yard,â Dean shrugged. âDonât touch my towels.â
âHeâs such a homemaker,â Meg cooed. âThatâs how he earns his pie.â
Dean took a deep breath, and pointed a stern finger. âHey. I can still shoot you.â
âBut you wonât,â she purred. âYou know, De? I really like pie too. If you ever think youâd wanna share, Iâm sure the pie would enjoy it.â
Meg was lucky Dean found that amusing. The pie would not enjoy that. It had taken Dean six months to get the pie not to hide herself whenever she got stripped, and the success rate still wasnât great. The pie got embarrassed when Dean touched her in front of people. The pie would start freaking out and crying, if Dean pitched two people eating her.
Dean was good with that. He didnât like sharing his pie anyway.
âGood luck with that,â Dean snorted, and Meg raised her brows.
âMaybe the pie would like some other pies eating her, instead ofâŠâ She looked Dean up and down, obviously unimpressed. âYou.â
Cas looked up with a frown. âPie cannot eat pie, Meg. That would be cannibalism.â
âFor hellâs sake-â Crowley scoffed her name. âSheâs the pie, you air-headed angel. And- If weâre taking numbers-â
âNo oneâs taking anything,â Dean snapped. âGo shove the hose up your ass, Crowley.â Â Â Â
Dean left the kitchen before anyone could argue with him, waiting in the hallway for Her to come back down. It took a whileâCrowley used the guest bathroom, just like Dean thoughtâbut She appeared at the top of the stairs with a soft smile, and Dean felt his wrath dissipate into thin air.
âYou look good, baby,â he offered a hand as She came downstairs, and she laughed softly.
âI look the same as I did five minutes ago.â
âExactly,â Dean kissed the side of Her head. âFreakinâ good.â
She rolled Her eyes, but smiled against Deanâs shoulder. âPie?â She mumbled, and Dean nodded.
Melâs was on the edge of town, had the best damn pie in the area, and considered Dean a gold star customer. He barely got through the door before the nice old lady who waited tables waved and asked if he wanted the usual. The big, tatted up guy sheâd been serving frowned, but Dean just grinned and nodded, and She leaned against his side, her head tipped into his shoulder and breathing soft. Dean herded to the register, kissed the back of Her head, and ordered a root beer float.
âI- Iâm okay-â
âIâm not eating alone,â Dean cut her off with a challenge, She glared for a moment, then gave up with a sigh. Dean kissed the tip of Her nose, then grinned at the thin kid behind the register.
âMake that a root beer float and some fries, buddy.â He said, and the kidâstaring at Her for a few seconds before he seemed to hearânodded and punched in the order with shaking fingers.
Dean moved Her to a booth, slung his arm around Her shoulder, and slid the kids placemat in front of Her. She glanced at the crayons with a small pout, and Dean chuckled.
âCâmon, I know you wanna do the word puzzle thing.â
âWord search,â she muttered, and Dean gave Her a pointed look. She sighed, grabbed the crayons, and bent over with an overly focused expression.
Dean watched Her, fond and silent. He tucked some hair back from Her face and ducked to kiss her cheek. She looked back up with wide eyes, and Dean kissed Her other cheek.
âIgnore me,â he said, and She frowned, giving him a suspicious one-over before turned back to the puzzle. Dean leaned over Her shoulder, squinting at all the letters, almost floating off the freaking page. âHow the hell are you seeing anything in there?â He muttered, and She shrugged.
âI donât know, Iâm just- Looking for linguistic patterns, I guess.â
âWhat, like- Uh- I before E?âÂ
âThat oneâs actually a myth,â She hummed. âBut- Yeah.â
Dean nodded, resting his face against Her shoulder and squinting at the paper. âThis shit really doesnât make you dizzy, huh.â
Her yellow crayon faltered. She gave Dean a slow look, like he was crazy, and he frowned.
âWhat?â
âNothing, itâs just- This makes you dizzy?â
 âUh- Duh. Look at it,â he gestured at the jumbled letters. âTheyâre all mushed together, and- Normal reading is hard enough, this is just asking me to get confused.â
She glanced at the paper, then back to Dean. âWhat do you mean, normal reading is hard?â
Dean sighed. âLook, I know Iâm not a genius like you and Sammy, but-â
âForget about me and Sam,â She cupped Deanâs cheek, and he swallowed. She was looking at him the same way She looked at crossword puzzles. He didnât hate it. âIs it really hard for you to read?â
âI dunno,â Dean mumbled. âI mean, I wouldnât say hard, just- Yâknow. Makes my head hurt sometimes.â
The little wrinkle in Her brow deepened. Dean said Her name cautiously, and she just shook her head.
âPrincess, it ainât that big a deal-â
âJust- Shh.â She pressed a finger over Deanâs mouth, and he raised his brows.
She really was scanning over him. Putting him under the freaking microscope. She combed Her fingers through his hair, and smelled real good, and Dean decided heâd love to be a bug under her inspection. He could be one of those big, cool bugs, that grew into a big bug, and seduced Her with his bug magic or something. Charlie had showed him some books about that. Theyâd been kind confusing, but heâd figure it out.
âDean, honey,â she said softly, and Dean blinked. She might as well have punched him in face, with how his head went all fuzzy and empty. âWhen did you drop out of school?â
Dean didnât see how that was important. He didnât really care. Honey. âUhhh-â He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. âI dunno, senior year? Dad said he needed me hunting, I didnât like it anyways, so- Just stopped going, I guess. Not like anyone bothered to check where Iâd gone.â
He laughed, but She didnât look very amused. âAnd how many schools did you go to?â
âDunno. Enough to run out of hands and toes.â Dean frowned. âPrincess, what-â
âShh.â She tapped his cheek, and Dean snorted.
âBossy,â he kissed the inside of Her wrist. She barely even blinked.
âDid you go to elementary school?â
âUh- Probably? I was a kid, sweetheart, I donât freakinâ remember-â
âWhat about your teachers?â She askedâreal demanding tonight, apparentlyâand Dean frowned.
âThere were a lot of them. Only really remember one, Miss Hanson. She was cute. Had a big crush on her, and- She kinda looked like you, actually.â Dean gave Her a winning smile, but she seemed too into smartypants mode to catch Deanâs shameless flirting.
âDid she ever pull you aside for like⊠A test?â
âNo? I was pretty shit at spelling, I donât think she was giving me double time to make a champion or something, so-â Dean paused, a faded, grayed out memory scratching at his head.
Miss Hanson had given him an extra test once. Heâd read a pretty cool book about a Toad and Frog, and heâd been really proud of himself because he got through the whole thing in thirty minutes. That had been a record. Usually he gave up and just started fidgeting with his shoelaces orâwhen he was supposed to be reading to Sammyâmade up a story himself. But pretty Miss Hanson had asked him to, so he had, and sheâd been so proud of him she called a meeting with Dad to talk about it. Thiry whole minutes. Dean was basically a genius, and Dad should know it.
Dad, though, had not been proud. Heâd shouted some words Dean couldnât hear anymore at Miss Hanson and the principle, stormed out of the office with Dean in tow, and theyâd skipped town the next day. Dean hadnât been sure what happened, or what the yelling had been about. Heâd just known his miracle thirty minutes wasnât enough for Dad. Heâd tried to break the record, but it just made his head hurt, so heâd given up for a while. Heâd adjusted eventually, and sort of stopped thinking about it. Of course he was a slow reader, compared to the two little Einsteins he shared motel rooms with. They both expected him to be a little slower, too. No one was that surprised by any of it. But-
âUh,â Dean gave Her a sheepish look. âWhatâs it mean, if I did have one of those tests?â He sighed at Her curious look, and gave her the story. She kept getting all puppy eyed and pouty as he kept going. Jesus, she was almost looking at him like he was some flea ridden stray.
âDeanâŠâ She said softly, and Dean grunted.
âI mean, you know how Dad was-â
âNo, De, itâs- Thirty minutes isnât fast.â
Dean shook his head. âYeah, you could do better, but-â
âThatâs not-â She sighed, tracing Her fingers over the line of his jaw. âCan I tell you something, and you wonât get mad?â
âYeah, whatever.â Dean shrugged. âNot sure what the hell you could say to piss me off, though-â
âI think you have dyslexia, honey.â
Dean blinked at Her. Honey again. Sort of softened the blow, so that was nice.
The waitress served the food and drinks. Dean kept staring at Her, his head sort of just filled with a lot of jumbled up thoughts he couldnât pick apart. She watched him with a worried expression, holding his hand on the table, lips pressed in a thin line.
âAre you mad?â She whispered, and that jolted Dean back a little. He shook his head, glanced at their hands, then shook his head again.
âNah, Iâm just- Uh- Why- What?â He coughed. âI mean, why the hell- Not why the hell, but- Iâm not- I can read, Princess-â
âI know you can read,â she said quickly, squeezing his hand. âYou know I know that. But- I donât know, you love stories and stuff, but you donât like reading that much-â
âYeah, âcause it takes forever-â
âBecause you have dyslexia,â She countered. âThat doesnât mean you canât read, De. It just means itâs a little harder.â
Dean blinked at Her, and he wished he could argue, but it had taken him almost a year to get through every Lord of the Rings book, and heâd only managed to do that because he loved them. Everything else hadnât been worth it. Hell, he used to be so slow at reading the lore than Sammyâwhoâd demanded he do it for onceâwould kick him out and finish for him.
A lump was forming in Deanâs throat. He grabbed Her hand and pressed closer, staring at Her fingers. At the ring heâd given Her, that she wore all the time.
âAnd, uh- If thatâs- If youâre right,â he swallowed, his voice aching in his throat. âYou still- Youâre not-â He coughed. âYouâd still- Shit-â
âI donât think youâre stupid,â She said, and Dean pressed his mouth in a thin line. âIâd never think that.â
Dean nodded, and pushed his face into Her neck. He wasnât gonna cry. Not over this. But he might hide in Her warmth until he was sure he wasnât gonna cry, and then clear his throat and focus on his pie. She watched him for a moment, and he pushed Her root beer float forward with a crooked smile. She wrapped her hands around the glass, but still didnât stop staring.
âAre you-â
âIâm good, sweetheart,â he said, andâsurprising even himselfâhe meant it. âDrink up for me.â
She watched him for another moment, then did. Dean didnât let himself linger on that revelation for too long. He had pie to eat and a girlfriend to seduce. It could go in his box of shit to address later, right next to them being soulmates. And that one he was planning to take care of, very soon.
Sheâd gotten ice cream on Her nose somehow. Dean wiped it off with his thumb, then fed it to Her. She sputtered and flushed, fumbling with Her glass, and Dean snorted.
âShit, Princess-â
âYou scared me!â She whined, wiping the root beer off Her cheek. âYou- You canât just-â
âSit next to you?â Dean suggested. âBe charming?â
She glowered, and Dean leaned forward, kissing Her sticky lips.
âIâll go get some napkins,â he murmured, and She nodded, holding onto his hand until he was standing, and she sorta had to let go.
Dean went to the bar and register, but the place was crowded for a weekday night, and he figured the bathroom would be better. He was right. Empty and stocked up with napkins.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror though, and paused. He should fix his hair, and redo the cuffs of his flannel. His jacket was fineâshe liked this oneâ but he could change his shirt. It was too late for that, though, so he just hoped she didnât look down too much. His jeans were fine, though, so She could look down, but only the exact right amount or everything would be ruined. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. He could do this. Heâd been ready for it all day, heâd even gone out to the Impala while Charlie was packing, to make sure everything was right. Nothing was even gonna really change. It was only half of them. It was gonna be fucking fine . Â
He gave himself a short, encouraging nod. At least he had a reason for being shit at spelling now. Good timing. Heâd be given some pretty good grace about that.
Dean walked back into the diner with a fistful of napkins and his eyes on his watch. It was almost eight. Nice and dark outside. They could go soon, and it would be perfect.
Then he looked up, only a few feet from the booth, and froze. The guy the waitress had been servingâwhen theyâd walked in, almost a damn hour agoâwas bent over their table with his back to Dean. Blocking Her from view, taking up Her space in a way Dean barely got away with sometimes. The napkins crumpled, and Dean took a lurching step forward, ready to throw a fist at the son of a bitchâs face. The only thing that cut over the ringing in his ears, though, was Her voice. Siren like and sweet, controlled. Always, always, making him falter to hear.
âI actually have a boyfriend,â She said, and Dean almost tripped. âSo- No.â
The guy scoffed. âPlease, that pretty boy you walked in with?â
âYeah. He actually carries a gun, soâŠâ
She trailed off, and the man didnât move. Dean reached for that gun. If he was getting permission, heâd be more than happy to shoot.
âI think you can do better than that, sweetheart,â the guyâstupidlyâsaid. âLittle man, wonât be able to protect you that long.â
âReally?â She titled Her head, and Dean could see her frown. âBecause heâs been doing it eleven years, and- I think heâd have something to say about whoâs protecting who.â
Dean dropped his hand from his gun, a much sharper image making itself clear. An image the guy clearly wasnât seeing himself, but Dean couldnât really blame him. It could be kinda hard to catch the crazed glint in Her eyes, when she was so damn enchanting.Â
The guy laughed. âWhat the hell does that mean?â
Her lips curved in a smile. âCome here and Iâll show you.â
The guys grinned, and Dean sighed. He shook his hand out, put the napkins on the table, and tapped the guys shoulder.
âHey, buddy,â he grinned as the guy turned, and socked him right in the jaw.
The guy dropped like a stone. A few people from the other booths looked over with wide eyes, but Dean ignored them. He helped Her out of the booth, kissed Her nose, and waved bye to the waitress. She smiled, and waved in return. Sheâd been watching Dean deal with men drooling over Her for years. Heâd gotten a pie on the house, when he told the waitress heâd finally locked Her down. He wasnât worried about the cops, and if someone called them, Jody would get it.
It was real nice, sometimes, to be on the wrong side of corruption.
âI was gonna stab him,â She grumbled as Dean guided Her outside.
He hummed, wrapping his jacket around Her shoulders. âI know.â
âYou stopped me-â
âI got plans tonight, Princess,â he said, smiling at Her backwards glare. âNot lookinâ to do them in jail.â
She huffed and pulled his arm over Her body. Dean kissed the back of Her head and opened the door, helping her in before running over to the other side. He took a deep breath, when he sat behind Babyâs wheel. He turned the keys between his fingers, foot bouncing and restless, and looked over the seat.
She watched him in the low light of the parking lot, frowning slightly. Her hair fell over Her face and she didnât seem to notice. She grabbed Deanâs shaking hand and squeezed it once, brow furrowed with worry. She looked like a damn angel. Dean smiled, and it washed through his body like morning sun. He smiled and took Her hand, squeezed three times, and put the key in the ignition.
âYou get Claireâs pie?â He asked as he pulled out of the lot, and She nodded, holding up a little box.
âAlmost forgot it, with how you dragged me out.â
Dean snorted. âI didnât drag you-â
âYou treated me like ragdoll,â She huffed, and Dean smiled at the road, shaking his head.
âIâm sorry, sweetheart,â he drawled, kissing Her hand. âI thought you liked that.â
She sank down and pulled their woven hands over her chest. Dean grinned at Her, and she rolled her eyes, pinching his wrist.
âOw-â
âYouâll live,â She muttered, but Dean caught her soothing the hurt with her thumb.
âCould kiss it,â he suggested. âMake it better.â
She ducked her head, but brushed Her lips over the hurt. Dean grinned, tapping his fingers on the wheel.
âThink my cheek hurts too, actually-â
âIâm not doing the Indiana Jones scene with you,â She snapped, and Dean played mock hurt.
âAw, câmon, Iâm doing it for you, I donât even- Iâm sorry, Princess, but itâs not that hot a scene-â
âYes, it is!â
âHe passes out,â Dean said, flat but still smiling. âThat ainât sexy, baby. If I ever pass out on you, shoot me.â
She laughed, and Dean puffed out his chest like a damn bird. âWhat would you do if I passed out on you,â She asked softly, and Dean shrugged.
âPick you up and put you in bed?â
She gaped. Dean gave her a disbelieving stare.
âHow the hell is that the wrong answer?!â
âYou wouldnât wake me up?â
 âNo, why the hell would I wake you up-â
âBecause you want to have sex with me!â
âOf course I wanna have sex with you, sweetheart, I love you. But sometimes that means just wrappinâ you up like a pretty burrito and sucking it up!â
He hit the wheel for emphasis, and expected Her to counter the same way she usually did. But the car was dead silent, and when Dean looked over, She was just giving him the biggest Fuck Me Doe Eyes heâd ever seen.
âYou alright?â He asked, glancing at their hands. Her nails were stinging against his skin. âUh- Princess-â
âIâm good,â She whispered, dropping Her face against his shoulder. âI- I justâŠâ She was silent for a moment. âIâd be okay with it. If you woke me up. Or just- Whatever.â
She hugged his arm, and Dean frowned out the windshield. That was something he was gonna have to get to the bottom of later. Way later. Right now they were too close, and if he turned back now, he was never gonna get the nerve again.
Dean let Her burrow and hide while he parked. He glanced around to make sure the strip was empty, then pet the back of Her head, keeping his words low.
âCan you come out of a second?â
She leaned up, blinking at Dean with blown-out eyes, and he offered Her a nervous smile.
âUh, this is just- I used to come here with Bobby,â he swallowed, trying to look over to the road, but always just looking back to Her. âHeâd let me do ninety in the truck. Learned a lotta stuff, and- Here.â
Dean grabbed Her chin, and turned it to the window. Her breath caught, something in his chest eased. She liked it. He knew She would.
A flat strip of highway with no mountains on the horizon, the only trees behind them in the city. In the winter the fields were coated in frost, and the sky looked like someone had spilled glitter glue in a lake. It had been Bobbyâs spot, when he was a kid avoiding a shit dad. It became Deanâs, and they never spoke out it anywhere else. Dean asked Bobby once, if She knew, and heâd said heâd given it to Dean first, and Dean should have some things that got to be his.
So heâd kept it for a while, but he had other things now. And sharing with Her wasnât giving away any more of him than heâd already fused to Her. Then Sheâd fused to him.
Dean didnât think soulmates meant half. He figured it meant magnets. Those dual stars that orbited each other, and hurdled through space, never once pulling apart. Together, until everything collapsed.
âYou like it?â He asked, just because he wanted to hear, and She nodded softly.
âItâs beautiful,â She breathed, and Dean grinned. He wasnât gonna do that chick flick shit, where he agreed and stared at Her. Heâd spent long enough staring. He wanted to collide. To get just a little closer, all the time.
He nosed Her cheek, and turned her face for a kiss. She obliged him with a tiny gasp, and Dean nipped on Her lower lip. It would he so easy, to haul Her into his lap, but he wasnât done yet.
âI got something for you,â he murmured. âIn the glove compartment.â
She pulled back with a tiny frown, glancing over Her shoulder, then back to Dean. He nodded to prompt Her on, and she leaned back. Dean watched with his stomach in his throat, trying not to break his fingers holding the wheel. He could do this. Sheâd written his name over Heaven and felt him die and stayed anyways. All Dean needed to do was grow a damn spine.
And She pulled out the first letter box, and Deanâs breathing turned shallow, the air growing thick and humid, the agitation pricking over his throat and lungs. She frowned at it. Deanâs palms were coated in a thin, slippery sweat, everything about to fall through his fingers-
âYour bullet box?â
Dean blinked. âMy- What?â
âYour bullet box,â She repeated, turning it in Her hands. âYou- You keep it in the bag-â
âYouâve seen it?!â Dean blurted, and She looked at him like he was crazy.
âUm- Yeah? We share the bag, De. I look in it.â
Dean could barely speak over his heart in his throat. âHave you⊠Opened it?â
âNo? I donât use a gun, why would I open it.â
Dean couldâve vomited with relief. He looked up at the roof and laughed, squeezing his eyes shut. She said his nameâprobably thinking he was losing his damn mindâand he shook his head. âItâs not a bullet box, sweetheart.â
âOh- Okay.â She was still frowning between him and the box, when Dean opened his eyes. âWhat is it?â
âItâs for you,â he said, because it was that simple. âJust- Something I started doing while you were in the cage. Donât-â He grabbed Her hand, pinning it to the box before she could undo the latch. âDonât open it in front of me.â
She nodded, but didnât look less worried. âBut- You made it, right?â
âYeah, I just- I donât wanna watch it,â he pled. âItâs not bad, I swear, but- I canât. Tomorrow Iâll sit in another room, and you can- You know.â
He nodded to the box, and She shook her head. âWeâre on the road tomorrow, but- I can do it in the motel-â
âNo,â Dean rubbed his jaw. Heâd rather jump off a damn bridge than sit in Sammyâs room while freaking Jo read over Her shoulder. âNo. We- Weâll do it after. Just- Not now.â He squeezed Her hand. âPlease?â
She still looked pretty confused, but She nodded. Dean laughed, shaky and a little broken, and leaned forward for a kiss. He pressed a small one to Her lips, then grabbed the back of her head and started kissing all over Her face.
âYouâre gonna like it,â he murmured. âPromise.â
She hummed, twisting Her face to try and catch Deanâs lips again. He offered them freely, and She grabbed his flannel, pulling him closer. He grunted, turning in the seat to lean over Her, his knee and a hand on the bench so he could move Her down to her back. Dean took the box and set it on the dash, never letting the kiss break. She hugged him, dropping Her leg to offer him more space, and he chuckled, hooking his arm around Her waist.
âHold on,â he whispered, and She tensed up.
âDean- Dean-â
He tossed Her carefully onto the back bench and crawled after, shrugging off his flannel. She was shoving his chest before his feet even hit the ground, and he let Her with a grin. She needed to wind herself up, before She relaxed.
âYou scared me,â She shouted, slapping his bicep. âAnd you- You didnât even warn me-â
âI warned you.â Dean tossed his flannel to the side, and ducking down for a kiss. She squeaked and dropped flat against the bench, glaring up at him. Dean gave Her and incredulous look, and She scowled.
âIf you kiss me, youâre going to make me forget Iâm mad,â She grumbled, and Dean smirked.
âYeah, Princess,â he grabbed Her ankle, rubbing up and down her calf. âThatâs kinda the point.â
She narrowed Her eyes. âI couldâve hit my head-â
âI wasnât gonna let that happen.â Dean pulled off one of her shoes, then the other. She watched him with shallow breaths. Dean was a little worried she was gonna hurt herself. âYou want me to stop kissing you?â He asked, and She shook her head frantically, still not leaning up. Dean raised his brows. âBut you wanna keep being a brat?â
She hesitated, but nodded. Dean gave Her a stern look, pulling the slightest bit back, and She tugged her leg back to her chest. Dean paused, scanning over Her for hesitation, and sheâshyly, with Her arms around her stomach and shining, anxious eyesâspread Her legs wide. Deanâs grin slowly split his face, and She flushed, pretty and embarrassed and all his.
âOh, baby girl,â he rubbed Her knee, slowly massaging his way up Her thigh. âYou want it?â He hovered over Her, letting their lips just barely brush. âYou want it real bad?â
She nodded, pulling on his shirt, and Dean hummed, watching Her with a soft smile.
âBut you were all pissy, kickinâ and shoutinâ at me,â he cooed, dipping his hand under Her shirt. She shivered and arched into the touch, eyes fluttering slightly. Dean teased his fingers up Her sides, and she was already getting wiggly. He mightâve worked Her up too much. She looked like She was about to cum from just the light touch. âYou sure you want it?â He squeezed under Her ribs. âUse your words.â
âYe- Yes,â She breathed, holding Deanâs stern stare.
âYou want what?â He prompted, and She sucked in a breath, voice small.
âYou.â
 Dean smiled, leaning down just a little further. His thumb grazed Her breast, and his knee settled between Her thighs, not offering enough space for Her to move. He kissed up Her neck and over her jaw, one corner of her mouth, then the other. She grabbed his head but didnât try to move him anywhere else, just seeming to hold on for Her life.Â
âDean,â She mumbled, and he hummed, sucking on Her upper lip. âDonât- Donât tease-â
ââM not teasing,â he said, and She made a noise like she was trying to scold him, but couldnât really remember how. âIâm waiting for you to talk.â
âI did talk,â She protested. âI- I said what I want-â
âBut you were kinda vague, sweetheart. Didnât actually give me any directions, or ideas,â he cupped Her breast, brushing his thumb over a perked, soft nipple. âI mean, thereâs just so many things that I could do with you. With your pretty fuckinâ body,â he attached his mouth to Her throat, sucking a dark mark before flicking his tongue over the hurt. He dragged his hand back down, between Her thighs, and cupped Her cunt. âWith this pretty fuckinâ pussy,â he pressed his palm down hard, and kissed the sweet moan off her lips. âI just donât know, Princess. Youâre leavinâ me a little lost.â
âDean,â She breathed, tears already starting to gather on Her lashes. âPlease.â
Dean smiled, cupped Her cheek, and kissed her swollen, shaking lips. How the hell could he ever tell Her no?
It wasnât hard, to make quick work of Her clothing. Even in the limited space Dean managed to move quickly, helping Her out of her clothing with soft words and softer kisses.
âAlright, arms up,â he coaxed, kissing over Her breasts as he peeled off Her shirt. âThatâs it, baby, câmon.â
He kissed down Her stomach, then over the waistband and line of Her panties before pulling them down. He paused at the sight of Her cunt, dripping wet and sweet. He licked his lips and dragged his thumb over her puffy little clit, laughing when Her hips bucked off the bench.
âDean- Fuck-â She grabbed Deanâs wrist, craning Her neck, then falling back with a whine. Dean had attached his lips to Her inner thigh, sucking softly and flicking his tongue, just inches from where he knew She needed him, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged, but that just made his kiss open mouthed and wet.
He took mercy when Sheâd started just wiggling and whimpering below him, pressing a single, featherlight kiss to Her clit andâbecause he was only a mortal manâburying his face in Her pussy for one, long breath. She was slick and hot against him, and Dean considered just taking what he wanted right there. Only thing that stopped him was the fact that She was a live wire, and he wanted to watch her snap. Above him and over him, hugging him like he wasnât the same thing driving Her out of her mind.
Dean moved Her, naked and shaking, into his lap. Heâd tossed off his own shirt and pulled down his pants, cradling Her in his lap and letting his cock rub against her slick thigh. She was panting and flushed, clinging to his neck and slumped over his body. Dean kissed the slope of Her shoulder, then right under her ear, keeping his voice smooth and deep.
âThere ainât enough time in the world, for me to do everything I wanna do to you,â he murmured, dragging his hand down Her side. âI mean, Jesus, sweetheart. If you told me you wanted to be tossed around and played with, I wouldâve pinned your hands up and given you something to really whine about.â
She made a pathetic, gorgeous sound, and Dean chuckled.
âYou love that, huh? Love the idea of turning into a pretty little fuck doll for me?â Dean kneaded Her ass, letting his fingers brush just against where she needed him. âYou know what weâd call that, sweetheart? When you wanna just get nice and dumb on some big dick?â
She shook Her head, and Dean smirked, dropping his voice to a whisper.
âCockslut, Princess. We all it beinâ a good little cockslut.â
Jesus, heâd never seen Her this reactive. She was always sensitive, but Sheâd started to grind down onto his thigh and moan something close to his name, and Dean was barely even touching Her. He leaned back to watch Her, and she pressed her brow against his, as if She couldnât bear to be apart for a single second.Â
âYou like listening to me, huh,â he murmured, and She mewled. âYeah, thatâs right. You like hearinâ how much I worship you. How much I wanna love every inch of you, âtill you canât even stand. If we had forever⊠Baby, youâd never leave the bed.â
She panted, riding Deanâs thigh with unfocused eyes and slack lips. Dean knew She wasnât going to get there herself, but son of a bitch, if it wasnât a sight to watch her try.
âThink Iâd just tie you down for a few days,â he rasped, watching Her every reaction. âTake my time kissing your pussy, making you cum in my mouth until you canât even scream. Got the sweetest one Iâve ever seen, Princess, I swear to god. Wanna sit you on my face, make you ride me, maybe fucking put your hands behind your back so you canât do anything but feel it, feel me, eating your wet little pussy-â
She cried out and smashed Her lips over Deanâs, kissing him like she really didnât know what to do with herself. Dean kissed Her back, massaging her sides, still talking against her lips.
âShould be put down, with how Iâve been dreaminâ about you,â he grabbed the back of Her neck, keeping their mouths pressed together. âUsed to jerk off just thinking about your tits, about markinâ them up until you couldnât touch âem without thinking of me, about sucking on them while I got you folded over, fucking you full, filling up your pussy until it was drooling, fucked up with the cum you deserve-â
Dean groaned, his own cock getting demanding. He kept brushing against Her heat, and it was enough to drive him out of his goddamn mind.
âYou got no- No fuckinâ idea,â Dean grunted, kissing Her between every word. âYou bend over and I pop a boner, Princess, just thinkinâ about taking you on my knee and- Shit-â She rolled her hips just right, and arousal got smeared all over Deanâs shaft.
âDe- Dean-â She clawed at his back, so quiet and breathy he almost missed it. âDean-â
âI know. I know what you need, baby,â he grunted, hooking his arm around Her back. âEasy now, just lemme take care of it.â
Dean pulled Her up, lined himself against her cunt, and lowered Her down as slowly as he could.
It wasnât easy. She clenched at the damn tip, and Dean had to grit his teeth to not lose it right there. He eased Her through it, still talking, all while holding Her hips like sheâd float off to space if he even loosened his grip.
âJust like that,â he muttered, watching Her swallow up his dick. âBreathe, sweet girl, just gotta keep breathinâ. Let your greedy pussy take what she needs, câmon-â
Dean bottomed out with a hiss, and She clenched around him so hard his vision went white. Dean moaned, trying to choke out a warning, but then she squeezed harder. Her body writhed against him, her mouth agape and those beautiful, hypnotizing sounds fell from Her lips.
She was cumming. Dean had just put it in, and sheâd fallen apart. She was almost thrashing, sobbing his name and grinding her hips with shallow thrusts, and Dean caught Her chin with a hand, squeezing Her cheeks and forcing her gaze.
Her eyes rolled back in Her head, and she let out the most sinful, broken sound heâd ever heard. Dean could barely think, staring at Her. Twitching and writhing on his cock, trying to watch him through the tears streaming down Her cheeks, covered in sweat and almost burning under his touch. Dean pulled Her down in a bruising kiss, and She grabbed his neck with shaking fingers. Dean spread his fingers over Her lower back, pinned Her down on him, and rolled his hips.
It was slow. Deliberate and testing.
She made a sound like he was railing Her into the mattress, and Dean grinned against Her lips.
âThatâs right,â he grunted, setting a slow, torturous rhythm, helping Her grind onto his cock and thrusting up until Her mouth was hanging uselessly. âThatâs right, Princess, you take it. Take it so fuckinâ well for me, take it âcause you love it.â He moaned, digging his fingers into Her soft hips. âFuckinâ love it, baby, such a good little pussy, such a good girl for me- Fuuck-â
Words were starting to fail him. Dean pulled Her impossibly closer and thrust a little faster, letting their moans fill up the car, mixed with Deanâs grunts and Her little cries, all musical with the sound of Deanâs thick cock, slapping in and out of Her drooling pussy. Sheâd barely stopped cumming for five minutes before she was milking him again, and Dean had to suck and nip on Her neck to stay focused. He felt like he was about to fucking explode, with all the friction between them, with Her calling his name, breathless and ruined in his ear.
A third orgasm rolled over Her, making Her boneless in over Deanâs chest. He fucked Her in shallow thrusts, angling her hips so her clit dragged against him and he was bullying into that spot he knew would carry her over, just one more time.
âC- Canât-â She babbled, holding Dean so tight he almost couldnât breathe. âDe- I- I canât-â
âYeah, you can,â he grunted, snaking his hand between their bodies. âBe good, baby, gimme one- Shit-â
Dean cut himself off with a moan, unable to hold himself back when the lightest touch of Her clit had her cumming with a scream. Dean could swear he saw Her light up like a star, and flowers bloomed in her damn hair as she sobbed and flooded his dick, spasming and almost sucking his soul out of his damn body. His orgasm ripped through him, and it was all he could do to keep fucking Her through it in small, jagged thrusts.
He came down first, breathing raggedly and kissing over Her face.
âGood work, baby girl,â he rasped, rubbing Her back. ââS okay, you did so good.â
She cooed and pressed her face into his neck, body still trembling and soft. Dean chuckled, and dropped his head back with a groan. Sheâd be out before he could get Her clothing back on. Heâd get Her home and tucked in bed, and tomorrow would be tomorrow, and theyâd be right where they always were.
âIâve got you,â Dean said, an oath to Her, for only a car whoâd seen the whole time and a box that already knew to hear. âAll the way down.â
Joâs been snoring in the passengerâs seat for three hours. Meg kept trying to wake her up, so you kicked her over to Deanâs car took Cas instead. Cas sat silently, nodding his head to the music and filling up the backseat with a distracting amount of grace. Itâs changed a little, since you healed him. Heâs still electric and blue, but⊠Brighter. More prone to flickers and restless wings. To flashes like lightning, through his blue. You might ask him to sit down, so you can draw and study him later.
Cas volunteered to help Dean get the snacks, and youâfor the first time all dayâgot Jo alone.
âJo,â you hiss, squeezing her arm. âJo-â
âWha- Whaâs-â Jo rolls her neck, eyes only half open. âAre we there-â
âNo, weâre like an hour out- Jo-â You smack her lightly, and she tries to roll away with a groan. âI need to talk to you-â
âTalk to me later-â
âHe said it again.â
Jo wakes right up. The seat creaks with the force of it, and you press your lips in a thin line. She stares at you, holding your forearm, and you grab her hand and keep it there. She gives you a tight, doubtful look, and you shake your head. It wasnât just another dream. He said it. You heard him say it. Aloud. The one way itâs never supposed to be said.
âDid he say it like- I love you,â Jo drawls your name in a poor mimicry of Deanâs voice, and you shake your head.
âNo- No- Well,â you swallow. âIt was like- I love you, but there was context around it-â
âWhat kinda context?â
You open your mouth, then close it, your face heating. âI- I donât want to tell you.â
âCâmon, you gotta tell me-â
âNo, youâre gonna make fun of me-â
âYeah, but, like- Later. After we work out what the hell is Deanâs fuckinâ problem.â
You frown. âHe doesnât- He doesnât have a problem-â
âHeâs an idiot,â Jo says flatly. âThatâs what- Three times?â
âFour,â you mumble. âThe first time was in the Sandman. But- Maybe he doesnât mean it- Ow-â
Jo whacks the back of your head, fixing you with a stern glare. âThe hell he donât mean it,â she scolds with a pointed finger. âIâm always tellinâ people I love them on accident, four times, when Iâm dating them and weâve been obsessed with each other for years.â
You scowl. When she puts it like that, you sound really stupid. âI wouldnât say obsessed,â you muttered, rubbing the spot she hit, and Jo rolls her eyes.
âYou still sleep with that stuffed cat he gave you?â
âNo,â you stick out your tongue. âIndy took it. Itâs hers now.â
âUh huh,â Jo gives you an unimpressed look. âAnd who looked after Indy, while you were runninâ around, dyinâ in heaven?â
âPetsitting isnât love, Joanna-â
âIt is when I asked Dean to feed my Tamogachiâs once, and he killed âem. And we werenât even fightinâ, he just-â
âHe doesnât like tamogachiâs,â you say defensively. âHe doesnât like anything they made after the 80s- He says itâs mindless consumerism-â
âFuck off, you taught him what that means.â Jo leans forward, beaming wide. A little dangerous. âCâmon, howâd he say it this time. Was he tellinâ someone else, or- Did you ask him for food, or-â
You cover her mouth with a hand, narrowing your eyes. Sheâs going to make fun of you for this. You already know youâre going to tell her anyway, and with the gleam in her eyes, she knows too.
âWe were in the car last night,â you whisper, because God might hear through the car door and decided to take him away. âAnd I- I was just making fun of him for not wanting to have sex with me while I was asleep- It made sense,â you add quickly, when Jo gives you a disbelieving look. âThatâs not the point. I made fun of him, and he said of course I want to sleep with you, I love you.â
Joâs jaw unhinges under your hand, and you nod frantically.
âI know-â
âWhy ainât you sayinâ it back?â She demands, whacking your hand away, and you shrug weakly.
Outside, God flashes. Itâs not that bright or loud. Just enough to remind you that heâs out there waiting. Always waiting.
âI mean,â Jo rambles. âHeâs basically droolinâ at your feet, and I know you love that big fuckinâ loser back, donât even try to lie to me-â
âHeâs not a loser,â you mumble, and Jo gives you a blunt, unimpressed stare. You sigh and pull your knees to your chest. âIt- Itâs complicated-â
âItâs really fuckinâ not-â
âGod, he- He might take him away,â you say, frantic and quiet, and Jo stills. âIf I say it, if- If he even hears it, heâs going to take Dean, and I- I donât-â
You canât even say it. The thing you might turn into, if God takes Dean. Itâs easy to try and be good, when you have him pulling you back down to earth. When everything mostly becomes flowers and grounded, golden morning light. But without Dean all that power youâve built, all the Silver youâve integrated into your bloodstream and learned how to control like a breath, it turns into something bigger than the sickness. You turn into something you donât want to name.
And Jo understands. She always has, better than anyone else. She takes your hand, and you lean your head on her shoulder, neither of you able to think of anything clever to say.
âHe gave me a box,â you finally mumble, and Jo frowns.
âLike- A magic box?â
âNo, just a box,â you sigh. âBut Iâm not allowed to open it until tonight.â
Joâs grip tightens. âThatâs- You donât think heâs-â
âItâs too big for that,â you dismiss, because youâd been staring at the box all morning trying to work out what the hell he put in there, and if itâs an engagement ring, you need to talk to Dean about surprises, because youâve already shaken it an awful lot. âIt doesnât make a lot of sound, and- Itâs pretty light.â
âHuh.â Jo pauses. âWhat if I open it?â
âNo, this is- He was really stressed about it. His voice cracked, when he was talking about it.â You smile fondly, and Jo rolls her eyes, but you catch the twitch of her mouth. You know sheâs happy for you, even when she complains. Just like you know that, even though Samâs always saying he wishes you and Dean would go back to pretending you donât care about each other, heâd lock you in the panic room the moment that happened.
Thereâs a tap on your window, and Sam waves nervously, his face pinched up and worried. You glance at Jo in confusion and roll down the window, frowning slightly.
âWhatâs wrong, is there- Did something happen?â
âYeah, um- Yes and no?â Sam rubs the back of his neck, glancing behind him. âIâm just- Deanâs handling it, but Iâve been sent to tell you not to freak out, and- Maybe remind you not to shoot the messenger-â
âSam,â you say in warning, and he swallows. âWhat happened.â
âSo, I was in the car, and Dean was inside with Cas, and I remember that I had some water in the trunk already, so I went to get it. And I open the trunk, and- Iâve been telling Dean to fix the locks for years, so this can kind of be his fault, if weâre thinking about it and someone needs to be guilty-â Sam says your name, as you pull away from Jo and reach for the door. âItâs not great, but- Worse things have happened-â
Sam stumbles out of the way as you shove your way outside, shoving his hands in his pockets and shooting an apologetic expression across the parking lot. You make it three steps before you freeze.
The Impala is parked right in front of the station. Cas is standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, holding an armful of snacks and drinks. Crowley must still be in the car, but Meg is leaning out the widow with a smirk. Dean has his hands on his hips and that tense posture he uses on pretty much everyone that isnât you or Sam during hunts.
Claire is sitting on the curb, looking a little sheepish as Dean chews her out.
Your fingers flex. Sam says your name nervously, and Jo swears behind you. You chew your lower lip, shifting on your feet, and catch Casâ eye. He gives you a tired look, and something in your jaw snaps.
Claireâs eyes fix on you, when you stomp across the parking lot. Dean catches it and turns around, sighing a little at the fury almost pouring off your body.
âSweetheart, itâs alright-â
âShut up,â you snap, stopping right above Claire. âWhat did I say to you, last time you pulled this.â
Claire swallows, glancing over to Dean, as if heâs going to save her. âI- Um- I donât remember-â
âThen think harder.â
She takes a shallow breath, curling a little further down, and you lean to the side, raising your brows.
âClaire Ann Novak, if you donât answer me right now-â
âYou said I wouldnât see another gun until I was sixteen,â she mumbles, and you nod.
âYeah. I did say that. Did you think I was joking?â
Claire shakes her head, and Dean murmurs your name, resting a hand on your lower back.
âWeâre kinda in a situation,â he says. âJody got called off by Rufus. Claire was supposed to be stayinâ with Kevin, but- Iâm worried sheâll be a bad influence-â
âI am not a bad influence!â Claire protests, and Dean gives her a tired, bored look.
âYou ainât helping yourself, kid.â He looks back to you. âCas can drop her up in North Dakota, but- Sheâs still gonna be on a hunt.â
Youâre crossing your arms tight enough to knot them like that. Dean keeps rubbing your back, and you glower down at Claire, who at least has the decency to look ashamed of her self. You get what sheâs trying to do, you really do, because itâs the same shit you did at her age. But you were stupid and magic. Claire could fucking die, and if she dies, youâre going to kill her.
Jody and Rufus are good hunters, but they donât have strong wards. Deanâs right, that if you send Claire to Kevin, sheâs just going to talk him into following you, or worse, going on a hunt with no adult supervision.
Fuck.
âSheâll ride with me,â you mutter, and Claire perks up.
âSeriously? I donât have to go home-â
âNo, youâre going home the fucking second weâre done,â you point firmly, and she curls back. âAnd youâre not leaving home until you understand that this,â you wave a hand around the lot. âIs not okay. Go get in the car. Now.â
Claire nods sheepishly, and moves to her feet. Dean catches her shoulder and gives her a stern look. She sighs and meets your eyes with a sad, shameful expression.
âIâm sorry,â she mumbles, and a little bit of the wrath in your chest flickers. Not enough to relax your steel posture or tone, but enough for the smoke to clear.
âJust- Get in the car,â you mutter, and Claire shuffles off with her head bowed. You turn on Dean, brows raised and face taut, and he sighs.
âIâll start checkinâ the trunk before we drive,â he mutters, rubbing your arm. âBut itâs alright. Sheâll stay in the car- Hell, we can even stuff her back in the trunk, if she loves it in there so freakinâ much.â
You roll your eyes and drop our face into his chest. Dean cradles the back of your head, swaying you back and forth, and you wrap your arms around his torso.
âAre we meetinâ back here?â He mutters, and you nod against him.
âYou go North, I take South-â
âWe handle it, text that weâre goinâ back, and ditch,â Dean finishes, slowly pulling your face back. âI remember, Princess.â
You nod, biting your cheek, trying to push down the itching worry over your skin. Dean drags his thumb down your nose, holding your gaze.
âWeâve got this,â he mutters, low enough for only you to hear. âWeâve been to heaven and hell, baby. This is just another shitty Wednesday.â
You laugh weakly, and Dean kisses you. Slowly and carefully, his tongue tracing your lower lip and his fingers tangled in your hair. You sigh softly into his mouth, and he hums, dragging his thumb over your cheek. No one dares to interrupt or mock you, so Dean just kisses you until youâre breathless and almost unable to stand. He drops his brow to yours, when he pulls away, and drags his hand over the curve of your collarbone, the leather cord of his amulet around your neck.
When he looks back to you, his eyes are glassy and heavy. You want to smile and reassure him, but neither of you seem to have the words. You kiss him one more time, and he returns it with the force of a man whoâs been told war is over.
You can still feel him on your lips, when you get back in the car.
Meg had to go back with you, but you gave a daggered warning about giving Claire any ideas or pissing Jo off.
âYou want to work with us,â youâd hissed outside the car. âYou play nice.â
Meg had smirked and looked you up and down, her voice close to a purr. âBut I am playing nice. Iâm playing so nice.â
Sheâd taken a small step forward, and youâd given her a bored smile.
âProve it.â
Sheâd sighed like you were asking her to figure out quantum theory, but did seem to be trying. You kept the music down to eavesdrop, and she wasnât telling Claire anything overtly dangerous. She was even mostly ignoring Jo, which might be the biggest victory so far. Youâve been worried they were going to kill each other.
âDo we know the boyâs plans,â Jo asks as you start to pull onto backroads, and you nod.
âCrowleyâs gets them in, Cas clears the way, Sam stays in the car for getaway-â
Meg snorts. âYou got Sammy to sit sidelines?â
âWell, he doesnât know it yet,â you mutter. âBut someone has to, and- Heâs live bait, itâs not safe.â
Jo frowns. âAnd we⊠Ainât live bait.â
âNo,â you shrug. âYou have me.â
There were advantages, to being⊠whatever you were. Magdalene, Whore, Bride, it didnât matter right now. Eve could talk all the big game she wanted about killing you, but if Dean hadnât insisted you go in with back up, you wouldâve been more than comfortable running in and dealing with Eve yourself.
âYouâre staying in the car, Claire,â you glare at her in the rearview mirror, and she huffs dramatically.
âBut- I could be- Itâs not like youâre fighting the Leviathans-â
âIt doesnât matter what weâre fighting. Youâre staying in the car. And if you argue with me-â You say firmly. âIâm handcuffing you to the seat.â
Claireâs mouth falls open. âYou- You canât do that- Thatâs child abuse-â
âNo, child abuse would be throwing you into the monster nest with the thousand year old madwoman obsessed with killing God,â you snap, and Claire swallows. âYou want to sneak out on a hunt like an adult, you get restrained like an adult.â
Claire huffs, sinking into the backseat. âYou wouldnât handcuff an adult in the car,â she grumbles under her breath, and you snap your head around.
âExcuse me?! You want to tell me what I would and wouldnât do right now-â
Jo says your name urgently, grabbing the wheel, and you turn back around with a scowl.
âWeâll finish this later,â you mutter, digging your fingers into the wheel. Claire doesnât answer.
âYouâre lucky sheâs just handcuffinâ you,â Meg says to Claire, quite enough you know youâre not supposed to hear. âIâve heard stories about her crushing souls in her hands and turning angels into sock puppets.â
You make a sound between a laugh and a scoff, and Jo smirks at the road. The good thing about hunters talking is that you get a lot of street cred. The bad thing is that you end up sounding like a boogeyman in eyeliner and skincare products.
âReally?â Claire whispers back, and Meg shrugs.
âFirst time she met me, she hatched the first dragon in a thousand years. First time she met blondie, she took out a whole witch coven with her bare hands.â
âIt wasnât bare hands,â you cut in, before pausing. âAnd- Howâd you know that?â
âIâve been in Sammy and Bobbyâs heads,â Meg winks. âIâve seen everything, about all of you.â
She smirks between you and Jo, and you roll your eyes. Sheâd been in Bobbyâs head like, two years ago. A lot of things have happened since then, and you werenât even around when she was in Samâs head. Jo sinks deeper into her seat, fiddling with the label of the soda Dean got her. You give her a questioning look, and she waves you off.
The rest of the ride is filled with Meg telling half-true stories about you, Sam, and Dean, and Claire hanging onto every word like sheâs preaching gospel.Â
âAnd of course,â Meg drawls. âThere are the books.â
âThe books?â Claire says excitedly, and Meg nods.
âLittle Sammy and Deanie, theyâve got their own bestseller series-â
Jo snorts. âThat shit wasnât bestseller, you get it online for free.â
âHm,â Meg grins at her. âWhy were you looking for them online? Something you wanted to see?â
Jo flips her off, and Claire looks between them hopefully.
âAre they like- Books about you guys? I thought our lives were supposed to be secret- Dean is always saying theyâre supposed to be secret-â
âThey are secret,â you sigh. âBut- There was a prophet who didnât know he was a prophet, and heâd been writing about them for years.â
Claire nods, then pauses. âThem?â
âI wasnât in them,â you say, and Claireâs mouth falls open.
âWhy? Youâre like- So much cooler-â
âAnd hotter,â Meg smirks, and Claire makes a face.
âNo- Ew-â
âHey,â you frown, and she cringes.
âSorry, just- Itâs like- I donât wanna think about that- Thatâs so gross-â
âDonât think about being in Deanâs car, then,â Meg hums, twirling her hair and giving you a knowing look. âI could smell the sex on the seats, made me so jealous of your little pretty boy-â
You jerk the car to the side, just hard enough to knock her head against the window. You check back to make sure Claireâs okay, and give Meg a warning look. Itâs more than the playful or stern one you give Jo and Claire. You line it was thorned, bubbling power, and it singes the air like a threat. Meg backs off with raised hands, and you turn your attention to Claire.
âI wasnât in the books because Chuck- the prophet- Didnât think I fit in Sam and Deanâs story. But if you want to read them, I think Sam still has copies.â
You know Sam still has copies. He hid them from Dean, who threatens to burn them every time he sees them, and always feels the need to remind you he didnât really sleep with any of those women. He always does it with a worried, pleading expression and a soft voice, and you donât even get sick with jealously, because the idea seems to make him want to vomit. You have a feeling Claire wonât make it very far into the books for the same reason. If she doesnât like Meg calling you hot, sheâs going to hate Dean shooting fake sex scenes.
If Crowleyâs been telling the truthâand thatâs always a big if, but you think he understand that if heâs not, youâre stomping his soul under your heel and spitting on the pavementâEve and Dick have made a base for themselves in the real, very dead Dick Romanâs old mansion. Itâs a sprawling mansion in Michigan, complete with hunting grounds, a guest lodge, and two pools. Dick and the Leviathans are in the main house. Eve is through the wooded grounds and in the guest lodge. You park the car on the outskirts of the property, and this is going to be the hard part.
âDonât be stupid,â you tell Claire, and she nods. It seems to be setting in, on her paler face. The gravity of the situation. âIâll be back soon. The car is warded, so as long as you donât open the door for anyone but me, youâll be fine.â
Claire nods nervously. You sigh, kiss the top of her head, and pull her into a tight hug. Sheâll be okay. The Leviathans canât get in. Sheâll be okay.
âAre we ready?â You asked Jo and Meg, and they nod tightly. âRemember-â
âCover your back,â Jo says, cocking her gun. âDonât die.â
You let out a slow breath, and look to the woods. Itâs broad daylight, but the trees seem dark. The shadows looming, the light falling over the ground in a way that feels almost wrong. Ashy and gray, like a poorly done painting, or a disjointed dream.
âOkay,â you mutter, spinning the Blade in your hand. âLetâs do this.â
You take a single step into the woods, and the rush kicks in.
Eve isnât a fool. Sheâs filled the woods with everything from vamps to wolves to demons to beasts that you really wish you could just take a picture of and study, but the defense only seems strong enough to deter a normal band of hunters. Theyâre not prepared for you, bigger than the forest, focused only on carving your way to Eve, and felling monster after monster without breaking a sweat. Some of them run in the other direction, when they see you. The demons get brave and dive at you with curled lips and sneers, and the Silver shoots into them like an arrow, driving apart their smoke and reducing them to nothing but the lingering stench of rancid eggs.
The Yeerks are back as well. Eveâs personal guards, getting more and more dense as you approach the lodge. Meg and Jo hold their own, but itâs close. You look back and a dark haired woman has her hand inches from Joâs head. You whip aroundâletting the Silver drive out of you like a drill, right into the earth that doesnât want to carry thing so vile, that feels them like fleasâyou stomp your foot.
The ground swallows the woman whole.
Jo falters, and stares at you. You stare back, the rush faltering for only a moment.
âCool trick,â Jo says, and you nod, staring at the spot where the woman vanished. âYou know you could-â
You shake your head, and Jo cuts herself off with a sigh. Another Yeerk dives from over head. Jo blasts it with her shotgun, knocking it off course, and Meg grabs it out of the air, slamming its head into the tree. You take a step forward, looking between them, and Jo waves you off.
âWeâll block the door once youâre in,â she calls. âFuckinâ go.â
You nod, take a few steps back, looking up to the trees. The canopy of leaves, filtering that sunlight, and filtering it wrong. The Silver howls, uncomfortable with the off-axis pull, and you can feel gray light on the leaves crying in return. Whatever Eveâs done to this place, whatever the Leviathans have done, itâs wrong.
But you look back over your shoulder, and there seems to be a jungle in your wake. A path, marking every step youâd take, where the wood are overgrown and lush. The moss creeps up the dead, white bark of the trees, and the light that hits the blooming flowers and green leaves is soft. Shimmering and threaded like the spiderweb pattern of a beam of sunshine through the water. You take a deep breath, your hand flat on the door of the lodge.
It opens for you, without a single push.
You expect to force your way through legions, but the halls are empty, dark, and quiet. A thick smell of old wood almost suffocates you, and hundreds of tapesties and painting on the wall have turned to faded paper and moth eaten string. You pause in front of one. Nothing more than a tattered weaving of a beach, white waves painted to crash onto the shore and the sun shining from somewhere behind the viewer. You touch a stray thread of blue, and a rushing breeze flies past your face. The wood smell is covered in salt and brine and something finer. Something thin and delicate and sweet. Water drips down from your fingers and onto the floor, and you can feel it.
Whatever this place was, however far away or old, youâre the peace of the water and sand, always surrounded by more of itself, content into knowing it could be swept away or change with the tide. It will get to see more. Be more. And compared to a life a cold, lonely stone, that doesnât sound so bad at all.
âA pretty trick,â Eve says from behind you. âI wish youâd learn to do more with it.â
You whip around, flipping your Blade to drive for her throat, and Eve only watches you with a smile.
âI knew youâd come for me-â
âYeah, youâre a real genius for that,â you cut her off dryly, and her whole face twitches. A faltering of a mask. A predator playing prey, unable to hide their teeth.
âBe careful how you speak to me,â she says your name, and you roll your eyes.
âWhy would I do that?â You take a step forward, and Eve takes a step back. âBecause you understand me? You can teach me? You can show me paradise?â
Eveâs lip curls. âI can help you be free, you stupid girl. If you werenât so attached to your little men, youâd be free-â
âAnd then what?â
Eve blinks at you, recoiling again when you take another step back. âIt doesnât- That is not your concern-â
âIt feels like my concern,â you spit. âYou wanted to kill me, you wanted to take Dean-â
âI want nothing but is whatâs best for you,â Eve sneers. âDean. That man, he does nothing but hold you back-â
âFrom what. From replacing God?â
âYes!â Eve screams, and you blink. âI did not give everything, I did not lose everything, just for you to make the stupid mistake of believing a man could ever defy God, that any of them could possibly be strong enough to resist the pull of a power they do not deserve. But I deserve it, you deserve it- We are makers. I am the maker, and you will not,â she takes a step forward, eyes gleaming with fury. âDefy me.â
And this is the part where you used to be afraid. Where youâd lose control and kill her with a scream. But Death told you to stand tall. And you donât move.
âYou need me to open Old Heaven,â you mutter, scanning over Eveâs furious face. âAnd you needed DeanâŠâ
âOh I never needed Dean,â Eve says dismissively. âBut having him is having you. My greatest creation,â she looks you up and down, and sighs heavily. âRefusing to be a god, just for a man.â
Your grip on your Blade tightens. âI am not your creation,â you hiss. âAnd I am not a god.â
âWell, weâll see, wonât we,â Eve smiles. âWhen you finally lose Dean.â
Your vision doesnât blur. The Silver doesnât burst, and you donât lose control. You just lunge and drive the Blade, right into Eveâs gut. She laughs, cold and high like a phantom, and you twist it. gritting your teeth. You are not a god. And that isnât about Dean, or Eve, or any bigger plan. You arenât a god because of you, and youâre getting really fucking tired of people telling you what thatâs supposed to mean.
Itâs not the wound or the Silver that kills Eve. Itâs just⊠You. You reach into her vessel and smother her in light. It makes things grow over all the old fissure and cracks. The ones that used to be her soul, that used to be softer. And that softness spreads out like an algae, and Eve is old and hungry and lonely, so she folds like the less that she was never allowed to be. Her body goes limp in your arms, and you donât turn her into nothing. You pull her out, and sheâs nothing more than a glowing ball in your hand.
You let her go, and she floats into the air, uncollecting like steam, before sheâs scattered through the world. Everything and nothing at all. A sharp breath leaves your chest, and your head hurts.
Your head really hurts.
Your ribs press into each other like something is caving in, and your spine goes tense like itâs begging to crack. And somethingâs wrong. The old lodge creaks like a scram and the wind picks up like a warning, and something is wrong.
The door flies open under your hand, and you sprint out of the lodge with panic welling up your chest. Itâs collecting over your skin like sweat, lodging in your throat like a bitter rock you canât swallow. Jo and Meg both call for you, but you sprint past them. The wind picks up behind you, carrying you forward a little faster. Your back burns like a geyser about to burst, and your head feels like a grindstone for an axe. You donât know whatâs happening. The Spiderweb is alight and strong, the world is spinning, but⊠Slowing.
The ground shakes, and itâs an omen. A world thatâs honored to serve your feet, trying to hold you both upright. Almost frantic, like itâs trying to save itself.
You reach the Firebird, and stumble, catching the open door with shaking hands.
Claire.
Claire is gone.
âShit,â Jo comes up behind you, panting, and you barely even hear her over the wind. âThatâs-â She says your name, and you raise your hand for silence. Â
Thereâs a trail of electric, thrashing blue that goes through the woods. Itâs not the trail of a fighting animal, though, and youâre not good at holding this kind of concentration for too long. If sheâd been fighting them, maybe, but Claire went with them voluntarily. She even left her jacket.
Where Dean sowed the tracker.
Itâs quick, get through the grounds, carving through whatâs left of Eveâs monsters. Jo and Meg help with silence and worried looks, and you tuck your Blade back into your jacket when you reach the edge of the forest, rubbing your hands to combat the cold. You will find her. Youâre not afraid of that. You just donât want to freak her out, when you rip the Leviathans limb from limb. If you find her dead you fix her. And if God tries to take her, you open Old Heaven and let the Leviathans take him.
Thereâs a space on the property where itâs quiet. You can see, over the horizon, a smoking section of the wood. You can smell that foul, rancid Leviathan goo, choking up the air and forcing your breath to be shallow. You couldâve casted a tracking spell with Claireâs jacket, but that wouldâve taken time you donât have. You follow the path that Cas, Sam, and Dean left, stepping over bodies smoking with borax and pits of tar. Jo and Meg will keep the exit clear. You walk in the manor with your hands empty and an undying fire in your chest.
You are everything, and thereâs a clarity to it youâre not willing to fight. Hesitation makes you falter, and Claire needs you not to break. So you are all of it, from the unease of the house, knowing theyâve been filled up with poison and told it was honey, to the water running deep underground, afraid to breach the surface and find out what it has to be. You are everything except the Leviathans, and you want them out. If theyâre a parasite, you were the wrong beast for them to attach themselves to. The stupid ones try to fight you, and you crush them under mountains of life. The cowardly ones retreat and split them into a million fractures of light. The loyal ones scramble to block you from the doorsâmassive and walnut and eroding with black venomâand you grab them by the jaw and narrow your eyes.
Theyâre all white teeth and death, and maybe you wouldâve been afraid of them, if the didnât force you to grow a bigger maw in return. But they devour, and you hang open and cradle. You feel something tugging you past that door, just to the right of your heart, and you will not be kept from it. Your fingers dig into their skin, and it cracks like sandstone. They scream, and you crumble them between your fingers.
You shove the door open, and run out into a ballroom. Itâs all high ceilings and rich, velvet curtains. Thereâs a chandelier one seems to catch light coming from somewhere behind you, despite the low lamps down by the ground. Youâre up on a balcony, clutching the railing and leaning over, vines and honeysuckle growing from your fingers and down to the ground. To the chaos below.
Dick Roman has Claire, trapped against his chest. A Leviathan with Deanâs marred faceâEdgar, you recognize in the point of his broken teethâlays on the ground, and your Dean is circling Dick, the knife on the floor between them and Cas at his side. Crowleyâs pressed against the wall and Samâs blocking the exit on the floor. The wall just past you, flat and lined with windows, doesnât lead to the outside.
It leads to something gray. Something horrible, that you recognize all too well.
The dead world. Â
Samâs eyes lock with yours. He shouts your name, and everyoneâs eyes shoot to you. Dickâs face carves itself into a violent smile, and the growth under your fingers falters. Heâs more dead than the rest of them. Itâs like looking into a pit with no bottom, no start, no⊠anything.
âThere you are,â he calls your name. âJust in time for the big show! Very clever, to try and keep the apple from us, but Iâm afraid were ready for it. Weâve done almost everything, except found the key, and you just-â He laughs. âTurn yourself in! Itâs my lucky day.â
You swallow. You could tell him Eve was dead, but you donât think itâs going to be a positive different. âLet them go, Dick-â
âNo,â Dean shouts at you, eyes narrowed. âYouâre stayinâ up there, Princess, weâre not doing this again.â
âI wouldnât tell her what to do, Dean,â Dick purrs. âYour life, Claireâs life,â he squeezes her throat, her eyes screw shut, and your vision goes a little red. âIt all depends on if your princess is willing to be strong. To take what is ours, what should have always been ours, to kill that monster that wants to take her away from you, Dean. Donât you want her to be free? Donât you want her to be happy?â
Dean works his jaw. He looks up at you, and you lean a little further. And youâve never been able to do that thing he and Sam do, where you talk without speaking. But this is your Dean. And your hand glides to your Blade, and your eyes dart to Dick, and his throat bobs.
He understands.
Dean glances at Cas and jerks his head. You wrap your hand around the Bladeâthe weapon God made just for you, that you found so long ago, still trying to hide yourself from Deanâand you take a deep breath. Â Â
Dean looks back to Dick. His mouth curves into a small, mocking grin.
âI ainât to worried about it, buddy,â he drawls. âI know my girl, and that- That ainât gonna make her happy. But I know what will.â
Dick frowns, and you throw the Blade, right into his eye.
He roar. It echoes off the walls and makes the windows shake. He loses his footing and lets go of Claire. Your scream, shrill and desperate, echoes over Dickâs. Dean dives for Claire and drags her back, shoving her into Casâ arms and charging back forward to grab the knife.
And you feel it, the second his hand touches the bone.
God, shining outside. An old power that wonât be ignored, thatâs all too familiar, that reminds you of infinite pain and visions you canât understand.
And that sense returns. An instinct deeper than your body, right down to your soul, blaring like a siren and flashing like a lighthouse.
Something is wrong.
Dean pushes to his feet, and you scream. You scream words you canât here, for him to stop, for everything to stop, that something is so, so fucking wrong. Dean looks at you, leaning over the edge of the balcony and ready to dive for him, and roars for Cas.
Cas looks at Dean, then you, and his jaw locks. Dean moves for Dick, and you climb up on the balcony, ready to jump and stop him. Cas vanishes, right as Sam looks at the fear painted on your face and dives for Dean.
An arm locks around your stomach, and drags you backwards. Dean swings the knife in his hand and raises his arm. Sam reaches him, right as he drive the bone into Dickâs chest.
The world goes white. Pure, blinding white, like someone scooped away a part of the room. Cas and Claire shout and block their faces, but you stare into the light and try to look for color. Cold blasts you in the face like arctic wind, and you scream so loud you think it might be rattling the edges of the universe. You reach out to try and find them, but your fingers are clumsy and tired, and you swipe at nothing. You grab that thing to the right of your heart and pull it, tears streaming down your face that flood whatever ground remains under your feet.
You canât find him. Deanâs somewhere, he has to be, but you canât find him. You canât find him, you canât find him, heâs not in pain but you canât find him, why canât you fucking find him-
The light fades, and theyâre gone.
Dickâs body. Sam. Dean. All just⊠gone.
Crowley vanishes from his corner of the room. Cas mutters your name, placing a light hand on your shoulder, but you donât even look at him.
Deanâs gone.
The scream that leaves you isnât human. Itâs older than whatever was in the bone, older than the Leviathans, older than this world itself. Itâs shifts the world under your feet and you fall to your knees, still screaming. The world screams back, because it understands whatâs happened. It understands that fear doesnât mean anything you care about, because Dean is gone. You scream loud enough that God vanishes from the sky, and when you stop screaming, he doesnât come back.
You scream loud enough that wherever he is, he must hear you, and you scream louder because you swear you can hear him shouting back.
âŠchapter 73
âŠEnd note: first season finale ending in princess pov since s4 ! happy end of season 7. sam and dean might be in purgatory but consider this. i'm sorry. please trust me. Chapter Title from Ain't No Rest For the Wicked by Cage the Elephant
âŠIf you like this story, please reblog, like, or leave a comment! <3
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Dean needed to put stronger limits on what kinda animals he was letting into his house.
Good luck with that, my dude đ
He was never gonna tell her the unicorn. Sheâd ask if they could track it down, and Sheâd use her pretty little pout and bounce on her feet and Dean would forget the word no.
He is 100% correct lol
âShe is very kidnappable,â Crowley murmured, earning him a weird look from Sam and a scowl from Jo and Dean. Crowley rolled his eyes. âPlease, itâs not like Iâve kidnapped her. I am just- You must have noticed the little pattern-â
Crowley is also 100% correct lmao đ€Ł
Dean sighed. "Look, we'll find you again after, alright? But you're smart, you probably got a better life out there-"
"Oh, I definitely have a better life out there," Charlie said. "But I like this. I like you guys."
Dean couldn't fight his smile. He didn't get it. He'd run to the hills the moment he knew She and Sam would follow. But he'd take it.
"We like you too, kid," he said, and Charlie beamed, spreading her arms wide. Dean pulled her into a hug, and prayed he actually would get to find her.
And that when he did, she'd have a life she didn't want to leave behind to rejoin their shit one.
IM GONNA MISS HER SO MUCHđ
âNext time,â Dean said slowly. âNo matter what, no matter how itâs looking- You gotta promise me youâre gonna do the right thing.â He gave Cas a meaningful look. âNot what you think is the right thing. The right thing.â
I donât like this. I donât like what this is foreshadowing.
âYouâre in the library. Why would you- Never mind,â Sam sighed, and Dean smirked to himself, running his thumb over the thin line of bruises heâd left on Her hips. Damn right never mind.
Smug little fucker (affectionate).
Dean nodded, resting his face against Her shoulder and squinting at the paper. âThis shit really doesnât make you dizzy, huh.â
Heâs âšdyslexicâš
âDean, honey,â she said softly, and Dean blinked. She might as well have punched him in face, with how his head went all fuzzy and empty.
NOW HE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS
Dad, though, had not been proud. Heâd shouted some words Dean couldnât hear anymore at Miss Hanson and the principle, stormed out of the office with Dean in tow, and theyâd skipped town the next day. Dean hadnât been sure what happened, or what the yelling had been about. Heâd just known his miracle thirty minutes wasnât enough for Dad. Heâd tried to break the record, but it just made his head hurt, so heâd given up for a while. Heâd adjusted eventually, and sort of stopped thinking about it. Of course he was a slow reader, compared to the two little Einsteins he shared motel rooms with. They both expected him to be a little slower, too. No one was that surprised by any of it. But-
Wherever John Winchester is rotting right now, he is not suffering enough
Dean didnât let himself linger on that revelation for too long. He had pie to eat and a girlfriend to seduce. It could go in his box of shit to address later, right next to them being soulmates. And that one he was planning to take care of, very soon.
YEAH YOU DO, BOI! GET IT!
"I was gonna stab him," She grumbled as Dean guided Her outside.
He hummed, wrapping his jacket around Her shoulders. "I know."
"You stopped me-"
"I got plans tonight, Princess," he said, smiling at Her backwards glare. "Not lookin' to do them in jail."
Lmao she really was like âhold my flowerâ and Dean was like ânot today, baby, weâre having sex.â
(Also, that guy was giving off major LDE smh; no means no, motherfucker)
âOf course I wanna have sex with you, sweetheart, I love you. But sometimes that means just wrappinâ you up like a pretty burrito and sucking it up!â
HE SAID IT AGAAAAAAAAAAIN! Letâs see if she gets it this timeâŠ
Nope. Sheâs still oblivious.
And She pulled out the first letter box, and Deanâs breathing turned shallow
ITS HAPPENING!!!! HES GIVING HER THE LETTERS
"Your bullet box?"
Dean blinked. "My- What?"
"Your bullet box," She repeated, turning it in Her hands. "You- You keep it in the bag-"
"You've seen it?!" Dean blurted, and She looked at him like he was crazy.
"Um-Yeah? We share the bag, De. I look in it."
Dean could barely speak over his heart in his throat.
"Have you... Opened it?"
"No? I don't use a gun, why would I open it."
Dean could've vomited with relief. He looked up at the roof and laughed, squeezing his eyes shut. She said his name-probably thinking he was losing his damn mind-and he shook his head. "It's not a bullet box, sweetheart."
Heâs so cute when heâs nervous
âHe said it again.â
SO SHE DID HEAR IT
"He's an idiot," Jo says flatly. "That's what- Three times?"
"Four," you mumble. "The first time was in the Sandman. But- Maybe he doesn't mean it- Ow-"
Jo whacks the back of your head, fixing you with a stern glare. "The hell he don't mean it," she scolds with a pointed finger. "I'm always tellin' people | love them on accident, four times, when I'm dating them and we've been obsessed with each other for years."
JOANNA HARVELLE YOU ARE AN ICON A STAR A BADASS BOSS LADY AND I LOVE YOU
Claire is sitting on the curb, looking a little sheepish as Dean chews her out.
DAMMIT CLAIRE
Youâre crossing your arms tight enough to knot them like that. Dean keeps rubbing your back, and you glower down at Claire, who at least has the decency to look ashamed of her self. You get what sheâs trying to do, you really do, because itâs the same shit you did at her age. But you were stupid and magic. Claire could fucking die, and if she dies, youâre going to kill her.
Team, She is âša Motherâš
âWeâve got this,â he mutters, low enough for only you to hear. âWeâve been to heaven and hell, baby. This is just another shitty Wednesday.â
THEA IF HE GETS SENT TO PURGATORY I WILL LOSE MY SHIT!
PRINCESS WILL LOSE HER SHIT!
ALL SHITS WILL BE LOST!
"I wasn't in them," you say, and Claire's mouth falls open.
"Why? You're like- So much cooler-"
"And hotter," Meg smirks, and Claire makes a face.
"No-Ew-"
"Hey," you frown, and she cringes.
"Sorry, just- It's like- I don't wanna think about that-That's so gross-"
"Don't think about being in Dean's car, then," Meg hums, twirling her hair and giving you a knowing look. "I could smell the sex on the seats, made me so jealous of your little pretty boy-"
You jerk the car to the side, just hard enough to knock her head against the window.
Meg is just dying to get eviscerated lol
Claire nods nervously. You sigh, kiss the top of her head, and pull her into a tight hug. Sheâll be okay. The Leviathans canât get in. Sheâll be okay.
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HER I WILL DEFENESTRATE MYSELF
Your grip on your Blade tightens. "I am not your creation," you hiss. "And l am not a god.""
"Well, we'll see, won't we," Eve smiles. "When you finally lose Dean."
I DONT LIKE THE SOUND OF THAT ONE BIT
Your ribs press into each other like something is caving in, and your spine goes tense like itâs begging to crack. And somethingâs wrong. The old lodge creaks like a scram and the wind picks up like a warning, and something is wrong.
I REALLY REALLY DONT LIKE THIS
Claire is gone.
THEA DONT DO THIS TO MEEEEEEE
You are everything, and thereâs a clarity to it youâre not willing to fight. Hesitation makes you falter, and Claire needs you not to breakâŠ.
Theyâre all white teeth and death, and maybe you wouldâve been afraid of them, if the didnât force you to grow a bigger maw in return. But they devour, and you hang open and cradle. You feel something tugging you past that door, just to the right of your heart, and you will not be kept from it. Your fingers dig into their skin, and it cracks like sandstone. They scream, and you crumble them between your fingers.
YA GIRL IS A BADASS BOSS LADY
Dick frowns, and you throw the Blade, right into his eye.
YAS QUEEN
And you feel it, the second his hand touches the bone.
God, shining outside. An old power that wonât be ignored, thatâs all too familiar, that reminds you of infinite pain and visions you canât understand.
And that sense returns. An instinct deeper than your body, right down to your soul, blaring like a siren and flashing like a lighthouse.
Something is wrong.
I FUCKIN SWEAR CHUCK YOU BETTER FUCKIN NOT. I WILL BEAT YOUR ANCIENT ASS TO A PULP
Dickâs body. Sam. Dean. All just⊠gone.
CHUCK BETTER FUCKIN SQUARE UP BECAUSE AFTER IâM DONE HYPERVENTILATING IM GOING TO KICK HIS ANCIENT SHRIVELED ASS
I KNOW HE DID THIS. HE APPOINTED A NEW PROPHET SO THAT THEY WOULD SEND THE LEVIATHANS BACK AND DEAN WOULD GET SENT WITH THEM BECAUSE HE CARRIED THE KNIFE. SHE FUCKIN SAVED HIS PREHISTORIC ASS FROM BEING LEVIATHAN CHOW AND THIS IS HOW HE REPAYS HER?! THIS IS WHY HE WANTED CAS TO OPEN PURGATORY ISNT IT?! CAUSE HE KNEW DEAN WOULD GET SUCKED INTO THE PORTAL WHEN THEY KILLED QUEEN DICK AND HE WOULD HAVE NO MORE COMPETITION FOR âHISâ WOMAN! IM LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING THIS COME BACK TO BITE HIM IN THE ASS.
BUT UNTIL THEN, ITS EVEN WORSE BECAUSE SAMMY IS IN THERE WITH HIM. HASNT HE SUFFERED ENOUGH?! HASNT DEAN SUFFERED ENOUGH?! BUT CASTIEL FULFILLED HIS PROMISE AND NOW IM GOING TO HAVE AN ANEURISM! AND CLAIRE HAS LOST ANOTHER FATHER FIGURE! I MIGHT BE SOBBING
âïœĄ Ë mouth like that á”á”Ëąá”á”ÊłËĄâ±Ëąá”
lowdown â youâre part of butcherâs crew, heâs the weapon they barely trust, and somewhere between missions, insults, blood, and bad decisions, soldier boy becomes the one person you should stay away fromâand the one person who keeps coming back.
ride or die â soldier boy x human!reader ( f )
miles â 125k ride style â enemies-ish to lovers ; slow slow burn
danger on the trail â canon-typical violence, blood/injury, explicit sexual content, weapons, strong language, crude humor, sexual tension, eventual explicit content, toxic behavior, trauma/ptsd, references to captivity and torture, emotional repression, manipulation, misogyny/sexism, morally grey choices, vought-related abuse/corruption, and complicated relationship dynamics
posting schedule â every other day taglist â join here đ .á
â listen to the playlist â what would temp v do to you? (poll) â
liv's log â this has become my favorite thing to write for. and your comments make me giggle like a school girl. so thank you for being on that side. and if you're new here, enjoy the slow burn~ đ€
â đ đ„đđđ±đąđŻđ°
âê«áȘĘ 01 â mouth like that ê«áȘĘ 02 â commie toy
âê«áȘĘ 03 â save the clownfish ê«áȘĘ 04 â volume control
âê«áȘĘ 05 â again ê«áȘĘ 06 â no bell
âê«áȘĘ 07 â easy ê«áȘĘ 08 â bed rest
âê«áȘĘ 09 â war stories ê«áȘĘ 10 â same thing
I cannot fully express to you, in words, how much I freaking love this series!!! These two morally gray, slightly toxic, and completely emotionally constipated idiots captured my heart from the first little drabble and Iâve been hooked ever since!
The way you write the whole team is so faithful to their characters and the way you developed the reader character was also superb. She is salty and strong and independent while also being caring and kind and big hearted. You captured their multidimensionality and complexities so holistically, and in a way that seemed effortless! Youâre writing is always a freaking amazing experience!
Also the one liners in here, as well as the narration are comedy gold! You are hilarious, bestie! Several times you had me snorting into my tea or shaking so hard with laughter that I woke my cat. Your wit and sarcasm are masterpieces in and of themselves!
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for sharing this emotional rollercoaster of a story with us! I look forward to reading this again in the near future, and I look forward to all of your upcoming writing projects đđđ
lowdown â after the tower, youâre left with the fallout and the road ahead.
ride or die â soldier boy x reader ( f )
miles â 2436 ride style â fluff đ
danger on the trail â post-finale aftermath, injury, temp v use, emotional distress, toxic dynamics, the end of a fucking era!!! notes at the end đ
it keeps cutting in and out beneath the rain, old guitar and static slipping through the speakers in broken pieces. every few seconds, a manâs voice finds the melody, holds it for half a line, then disappears again.
you should turn it off. you hum instead, low under your breath, because the car feels too quiet without something filling it. because if you stop humming, youâll hear the tower again. glass giving way. annie shouting. ryan screaming. soldier boyâs roars, rough and ruined.
your hands stay locked around the steering wheel.Â
your wrist's swollen where the cuff bit in. your throat burns when you swallow, skin bruised beneath your jaw in the shape of homelanderâs fingers. thereâs blood under one sleeve, not all of it yours, and temp v still crawls ugly through your veins, leaving your skin too cold and your heartbeat too fast.
the highway stretches ahead, dark and wet. somewhere behind you, soldier boy is unconscious across the backseat. you check the mirror again. heâs too big for the car. boots jammed awkwardly against the door, one arm hanging half-off the seat, shield shoved into the footwell because you couldnât leave it behind even though dragging it nearly made you sob from pure exhaustion.
his face's turned toward the window, slack in a way that still looks wrong on him. soot and blood mark the side of his neck. his armor's cracked open at the chest. breathing, though. you keep checking. breathing. that has to be enough for now.
the road blurs. you blink hard until the lines sharpen again. ânot yet,â you whisper.
your fingers tremble on the wheel, so you grip tighter. ten and two, absurdly proper for a woman driving a stolen car with a wanted supe unconscious in the backseat. the thought almost makes you laugh, bur the sound doesnât make it out.
the radio catches another few notes. you hum along badly. behind you, leather creaks. soldier boy jerks upright. not at all like waking. one second he's deadweight, and the next he's moving, sharp and violent, dragging air into his lungs like he's come up from underwater with his hand already reaching for a weapon.
you scream. âjesus, what the fuck?â the car swerves across the lane. tires hit the rumble strip with a grinding roar. your heart kicks into your throat.
soldier boy grabs the back of the passenger seat, eyes wild in the dashboard glow, and that only makes the wheel slip harder in your hands. âwhere the fuckââ
âsit down!â
âkeep the car on the road!â
âi was doing that before you resurrected in my fucking backseat!âÂ
you yank the wheel back. the car lurches, corrects, then straightens beneath the rain. for three seconds, neither of you speaks. the wipers scrape across the windshield. the radio hisses.
then he says, âpull over.â
you laugh once, too sharp. âof course. sure. already barking orders.â
âstop the fucking car.â the way he says it is different the second time. not barked. not cruel. strained.
you glance at him in the mirror and see that his eyes have dropped to your throat. then your wrist. then your shaking hands. your grip tightens around the wheel until your knuckles hurt. âfine.â
you pull onto the shoulder, gravel spitting under the tires, and shove the car into park. cold rain hits you the second you open the door. it feels good for half a breath, then awful. you climb out anyway.
your legs nearly fold. you catch yourself against the car. soldier boy's already out on the other side, unsteady for maybe one second before pride straightens him. he looks around the empty road, the wet fields, the dark line of trees beyond the shoulder. then he looks at you.Â
âwhere are we?â he asks.
âsomewhere in pennsylvania. maybe ohio by now.â your voice comes out rough from homelanderâs hand.
his eyes stay on your throat. âwhat happened?â
âa lot.â you swallow, and it hurts. âeveryoneâs alive.â
he goes very still. the rain ticks against the roof of the car. somewhere far away, a truck passes on another road, low and lonely through the night.
âeven maeve?â he asks.
your chest tightens. you nod. âi think. she was breathing when they found her.â
his jaw works once. âhomelander?â
âalive.â that hits worse. of course it does.Â
his face closes, and for a second he looks back toward the road behind you like he might try to walk all the way to new york with broken armor and blood in his hair.
âryanâs alive too,â you add. âbutcher. annie. hughie. mm. frenchie. kimiko. me...â his eyes come back to you. you almost make a joke. youâre too tired. âiâm here.â
he steps closer. âyou took it.â
âi did.â
his expression hardens. âafter i told you not to.â
âafter you cuffed me to a radiator and destroyed the vial in my face.â
âto keep you alive.â
âthat wasnât your choice.â
he flinches. small. almost nothing. but you see it, and some mean, hurt part of you is glad.
âyou left me there,â the words come out quieter than you expect. worse because of it. âafter i promised. after i told you. you made me watch you walk away.â
rain runs down his face. he doesnât wipe it. âi know.â
âdo you?â
his eyes meet yours. there's no joke waiting in them now. no dirty comment. no easy cruelty to hide behind. âyeah,â he says. âi do.â
that fixes nothing. still, your throat tightens.
you look away first, toward the highway. toward anywhere that is not his face.
for a while, the only sound is the rain. then he asks, âin the tower. did youââ
ânot on you.â the answer's immediate.
his jaw tightens.
you take one step toward him, even though your body protests. âi could have. when you were charging, when everyone was still too close, when i thought the whole floor was going to come down. the word was right there.â your voice cracks. âi didnât say it.â
he looks away.
âi promised you,â you say. âand i kept it.â
his hand flexes at his side. you almost wish he would argue. it would be easier than watching him stand there with the truth pressing into him from every side.
âi used it on them,â you continue. âafter.â
his eyes return to you.
âthey were going to take you back.â
his face empties so fast it makes your stomach turn. âfreezer?â
ânobody said the word.â you fold your arms, then stop because your ribs ache. âthey didnât have to.â
for a second, he's not on the highway with you. he's somewhere colder. somewhere metal. somewhere locked. you hate them for it, suddenly and completely, even though part of you understands. even though you saw him light up that room. even though you know how close everyone came to dying. you still hate them.
âyou were unconscious,â you say. âmaeve was down. homelander was gone. butcher was bleeding all over the floor and still trying to stand. mm was calling for containment. frenchie had the gas...â your throat tightens again. âannie looked at me like she was sorry.â
his voice is flat when he asks, âwhat did you say?â
you remember it too clearly. your knees on broken glass beside him. your hand against his chest, checking for breath. butcher swearing from somewhere behind you. mm reaching for your shoulder. annie saying your name in warning. frenchieâs face pale above the mask canister. your own voice cutting through all of it.
âi told them to stay back,â you say.
he watches you. âand they did?â
âyes.â
âall of them?â
âyes.â
âbutcher?â
âespecially butcher.â
something dark and almost satisfied crosses his face before pain swallows it.
âyou carried me out?â
âdragged you. carried you a little. cursed your entire bloodline.â you glance toward the car. âtook the shield too. youâre welcome.â
he doesnât answer. he's looking at your wrist again. the cuff mark's ugly. red and swollen, rubbed raw in places from where you fought the radiator, then the door, then the whole goddamn world to get to him.
his hand lifts. you stiffen before you can stop yourself.
slowly, he lets his hand fall. the absence hurts more than the reach. âiâm not going to grab you."
âgood,â you answer. âbecause i might hit you with the car.â
âwith your driving, i don't doubt it."
it slips out before either of you can stop it. a tiny, stupid sound leaves you. not a laugh. close enough to hurt.
his face shifts like that sound does something to him. then his hands come up to your face. slowly. giving you time. you should step back. you're still angry. your wrist throbs because of him. your throat hurts because of homelander. your veins feel poisoned because you had to take the vial alone after he took your choice and called it love. but his palms settle against your cheeks, big and careful, and you're too tired to pretend it doesnât almost break you.Â
his thumbs rest beneath your cheekbones. âyou shouldnât have come."
your eyes burn. âyou shouldnât have left me.â
his face tightens. âi know.â
it isn't enough. but it's the closest he has come.
âiâm still mad,â you whisper.
âyeah.â
âi might be mad for a while.â
âfigured.â
âand if you ever handcuff me to something again, iâm commanding you to shave your beard.â
his face goes so still that, despite everything, a laugh breaks out of you. his eyes narrow. âthat a threat?â
âa promise.â
âyou promised not to use it on me.â
âtempt me.â
the old rhythm flickers between you, bruised and weak but alive. you feel it and hate yourself a little for needing it.
his gaze drops to your mouth.Â
the rain keeps falling.
âwhere are we going?â he asks, voice lower now.
âsioux falls.â
his brows draw together. âwhy?â
âi have family there. an aunt. sort of. long story.â you breathe in carefully. âsmall house outside town. old garage. she minds her business if i tell her to. we can stay a few days. figure out where we go next.â
âwhere we go next?â
your throat tightens.
there it is. the small, stupid word with teeth.
âunless you have somewhere better to be.â
his hands tighten on your face for half a second. âno.â
his thumb drags once along your cheek, wiping rain or tears or both.
âyou stole me,â he says.
your mouth trembles around a smile that doesnât fully form. ârescued.â
âstole.â
âfine. i stole you.â
âfrom all of them.â his eyes stay on yours. âwhy?â
there're a dozen answers. because they were going to freeze him. because you were angry. because he was breathing. because after everything, after every ugly choice and every wrong word and every time one of you used teeth because tenderness felt too dangerous, you still couldn't leave him on that floor.
you say the smallest true thing. âbecause i wasnât done with you.â
his face changes. not much. never much. but you know him now, and it is enough. then he kisses you. it isn't gentle at first. not careful enough to turn the night pretty. he kisses you like he's furious at the rain, at the tower, at the fall, at your bruises, at himself. his hands hold your face the whole time, and that's the part that ruins you. not the force. not the heat. the holding.
you grip the torn front of his suit. then he makes a sound against your mouth, low and wrecked, and you melt. stupidly. completely. he kisses you until the rain is cold on your back and the car engine ticks itself quiet beside you.
when he pulls away, his forehead stays pressed to yours. neither of you says anything. there's nothing clean enough to say.
then he looks down at you and his face hardens again. âyou're shaking. get in the car. iâm driving.â
you pull back. âabsolutely not.â
âyou almost put us in a ditch.â
âbecause you scared me.â
âwomen shouldnât be behind the wheel.â
you stare at him. rain drips from his hair. he looks half-dead, bruised, burned, impossible, and completely serious.Â
you slap his chest. he doesnât move. your hand hurts. âow,â you mutter.
his mouth twitches. âthat was pathetic."
âi'm withdrawing.â
âexplains the driving.â
you point at him. âdo not make me regret stealing you.â
âtoo late.â
you hate that it makes you smile. small. exhausted. real. you drop the keys into his open hand before you can change your mind. âone misogynistic comment about my navigation and i leave you at the next gas station.â
âyouâd come back.â
âunfortunately.â
he closes his fingers around the keys and walks around the car with only a slight limp. you notice. he knows you notice. neither of you says anything.
you slide into the passenger seat and immediately regret sitting because every bruise introduces itself at once. soldier boy gets behind the wheel, adjusts the seat with an annoyed grunt, and glares at the dashboard like the car's personally disappointed him.
âpiece of shit,â he mutters.
âfree piece of shit.â
he starts the engine. the radio wakes with a burst of static, then finds the old song again. faint guitar. a voice you still donât recognize. rain under the tires as he pulls back onto the highway.
for a while, neither of you speaks. behind you, new york is sirens and broken glass and people who will turn the whole thing into headlines by morning.
terrorist attack.
supe disaster.
vought tragedy.
they won't call it what it was. they won't know about the radiator. the second vial. the word you didn't say. maeveâs arms around him as the sky went white. your knees on broken glass while everyone stepped back because you told them to. his hands on your face in the rain.
they won't know that the world ended and kept going anyway.
sioux falls is still too far. temp v still burns under your skin. homelander's alive. butcher's alive. everyone you left behind's alive and furious and probably already hunting for the stolen car.
but soldier boy's breathing beside you. you're breathing beside him. for tonight, that has to be enough.
the radio clears for a few seconds, and you start humming again, quieter now. soldier boy glances over as one hand leaves the wheel. he extends it toward you, palm open, waiting. you slip your hand into his.
the road stretches out ahead of you, dark and endless beneath the rain, and this time, neither of you lets go.
masterlistË ĘâŹâ.Ë now playing áá||á wishful dreaming by 5 seconds of summer
Dean still reaches for you in his sleep.
Thatâs the first thing he realizes when he wakes up alone in the bunker, hand curled around cold sheets, chest clenching like heâs mid-freefall. No warmth beside him, no soft breath against his shoulder, no sleepy groan when he moves too much.
Just empty space where you used to be.
He lies there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the truth settle like dust in his lungs.
Youâre gone.
And itâs his fault.
He shouldâve seen it coming. Shouldâve noticed the way your smile stopped reaching your eyes. The way your shoulders tightened when he said, âJust one more hunt.â
The way youâd swallow disappointment with a soft, dangerous kind of quiet.
He didnât.
Because Dean Winchester is always hiding in a dream too deep to crawl out of.
And youâ
you kept holding onto him so sweetly every time he lost control.
He drags himself out of bed, feet heavy on the cold floor. The bunker feels cavernous without you. Too big. Too hollow. Like a body missing one of its ribs.
Your bag is gone.
Your voice is gone.
Your future is gone.
All thatâs left is wishful dreaming.
The hunt was supposed to be easy.
Salt and burn.
In and out.
He told you that.
Promised it.
He always does.
And when he walked into the motel room after, boots muddy, shirt torn, adrenaline still crackling in his bloodstreamâyou were sitting on the edge of the bed with your hands folded in your lap like you were bracing for impact.
âDean,â you said softly, and he already knew.
You werenât angry.
You werenât dramatic.
You just looked⊠tired.
Tired of waiting.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of building a life with a man who only ever promised the blueprint.
âI canât do this anymore,â you whispered. âNot the dreams. Not the excuses. Not the road leading nowhere.â
âBaby, Iââ
âI wanted the beach trip. I wanted mornings without hunting knives under pillows. I wanted a place to come home to, not a place to crash between nightmares.â
He tried to reach for you.
You flinched.
That was when his heart crackedâquiet, small, devastating.
âI love you,â he murmured.
You nodded, tears bright but controlled. âI know. But love isnât enough if we keep running back to our old ways.â
He wanted to beg.
To promise heâd change.
To swear that this was the last hunt, the last lie, the last time heâd choose fear over a future.
But Dean Winchester has never been good at breaking his cycles.
Only people.
You kissed his cheek once, soft as a goodbye breeze.
And then you walked out the door.
He finds himself in the garage now, sitting against Babyâs bumper, head tipped back, heart pounding in an arrhythmic stutter.
Every memory tastes like the lyrics from a song heâs too ashamed to sing:
Caught up in a blissful feeling.
Lost ourselves in wishful dreaming.
He remembers the fantasies he kept tucked away like secretsâ
you on a porch swing
a house with peeling paint heâd fix up himself
your laughter spilling into a kitchen at 2am
a stupid beach vacation he never booked
your hand in his, soft and certain, as the waves bit at your ankles
God, he wanted all of it.
He just didnât know how to ask for it without losing the armor heâd built to survive.
Now heâs lost you instead.
Dean scrubs a hand over his face. His eyes burn. His throat tightens. He doesnât cryânot reallyâbut something inside him trembles like grief trying to claw its way out.
âWishful dreaming,â he mutters under his breath. âThatâs all it ever was, huh?â
He imagines you in some motel far from him, finally breathing without waiting for the next hunt, the next lie, the next broken promise.
He hopes youâre okay.
He hopes youâre sleeping.
He hopes he didnât ruin you the way he ruins everything he touches.
He hopesâ
too much.
Because hope is a kind of dream too, and heâs always been too deep in those to wake up.
Dean leans his head back against the Impala, eyes closing, chest aching with the ghost of you.
You left because he gave you nothing solid to stand on.
Now heâs the one drowning.
Caught up in a blissful feeling.
Lost himself in wishful dreaming.
And youâ
you finally let go.
ê. all works ; writing guidelines ; support my work .á
Summary: Dean returns from a hunt to find that you're a little under the weather. He panics, and goes a little overboard trying to make sure you get better.
A/N: Please let me know what you think of this one!
Masterlist
You think youâre dreaming when you first hear the door to your room creak open. You pry your eyes open enough to see your husbandâs form filling the doorway, and you smile as you let your eyes slide shut again.
âIâm sorry, sweetheart,â Dean whispers as he shuts the door quietly as if he can wake you even more than you already are. âI didnât mean to wake you.â
âItâs fine,â you yawn, snuggling down further into the blankets. You know if he takes a good look at you, heâs going to know youâre not feeling well. Youâre hoping itâll be something you can just sleep off tonight, even though itâs been slowly getting worse for two days. âHowâd the hunt go?â
âGood,â he says as he sits down on the edge of the bed to take his boots off. âWe both came back unharmed, so Iâd say thatâs a success.â
You swallow hard, wincing at the feeling in your throat. You worry about him when heâs away and you donât go with them. You felt whatever this is coming on the day him and Sam left, and you made an excuse to stay behind so you didnât end up getting sick while you were with them.
You know your husband. Heâd cancel the case and bring you back to the bunker. So you didnât tell him you werenât feeling well. But itâs just a matter of time before he finds out. Youâre still hoping youâll be able to fake it through tonight and feel better in the morning and heâll never have to find out. You have no confidence thatâs going to happen.
âWe didnât think weâd be back until in the morning, but we decided to head on out andâŠâ Deanâs voice trails off when he sees the box of tissues sitting on the nightstand beside your bed.
Thereâs a circle of used tissues surrounding the box, and some on the floor where you threw them towards the garbage can and they didnât quite make it. You realize now you should have cleaned that up if you wanted to play it off like youâre fine. Dean frowns and looks back at you.
âAre you alright?â
âYeah,â you nod, sniffing a bit. âIâve just had some allergies or something.â
âBaby, have you been sick?â he asks as he reaches over to place a hand on your forehead.
âDean, Iâm fine.â
âYouâre burning up.â He jumps up off the bed and walks out of the room. When he comes back, he has a thermometer in his hand.
âHoney, Iâm fine,â you tell him as he walks over to sit on the bed beside you again.
âShh,â he says as he holds the thermometer out towards you. You roll your eyes, but you open your mouth. He puts the thermometer under your tongue, and you close your mouth. When it beeps, he checks it. His eyes widen when he sees the numbers displayed there.
âI thought you said youâre fine.â
âI am, Dean. I promise IâmâŠâ you trail off as he turns the thermometer around to show you the screen.
101.8
âItâs not that bad.â
He gives you an are you kidding me? Look.
âHoney, weâve got to get you to the doctor.â
âI donât need a doctor,â you tell him. âIâll beâŠâ Your words are interrupted by a coughing fit. He grabs the now room temperature bottle of water off the nightstand and hands it to you. You take a drink, looking back at your husband when it feels like you can breathe again.
âFine?â he says once youâre done coughing, finishing your sentence from earlier with a skeptical look. âYeah,â he says as he sets your bottle back onto the nightstand. âYou just coughed so hard you almost passed out on me, but yeah, youâre fine.â He says the last word in that goofy, sarcastic tone he uses, bringing a smile to your face despite the pain.
âWhere are you going?â you ask him as he stands up off the bed.
âTo the store,â he says. âIf youâre not going to the doctor tonight, then Iâm going to run out and get you enough supplies to last until morning.â
âBabeâŠâ
He leans over to kiss you, cutting you off. âNo arguing.â You gently push him away.
âYouâre going to get sick,â you tell him as he walks across the room. He turns to look at you, and he shrugs his shoulders.
âI donât care.â
Then he shuts the bedroom door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dean returns an hour later with two grocery bags full of things.
âBabe, thatâs too much.â
âOh, this?â he says as he sets the bags down onto the bed. âThis is just half of it. The rest is in the kitchen.â
âYouâre ridiculous,â you say through a coughing fit.
âNo, Iâm worried,â he says as he opens up one of the bags. He dumps the contents out onto the bed, and you start laughing.
âOkay, are you trying to make me feel better, or start your own pharmacy?â
He ignores you as he starts setting the boxes down onto the nightstand.
âI got a cold and flu medicine,â he says as he sets one box down. âDayquil and Nyquil.â Two more boxes.
âArenât both of those also for cold and flu?â
He just looks at you as he sets two more boxes down.
âAdvil and Excedrin because I didnât know which one would work better for you.â
âDeanâŠâ
âMelatonin to help you sleep, and Vitamin C because the pharmacist said it helps your immune system.â
âThere should be a law against walking out of the store with so many different medications.â
He just shakes his head as he opens up the other bag and begins sitting more stuff on the nightstand.
âVickâs, and a Vickâs inhaler for your nose. Plus a nose spray just in case that doesnât work. Which reminds me.â He walks out of the room, and you shake your head, wondering what heâs up to now. He walks back in, and you laugh so hard you start coughing again. âYouâre almost out of tissues,â he says as he drops the box heâs carrying beside the bed.
âYeah,â you laugh through a cough. âBut I donât need a ten pack of them.â
He just shrugs, picking the grocery bag up again. âI also got a humidifier, because this seems more like the flu than it does allergies. Iâve got water boiling to put in it because the store was out of distilled water.â
âAnd now theyâre out of everything else,â you tease. He just smiles a bit as he rummages through the other contents of the bag. âYouâve really thought of everything, babe,â you tell him as he takes something else out of the bag.
âAnother thermometer,â he says, adding it to the pile on the nightstand.
âWe have one.â
âI know. I just want to make sure the readingâs accurate,â he replies as he sets a bag of cough drops down beside everything.
You look at the bag and frown when you see that it still looks full.
âWhat else is in there?â
He grins proudly before holding up two books.
âSomething for you to do,â he sets them down on the bed since thereâs no more room on the nightstand. He then takes out a big blanket, and the empty bag floats to the ground. âI know youâre freezing, so I thought one more blanket couldnât hurt,â he says as he spreads the blanket out over you.
He fixes it, starting at your feet and working his way up. You reach out to place a hand on his arm, causing him to stop and look over at you. You give him a loving smile, and he returns it before leaving over to press a kiss to your forehead.
âThank you, Dean.â
âMhm,â he hums against your skin before pulling back. âYou know I love you, right?â
You smile up at him. âMaybe a little too much.â
âThereâs no such thing, sweetheart,â he says softly. He completely stands up and he takes a deep breath. âIâm sorry if I got a little carried away.â
âYou know I can't take all that medicine together, right?â you ask, causing him to smile softly at you.
âI was just giving you options in case one doesnât work,â he says. âI just donât like it when youâre sick.â
âItâs normal, Dean.â
âYeah,â he chuckles. âI guess youâre just getting a dose of normal, huh?â
You sigh and glance over at the medicine he bought. âThatâs all I need is another dose of something.â
He chuckles. âI guess we need something normal. We donât get a lot of that.â
âNo,â you smile.
âBut when we do itâs⊠Itâs almost scary.â
âI know,â you say softly. âIâll be okay, Dean. Thank you for taking care of me.â
âDonât have to thank me for that, honey,â he says softly. His eyes take on a concerned look again. âDo you need anything else? I got some food too. Chicken noodle soup. Ice cream.â
You give him a look. âSure that wasnât for yourself?â
âI thought itâd feel good on your throat,â he says. âAnd I figured youâd share.â
You laugh softly. âIâll take some soup for right now.â
He nods before moving to walk off.
âDean.â He stops in his tracks and turns to look at you again. âThank you,â you tell him.
He grins. âEven if it is too much?â
âEven then,â you laugh softly.
His smile widens before he walks over to you. He leans in to kiss you, but you stop him.
âYouâre going to get sick.â
âI. Donât. Care,â he says before stealing a kiss anyways. âBe right back with your soup, sweetheart.â
âThank you.â
He nods before turning to walk out of the room. You look over at the assortment of things he left on the nightstand and you shake your head a bit. Maybe it is a little too much, but thereâs no doubt that he loves you.
pulling dean by his necklaceeeee!! like he could just be standing there looking for whatever on guard and then comes you!! strolling over acting innocent until your hands are wrapping around his necklace and pulling him down so you can kiss easier!! dean wont ever say anything but the way you can take control of him with something as simple as that gets him really pent up..
Hello!! I hope you are alright. Would you write for Benedict using the word canvas? â€ïžâ€ïž
One Word: Canvas
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Warnings: none
Author's Note: Hi Nonny. I can't seem to stop doing fluffy meet-cutes for these prompts lol. Enjoy these 250 words. đđ§Ąđ§Ą
You cannot look away as his elegant hand feathers over the canvas.Â
âThat is beautiful,â you exhale unwittingly, too taken with how the man has captured the majestic sweep of the landscape before you to realise you have voiced your inner thoughts.
He whips around, startled, obviously too absorbed in his work to notice your presence.
âSorry, I did not mean to cause disquiet,â you apologise, heart fluttering at his handsomeness.
âTis no bother,â he assures with an easy smile. âMrsâŠ?,â His prompt is polite as he places the paintbrush down upon his easel, wiping his hands on a rag.
âMiss,â you correct.
He looks taken aback. âBut you are out on a walk, unchaperonedâŠ?â
âYes, and I would appreciate it if you kept it that way, sir,â you answer boldly. âIf I have to sit through one more societal event, I may just scream,â you disdain, somehow unable to be anything but honest with this alluring man.
He laughs, a rich sound that warms you as much as the midsummer sun you stand in.
âNow that I can entirely understand,â his hazy eyes dancing with mirth as he then vows: âYour secret is safe with me.â
âDo you give lessons?â The words are out of your lips before you can stop them. âFor art,â you clarify, gesturing to his painting.
He is the picture of intrigue. âAre you keen to learn?â
âOf so many thingsâŠâ You answer, enjoying the kaleidoscope that flits across his face at your daring assertion.
So happy that you're trying again, i hope this little experiment works for you! đ
I want to try Grumpy + Anthony, if you feel inspired..
Thanks anyways, i shall still read anything you put out!
One Word: Grumpy
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader
Warnings: none
Author's note: Hi lovely! I've missed seeing you around! I hope you enjoy this 150 words. I am indeed enjoying these little dabbles back into writing. Fingers crossed! đđ§Ąđ§Ą
You huff in annoyance as, once again, your ball ricochets off the pall-mall hoop.
âYou were distracting me,â you pout at Anthony as he chuckles victoriously, hip cocked and mallet slung attractively over his shoulder, standing just beyond where you were aiming.
âDo not be grumpy now, just because you are losing, my love,â he taunts, moving with alacrity, trousers clinging very well to his muscular thighs as he strides towards you with a triumphant grin.
âI am not losing; this is merely a setback,â you sniff even as your heartbeat spikes as he pulls up entirely too close, his amber cologne invading your senses.
âGrumpy,â he repeats, eyes sparkling.
âSaboteur,â you throw back in a whisper, defences weakening with every moment he looms large before you.
âAnd you love me for it,â he claims, lips hovering over yours.Â
âThat I doâŠâ You concede, pulling him down for a kiss.
mon + fri + sat at 3:30 pm ăâ drabbles for the supernatural characters
tue + thu at 03:03 am ăâ the winchesters x the zodiac signs
wed + sun at 03:03 am ăâ compatibility readings
đâ.Ë i don't do taglists. to be notified whenever i post, activate my notifications .á
i currently have posts queued until july 23rd, and after that, iâll be posting compatibility readings until july 29th.
for now, free drabble requests and supernatural compatibility readings are closed. both will reopen on july 25th, and iâll make another post closer to the date with all the information, guidelines, and forms youâll need.
commissions for longer fics and the winchester summer letters are still available through my ko-fi shop for anyone interested!! (link in pinned post)
iâve been feeling a little unhappy with the way iâm currently running the blog, so i want to take some time to restructure things and figure out a system that feels better and more sustainable for me. i also think i need a small break to reset a little, although you hopefully wonât notice much of a difference since i already have plenty of things queued.
nothing bad is happening, and iâm not going anywhere. i just want to give myself a little room to breathe, reorganize, and come back feeling more excited about everything again.
âŠRead on aO3! - Main Masterlist - Series MasterlistâŠ
âŠsummary: A year after Soldier Boy and Maeve fell out of Vought Tower, Homelander's standing trial, Robert Singer is running for President, and the Boys don't have two good plans to rub together. But Maeve gave Butcher a lead before she vanished. A lead about a supe more powerful than Homelander, who might be willing to fight. A lead about you.
Butcher becomes obessed with finding you. Hughie and Annie worry that you'll just be another Soldier Boy. Homelander hides a secret, and somewhere, waiting out for him, is a reckoning. Not from another supe, but a victim.
And the question rises. For all of them.
Will you do whatever it takes?
âŠwarnings/tags: series rewrite, Soldier Boy x supe!reader, past Homelander x reader and it ain't pretty, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual happy ending, Butcher POV
âŠwc: 2.2kâŠ
âŠauthor's note: very excited for this ! i hope you guys enjoy it as well <3. Also, since this is an expansion from the beginning of "season 4" the reader won't show up until chapter 2, and Soldier Boy won't show up for a little while after that. Please trust the process.âŠ
The world tasted like ash. Soot and embers flickered through the air, the sky dark in the wake of the glass and steel wreckage. Vought Tower hadnât fallenâthat wasnât the kind of luck the universe liked to offerâbut it had a big hole in the center, right through the sharp 7 that always carved through the vision of New York City.
William Butcher didnât bother to wipe his hands on his trench coat. The layer of grime would just return within the hour anyways. Clean hands were for those who thought themselves too high and mighty to worry about the rest of the world. The people who sat up in that smoking, ivory tower, wearing gloves and using fancy, flower smelling soaps. Butcher only touched that kind of shit when MM or Hughie caught him walking out of the restroom with dry hands. He told them heâd touched worse than his own cock and piss, and still ended up standing. They glared at him until he rolled his eyes and turned back to the sink.
They werenât here to tell him to clean up now. MM was somewhere off in the rubble, talking to Mallory about where theyâd be stashing Soldier Boyâs sorry, knocked out ass. Hughie was off with Starlight, being nice and gooey and useless. Frenchie and Kimiko had fucked off too. Everyone had something to doâsomeone to talk to, something to claw aboutâbut Butcher.
Ryan had walked away from him. Heâd taken Homelander, and just⊠walked. And Butcher had promised Becca that heâd look out for the boy, but heâd let it happen. The hell else was he supposed to do. He was out of temp V, Starlight wasnât much use with the whole power grid burnt out, and Maeve had jumped out the bleeding window. Promises werenât much use, if Butcher tackled Homelander and got lasered in half. Being a body on the floor didnât scare him. Seeing the world go dark was going to be a blessing.
He just wasnât clocking out of the earth, until he got Homelander a one-way ticket down as well.
There were cameras, on the streets. News Crews and people filming with their cell phones, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Their attention was turned to that red-headed lass at the news podium, with the nervous ticks and plastered smile. Butcher always thought there was something crazy in her eyes, but that didnât make her anything special. You had to have that kind of crazy, to get this high on the food chain. He had it. Homelander had it. Maeve had it. Was the same thing that made Butcher fall in bed with her. Same thing that got her killed.
Something in Butcher knows he should feel worse about that. Fine breed of woman, turned against Homelander when it mattered, did what she could to help them. But she was a supe, and there wasnât much talk theyâd done outside of hissed sneers. Foreplay. Heâd miss her the same way you miss a good vibrator, or a co-worker who wasnât an incompetent twat. Not much. A little less than a stranger, because at least the stranger couldâve been a good person. Maeve wasnât. Thatâs how sheâd fallen into bed with him.
Death was something that was going to hit them all eventually. No use crying over it. Wasted hands, to brush away the tears, when you could just be throttling everything else that was trying to kill you first.
Butcher waded through the crowd, none of them paying him much mind. The public had a short memory. Heâd been a terrorist with a poster a year ago, but that wasnât much to remember. He didnât sparkle enough to hold their attention. Not like Starlight and the rest of the Vought circus, dancing and playing monkey. Hoping those flashing lights would only catch off of them, instead of spreading like a sickness to all they hyenas around them. Butcher half expected to see Starlight, up on that podium herself. Hughie said she was done with Vought. With playing the game the right way, coloring in the lines, then whining like a brat when the enemy got dirty and won. Butcher would believe it when he saw it. Heâd bet everything he hadâan empty dog bowl, a burnt Hawaiian shirt, and an empty syringeâthat Starlight had clean hands. Thatâs why they kept losing. Over and over and over again.
He was getting sick of losing. Only so many times a man could take it before he snapped, and Butcher had never been one of those level-headed arses, who reasoned their way out of calling it a loss. This wasnât a goal, or a home run, or any kind of victory. They had done all that shitâentertained Soldier Boy, tickled his balls and bought him beer and tracked down Paybackâjust to end with less than what theyâd had. Hughie would say theyâd gained Annie. Butcher would laugh in his face, and say heâd trade blondie back in three seconds, if it meant they handed him Ryan in return.
The crowd was thinning. Butcher was getting closer to the edge, where the sky got clearer and his blackened hands and bloodied face seemed more like that of a madman than a fighter. He kept pressed to the storefronts and under the tented entrances. Homelander wasnât out and about yet, but Butcher wasnât looking for a rematch right now. Not until he got his hands on some more Temp V, orâbetterâa real nice gun, that would blast the cuntâs smile right off his face.
âButcher.â
He was hearing things. Might be a side effect of the Temp V. MM was right about that shit being dangerousâalways annoying, heâd get too smug about itâand Butcher was going to have to keep an eye on that, unless he wanted to end up crazier than he started-
âWilliam Butcher, fucking- Turn around-â
He wasnât going to be listening to those voices. That was how you ended up wandering off a balcony with champagne in your hand and your dick swinging between your legs-
âOh, for-â
A hand wrapped around Butcherâs arm and yanked him back. He stumbled into a narrow alleyway, reaching for his gun before he got his footing, and swung with his free hand straight at his assulterâs face.
Maeve knocked his fist aside, then hissed in pain, cringing and doubling over. She looked like she belonged out there with the ruined bricks and pavement. One eye had been turned to a bleeding socket, her arm was at a funny angle, and gashed and bruises were beaten into her face. She had one hand up, silently asking Butcher not to shoot as she caught her breath. He didnât, but not as a favor. He didnât have many of those left in his gut.
âYou ainât dead,â he spat.
Maeve scoffed, eyes flicking up in flat amusement. âObviously.â
âHm.â Butcher looked down to her shoes. Scuffed. More tattered cloth than support. âSoldier Boy?â
âKnocked out.â Maeve drew back up, cringing slightly as her ribs crunched. âBut you knew that.â
âCanât say I did, love-â
âIf you didnât, youâd still be in the rubble looking for him,â Maeve said, raising her brows. âI saw MM. Talking to that- Angry bitch from the government. You trust her?â
Butcherâs fingers curled on his gun. âMore than you.â
Maeve crossed her arms over her chest. Her gaze darted to Butcherâs hand, and she leaned a little away. âI fought with you. I paid my dues-â
âYouâre a supe,â Butcher sneered. âYou got too many dues to pay, long as your pretty fuckinâ paycheck and styled hair-â
âYou think Iâve still got a paycheck? If Homelander sees that Iâm not dead, he locks me back up in that cage-â
âOh, boo hoo, youâre beinâ tucked away and coddled like his favorite little bunny-â
âHis breeding cow,â Maeve spat. âThatâs what he wanted from me, asshole. And when he realizes he wonât get it, not anymore, heâll kill me. Just like- Like everyone else.â
Butcherâs jaw ticked. He looked Maeve over. The blood. The bones. The wincing and the weary looks at his gun.
âYou ainât a supe anymore,â he muttered, and she sighed.
âSoldier Boy. Assholeâs got a punch.â
Butcher grunted. Not a supe was an improvement, but sheâd spent her whole life in that twisted, ugly machine. Queen of the beastâs intestines, crushing what Homelander told her to, making her own messes. Playing clean until she wanted to be dirty.
âIâm not here for goodbye,â Maeve said, slow and weary. âI donât think we had that kind of relationship.â
A faint laugh pulled from Butcherâs chest. âYeah, well, I ainât givinâ you one more for the road.â
âThatâs- Youâre all so disgusting, you know that? No wonder no one wants to work with you-â
âYou kissed me first, love-â
âI was loney, and drunk, and-â
Maeve cut herself off, looking off to the side and closing her eyes. Butcher let her collect herself. Wasnât really a place for him to be.
âNot why Iâm here,â she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. âLook, before I go-â
âGo?â Butcher snapped, standing a little taller. âYou think you can just walk away from this fuckinâ mess, tuck your lilâ tail and scamper off like a whiny puppy-â
âIâm offering a plan,â Maeve hissed, taking a step forward. âAnd unless youâve somehow found a way to handle Homelander in the past two hours, you might want to shut the fuck up for once in your life, and listen.â
Butcher scowled. A vein in his brow pulsed, but his grip loosened on the gun. Maeve wasnât a threat like this. He had split knuckles, but them could still pummel the bitch into the ground. âTalk,â he grunted. âBefore I shoot.â
Maeve shifted on her feet and tipped her chin up. Her voice was steady. Like she already knew he was so desperate, heâd take anything at all.
âThere are rumors. Whispers. Not even through the grapevine, under it. The kind of shit you only hear people whispering about, and- I didnât think it was real. Not for the longest time but-â She sighed. âI donât doubt it. Not anymore.â
Butcher didnât respond. Maeve pressed her lips in a thin line, looking down the alley then back to Butcher. Like she was only telling him against her better will.
âThereâs a supe-â
âAnother bleedinâ supe-â
âDonât be a dick, this isnât like Soldier Boy-â
âHow in fuckinâ hell isnât thereâs a supe like Soldier Boy-â
âBecause I didnât know,â Meave snapped. âI sent you to Russia thinking youâd find- I donât know, some kind of gun. If Iâd gotten even a breath youâd be coming back with Glory Grandpa, I never wouldâve even mentioned it.â
Butcher narrowed his eyes. âBut youâre tellinâ me this.â
âI am. Because itâs not the same.â Maeve took a long breath. âThis supe- She hates Homelander. Maybe more than you.â
Butcher snorted. âThat ainât possible-â
âI promise you.â Maeveâs voice was cold. âIt is.â
 Butcher glared at her. She glared back, and didnât step down.
âSheâs called the Anomaly. Sheâs powerful-â
âMore powerful than Homelander?â
Maeve shrugged. âSounds like it.â
âHm,â Butcher scanned over her features. Bored like steel. Dull and immovable. âSounds like it ainât enough, I need somethinâ thatâll finish Homelander, blast âim down to hell, no way back up-â
âThen go find that yourself,â Maeve said. âThis is what Iâve got, I donât give a shit if you forget about it or chase it. I did my part.â
Butcherâs lip curled. âAnd what, you just walk away now? Go live on a pretty fuckinâ farm and pretend this all never happened? That you donât know whatâs really goinâ on, in your old house.â
Maeve sighed, and gave Butcher a look he didnât like. It was too close to pity. It made his stomach curl.
âYeah,â she took a step back, that same, ugly pity curling into a tired smile. âThatâs exactly what Iâm going to do. We donât all want to die, Butcher. Not when we could live, and- It wouldnât hurt anymore.â
âIt always hurts-â
âI know. But then-â Maeve shook her head. âIt doesnât.â
âYou ainât just walkinâ away-â
âI am.â
She took another step, and Butcher reached for his gun. For a second, they both froze. Maeve titled her head, silently daring him. Take the shot. Be dirtier. Come out on top.
His finger wouldnât twitch. Not out of love, or attachment, or moral obligation to Maeve. Maybe his hands were too tired. Maybe he wasnât sure he still had bullets. Maybe because sheâd fought for Ryan, and this was his one favor. Her chance to walk away, before Butcherâs head got clear enough to count her sins. Didnât matter. He didnât shoot, and Maeveâs shoulders slumped.
âThe Anomaly,â she repeated, cradling her stomach as she backed away. âI donât know where she is, but- Sheâs out there. Find her. Donât let him win, and-â Her throat bobbed. âBe careful.â
Butcherâs lips twitched, as he lowered the gun. âDonât worry about that bit, love. Iâm gonna do whatever it takes.â
âŠEnd note: big plans. small start but big plans. i hope you enjoy the series! âŠ
âŠIf you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3âŠ
âŠBuy me a coffee!âïž (and get early access!)âŠ
First, and most importantly, IM SO FREAKING EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES!!!!!
Second, Bitcher is a fuckinâ child who is scared of his own damn emotions. And not washing his handsđ€ą this man needs some sense loved into him (I feel like he would just turn a beating into foreplay because heâs a psychotic homicidal perv). I will not be volunteering for this position, in fact, would immediately like to remove my name from any consideration on this front. Thanks.
honesty not washing his hands might be the smallest sin in the pile of this man's crimesđ and he would just turn a beating into foreplay. he's into women who dogwalk him i fear. đ§Ą
Hear me out..I absolutely love the idea of teen!Dean and fem!reader who are both hunters and are best friends (maybe a little more) and only have each other. LIKEE theyâre each otherâs North Star, the person whoâs there when no one else is, ugh I love the intimacy and vulnerability of it. (Mainly because I love vulnerable DeanâŠ)
stop because I love this concept so much it hurts me a little bit to think about it... Like yeah vulnerable soft Dean who's found his person..... But also- fuck- the inevitability that it'll never be okay for Dean, and the Family Business of it all just getting in the way ow ow ow ouchy...
đŒđ€đŒđ€đŒđ€đŒđ€đŒ
Dean's still got your chapstick on his cheek when he walks in. Doesn't even remember it's there, just a sticky sparkling patch against his skin.
John doesn't notice, barely even looks at him. He doesn't need to, he knows exactly where he's been, "Thought I sent you on that hunt solo."
"I was solo." He lies, he knows it's a mistake as soon as he says it.
"Who's the girl?"
"She's no one." He lies again. This time it isn't a mistake. He can't tell his Dad something like that. He can't let you exist somewhere like this.
He closes his eyes, and for a second he's there again. In the back of his Dad's impala, fry grease and salt on his fingers. You're laughing at the music he put on- Dean would face ridicule from you every second of every day if it meant hearing that laugh.
There's one milkshake, one straw, shared between you both. And somewhere along the line he thinks what's the difference between that and just kissing you. So he does. And it's messy when he tries it at first, and you laugh in his face in a way that throws him off guard. But somehow you start kissing him back.
He's got his hand up your shirt and you've got your fingers in his hair and you're making out in the one place his Dad's always told him is off limits but he doesn't care because jesus it's you! How the fuck could he say no to you??
When the cassette ends and the speaker start spitting out silence you pull away, but Dean doesn't mind. He gets to look at your face again, gets to hear your laugh.
You spend the night tracing murders on maps and spreading police reports out on the dashboard. When you point out that one of the witnesses lives next to a cemetery Dean thanks some god he doesn't believe in because he never would've spotted it without you. Somewhere mixed into it all you kiss him again, and then again, and you keep on kissing him the whole hunt until he drops you back off two miles out from the motel.
He opens his eyes, Sam's asleep on the bed already, curled into the sheets. There's a field stripped shotgun at the foot, his Dad has the barrel in his hand.
"When I give you an order- you listen to it."
Dean swallows, he's smarter than the response he wants to give.
"Next time I tell you to do a hunt solo, you do it solo."
â ËïœĄâàšà§Ëâ just thinking about dean winchester and how heâd pull your body closer in bed until he felt myself melting against you. he wants to speak, ask if you are alright after today, if you need a kiss or a hug but the way you just curl against him says it all. today was hell. today was shit and all you wish is to forget about it. and if dean can help with that, then it must be for greatest purpose.
he wraps an arm around your back to pull you even closer; so close that he can feel the heat of your skin from under your clothes. itâs comforting. itâs a reminder that you are here, that you are alive and well. a reminder that he can and will protect you until he canât no more. he hesitates for a second; you have covered yourself in that thick silence that envelopes the room and he wants to break it. he wants to tell you how much he loves you, how important you are, how little he knows about himself when you are not around. because you are his world.
but he keeps silent, if only for a moment. because when he feels your head nuzzling into his neck and the little whine that leaves your mouth, dean canât help it anymore. âshhh, itâs okay, baby. iâve got you. iâve got you, alright?â he whispers, his hand rubbing your back gently like heâd pet a cat. he longs to make you feel better, to remind you that shitty days exist but they arenât forever.
âiâll always be here fâyou, you hear me? iâm not leaving, even if i get dragged down to hell, iâll always find my way back to you.â he says, nuzzling his face into your hair and closing his eyes. itâs a promise he makes you; one he attends to keep forever. because heâll always be by your side to keep the pretty smile on your face.
dean loves you, and thatâs not going to change any time soon.
summary: somehow, you and yelena end up on her couch after a night out, where you get to lay your eyes on her teammate Bucky Barnes for the very first time. thankfully, the alcohol in your system doesn't stop you from making a move on him.
cw: reader is also a spy but doesn't work with the thunderbolts, light intoxication, flirting
wc: 1.3k+
Yelena steps in front of you the second you get into the elevator, one arm outstretched to block you as she presses the button to the towerâs residential floor. You giggle, dropping your head against her back when a little compartment opens in the elevator wall, a laser scanning her pupils to verify her identity. The compartment shuts, and the elevator begins moving upwards. Yelena turns towards you with a wide grin, snatching the bottle of wine from your hand as she immediately asks âWhat are we watching? No, what are we ordering?â
You shrug slowly, closing your eyes as you try to imagine the taste of several different cuisines. The elevator dings and your eyes snap open. âTaco bell.â You mumble, following Yelenaâs beeline towards the couch in the living room. Youâre happy to throw yourself over its back, landing on the soft cushioning that has you moaning happily. Yelena laughs at you, her cropped shirt riding up her torso as she rolls over, reaching for the television remote while you unlock on your phone.
When you add your food order to the cart, you toss Yelena your phone, and she instantly ditches the remote for your phone. She hums to herself as she adds her likely questionable meal option to the cart, holding out your phone for you to grab when she's done. She glances at you from the corner of her eye as she picks up the remote, and upon realising that you arenât going to sit up to retrieve it, she flicks her wrist, sending the phone flying towards you.
With a huff of disapproval, you pick the phone off your chest, poking Yelenaâs thigh with your foot while lazily commanding âPut something on.â She grumbles to herself, trying to find the bottle of wine she had discarded somewhere.
The elevator dings again and you hum, lifting up your phone with furrowed eyebrows. You just ordered the food, so thereâs no way itâs already here. You and Yelena both glance up at the same time, and you gulp thickly at the sight of a man stepping out of the elevator, and you sit up straight, gasping as you miscalculate how far up on the couch you are, instead rolling directly onto the floor.
Yelena lets out a loud cackle as you straighten up with a disoriented groan, but you still push yourself up to land onto the couch, swallowing thickly at the sight of the man who has left the elevator. You turn to Yelena, mouthing âwowâ when you catch her eye, and she grins, pointing a hand towards the mysterious man. Heâs serious eye candy â his thick muscles constraining underneath his leather jacket, dark hair perfectly framing the sharp bone structure of his face.
âThatâs my teammate, Bucky.â Yelena says, finally clicking onto a show. Its theme song begins playing loudly as you wave awkwardly towards Bucky, and he chuckles deeply, returning the wave. He walks towards the open kitchen, and you turn back towards Yelena, your eyes wide. You crawl closer to Yelena, mouth agape as you stare at her. âWhy didnât you tell me you had someone so attractive on your team?â Yelena rubs her eye with an enclosed fist as she smiles widely, listening to you as you continue muttering âI wouldâve joined your stupid superhero team had I known he was on it.â
âDonât worry, Bucky barely makes up for Walker. Heâd be enough to turn you away no matter how hot you think Barnes is.â You hum, glancing back towards the kitchen where Bucky is drinking from a glass of water. You lick at your lips, eyes staying on him until you feel a sharp dig into your lower back. âDonât be so obvious.â Yelena mutters, and you sink back into the couch, biting at your short nails.
From the kitchen, Bucky smiles to himself. He can hear absolutely all the words you and Yelena are exchanging, but heâs sure that in Yelenaâs drunken state, sheâs forgotten about that specific detail. Or she doesnât care. Thatâs probably more likely. But Bucky knows who you are, or at least he knows of you. Yelenaâs wallpaper is a photo of the two of you from years ago, equally talented spies but only much younger. Bucky knows that whenever Yelena disappears from the tower, sheâs in your apartment. He knows whenever youâre out on your assignments, because Yelena never fails to mention it, and knows exactly what your sense of style is based on the contents of Yelenaâs wardrobe. âOh, sheâs been looking for this jacket for ages. Donât tell her I have it.â Yelena has mumbled in the past, strutting around in your clothes.
But to know that someone like you â whoâs so close to someone high-strung like Yelena â thinks heâs attractive? Well yeah, it certainly feels good. Especially when youâre easy on the eyes yourself.
âGoing to the toilet,â Yelena announces, standing up as she grumbles âToo much wine, I think!â She zooms out of the room, and Bucky grins when you sink further into the pillows.
âGlass of water?â Bucky offers from the kitchen. You perk up, glancing behind you and shaking your head softly. âNo, itâs okay. Iâm fine. Thanks.â Bucky walks over to you, sitting next to you on the couch, cradling his glass of water in hand. âDidnât know the spy life allowed for nights out like this.â He comments, eyeing your outfit. You swallow thickly, tugging at the fabric on your body in an attempt to make yourself seem more modest. âIt doesnât, really. This may be the first time Iâve gone out in over a month.â
Bucky smiles softly, nodding in relatability. âYeah, I get that. The most Iâve gone out is for groceries.â
You laugh softly, a twinkle in your eyes as you question âNot even a dinner with a special someone?â
âYeah, because this job allows us mental capacity to have a âspecial someoneâ.â Bucky scoffs. You grin; heâs immediately taken your bait. âWell I can be your special someone if youâd like. We can be the two wrongs that make a right.â
âYeah?â Bucky puts his glass down turning his torso towards you. You straighten up a little, shrugging your shoulders as you kick your heels off, letting them clatter onto the floor. âYeah, maybe.â Bucky smirks, unsure why heâs even flirting with you. He hasnât even been on so much as a date since his hydra days, but something is different about this. You understand his lifestyle without being someone he already knows and sees everyday, but somehow, youâre not a stranger either. Bucky didnât know a dating scene could even possibly exist in this profession.
âLet me take you to dinner, then.â He suggests, and you smile to yourself, feeling your face grow hot despite the fact that you were the one to flirt with him first. âOkay. Might have to do it tomorrow so you can catch me now rather than never.â
âTomorrow it is, then.â You nod joyfully, and Bucky reaches out to squeeze your knee before standing. He takes his glass of water with him as he leaves, and you find yourself staring at the circle of condensation it left on the table. Your phone lights up with a notification and you jump excitedly at the notification that reads âYour driver has arrived.â
Footsteps enter the room again, but before the sneaky blonde girl can say anything, you order âYelena, go get our food.â She groans, and you donât need to look at her to know that she has thrown her head back in annoyance, arms hanging loosely by her sides. âAt least tell me you flirted with him.â
âWould you believe me if I said I got a date with him?â
âOkay, you donât have to lie to me now.â
âBitch, go get my taco bell.â
From around the corner, Bucky smiles to himself, thinking heâll get along with you just fine.
