#I don't feel like using Azazel anymore :(

[milanesa-con-matecocido]

Genuinely thinking about changing my name :/

[supernaturalscribe67]

Hidden Bruises

Words: 7,546

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam/Dean Winchester x Male!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, PTSD, Mention of past Rape, Trauma, Sexual Assault, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mention of Character Death, Azazel

Summary: After the death of their father, Sam and Dean's older brother went missing for a couple of weeks. Eventually, he returned, and everything seemed to go back to normal. When the brothers follow a lead that takes them to an abandoned schoolhouse, Sam and Dean come face to face with the reality of what happened to their brother when he went missing.

Request:

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the Winchester's (John/Dean/Sam) x Older brother finding out the Azaseal (yellow eye demon) s/a him and he's been keeping it secret intill they run into Azaseal and he gloats about what he did. (If you don't feel comfortable using yellow eyes that just some strong random demon is fine)

Maybe reader is someone who has always took care of all of them including when John was drunk or injured, took care of both his brothers doing whatever he could

@xweirdo101x

A/N: I'm not dead! Just stressed! These past several months have been horrible, but I'm happy to say I'm back in the groove of writing! This request has been long overdue and I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to get it out, I did not forget everyone who sent in a request! I hope you enjoy the story! Do NOT read if any of the warnings are triggering to you. Keep yourself healthy, keep yourself safe. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~ Much Love

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“Dude, are you sure you’re taking me down the right road?” Dean asked, brows furrowed as he looked in the rear-view mirror occasionally. 

“I’m sure.” (Y/N) confirmed, gaze focused on Google Maps, which he had cued up for the last thirty minutes of their drive. 

“We’ve been driving the backroads for ages. Never thought an old schoolhouse could be this deep in the countryside.” 

“A lot of people settled here at some point, Dean,” Sam said with a brief shrug of his broad shoulders. 

“Sam’s right. According to local history, the first group of settlers that arrived built make-shift houses deeper in the woodland areas for better hunting and fishing grounds. To accommodate, they built a schoolhouse in the middle of the settlements so all the kids would be able to make it to school a little easier. Once the years passed and all the people started moving away to start the nearby town, the schoolhouse was practically abandoned. There wasn’t any need for it anymore.” 

“Look at you doing your research,” Dean teased with a smirk. 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “More than you, asshole,” he mumbled. “Oh! There should be a small clearing up here to your left. Go ahead and turn in there, but we’re going to need to walk the rest of the way,” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Oh, grow up, Dean.” 

“Says the one sitting in the middle of the backseat.” 

“You’re so lucky I love this car as much as you do, otherwise I’d make you drive her into a tree.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Try me, baby brother,” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sam waved his hands, cutting them off. “As much as I like seeing you two go at it, now’s not the time.” 

Both Dean and (Y/N) opened their mouths to object but stopped themselves. They each grumbled something incoherent under their breath. Dean returned to the road and (Y/N) looked down at his phone. 

“Are you going to turn here?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. 

Dean slowly turned the wheel and edged the Impala onto the beginning of a dirt path. A couple of feet ahead of the car, the path narrowed and was overgrown by trees. Even if the Impala would have been smaller, there was no possible way it would be able to fit down the path. It appeared to be more the size of a hiking or bike trail. Once the car was settled, Dean turned the engine off, the heavy purr dying to a low hum as the heat dissipated. The headlights stayed on for a couple of seconds before going out. 

“Let’s rock ��n roll,” Dean grunted as he stepped out of the car. 

Sam and (Y/N) soon followed after, the three of them heading to the back of the car. Dean popped the trunk and lifted the cover, revealing their large array of weapons. Each of them took their respective weapons and sheathed them before the trunk was closed with a heavy bang that echoed throughout the trees. 

“Could you be any louder? We don’t know how close the schoolhouse is from here.” (Y/N) grumbled. 

“Bite me,” Dean mumbled. 

“Guys,” Sam sighed. 

(Y/N) held up his hand in surrender. ��Fine, fine,” he turned away from his brothers and began to make his way towards the dirt path. 

“You sure it’s down this way?” Sam asked, following after him.

“Yeah, that is, if we assume the coordinates are accurate.”  

“And you’re sure you can trust Google with that?” Dean asked. 

“Same as we trust any other research material. All I know is that it should be in some type of field.” 

Dean nodded, satisfied with the answer. 

They began to make their way down the dark, dirt path, towards the canopy of trees, bent after years of surviving thunderstorm after thunderstorm. As they approached the trees, they pulled their flashlights out, illuminating the path ahead. The treetops were thick and heavy, the moonlight disappearing when they passed the entrance to the woods. 

Thirty minutes filled with dodging bulging tree roots and low tree branches, accompanied by some complaints from Dean about how far they had walked, moonbeams became visible through the upcoming branches. (Y/N) held up his hand, and turned off his light, before he walked towards the clearing. Sam and Dean followed suit, killing the light. 

Past the wall of tree branches, a field became visible. Sat in the middle, about twenty feet away from the group, was an old, dilapidated building. The building sat in front of them, tall and menacing, as if a dark aura circled the decaying brick exterior. It stood three stories tall, some windows broken, and glass surrounding the foundation. The steps out front were cracked with some concrete pieces scattered about near the bottom. The bold lettering that rested right above the front doors was faded, some letters almost invisible, but it was clear that it was supposed to read out the name of the school. (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder how the interior of the building looked compared to the outside. 

One thing that struck the group as odd, however, was the fact that some of the windows were filled with warm lights, indicating power had been added to the ancient building. It wasn’t until they got closer that they realized a small hum was disrupting the evening crickets in their peaceful song. (Y/N) raised his hand, halting their movements. They got down low, the only cover they had being the overgrown grass that engulfed their bodies. 

“They’re using a generator.” (Y/N)’s voice was low and deep. 

Sam sighed. “And it looks like there’s only one entrance. I wouldn’t trust those windows either. No one knows how long it’s been since they’ve been opened.” 

Dean shook his head. “That’s gotta be against fire code to have one doorway.” He mumbled. 

“The fire code came around in the 1600s, but I highly doubt these settlers cared about it.” (Y/N) muttered. “I’m going to sneak towards the generator and turn it off. You two keep an eye out to see if there’s any movement inside. We can go in then,”

“Got it,” they said in unison. 

(Y/N) gave a brief nod before he headed towards the building, keeping low in case of peering eyes from the windows. Rounding the side of the building, the humming became almost deafening. A dull light illuminated a small patch of grass on the other side of the school. With his eyes glued to the light, (Y/N) swiftly made his way around and to the back. The generator sat against the foundation, rumbling loudly and shaking the earth around it. He grabbed his flashlight from his waistband and shone it on the generator, furrowing his brows as he looked for a way to stop it. Finally, he saw the power switch, took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead, and switched it off. 

The power died immediately, the once bright school house going dark in an instant. (Y/N) knew he had to be quick. He made his way back towards the front. Sam and Dean stood at the base of the steps, their weapons drawn. (Y/N) drew his before he joined his brothers. 

“Alright, let’s gank these sons of bitches,” he mumbled, taking the lead as they entered the school. 

It was a lot darker inside than they originally thought it would be. Despite the massive windows in each room, the decades' worth of dust covered the natural moonlight, engulfing them in darkness. They brought out their flashlights, illuminating the entranceway. Their dim lights skimmed over the walls and floors, taking it in as they took careful steps deeper into the school. 

The interior of the school was just as damaged as the exterior. No longer was it a place of learning, but a place filled with debris and graffiti. Artwork and random words riddled the walls in different colored spray paints and many wooden panels lined the floor that were covered in a ripped-up, faded green carpet. The three of them took their time navigating through the mess that was near the front door to get to the main hall. A room was located to the left, which would appear to be the location of the office and the home of the principal when the school was in operation.

A couple of feet away from the front door, there was an archway that led down a narrow hallway as well as a staircase to the right. The halls were a little more clean compared to the entrance. All of the debris was pushed to one side or the other, making it a little easier to navigate through. (Y/N) turned to his brothers and gestured down the hall. 

“You two take this hall and I’ll check upstairs,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, yet booming in the dead silence that surrounded them. 

Dean furrowed his brows. “What? No.” Dean protested, his voice at the same level as (Y/N)’s had been. “We stick together.” 

“There shouldn’t be too many in here. I’ll be fine on my own. You two stick together, and shout if you need help.” 

“But-” 

“Dean,” (Y/N)’s tone was low. “I’m not arguing about this.” 

Dean shared a glance with Sam before he shook his head in disapproval and began to make his way down the hallway. (Y/N) watched them for a couple of seconds before he turned. He stalked towards the narrow staircase, caged in by cracked and deteriorating walls. Other than the small amount of concrete or wood that was scattered around on the stairs that he had to avoid, they were rather clear compared to the entrance. Gingerly, he placed his hand on top of the railing, an old wooden rod that had paint and wood chipped away at it. He used it as a guide as he made his way up and to the second floor. The stairs creaked under his weight, despite his careful steps. 

While he walked, he concentrated heavily on his sense of hearing. With his sight limited, he was relying exclusively on his ears to tell him if anyone, or anything, was near. When he reached the landing, he shone his flashlight down a hall that looked identical to the one Sam and Dean had wandered down. 

The second floor was in the same state as the first floor with scattered debris on either one side or the other of the walkway. Doors lined the walls, some fully opened, and some cracked ever so slightly. One by one, he took a step into every room, shining his light around all four corners. He whispered a quiet ‘clear’ following each empty room he examined. 

All of the rooms were dimly lit with the mixture of (Y/N)’s flashlight and the faded moonbeams begging to go through the dusty windows. Chairs and desks were strewed about, some toppled over, while others rested in, presumably, the same spot they did all those years ago. Those tables and chairs were unknowingly preserving the history of the once-active school. 

It was quiet. Too quiet. A part of (Y/N) wanted to believe that the intel they received might have been wrong, that no demons were haunting the very halls he walked, but the generator out back told no lies. Squatters wouldn’t waste what little money they had on luxuries such as that, nor would they put forth the time and the effort to wire the entire building. The other part of him, the logical side, told him that the demons were good. Sneaky. They knew how to hide and they did it well. He had to be even more focused than he already had been. 

He hoped Sam and Dean were doing okay. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to split up. 

(Y/N) got to the last room, on the left side of the hallway. He noted that it was the only door that had been shut, making sure to be extra cautious as he reached a hand forward, grasping the splintered doorknob. As he opened the door, the aged hinges creaked, the sound echoing down the hallway, breaking the uneasy silence. The room was noticeably darker than the rest, not an ounce of moonlight visible. (Y/N) raised his light and shone it around the room. He took a couple of steps inside, broken glass crackling underneath his boots. When he shined his light on the window, he noticed that it had been completely boarded up, the remnants of a black trash bag that had once covered it hanging from nails lazily placed along the window sill. 

Just as he got to the center of the room, the door hinges creaked again, loud and eerie. (Y/N) was quick to turn around, but he was only able to catch the final seconds before the door closed. His breathing stopped, heart racing inside of his chest. He listened, closely, but he heard nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Nothing. 

“Guess who,” A deep, scratchy, all too familiar voice spoke. 

The same voice that plagued his mind and haunted his dreams. 

He froze. 

Like a deer in headlights. 

Then, his world went black. 

*~*

The harsh light wasn’t good for his pounding head. A throaty moan slipped past (Y/N)’s lips as he awoke, vision blurry and eyes watery. He slowly lifted his head, groaning at the noticeable crick in his neck. He could feel that he was slouched in a chair, his back was aching from the posture, but he felt too nauseous and weak to fix it. When his vision cleared, he was able to take in some of the details of the room he was in. It was obvious that the room used to be one of the many classrooms, desks and chairs were pushed to one side of the room, stacked up to the point where they could topple at any moment. A single window stood across the way, the bottom half completely shattered with a puddle of broken shards resting beneath. The chill night air whistled and caressed his face. To his right were two massive floodlights, shining down on him. To his left, were Sam and Dean, bound to chairs the same as he was. 

Sam and Dean. 

(Y/N) quickly sat up, despite the throbbing in his head. In an attempt to move his arms, he could feel how tight the ropes were around his wrists and forearms. The demons were skilled, it seemed. 

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” Dean grumbled, his speech coming out slurred. 

He has a concussion. 

“What the Hell happened?” (Y/N) hissed. 

“They came out of nowhere,” Sam mumbled. His eyes were half-lidded, looking as if he was experiencing the same pain as (Y/N). 

“There were too many of them.” Dean finished.

(Y/N) cursed under his breath as he tried to wiggle his arms out of the binds, but it was all to no avail. He was used to being held captive by people who didn’t know how to tie a knot, but the way he was tied up was rather intricate. He wasn’t too sure he would be able to break out of it. 

“How many did you guys run into?” 

“I don’t know, man,” Dean answered. “A dozen, maybe more. You?” 

(Y/N) stopped moving, his eyes cast down to the floor. “Just one,” 

“One? You got taken out by a single demon?” 

“It was dark,” (Y/N) defended himself with a growl. “I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t hear anything. It was silent.”

Don’t think about his voice. Don’t think about his voice.

“Still, to be taken out by one demon, geez,” Dean mumbled. 

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you! I’m trying to get us out of here!” 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” a sweet, sultry, female voice echoed in the room. “You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon,” a demon came from behind them, a wide smile on her lips. 

She walked behind (Y/N), grabbed the knots connected to his wrists and arms, and tugged at them. 

“Did these myself,” she spoke proudly. “Wasn’t too difficult, really. Just seems as if people aren’t willing to teach themselves anything useful anymore,” she pursed her lips, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. 

(Y/N) snarled as the frayed ropes rubbed against his skin, scratching the surface. “If you’re done boosting your ego for five minutes, I’d really appreciate it if you let us go.” He spoke between clenched teeth.

The demon let out a boisterous laugh as she walked around the chair to stand in front of him. “Are you kidding?” She scoffed. “The Winchesters practically fall into our lap, and you think we’re going to let you go? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “Now, what would my boss think of me if I did that?” 

“And who, exactly, is your boss?” Dean asked. 

“Oh, you know him. Quite well, actually. He’s so excited to see you all again.” She walked over to (Y/N), the back of her hand brushing against his cheek gingerly. “Especially you.” Her voice was low, menacing. 

With that, the demon left, the click of the doorknob filling the silence. (Y/N) was tense. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Gooseflesh littered his arms, the hairs standing up. The panic began to set in. 

Have to get out. Have to get out. Have to get out. HAVE TO GET OUT.

“We have to go.” (Y/N) said, his voice barely above a whisper and shaky. 

(Y/N) began to frantically pull at the ropes, only resulting in them tightening around his arms. His muscles strained, shoulders shifting. Sam and Dean both tried to wiggle out of their confinements. Sam’s movements were slower and more thoughtful than his brothers’. 

“Do you know who she’s talking about?” Sam leaned his head close to (Y/N), voice hushed. 

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that we get the fuck out of here.” (Y/N)’s voice was louder than it normally would have been, the anxiety flooding his words. 

Sam and Dean shared a look of concern but decided to say nothing. They had never seen their brother so frazzled. Dare they say, scared? If there was one thing that (Y/N) never experienced when he was on hunts, it was fear. (Y/N) was always the one who kept a calm and collected attitude, barked orders, kept victims quiet during stressful situations, and he was the one Sam and Dean always fell back on. It was as if the brother they were bound next to wasn’t the same person. 

They all worked on getting the ropes off of them. Sam and Dean weren’t struggling as much as (Y/N) seemed to, who, at first glance, one would assume had never gotten out of binds before. That was far from the truth. He was, normally, the first one to get out of the ropes, as if he was an escape artist in a previous life. It was rather evident that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Sam and Dean, however, didn’t have the slightest clue. 

Have to get out. Have to get out. 

CLICK

The door opened, and (Y/N) froze. He was sure his heart stopped as well. Every muscle felt as if they were tying themselves together in intricate knots. The creaking hinges seemed louder than before, almost as if they were teasing him. Laughing at his pain. Mocking him. Or, perhaps, they were warning him. 

Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.

“Well, well, well…” The voice spoke, amusement evident.

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold. In situations like that, when faced with immediate danger, our brain turns to one of three options; fight, flight, or freeze. You can defend yourself, run away, or accept your fate. Being tied to the chair didn’t give (Y/N) the chance for flight, and there wasn’t an ounce of fight left in his body. So, he sat there, frozen, eyes wide with fear. The last time he was filled with that much fear was when he last encountered the demon. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been that long ago. 

A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump. He knew that touch all too well. It felt as if fire was spreading from the hand, down his torso, and through the rest of his body. 

Azazel turned to stand in front of the three Winchesters, his deep, yellow eyes lingering over (Y/N)’s body. Sam and Dean tensed, their jaws clenched, noses scrunched as they stared down the demon. 

“Yellow eyes,” Dean said between clenched teeth. 

“Oh, come on, Dean, you know I’m much more than just my eyes,” Azazel smirked. “You know, me and my demons were having a fairly good night. Got a lot planned for you, Sammy. Of course, the plan has some kinks to work through, but what plan doesn’t? A peaceful night, nonetheless. Imagine my surprise when the lights turned off. Not only that, but imagine my surprise when I hear who turned it off.” 

Azazel’s eyes scanned over the brothers, but they always wandered back to (Y/N). Each time they did, it felt like he was getting stabbed in the gut. 

“You know,” Azazel continued. “I can’t thank you enough for showing up unannounced. I mean, that’s one less child I need to find,” he gestured to Sam. “Not only that,” Azazel turned to (Y/N), stalking over toward him at an agonizing pace. “But you brought my favorite little plaything.” 

This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real.

When Azazel placed his calloused hand on (Y/N)’s jaw, fingers trailing down to his chin, (Y/N) was faced with the brutal reality that everything was real. (Y/N) hadn’t realized how much he had been shaking until Azazel let out a deep laugh. 

“Still scared?” He teased, his tongue poking through his eerie grin. 

“Leave him alone,” Sam growled. “It’s me you want.” 

“Correction, Sam, I want both of you.” 

“Why? What is he to you!?” 

Azazel looked at Sam, then Dean, then back at Sam. His brows raised as a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh,” he cooed, tilting his head to the side as he bent down in front of (Y/N), their noses almost touching. “You never told them, did you.” 

“Told us what?” Dean questioned. “(Y/N), what the Hell is he talking about!?” 

(Y/N) couldn’t speak. He felt as if there were cobwebs in his throat, his lips and mouth dry, and no part of his body wanted to function. Azazel stared into his eyes. Correction: Azazel stared into his soul. The soul that he had left was damaged. Oh, did that fact fill the demon with pride. Azazel’s lips curled up at the corner of his mouth as he stood up straight. He sauntered over so he was standing in front of Sam and Dean.

“Months ago…” Azazel began. “After your dear old Daddy passed, your brother decided to go on a little manhunt, all on his own.” 

Sam and Dean turned their gaze to (Y/N). Sam’s eyes were wide with shock and betrayal, while Dean’s expression could only be described as pure anger. Their minds immediately drifted to the worst possible outcome from that hunt. Their first thought drifted to him selling his soul. Making a deal with Azazel. While that seemed like a possibility, it didn’t make sense, as Azazel still spoke as if he had plans for Sam. What could (Y/N) have done? 

Azazel began to make his way back over to (Y/N), his back straight, his posture intimidating. “After a couple of pathetic weeks of trying to find me, he was finally able to catch up to me.” Azazel stood in front of him. Slowly, he leaned down, his breath fanning over (Y/N)’s face. “Do you want to tell them all of the gory details? Or should I?” 

(Y/N)’s breath quickened, chest noticeably rising and falling at a rapid pace. The panic became evident on his face. Azazel reached a hand up and let it rest on (Y/N)’s knee. 

“Do you want to tell them how you quivered under my touch? How you were shaking and sobbing? How you were crying for them to save you?” 

As he talked, his hand trailed further and further up his thigh, getting dangerously close to his crotch. (Y/N)’s body began to convulse, eyes bulging from their sockets. Whimpers escaped his parted lips as he tried desperately to wiggle away from his touch. 

Have to get away. Have to get away. Get away. GET AWAY.

“Hey!” Sam shouted. 

“Get away from him!” Dean exclaimed. 

“Tell me,” Azazel continued, ignoring Sam and Dean’s loud protests, his attention solely focused on (Y/N). “Do you still hear my voice as you drift off to sleep at night? Do you still feel my fingers digging into your hips? Do you still feel my cock inside that tight little hole of yours?” He grunted as he gripped (Y/N)’s penis through his jeans tightly. 

“No! Please!” (Y/N) screamed louder than he had ever screamed before. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely, painting his face with their wetness. He desperately attempted to get away, not caring that the ropes dug into his flesh, rubbing it raw. His sobs echoed off the walls. 

“That’s right,” Azazel grinned wickedly, teeth and jaw clenched. Somehow, his quiet voice was the only thing (Y/N) could hear. Not the hum of the floodlights, not his brothers’ angry shouts, just Azazel. “Cry, my little pet.” 

“You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? I will fucking kill you!” Dean screamed to the point of almost instantly becoming hoarse. 

“Oh, I hear you boys loud and clear.” Azazel pulled his hand away from (Y/N). “And I must say, it’s getting rather irritating. I might just have to take my pet somewhere else to play.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Sam snarled. 

“Well, not now. I’ve worked him up a little too much for me to have a good time playing with him.” He glanced at (Y/N), licking his lips predatorily. “It won’t be any fun making him scream now. Don’t want him to lose his voice too soon. Besides, you two made a mess of one of our rooms, and I need to make sure that everything necessary is accounted for.” 

Azazel continued to stare at (Y/N), obvious amusement etched on his face. The tears continued to fall, but he was silent. His bottom lip wobbled. By the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, it was evident he was holding back cries he desperately wanted to let out. Azazel grabbed him tightly by the jaw, tilted his head up, and planted a rough, bruising kiss on his lips. Before Sam and Dean could resume their shouting, he pulled away. 

“I’ll see you soon, little pet.” He purred, fingers trailing over his wet cheeks before he stalked out of the room, not even giving Sam and Dean a second glance. 

Click

Creak

Slam

Silence

The three of them sat there and said nothing. (Y/N) stared off towards the window, head moving from side to side ever so slightly. His brain was foggy and dizzy from the overstimulation. Dean’s jaw was clenched, nostrils flared. His eyes glimmered with a murderous rage. He stared at his older brother - his broken older brother - before turning his attention over to Sam. Sam shared the same look of anger as he did. 

What no one had been aware of was that, while the chaos with Azazel unfolded, Sam had been working on the ropes around his arms. A couple of silent seconds after they were left alone in the room, Sam let out a grunt and pulled his arms apart. The ropes fell onto the floor with a light thud. With determination in his eyes, Sam turned and untied (Y/N) first before going over to Dean. Once Dean was free, he stood, stretched his neck muscles, and then turned for the door, eyes flooded with blind rage. Sam was quick to grab him by the upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What’re you doing?” He whispered. 

“I’m going after that son of a bitch, Sam, what do you think I’m doing?” Dean retorted. 

“We can’t. There are too many of them, and we don’t have our weapons anymore.” 

“I’ll take my chances,” Dean pulled his arm from Sam’s grasp and turned to leave, but was quickly grabbed by Sam once more. “Let go, Sam.” 

“Dean, I want the bastard dead just as much as you do, even more now, but we’re outnumbered. Plus, (Y/N) needs us.” 

Hearing his brother’s name snapped him out of the trance he was in. Dean snapped his head around towards (Y/N), who was still sitting in the chair. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed, quickly making his way over to him. Sam followed. 

Once they were in front of (Y/N), they could see just how much he was affected. His arms hung at his side lamely, his gaze still set towards the window. They were empty, devoid of any emotion. His cheeks were still stained, and his lips were slightly parted. They had started to swell. 

“Hey, hey, (Y/N),” Dean reached up and cupped his face, turning his head so he would look at him. “Hey, buddy, you’re okay. You’re safe. He’s not here anymore, but we have to get out of here. Can you stand up?” 

Silence. 

Dean slowly nodded. “Alright, Sam, you get that window open and we’ll get out of here. I’ll grab him.” 

Sam moved over to the window, scraping some of the broken glass away from it. He glanced out the window and let out a breath of relief when he saw they were on the first floor. He grabbed the top of the window, lifting it, but it didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath and took a deep breath as he hoisted the window open with all of his strength. The bottom half of the window slammed upwards, causing the wall to shake. He raised his brows and turned to Dean, gesturing him over quickly. 

Dean reached under (Y/N)’s legs and picked him up bridal style. He held him tight and close to his chest as he swiftly made his way over to the window. Sam was the first one to climb out, hissing as the splinters from the window sill embedded themselves into his hands. Once his feet were on the ground, he turned back to the window. 

“Pass him through,” he held his arms out. 

Dean glanced behind him at the door before he helped Sam get (Y/N) through the window. Once (Y/N) was through, Sam cradled him in his arms just as Dean had. Dean moved even faster to get out of the window. When they were outside, they could see, in the distance, the familiar sight of the sun peeking out past the horizon. They shared a glance, examined their surroundings, and then rushed back towards the tall trees at the edge of the field. 

They ran at Mach speed through the forest, hopping over roots and dodging protruding branches. Now and then, Sam would look down at his brother, still held tight to his chest, but the same, vacant expression was always present on his face. Sam was, admittedly, worried for him. He had never seen (Y/N) in such a vulnerable state. He was always the level-headed one, so put together. He was the one that Sam and Dean leaned on in times of trouble, the one that picked them up when they were down, the one to jump to their aid when they needed him the most without any hesitation. 

And here he was, carrying him in his arms, the broken shell of his oldest brother. Never, in a million years, would he have imagined this scenario. To him, it was always supposed to be the other way around, as it had been on multiple occasions. He felt so heavy, but, at the same time, light as a feather, as if Sam could carry him for hundreds of miles if he had to. He would in a heartbeat. 

By the time they reached the edge of the wood, the sky had turned a brilliant pinkish-orange, and mourning doves began to sing their elegant tune. Dean broke out into a wide grin as Baby came into view. 

“Oh, Baby, I am never leaving you again,” he mumbled as he ran his hand over her hood. 

“Dean? Keys?” Sam raised his brows. 

Dean slowly frowned. He patted his jean pockets, then his coat pockets. He grumbled, unzipped his coat, and reached inside. After seconds of searching, he let out a heavy sigh of relief as he pulled the keys out of an inner pocket. 

“Thank God for inside pockets.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get the door opened.” 

“Right, right…” 

Dean unlocked the car before he rounded the corner to the back passenger’s side. He opened the door.

“How is he?” He asked. 

Sam took a moment to look down at (Y/N). He was so focused on getting them as far away from the school as possible, that he didn’t even notice that he had fallen asleep. Sam felt relief wash over him, glad that his brother didn’t have to experience any more of those negative thoughts he must’ve had. At least, not at that moment. Carefully, Sam navigated his way to the backseat, laying (Y/N) on his side. He made sure not to wake him. With everything he had gone through and all the emotions that had seemingly piled onto him all at once, he wasn’t sure how easy (Y/N) would be to wake up. He must have been exhausted. 

“He’s fine, at least, for now,” Sam mumbled. 

Once (Y/N) was situated in the backseat, Sam stretched, not having realized the strain he had received from carrying him for so long. He closed the door as quietly as he could and took his spot in the passenger’s seat. Dean walked around the car and got into the driver’s side. He was quick to start the car, the rumble of the engine sending vibrations through the seats. Dean pulled off the dirt road and did a U-Turn, heading back into town. 

The first five minutes of the ride were silent. Not even the radio dared speak up. Sam and Dean’s eyes were glued to the road, both of them taking turns to occasionally look back at (Y/N). 

Dean was the first one to speak. 

“We need to get the Hell out of Dodge.” He said. 

Sam nodded. “You’re right. If Yellow Eyes is this close, he’ll waste no time trying to find us. I can go in, pack all of our stuff, and check us out. Then, I say we drive as far away as possible.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Another deep silence. Dean was the first one to speak again. 

“How come he never told us?” 

Sam hesitated for a moment, considering the question himself. He tried to look at it from a personal standpoint. Why didn’t he tell them? They’re family. They tell each other everything. But do they? He tried to look at it from a logical standpoint. 

It was one thing the Winchesters were notorious for; their lack of communication when it comes to their emotions. It was preached to them when they were younger, that emotions were the reason hunters got killed. You had to go in, get the job done, and don’t let it get to you. Then again, a vast majority of hunters are alcoholics, so what does that say about them? They are human, after all. 

What happens when something serious occurs? Something so traumatic that they lose themselves at the first sight of the enemy? That was something neither the hunting life nor their father had prepared them for. At that point, they were lost. 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, you saw the way he acted when Yellow Eyes walked in.” 

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.” 

“I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, nor what he went through. I mean, if something like that happened to you, would you tell us?” 

Dean opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. He clenched onto the steering wheel. “No,” he mumbled. 

“Exactly, I mean…” he trailed. “This is fucked up.” 

“Yeah, extremely fucked up. You have no idea how hard it is for me to drive away. I wanna go back there and kill him so bad.” Dean spoke between clenched teeth, his grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. 

“Trust me, Dean, I get it.” Sam nodded. “But right now, we should focus on (Y/N). He needs us right now, more than anything.” 

Dean looked over at Sam for a second before glancing in the rearview mirror at his older brother’s sleeping form. On that day, he vowed that he would kill Azazel with his own two hands. 

*~*

His vision was fading, black spots decorating his peripherals. Any sound had been replaced with a low buzz. His breathing was staggered and labored. Every inch of his body was on fire as if he was being burned from the inside out. The only relief he felt was the cool concrete that was pressed against his cheek. It felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t move. 

Suddenly, the pain shot through his body like a bullet, his muscles and nerves tensing. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. 

“Aw, isn’t that cute,” Azazel growled from above him. 

(Y/N)’s fear-filled eyes shot towards the sound of his voice. Azazel’s deep, yellow eyes stared into him intently, filled with rage, lust, and desire. (Y/N) tried to scream louder, but, still, no sound came out. 

“Sam! Dean! Help me, please!” He mouthed, hot tears streaming down his face. 

“Look at you trying to call out for your brothers. Well, I hate to break it to you, little pet, but they aren’t here, and they’ll never find you if I can help it.” 

Azazel caressed his cheek before grabbing his hair roughly, yanking his head back. In a flash, a cool, sharp black was pressed against his neck. 

“Now, be a good boy and take it.” 

The pain intensified, lightning shooting through his veins.

Take it. 

Please. 

Take it.

Someone.

Take it!

Help me.

TAKE IT

*~*

(Y/N) gasped as he jolted upright, eyes wide and alert. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his pants. In an instant, Sam and Dean were by his side. Dean stood next to the bed while Sam sat next to him. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Sam spoke in a soothing voice, hesitantly reaching toward him. “You’re safe, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) jerked away from his touch, and Sam was quick to pull back. As (Y/N) attempted to gather himself, he looked around the room. They were in a motel room, although it was different than the one (Y/N) remembered being in. What did he remember? The last thing he could recall was the look on Azazel’s face as he smirked down at him, the look in those deep, demonic eyes. Those damned eyes. He didn’t remember leaving the school, nor did he remember their journey to another motel room. 

“Where are we?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse and broken.

“Chattanooga,” Dean replied. “A couple hours south of where we were.” 

(Y/N) nodded in acknowledgment. Then it was silent. No one said anything, the only sound filling the room was the electricity coursing through the air from the outdated box TV sat on the dresser. (Y/N)’s gaze was cast down towards the discolored comforter while Sam and Dean shared a glance as if silently urging one another to say something. Finally, it was Sam who spoke up. 

“Look, if you don’t wanna talk about it, we-” 

“He was right,” (Y/N) interrupted. 

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they turned their attention back to their older brother. Dean sat down on the bed opposite (Y/N), and leaned forward, hands folded. 

“Everything he said was true.” (Y/N) swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. 

“So, after dad died…” Sam trailed. 

“When I went AWOL? Yeah. I, uh, I had found where he was. Didn’t take that long, at least, not as long as I thought it was going to take. I was so set on killing him that I didn’t take into account the fact that there might be other demons with him. It was like I was…blind by rage…” (Y/N) lowered his head and twiddled his thumbs. “I was captured pretty easily, I hate to admit. Then, he came in…you know the rest.” 

(Y/N) was unaware of the tears that had begun to form in the corner of his eyes. He refused to look at his brothers. What would they say? What would they think? Would they be disappointed? Disgusted? Betrayed? He didn’t think he could handle what they thought about him at that moment. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean asked softly. 

(Y/N) glanced up at them, brows furrowed with a look of confusion. Sam and Dean’s expressions conveyed a feeling of sadness. Of hurt. (Y/N) clenched his hands into weak fists and looked down. 

“I’m your big brother. I’m supposed to be the one to protect you guys, not the other way around. I’m supposed to be the strong one. How would you think of me knowing your big brother couldn’t even stop himself from getting raped?” (Y/N)’s voice broke, tears flowing more freely. 

Sam and Dean watched (Y/N) hug himself tightly. Slowly, they began to make their way onto the bed, not wanting to startle him in such a fragile state. With Sam on one side and Dean on the other, they wrapped their arms loosely and gently around his shaking frame. 

“(Y/N), I hope you know that we don’t think any less of you because of this,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, this isn’t your fault,” Dean agreed.

(Y/N) shook his head. “If I wouldn’t have gone after him…” he sobbed. 

Dean shushed him, reaching a hand up to gently caress his head. (Y/N) stopped what he was saying and just leaned against his brothers. The Winchesters were never good with comfort. Get over it, they were always told. Stop being so sensitive. Real men don’t cry, type of narrative. They all just sat there in silence, sobs continuing to fall from (Y/N)’s lips. 

He was always so scared about the way his brothers would react. He decided to take a page out of John Winchester’s book of dealing with his emotions. Bottle it up and everything would be okay, which was completely false. That much was evident back at the schoolhouse. (Y/N) wasn’t okay. Hell, that had been the first moment he had verbally admitted that he had been raped, and it hurt. 

Even though he felt a small sense of security in the arms of his brothers, he still didn’t feel safe. Knowing Azazel, his rapist, was still roaming the world in search of them always kept him on edge. He wasn’t sure he would ever feel peace unless he witnessed, firsthand, the life drain from those yellow eyes of his. After that, he wasn’t certain how he would feel.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice broke the dead silence. 

(Y/N) looked up at him, eyes red, but slowly drying. Dean gazed down at him with a look of determination on his face. 

“We got this, okay? As long as you’re with us, we won’t let anything else happen to you. You’ve been our big brother and protected us our whole lives. Now it’s our turn to protect you.” 

(Y/N) took a moment to look at Dean, then looked over at Sam. He gave a small, brief nod as he pulled them closer for a tighter embrace. 

“Thank you,” he spoke in a hushed tone. 

“Don’t even worry about it,” Sam shook his head. “You would do the same for us.” 

(Y/N) nodded.

“And if there’s one thing I can promise you, (Y/N), it’s that the next time I see that slimy bastard, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes,” Dean growled, holding his brother close.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but give a small smile, because, while the Winchesters weren’t good at comfort or expressing their griefs with one another, there was one thing that made them stand out amongst everyone else;

When they promised to kill something, nothing on God’s green Earth could get in their way.

[lovetransaction]

the brother within: #3

3) being liminal, the dog is the guardian of the threshold, and is thereby a protector of hearth and home, of structure and tradition; and, – Daniel Deardorff, The Other Within: The Genius of Deformity in Myth, Culture & Psyche

When Sam was two months old, a wasp flew in the window and landed on his tummy. Mom had fallen asleep for just a minute, Dean knew she needed a minute sometimes so he didn't wake her up, he stood by the crib and watched the wasp's pointy brown body moving in circles against Sam's so-soft onesie. Sam hadn't noticed yet. Dean put two of his fingers on Sam's tummy and the wasp crawled onto them and it felt gross but he held his breath and walked to the window and the wasp flew back out before he even got there. He went back and Sam was looking at him, and Dean said, "you're ohhhh-kay," the way Dad said it sometimes, which meant that it was.

---

Dean started crying and couldn't stop when Mr. Darling sent Nana out to the doghouse when he watched Peter Pan. He never did finish the movie.

---

There comes a time when Sam has an imaginary friend and Dean doesn't much like it. There comes a time when Sam has a secret dog during secret Flagstaff and Dean doesn't like that either. There comes a time when Sam has both a girlfriend and a dog that Dean doesn't know and that's shitty too.

Dean doesn't like dogs in his car. Dean paid attention to that one Aesop's Fable about the manger, but he doesn't think it applies to him, not really. Who uses mangers anymore anyhow? They'd just burn up in the fire and take the baby messiah with them.

---

"Good boy," Dad says, tired, and hauls Dean onto his lap all sprawled and sideways so he can swizzle his fingertips into Dean's hair and then wrap him up in a tight hug. "You're always taking care of us," Dad mumbles against the side of Dean's head, fingers moving behind Dean's ear as he sighs. They both smell like the tomato and rice soup Dean had managed to cobble together out of a tin of Campbell's and some leftover fried rice, and the tang of it isn't exactly the nicest but it's comforting. Like home. Sam's on the other end of the sofa conked out from eating the last tin of pudding, and Dean turns around until he can settle against Dad properly. The rise and fall of Dad's stomach, the occasional thick way he clears his throat -- he swallowed some kind of ectoplasm on the last hunt and it's still working through his system -- and the swish of Dad's fingers through his hair. Dean's getting too big for this, he knows. But for tonight he made it all feel right, he did it all good, and his brother and father are sleepy and quiet and Dean's a good boy.

---

He wasn't gonna fuck a poodle, come on. Not one that looked like that.

---

"You're me but backwards," Chuck says to him at one point. Dean's still stinging from the don't confuse me with your dad remark, especially since technically Chuck is supposed to be basically everyone's dad, otherwise what's the whole frigging point of the Our Father?

"You're backwards," is what Dean says, and Chuck grins and shoots finger guns at him. "You should've kept your dad's dog tags," Chuck says. "You know what I do with lukewarm things. You should commit to the motif."

Dean doesn't ask what the hell Chuck's talking about. Dean leaves it alone.

---

Sam's the one who guts the hellhound. Dean can't do anything but watch.

---

The bunker is the best place they've ever been and Dean doesn't waste time in making it a home, because Dean knows better than to waste time. For a while after that extra forty in Hell he'd counted his age in dog years, because that seemed to make more sense. But most of that wasn't really living. Most of that was a choke chain, and sometimes he still feels it biting into his throat in Alastair's voice, and Azazel's, and John's. He feels bad about that last one and he doesn't. Dad had outlasted him in Hell, after all. If anybody would understand it would be him.

---

Sometimes, Dean thinks, all of their hard work and sacrifice isn't what they're left with in the end. It all comes down to a miracle.

[demonsfate]

shipping questions // accepting // @juanalmada1234 asked . . . shipping questions: 1, 18, 20, 22 and 28

1. what’s the best thing about shipping for you?

It's hard to say! There are so many great things about shipping! But I think it may just be delving deep into the characters' feelings. Often, people may behave differently toward those they are in love with. I feel that in ships, you can view a side of a character that isn't often seen. Like Jin may be more affectionate and more willing to make physical contact with a lover than he will with a friend. They may know stuff about each other than nobody else does. And we get to see just how far the characters will go for their lovers. I just think it's a great opportunity to flesh out two characters.

It's also interesting for Devil, because he used to be somebody who couldn't really love anyone. So, it's a new experience for him!

18. is there a ship you used to like, but not anymore?

I'm trying to think but... I don't think there really is? Usually it's rare for me to start disliking a ship I've enjoyed. I guess the closest thing to this would be that I used to consider the idea of Jin & Julia (they have stuff in common!) But I pushed that aside in favor for Jun & Michelle. Dunno why! But I just prefer the moms together lol

20. is there a ship you wanted to play, but couldn’t yet?

EEEEEYAHHHH!! As I said, I do have a soft spot for the Jin & Alisa ship, so I would not mind trying that one out!!! I also have a super secret soft spot for the Jin & Miguel ship! Y'know, it's not as toxic in MY portrayal 'cos Jin isn't actually responsible for the sister's death. But y'know, the guy who did get her killed still exists within him... so that would make things AWKWARD. Anyway, I like the Jin & Miguel ship just because it seems Jin has a thing for the hot-headed aggressive guys. And well... also just look at how TALL and HANDSOME he is! I thiiiiink those are the only ships I haven't really gotten to play yet? I'll probs get to play 'em eventually, tho! Frick, it took over a year for me to get a Xiao & Hwoarang to ship with!

22. is there any ship you will likely never play? (apart from the obvious in/cest, pe/dophilia etc, i want to believe you guys are Good)

Hmm. I think I'm pretty lenient on who I ship Jin with - like I'm VERY easygoing when it comes to writing ships! Hell, somebody could be like "do you wanna ship?" and I'll be like "SURE!" But I do have some dealbreakers, or more so, Jin has some dealbreakers. Like for example, I don't mind the Nina & Jin ship (I don't ship it but it's not something I dislike) but... I just don't see Jin dating an assassin. I see him dating a former assassin who now wants to make amends. But he's not going to date somebody who's still actively hurting or killing people. So like, that means Anna is also off the plate! I also don't see Jin with Marduk or Ganryu either luls. And obviously, Jin would never date Ogre for obvious reasons lol. He wouldn't date Azazel either. But honestly, I don't think those two are capable of romance.

Devil, on the other hand - I feel like there would be a lot more ships I'd be willing to do with him, but it also depends on the timeline. I'd joke that pre-purified Devil would go after Ogre, and he may! But Jin's hatred for Ogre is too strong, and thus, it influences Devil to be furious with Ogre. Devil, would however, go after Marduk - purified and not purified unfortunately. Like Jin though, he wouldn't be interested in Ganryu.

28. would you play a “bitter exes” relationship?

The funny thing is that out of all the years I've been RPing (11 years now...) I have never written a breakup with mine & my partner's muses, I've never written exes before. Isn't that weird? I always thought I'd get breakup threads 'cos I happen to frequently write problematic muses. (Like Devil - villains. Or if not villains, then morally gray / anti-heroes) Yet... nothing ever happens! The only time I wrote a breakup was in private discord RPs (back when I used to do those) and they got back together anyway lol.

But I wouldn't mind doing a bitter exes relationship! Though... I'm not sure how bitter Jin would be. I think Jin would only be very bitter if the relationship ended due to betrayal. But I'm not so sure 'cos I never had the opportunity!

Devil, on the other hand, would be a very bitter ex no matter how the relationship ended. Just because Devil, even after purification, is a jealous and possessive man. He may not be as aggressive about it as he once was, but he still feels those two emotions, and he still has to cope with them.

[bombingqueen]

Season 2 and 3: The Winchester's and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Demon Deals

Season 2 rating: 9/10

Best episodes from S2: Simon Said, RoadKill, and AHBL I & II

Worst episode: Hollywood Babylon (Just boring)

Season 3 rating 6/10

Best Episodes from S3: No Rest for the Wicked and The Kids Are Alright

Worst episode: Red Sky at Morning (just boring)

Sterling K. Brown is amazing his role as Gordon Walker is great.

I wish the special children plot line lasted longer. I believe so much more could have been done with them.

Ellen and Jo are not the best written characters on a re-watch. I liked them first time but not anymore.

Love episodes with 'human' monsters

Law enforcement episodes are some of my favorites

Dean doesn't have the best mental health in season 1 but in season 2 and 3 he has really started to derail. Couldn't keep his father save and he might lose his brother to an undetermined future.

Sam does stupid shit when he is emotional especially when Dean is involved.

Bella Talbot is a Boss Bitch. I like her more this time around.

Ava is adorable even if she turns into a little serial killer. "I just helped steal some dead guy's confidential files! I'm awesome"

I want to know the story behind 'funky town' Did happen before Sam went to Stanford or when he started hunting with Dean again?

Honestly, Gordon acting like Dean wasn't gonna hunt his ass down for murdering Sam is hilarious

Sam always blames himself for situations out of his control. Makes me sad.

I'm pretty sure that the hotel in Playthings is an Antebellum home.

2.12 Everytime I watch Nightshifter, I can only think of this:

2.12 Dean is such a simple man :" I like him. He says okey-dokey." What a fuckin dork. I love him.

2.12 Sam is so exasperated and bitchy this episode

2.12 Victor Henriksen was short-lived. Would've have been nice for the boys to have an ally in the feds.

2.12 The ending is amazing

Sam continues to believed that he can't be saved

Jared Padalecki is amazing and terrifying in 2.14 Born Under a Bad Sign

2.14 Demons really be trying to make the boys divorce

2.14 The Jo scene is so uncomfortable and the actors did amazing job of portraying it

2.14 I literally read a fanfic where Dean was in the place of Jo. It was some good shit not gonna lie

2.14 I'm pretty sure Meg was shocked that Dean would literally help his brother get away with murder. What's one more crime?

2.14 I have to give it to Meg. She was really trying to get Dean to turn against Sam and kill him. Hell, if she stopped possessing Sam after using his body to kill Dean, Sam would have embraced his dark destiny

Poor Sam. Dean knows what Madison meant to him in more ways than one

Wish we saw more of the lawyer and Deacon from 2.19 Folsom Prison Blues

2.19 Dean having fun in prison and fitting is so well is such a vibe. Sam's being disturbed by it was amusing.

2.20 Even in a world where they were never hunters, Dean still becomes an alcoholic

2.20 Wincest fics having DJINN are my favorite. Good shit right there

2.20 Dean wants Sam to be happy but not at the expense of losing their relationship with one another. Bruh, that shit is depressing.

Aww! Sam is Azazel's favorite

Andy is me in AHBL

Sam flexing his leadership skills in cold oak. Feel like a proud momma

Sam's first death hits hard. The relief on his face when he sees Dean coming for him. The last thing before death he sees is Dean allowing him to let go safely. And Dean just holding onto his world with desperation as his soul dies along with Sam.

Sam finding out about Dean's deal is heartbreaking. He was taken from his brother by a demon, finds out about his demon, he was killed violently, and then he is resurrected only to find out his brother sold his soul. Poor Sammy.

I forgot how shocking Sam's descent into savagery is. Blood thirsty little giant. Don't blame him though. I would be pissed off to if I was stabbed in the back literally and metaphorically

John really climbed out of the bowels of hell, saved his boys, and yeeted to Heaven

Dean becoming catatonic after Sam's death is so sad; his entire world just ended. Family may not end in blood but he is sole survivor of his own blood

Jensen Ackles flexing his acting chops with his emotional scenes begging for his brother to be okay and then having a monologue over his corpse is so fuckin good. Makes me cry everytime.

Demons calling Sam the Boy King or any alternative will never not be cool but it will continue to be funny

I like episodes involving their childhood and baby Dean tried so hard for Sammy

I actually didn't care for blond Ruby the first time I watch the series but I like her more during the re-watch. She is awesome and snarky

As much as I like Bella, she is fuckin dumb for stealing the colt like what the hell man. She reaped what she sowed right there

I used to find mystery spot funny but is more depressing than anything. Sam was barely holding on to his sanity and his moral compass was derailing fast

The way Dean begins to become more unhinged as his deal grows closer made my heart hurt

Lilith poked a goddam bear torturing and killing Dean in front of Sam's face. Gotta give her props; she had fuckin balls considering Sam's future. Guess Lucy didn't give her the memo or just didn't care since he was stuck in the cage. Having Sam Winchester on your ass is probably worse than facing Dean. Unhinged Sammy is somethin else

[zepskies]

Hahaa thank you for sharing your thoughts, lovely!!

“We’re going to start from the beginning,” he said.

I really don't like the sound of that. Nick's bad enough already. But Daniel just seems a little more dangerous.

You're right, Daniel is more dangerous by far, if in a different way. Nick is a lazy opportunist. Daniel is a mastermind.

Oh my god 😃 He gave her a sister to Baby! 🥰 Oh how I would love that. 😍

Omg you're right! It is like a sister to Baby loll. I love that! 😂❤️

John coming late... why does that not surprise me? And him pressing her again about the whole Nick thing is really unnessecary. But I love that she get's along with Eileen so well too. It just feels like home, now that George is not with us anymore. 🥲 (I'll still miss him)

Doesn't surprise me either. 😂 Along with the way he tried to press his luck with the reader. But remember his motivation; this is the crime lord who ordered a hit on him, killed his wife and traumatized his sons, and has been threatening his sons (and the reader).

John thinks the reader is the key to breaking his case and finding out who Azazel is. While him being pushy is of course a dick move, I think his motivations are understandable.

Everything after that was just so sweet and hot and I again wish it would stay this way. 😅 but I know we have a story to tell and there is already knew drama ahead of us.

Hahaha ikr? But we can't stay in this bubble forever...just until the next chapter. 😜

See ya next Friday!! lol ❤️❤️

Smoke Eater - Part 15

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: Thank you as always for the lovely responses on the previous chapter! It was a long one, so thank you for sticking through with me. We're about to lighten up a little with some Christmas spirit! ❄️🎁

**Also, if you're a fan of The Boys (and Soldier Boy), there's an awesome book you can check out, called Supes Ain’t Always Heroes: Inside the Complex Characters and Twisted Psychology of The Boys.

If you want to learn more about the book (including cast interviews and a character study on Soldier Boy), I wrote a review about it here!

Otherwise, on to some more firefighter!Dean!

🔥Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, tinge of angst, hurt/comfort, lots of feels.

Part 15: “The Good Part”

“How many damn arrests does that make?” Daniel asked. He gripped his pool cue with both hands while he leaned on it.

His son stood at the other end of the pool table, lining up his shot. He paused to think.

“Six,” Nick replied. His cue released, and it knocked two of his balls into the pocket.

“Six,” Daniel repeated, while Nick came his way to find an angle for his next turn.

Daniel shook his head. His lips were angrily pursed. His eyes might’ve been on the pool game, but he was playing chess in his mind. He had underestimated John Winchester for far too long, it seemed.

The man was stubborn as all hell. And he’d been busy lately, getting “Azazel’s” men busted for all manners of bullshit.

“Alastair’s mole says Winchester’s been calling in favors from his old friends in Narcotics, trying to bust our small fries,” Nick reported. “Getting them on everything from petty theft to drug possession, with intent to sell. But it’s nothing we can’t pull ‘em out of.”

“Time, money, added risk,” Daniel cited on his fingers all the reasons why John Winchester was a pain in his ass. “It’s only a matter of time before they get a warrant to rip apart Savage & Co., sweep the whole damn building. For forensic evidence, our files, all the jazz.”

Daniel’s fingers drummed thoughtfully against his chin. “A damn cop thinks he’s being cute.”

Nick missed his second turn. His hand fell against his thigh in annoyance, but he looked up.

“Dad, it’s your move.”

Daniel rubbed at his chin. His eyes were no longer seeing the board in front of him. Eventually, they slid up and met his son’s gaze.

“We’re going to start from the beginning,” he said.

Nick’s face gave away his confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Daniel just smiled.

It was Christmas Day, and John was late. Sam and Dean were used to that drill, so they weren’t expecting him until dinnertime.

Meanwhile, it gave you a chance to find your footing as you got to know Eileen. She had helped you bake the pies that were now cooling on the counter (pumpkin and berry crumble), and a few of the side dishes for dinner. Sam had covered cleaning up the rest of the house, while Dean tackled his favorites: the ham and the mac and cheese.

Now the guys were in the living room watching football while you and Eileen were still in the kitchen, decorating some gingerbread cookies you two had made. She enjoyed it; doing holiday crafts with her students had been bringing out her artistic side, she told you. You were happy for the help and the conversation.

You later tried to cover up your snort of laughter as she finished telling you the story of how Dean once dared Sam to wear women’s underwear for a whole week.

If he managed it, Dean had promised to do all the household chores for three months. If Sam couldn’t make it the whole week, then he would face the consequences: Dean would tell their dad about the bet.

“How old were they?” you asked.

Eileen scoffed. “Sam was a senior in college.”

You burst out laughing again. “So too old, is the answer… Did he win?”

Eileen gave you a mischievous smile.

“He did,” Dean said, as he appeared in the kitchen doorway with a familiar smirk. “I’ve got photographic evidence. It was a cheetah print thong, in case you were wondering.”

Your eyes widened on a laugh. “Oh my God.”

Cheetahlicious, you couldn’t help joking in your mind. Even if you’d rather not think of Sam wearing a pair of Victoria Secret’s best.  

Eileen giggled with you. Dean’s amusement gave way to curiosity as he eyed the little gingerbread men you two were icing. You warned him off with your eyes, but it took Eileen batting his hand when he tried to steal a cookie.

“Hey! Wait ‘til after dinner,” she said.

Dean pouted. “Come on, don’t be stingy.”

Rolling her eyes, Eileen sighed.

“You’re like one of my kids,” she said, while signing with her hands. But she caved and handed him a cookie. “Here. To tide you over.”

Dean smiled and signed back to her in ASL, Thank you.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he said. He leaned down to kiss her cheek in a brotherly gesture.

He shot you a wink before taking a bite of his prize. You shook your head at him, even though you were smiling. He came around to your side of the table. His hand rested on your back and he bent down towards your ear.  

“I actually came over for you,” he said. “Got a minute?”

Your brows rose, but you turned to Eileen in askance. “I’ll be right back. Is that okay?”

She nodded and made an “OK” gesture. “Of course.”

You smiled and let Dean lead you out of your chair, and even out of the apartment. He made sure you both grabbed your coats by the front door.

“Where are we going?” you asked. While you put on your coat over your sweater and jeans, you didn’t notice him grabbing two sets of keys.

“Just downstairs. No big deal,” he said, hefting on his own leather jacket.

You eyed him with some suspicion, but you walked with him down to the elevators and let him keep you close to his side. He smelled like the cologne you bought him for Christmas, and he was already wearing the new watch as well.

You’d struggled to find him the right gift. Nothing felt quite enough after everything he’d done for you the last few months. He’d assured you that he was grateful for both gifts, and had even tried to say the watch looked too expensive. (You’d shut him up with a kiss.)

Now, you had to wonder what he was up to as he led you into the parking lot, but not toward Baby. Instead, you two stopped in front of a shiny silver Chevy parked in a guest spot.

“Dean, what’d you do?” you asked, both excited and worried. He shot you a grin and dangled the keys in front of you.

“You like her?” he asked. His eyes were dancing. “You could keep her, if you ask nicely.”

Your face slackened. You looked between him and the sleek looking car.

“What?” You covered your mouth with both hands. Even after a few moments, your brain was still having a hard time computing. “No…what? Oh my God!”

You grabbed onto his jacket, just in case your legs failed you. Dean laughed and gathered you up in his arms. By the time you peeled your eyes away from the silver beauty to look up at your boyfriend, there were tears already swimming in your eyes.

“Dean, this is really too much. Where’d you find—”

“Bobby had it sitting in his garage for years,” he explained. His hand came up to brush your cheek, and the tears there. “I cleaned her up, dropped in a new engine, safe-proofed with new tires, new airbags, the works. Got her purring like a kitten.”

Your eyes grew a little wider with every admission. Then you softened, gripping the edges of his jacket while you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

“How much did he sell it to you for?” you asked. Dean dropped his head back with a sigh.

“Don’t you wanna take a test ride before we start hagglin’?”

You lightly smacked his chest. “Hey. How much?”

He let out another heavy sigh, but you eventually got it out of him. While the price wasn’t as bad as you might’ve expected, you still shook your head.

“I still have a decent chunk of insurance money left. I’m giving you at least half,” you said.

Dean shook his head. “This is my gift to you.”

Your lips pursed, despite the smile that wanted to peek through.

“Nice try,” you said wryly. “You already got me perfume.”

“That was just the decoy.” He grinned, and held you a bit tighter against him. He nodded towards the car. “She’s the main event.”

You wanted to sigh, but this conversation wasn’t over. You were definitely not letting him buy you a whole new…old car. You turned to look at it again.

“What model is this?” you asked.

“2002 Camaro Z28,” Dean rattled off. It sounded impressive, but you didn’t know much about cars.

He let go of you so you could get a closer look. Your hand passed over the hood, but didn’t touch, as if you were afraid of staining the paint with your fingerprints. He had to admit, he’d waxed it up good and managed to get rid of a lot of superficial nicks and scratches.

What he said was true though; Bobby had given him a frankly ridiculous deal. Because when Dean had told him what you’d been through after the car accident, dealing with your grandfather’s passing, and now your ever-mounting expenses, Bobby hadn’t let him walk away from Singer Salvage with anything else but this car. He’d even helped Dean get the new parts he needed to fix it up.

“Is it automatic or manual?” you asked, trying to peer through the driver’s window. “I haven’t driven stick in a hell of a long time.”

Dean came up from behind you and his warm hand found your hip. You let him draw you back into his arms, leaning against his chest.

His lips were close to your ear when he said, “I think you’re damn good at driving stick.”

It took you a second, but the heavily laden innuendo in his deep voice was hard to miss. You uttered a laugh and swatted his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said. You were still smiling when you turned and twined your arms around his neck. Then you leaned up for a kiss—one that kept getting deeper with the full force of your gratefulness, and your love for this man.

“It’s an automatic,” he answered, between kisses. You giggled against his lips.

You barely felt the chill on the air. Your heart was beating fast, even when you pulled away from him. Your eyes slowly opened and met his. He smiled down at you and curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. As usual, you had most of it clipped up.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was quiet, but steady.

You let out a shaky breath. Emotion was clogging your throat, making your tears burn anew.

“This is a bit more than a Christmas present,” you said. He gave a more self-deprecating smile.

“Well, it’s also kind of an apology,” he said. “For getting you mixed up in my ‘family business.’”

He still felt guilt beyond belief for putting you in danger. For your life being threatened. For being the reason you couldn’t go home.

You just shook your head. Your hand raised to press against his cheek. Your thumb drew tenderly along his chin.

“I thought you said you were part of my family now?” you said. “We’ll figure this out together, like everything else.”

Dean’s eventual smile lightened you, and his kiss warmed you down to your toes. 

“If you want, let’s go for a ride after dinner,” he said.

It was your turn to smirk. Your hands migrated under his jacket and teased at his belt.

“Well, I’m certainly down for a ride,” you said.

Dean laughed and squeezed your hips. “All right. I’m puttin’ you on my naughty list.”

When John finally arrived, the brothers welcomed him in first with big man hugs and good-natured ribbing for him being so damn late.

In Sam’s words, Upholding a Winchester family tradition.

John had taken that with a chuckle. “Smells damn good in here.”

“Yeah, food’s been done for an hour,” Dean prodded at him again. His grin betrayed his teasing, however. His welcoming hand stayed on his dad’s shoulder until they reached the living room, where Sam had set up a longer fold out table and chairs to function as the makeshift dining room, since the table near the kitchen only seated three.

There you were opening a bottle of Jack Daniels. You smiled up at John.

“Figured you were more of a whiskey than wine kind of guy,” you said. You were a bit nervous to see him again, no doubt with flour in your hair and frosting staining your hands. He clasped your shoulder with a hint of a smile.

“You’d be right. Good to see you, darlin’,” he said.

“You too,” you replied. Despite the fact that the first and last time you two had met, it had been in front of your house as the police rifled through your life, looking for more explosives. He graciously didn’t bring that up as he greeted Eileen next.

Once dinner was on the table, there was a lot of catching up between the brothers and their father while you and Eileen continued talking, even through dessert.

“This really is amazing,” she told you, pointing her fork at her slice of berry crumble. “I can see why you went to culinary school.”

You blushed as Sam, Dean, and even John echoed her praise. All three men had generous slices of both pies. 

“Well, thank you. I’m glad you guys enjoy it,” you said, and your smile was genuine.

You loved making good food, but you loved feeding people even more. Whether it was a simple hearty soup or a rich dessert, you liked putting smiles on their faces and giving them a good experience; one they could share with their family and friends. Even better if it was your family.

Or as Dean would say, Your people. 

To you, that was life.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you opened up a bakery you’d make a killing in this town,” Dean said. He nudged your hand with the one that held his fork; it held a precarious piece of pumpkin pie.

You shot him an amused look.

“Don’t you look at me sideways, I’m serious,” he said, laughing a little, but his gaze was steady.

Your cheeks warmed against your will. He believed in your dream, even when you couldn’t quite let yourself.

“Hey, if you ever want to look into applying for a loan, I could help,” Sam said, earning your attention. “I have a friend who works at a bank.”

Your brows raised. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we were pre-law together back in college, but he figured he was better with numbers.”

You smiled. “Well, it would make it easier knowing I was dealing with your friend.”

“Yeah, his name’s Brady. Let me know if you want me to call him,” he said.

You bit your lip, but you nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe you should start to believe in yourself, just a little bit more.

“This was all real delicious,” John said to you, when you came back from bringing the leftovers to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already arguing about who was doing the dishes and who was drying them. Meanwhile, Eileen was putting away the food (and probably rolling her eyes).

“Yeah, it was a team effort for sure,” you replied. “Dean’s actually a really good cook.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, well, he didn’t get that from me. I can barely boil a damn egg.”

You smiled to yourself; you could imagine Dean got it from his mother then.

Meanwhile, John was watching you stack the empty plates as he grew more contemplative. He’d always been proud of his sons. They were good men, with strong heads on their shoulders.

He often looked at Sam and saw that he seemed happy. Despite the demands of his job, he was learning to balance that with the life he led with Eileen. As a father, John looked forward to the day when they made a firm foundation, taking the next step towards building a life together.

But Dean had seemed to him, a little unstable. John was still proud of his eldest, but while he’d seen a glimpse of it that day at your house, he saw it even more today. Like his son finally had an anchor, tethering him to dry land.

Even so, he couldn’t help heaving a sigh. And he asked you something he knew he shouldn’t.

“Have you given any more thought to filing a report on Nick Savage?” he asked.

You paused in your plate and cup stacking. You looked up at him with a frown, but you thought about your words before you said something rude.

“Yes, I did,” you replied. “I decided my life and my peace were more important.”

He let out a short sigh. “I understand—”

“I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think you do,” you said. Your words were matter-of-fact, if a tad more sharp than you meant them to be. Your hands were starting to tremble.

You crossed your arms to try and steady yourself, but Dean ended up doing just that, by joining your side and resting a hand at the small of your back. He was frowning, glancing between you and his father.

“Tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are,” Dean said, addressing John in particular. “Not on damn Christmas.”

“Like you said, it’s her decision,” John replied. His gaze once again focused on you.

You let out a breath, mostly of exasperation.

“I’m going to bottom-line it for you. If I report that man, and you can’t guarantee me a job and safety until it’s all over, then I’m not poking the bear,” you said. “I plan to keep my head down until I can find another job. Until then, you can have at him all you want. Just leave me out of it.”

Part of you felt selfish. You knew what John was trying to accomplish, and you knew how personal this fight was for him, and for Sam and Dean for that matter. You just couldn’t shake your gut instincts here. You knew Nick far too well by now, and you didn’t want to underestimate him again.

“I agree,” said Dean. You gave him a grateful look.

John conceded with a nod, but all of you knew he wasn’t satisfied. It became a bitter ending to an otherwise brilliant day after he left for the night.

In your mind, it wasn’t quite over yet though. You had a plan up your sleeve for one Dean Winchester.

Sam and Eileen had their own time together while you and Dean went for a drive in your new car. You’d have to transfer your plate and registration and insurance, so it was technically an “illegal” drive, but it was already late and traffic was scarce.

By the time you pulled back into the parking lot, you were smiling from ear to ear, and Dean was giving you that smug grin that said, Aw yeah, I did good.

You couldn’t even fault him for it, because he did exactly that.

Even when you and Dean were getting ready for bed, it didn’t quite feel real. You were living with your boyfriend of just a few months, you now had a new car, and a crime lord had threatened your life.

You chose to focus on the new car. And on your boyfriend, who sat on the edge of his side of the bed, rubbing his right shoulder through his shirt. You knew it must still be sore, though he likely wouldn’t admit it.

Hence, you were about to enact Phase 1 of your plan…

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

You withdrew your hand from his arm, but you spoke close to his ear.

“Are you asking?”

He let out a small sigh, despite his lingering smile.

“All right. Will you please give me a lil’ massage?” he asked.

He couldn’t see your triumphant smile, but you happily kissed his cheek.

“I sure can,” you replied. You laid gentle hands on his shoulders, however briefly. “Stay right here. Don’t move, but take off your shirt.”

“All right, Miss Bossy,” he grumbled. You knew he was teasing by the amused look he threw your way.

“I thought you liked that,” you teased back.

You climbed off the bed before he could playfully grab you, and you giggled all the way to the bathroom. There you began Phase 2 of your plan. 

First, you collected a few different bottles from your designated drawer under the sink. Then, you made a quick wardrobe change, after popping back into the bedroom to grab something from your nightstand.

You also connected your phone to the speaker on his nightstand and put some music on a low volume. It was a playlist he’d made and shared with you a while ago, with songs he thought you’d like. The Eagles’ “Take It to the Limit” was definitely on the list.

By the time you returned to Dean, he was indeed shirtless, still in his sweatpants, and checking his watch.  

“I’m here, I’m here,” you said. You climbed across the bed with your small haul—a difficult feat with your hands full, but you managed.

Dean turned to look at the bottles of moisturizer you dropped next to him on the bed. He rose a brow.

“Twilight Woods. Japanese Cherry Blossom. Appletini. Are these my only options?” he asked. His face was half bemused, half reluctant.

You almost burst out laughing. “Which one strikes your fancy?”

He scratched the back of his head. You opened the second bottle first (your personal favorite), so he could smell.

“Not bad actually,” he muttered. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t giggle, but you managed to open the other two for him to get a whiff.

“Eh, the first one I guess,” he said.

Japanese Cherry Blossom. AKA: a classic from Bath & Body Works.

You finally had to laugh. “Just kidding. I’ve got this.”

You held up a jar you’d been hiding behind him. Its logo said: Massage Oil.

“I just wanted to see which girly moisturizer you secretly wanna slather all over yourself,” you said.

Dean shot you a wry look, but only then did he see what you were wearing.

“Oh, hold up,” he uttered.

Your hair was let loose, how you knew he liked, and you’d teased it out a little. You’d had to give away the red lingerie you’d bought, to rid both of you of its lingering memories of your work Christmas party. Instead, you’d found something in a vibrant emerald green: satin and lace.

Dean’s hand reached for your waist, probably to bring you closer. But you playfully slapped his hand.

“Eh-eh! Not yet,” you said to his surprised face. You smiled. “I have a plan for you tonight.”

Slowly, he smirked. His eyes still dipped to take in the rest of you, from your pretty face, to exposed skin and cleavage, to shiny satin that clung to your curves and draped down to mid-thigh. 

“I can see,” he said. His voice was a notch deeper. “Merry Christmas to me.”

Despite your blush and growing smile, you turned him back around by his shoulders.

“Just relax.”

You let your hands drifts up the back of his neck to slide your fingers through his hair. There you began with a slow, gentle massage of his head. You felt him take a deep breath.

You couldn’t see it, but Dean’s eyes had closed at your ministrations. He secretly really liked the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It made his shoulders loosen; with tension he didn’t know he had releasing from the neck down.

Aside from the rigors of his job, he also had to work out and condition his body to keep up his stamina. He probably didn’t spend as much time as he should on this aspect of things, making sure he wasn’t overtaxing himself.

He appreciated what you were doing though. He knew you cared about him, that you loved him. But he liked like you were also a caring person, who tried to take care of him. Dean hadn’t really had that…from anyone before. Sometimes, it was hard for him to let you.

…Damn, we really got too much in common, he realized.

When you migrated back down his neck, your hands left for a moment to gather up some oil. It was warm against his skin when you started between his shoulders, digging with the heel of your hands.

He groaned deep, surprising even himself.

Behind him, your brows were furrowed. “You’re really knotted up here. When was the last time you had a massage?”

Dean chuckled. “Never.”

You frowned. “Hmm. Okay, we’re definitely doing this more often.”

“No complaints from me,” he said with a grin.

Of course, you gave special attention to his right shoulder. You were gentler there, asking what was tender and what felt good, or too much. By then you had an easier time getting the truth out of Dean. He let you know when the pressure was too much, and you even helped him stretch out that arm until the muscles and joints were warmed up and the pain was gone.

You encouraged him to lie on his stomach in the middle of the bed, so you could start on his back. Your hands glided down planes of muscle and smooth slopes while you straddled his thighs. The only sounds you heard from him were occasional moans and rumbling, pleased sounds. That was also what let you know that he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Okay, turn over,” you said, smiling when he groaned in protest. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

“What the hell’s the good part then?” he asked. His voice was muffled in the mattress, but when he turned around, flopping onto his back, his eyes once again took in the green satin and seemed to remember what your real intentions were.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. His grin was lazy, now that he was beyond relaxed, but his hands found purchase on your hips. You smiled down at him.

You let the remaining oil on your hands glide up his chest, until you lowered down for a kiss. It was unhurried and sweet.

“I love you, you know?” you said.

Dean swept his fingers through your hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear.

He smiled. “I’ve got some idea, yeah.”

You both laughed, soft and true. Your hand rested against his cheek as you pressed your lips to his, soft and slow at first, but soon gaining in both passion and urgency. You felt his grip on your hips tighten, grinding your center against his growing length.

He groaned. No goddamn panties on. Good.

You kissed your way from his lips to his neck. Your teeth grazed his ear while you rolled your hips into his. It was a tease for both of you, but not for long, as Dean grew impatient enough to slide his sweatpants down, followed by his hands slipping under the satin covering your thighs. They traveled further still, squeezing your breasts and rolling hardened nipples under the pads of his thumbs.

Your breath hitched, and your pleased hum was music to his ears. By now you were bracing yourself against the mattress, but you used his shoulders as leverage to raise yourself up.

You took his hands and encouraged them to bunch up the satin and pull it over your head. Dean sat up with you still in his lap, and once his strong arm wrapped around your waist, it was skin to flushed skin.

You held his face and brought him down to you for another fierce kiss. He held you tightly against him, hands played across your back and tangling in your hair. His arms were a cage you never wanted to escape.

But you did press away from him, just for a moment, so you could reach down between your bodies to take a firm hold of his cock. You guided it to your entrance. There was already a small flood between your legs, and your core ached for him.

There was almost no resistance when you slowly sunk your hips down and down, until he was buried deep inside you.

You both made sounds of pleasure, with labored breaths as Dean’s hand cradled your cheek. He laid open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, teeth grazing down your neck.

You clung to his shoulders and began to move, slow in the way you let almost the full length of his cock escape you, before you slid back down. Dean moaned into your skin, and you let out a shuddering sigh.

You pushed at Dean’s chest until he was lying back, and you continued rolling your hips against his. He helped you create a steady rhythm on top of him, but he was being treated to a feast of the eyes as well as the pleasure rocking through his body. He watched the way you swept your hair back. The way your eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip.

But he couldn’t stay still for long; he knew he was close enough to practically taste his end, but you had some miles to go. He gripped your thigh with one hand while the other glided up between them, to further part your folds. His fingers found your clit, circling insistently like it was a button. It had your hips stuttering.

“Oh, God,” you uttered. “Dean—”

He managed to smirk through panting breaths. “Right there, right baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You continued to move as steadily as you could, but the feeling of him deep inside combined with his talented fingers playing you like a five-string guitar—it finally made you tighten on him, shuddering deep inside. Tingles broke across your skin, zipping up your spine as you gasped.

Dean helped you with the last few hard thrusts that brought him along with you, and you felt his warmth spilling inside you.

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, since you were on birth control. But after you slid off his lap and practically rolled into his side, him welcoming you with an arm wrapping around your waist, it did make you think, as you caught your breath.

It made you think about the first time you and Dean slept together. It had been the first and last time you’d asked him to wear a condom. The next morning, he’d made a remark that still hung in the back of your mind…

“You like kids, huh?”

The thought still rattled through your mind now, after you and Dean shared a quick shower, ridding you both of the oil clinging to your skin. The thought remained when you slid into bed, under fresh sheets and thick covers, and close to your man. He cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes at the feeling.

Contrary to what this night had been, the whole “moving in together” thing hadn’t been all that easy. You two had bickered about the way he often left drawers and cabinets open and dirty clothes on the floor.

He had made remarks about your hair products taking up too much space in his drawers. Not to mention how morning routines needed to adjust because Dean liked to shower in the morning, but you needed the mirror not fogged up in order to do your makeup.

Right now, however, you had peace. You felt safe here, and you weren’t alone in a huge house filled with far too many memories.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Dean’s lips lingered on your forehead. “Hmm?”

“I know this situation is sort of temporary, me living here,” you said. “So much has happened that we haven’t really talked about…what we both want, down the line.”

He pulled back enough from you to see your face. His face betrayed a thread of confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean like…” you hesitated, but you realized you were probably going to have to be direct. “Are you a marriage and kids kind of guy? Is that even something you’ve thought about?”

Dean met your gaze. It took him a moment, but he let out a short sigh.

“You wanna know what made me want to start dating, for real?” he asked.

You blinked; you hadn’t expected that, but you nodded.

“I started thinking about what would happen if something happened to me on the job,” he said. You frowned, but before you could say anything, he raised a placating hand.

“I thought about what I’d leave behind,” said Dean. He quirked a wry smile. “It’s not much, besides my car.”

You frowned in earnest. Your hand flattened against his bare chest.

“That’s not true,” you said. “You have your brother, your father, and your friends. That’s plenty, Dean.”

He conceded that with a nod. “You’re right. But I just started thinking, maybe I want more. Like uh…like what my parents had, when they were happy. The house, each other, me and Sammy…a family.”

You couldn’t be certain in the near total darkness of the room, with only the moonlight filtering through the blinds and casting a glow behind him, but you thought you saw a shine in his eyes. Your hand crept up from beneath the covers to find his cheek. It was rough with stubble, yet you tenderly swept a thumb back and forth.

“I think that’s beautiful,” you replied.

Dean paused. He then huffed in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, hoping he could see it. 

“Then uh, is that something you’d be into?” he asked. You were amused by his tentative approach. 

“With you?” You pretended to think. Your fingers slipped into his hair. “Yeah, I think I’m into that.”

He chuckled. “Okay, then. Good to know.”

He grasped your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss into your palm.

And he spoke into the dark. “I love you too, you know.”

Your smile deepened as you rested your head against his arm. You whispered into the small space between your faces.

“Yeah, I’ve got some idea.”

AN: 🥹 All righty, how'd you like that fluff overload?

...Ready for some more drama? 😏

Next Time:

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[azazelsconfessional]

((I was writing an answer and it hit me

So we learn in Chapter 11 that because Kengo wasn't wearing his Artifact properly(he had it around his arm/hand instead of tied around his waist like a proper belt) that it apparently wasn't as effective.

By that logic, is Azazel meant to read from the Bible for maximum effect? Would every verse do something different?? He mostly seems to use it as a channeling device for his powers as a Watcher, but now I wonder if that's a preexisting power and he'd be able to do other stuff if he read it. It seems like it'd have an interesting effect in terms of like. Preaching. Among other things.

The chains probably won't let him turn people into salt or anything else viciously deadly but it'd explain why he can use magic to fight in-game(aside from that they probably didn't introduce None units when he was released. Or i assume they didn't since none of the early cards are None units.)

. . .just a thought. It could also cause his sermons to be more 'effective', if not be outright idk hypnotizing in some way.))

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Too Late For An Apology

Word Count: 1,823

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader; John Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, slight torture, slight TW: abuse, but doesn’t go too in depth

A/N: i’m sorry my posting schedule sucks now oof

A/N 2: Thanks to my fav bitch @tragedy-of-sorts​ for reading and also for being my fav 

A/N 3: The reader’s like six years younger than Dean, two younger than Sam

Masterlist

You heard your doorbell ringing in the middle of the night, while you shot your head up, looking at the clock next to you. It was 3 in the morning. You frowned slightly, reaching for your gun before slipping out of bed, looking through the eyehole.

“Dad?” you opened the door, revealing your father showing up in front of you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” you wrapped your arms around John, still in shock.

“Dad, what are you doing here? And at this time?” he walked into your apartment before you closed the door, turning on the lights.

“I have a lead. Hunting the demon that killed your mother. I’ll need your help,” he started.

You felt chills going down your spine.

“Where are Sam and Dean?” you asked.

“Sam went away to college, and Dean’s off somewhere, on a hunt probably,” he replied.

“Wouldn't either of them be able to help you better? I haven't hunted in two years, Dad,” you kept your voice low.

“They can’t know. They’ll mess everything up, you know how your brothers are. We leave tomorrow, okay?” you nodded your head softly, before going to pack your bag, getting ready for the big hunt.

---

“That’s totally unfair! (Y/N) doesn't have to train! (Y/N) doesn’t have to do anything!” you could hear Dean yelling at John, while you hid behind the door of Bobby’s house. You held a drawing in your hands, one that you made of yourself with your siblings and father.

“She is a child!” John yelled back.

“She’s twelve! When me and Sam were twelve you would force us to hunt! You never let us rest? I hate (Y/N) and I hate how you give her special treatment all the damn time!” tears welled up in your eyes as you crumpled the paper, stuffing it into your bag before sneaking back upstairs.

---

“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you and Dad for?” you kept your gaze on your bed sheets in your hospital room, hearing Dean yell at you.

“I tried to-”

“Not only do you abandon us, now you’re back, and with Dad, and never thought it was important to tell us?” he yelled.

You frowned slightly before realization hit you. They never knew why you left.

“I’m sorry,” you clenched your jaw.

He groaned, frustrated.

“Get ready, we’re leaving,” he slammed the door shut as he walked out of your hospital room.

---

“I saw your journal in the trash can, (Y/N),” John sat down next to you in your bed.

“I’m kind of over the whole drawing thing,” you lied, shaking your head.

“What happened?” John asked.

“Nothing happened, I just don't like it anymore,” you shrugged, turning back to your schoolwork.

“Just like that?” he questioned.

“I want to go on a hunt,” you said.

“What? (Y/N)...”

“I’m sure, Dad,” you interrupted him.

“Fine. We’ll start your training tomorrow,” he agreed.

He kissed your forehead and left, before you laid on your bed, digging your face in your pillow.

---

You held back a sob, watching John’s body burst into flames. There was silence between the three of you, while you stood a distance away from them.

“Sam,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Let’s go,” he walked away from you, while he and Dean headed back to the car.

Your tears fell down your face, as you let out a shaky breath.

“(Y/N)!” Sam yelled.

“I-I’m coming,” you followed them back to the car, keeping your head low.

---

Your vision was blurry as you sat in the chair, a rope tied to your hands painfully. There was blood dripping from your wounds as you cried out in pain.

“Just tell us where he is,” the vampire grabbed your hair, pulling your head up.

“No!” you screamed.

Your face was covered with dried tears, new ones forming. Your eye was bruised. 

“You’re gonna talk, kid. Sooner or later,” you felt his fangs enter the skin on your neck as you whimpered. Your body was too weak to move.

“Just let me go, please,” you begged.

You could barely keep your eyes open, crying softly.

---

“What happened to your eye?” Dean walked past you, noticing the darkened skin around your left eye.

“Don't worry about it,” you shook your head, avoiding eye contact with him.

You knew he didn't remember what he did to you last night.

“Me and Sam are going on a hunt,” he said.

“Just you and Sam?” you asked.

“(Y/N), you know you’ll just end up slowing us down. If we need you, we’ll call you,” he replied.

“Right,” you nodded your head softly.

After the two of them left, you ran to your room, stuffing all your belongings into a duffel bag.

Now was finally your chance to leave them. They always hated you, it didn't matter that you were their sister. Your black eye is the least they've done to you while drunk, and you knew you had to leave.

You stood at the door, looking down at the bunker before shaking your head. It was time to go.

---

“Dad?” you opened your eyes, scrunching them as the fluorescent hospital light blinded you.

“(Y/N),” he let out a breath of relief, wrapping his arms around you as you winced.

“You’re not hunting ever again,” your eyes watered slightly as you nodded your head.

“I’m going to set you up with an apartment. You’re leaving this life,” you frowned.

“Dad, no-”

“Yes, (Y/N). You were tortured for information. I am trying to keep you safe, do not argue with me,” he raised his voice slightly.

“How come you never treat Sam and Dean like this?” you scoffed.

“They’re not my daughter. You are,” he said.

“That’s not an excuse. They’re still my brothers. They are still your sons,” you crossed your arms together.

“Enough, (Y/N). I’ll be back in the morning to get you,” he said.

“Dad,” he closed the door, leaving your room while you sighed, slumping in your bed.

---

“Babe? Are you home? I’ve been stuck at work all day, and I know we’re late to pick up…” you dropped your bag on the floor, Sam and Dean standing in front of you while you entered your house.

“Your husband and kid are out,” Dean spoke.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you were sure to take a step back.

“We could ask you the same thing, you know,” Sam scoffed.

“You left us again. You abandoned us again,” Dean clenched his fist in anger as you tensed, feeling fear run throughout your veins.

“I don't… why are you guys here?” your voice was softer as you scratched the back of your neck.

“You can't be here, you’re a danger to my family,” you could feel the nervousness in your veins as you stood firmly. You’ve spent too long afraid of them.

“You son of a bitch. What the hell are we then?!” Dean yelled.

You flinched slightly.

“Why did you leave, (Y/N)? Why did you run away?” Sam’s voice was slightly calmer, anger still evident.

“I couldn't take both of your crap anymore,” you shook your head.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean scoffed.

“The day I left, you asked me how I got that black eye. Because you didn't remember giving it to me that previous night,” you dug your nails into your palm, trying to hold back your tears. Dean immediately scoffed, shaking his head.

“You’re lying,” he said.

“All my life, the two of you have despised everything about me,” you started.

“(Y/N),” Sam opened his mouth.

“Shut up!” you yelled.

You saw a surprised look on both of their faces.

“I never noticed it until I was twelve. I drew a picture for you, Dean. It was a picture of all of us, Mom included. I wanted to give it to you until I overheard you talking with Dad. Y-You told him how much you hated… how much you hated me,” you let a tear fall down your face, as Dean’s softened.

“I always tried to do whatever I could to get you two to like me, or at least to not hate me. But nothing I ever did was good enough,” you sniffled.

“That doesn't change the fact that you abandoned us,” Dean tried to defend himself.

“The first time I left was because a vampire was trying to use me to get to Dad. He didn't want that for me, and so he took me out of the life, at least until he got a lead on Azazel,” you clenched your jaw, letting out a shaky breath.

“T-The… you and Sam used to get really, really drunk. You’d never remember it in the morning. You would h-hurt me. I covered up so many bruises because I didn't want to upset you two,” your voice broke slightly as you looked at Dean.

There were visible tears in his and Sam’s eyes.

“I never knew why you hated me so much. W-Was it because Dad treated me differently? Was it because I’m the youngest? Was it because I reminded you of Mom? Was it because… was it jealousy?” Dean took a step forward, while you quickly took a step back.

“(Y/N), we never meant… We never meant to hurt you,” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“That’s all you have? Really?” you scoffed.

“Sam, just… (Y/N). Listen to me,” Dean started.

“I was jealous of you. Dad always treated you differently, always treated you specially. I was stupid, and wrong. Every time I did anything for Dad, I would only get into more trouble. Whenever you disobeyed him, he would ignore it. I’ve been jealous of you my whole life. Even now. Y-You have a kid, you have a family. You got out. I’m sorry, kid. I’m so sorry for everything,” you wiped away your tears as you kept a strong face on.

“I need you both to leave,” you said.

“I’m sorry-” Dean said.

“The door. I need you both to leave. Now,” you shook your head.

“(Y/N)...”

“You’re about 34 years too late for an apology. I want you to leave. Don't come back here, stay away from me and my family,” the two of them looked at you in shock, before walking to your front door, while you held it open to them.

Dean gave you a small hug, while you remained stiff.

“Take care of yourself, kiddo,” he gave you a small smile, before walking out of your house.

You closed the door behind the two of them, immediately falling to the ground as you let out a loud sob, feeling your heart racing as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Your sobs died down as you leaned against the door, wrapping your arms around yourself. You needed to stay strong, and they needed to stay away.

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 22: Death, Birth, and New Beginnings

AO3

Ships: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 9214

Trigger Warnings: Violence

A/N: Listen, y'all have @revoleotion to thank for me finishing and uploading this today. I did cry a few times while finishing this chapter. It's a long one, but I hope y'all like the finale! Comments are appreciated!

Prev

So it's settled then.

Lucifer's voice still echoed in his mind. It played in the background as he mulled over ways to breach the subject with Asmodeus.

You and I will venture down into the caverns ourselves, find the heart and return. The others shall remain here where it is safe.

As safe as it could be. 

There had been an increase in attacks from abominations. Solomon could only guess that Azazel had been biding his time and working on his little projects under the noses of his family.  He wasn't holding back anymore. Not only was the clock ticking to save Diavolo, but also to stop Azazel from wreaking havoc across the land. He wouldn't stop with Arcadia, he would never be happy with just Arcadia.

There was still risk involved, sure, but at least the royal guard would be here. They wouldn't be in the caverns.

Leaving everyone else behind was the only way to keep them safe, but-

"No."

Asmo didn't like it.

"Asmodeus, please, just listen to me."

"No."

He didn't like it one bit.

Solomon let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He loved Asmo, he really did, but this… This was ridiculous. "Asmodeus this is for your own good. Now please-"

"My own good?" Asmodeus scoffed, "My own good? What, if you don't mind telling me, is so good about having my dearest older brother and my husband, the two people I love the most mind you, wandering back down into the caverns where there's already danger on what is essentially a suicide mission while I'm stuck up here?"

"It's not a suicide mission Asmodeus."

"That's what Satan called it!"

Solomon rubbed his eyes, he could feel frustration bubbling at the back of his mind. It was going to be dangerous, and that was exactly why Asmo couldn't go. What chance did a small bunny have against a pack of vicious wolves? How would he ever forgive himself if he allowed something to happen to him.  He needed to keep his nerves, he needed to talk sense into Asmo. 

He wished he'd been the one to break the news to Asmodeus.

"Asmodeus, you're being a bit-"

"Don't you dare say unreasonable."

"I was going to say, anxious."

Asmo crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Solomon bit his tongue, pulling back the vicious words his mind thought of.  They were both frustrated, and he wasn't going to give into it. He reached out towards Asmo's shoulder. Perhaps gentle touches were the answer-

"Don't touch me."

Or not.

"Asmodeus-" 

"You're not touching me to get me to agree with this horribly stupid idea that you and my brother have concocted!"

"It's because we care about you Asmodeus."

"And obviously you care more about me than I care about you?"

"Don't be sarcastic, I never said that."

"I'm going to be sarcastic as long as you insist on being stubborn," Asmo drove his finger dead center into Solomon's chest so hard it felt like a spear on the brink of puncturing skin and bone, "You're hurt and therefore I should come along."

"I'm not doing that Asmodeus."

"And who said you could control me?"

"No-"

"So I can certainly follow you if I want to!"

"No!" his own tone would have scared Solomon if his emotions hadn't been so high. He was stressed. He was angry. He was petrified. "You're staying here! You're not coming with us! That's final."

"And why not?"  Asmo was matching him. They were going toe to toe in their most aggressive dance yet.

They were both escalating the situation in a grand crescendo in what was their most agitated dance yet.  Solomon wasn't sure how it would end. He could never be sure how it would end, he wasn't even sure about the next words that would come out of his mouth.

"Because I can't lose you Asmodeus!"

There it was.

"And how do you think I feel?" there was a tremor is Asmo's voice now, one that almost made him sink in on himself, but his eyes…. His eyes were still filled with fire. 

"Do you think that for a single second Solomon, I would be compliant in just standing by and letting my husband walk backwards into hell towards his death?"

"It's not-"

"Don't tell me that's not what this is! Why else would you be so insistent that I shouldn't be allowed to come?" Asmo lowered his hand, but he was still boring holes into his soul, "I wouldn't be able to live with the idea of losing you." 

He moved away from Solomon's touch, only taking a moment longer to stare deep into his eyes before rounding and storming out of the room. This left Solomon with nothing else to do but sink into his chair. 

Well, that certainty could have gone worse, but it also wasn't the best case scenario. 

Maybe Solomon was being selfish. Maybe he was only thinking of himself once again. Maybe he hadn't changed as much as he thought. Maybe he'd only changed the perspective from which he was looking through.  

It was the same tune, different tempo.

The same window, a different season.

It was selfish, and Solomon didn't care. A life without Asmodeus was not one he wished to reenter. And if that made him a selfish man, he would stay a selfish man. His kingdom was a part of Arcadia now, and if anything happened to him, Asmodeus would inherit all he had. Perhaps things would be better that way.

"That probably didn't go as well as you wanted it to." Simeon looked a little frazzled as he stepped into the room.

"It certainly could have gone better," Barbatos agreed, following not too far behind.

Solomon felt himself slump further into his chair.  He knew that it hadn't gone well, but had others really needed to witness such poor humiliation? Not only his humiliation, but Asmo’s as well. He was sure his spouse wouldn’t want anyone seeing him in the state he was currently in. “Is there a reason you’ve entered my chambers or have you simply come to tell me what a terrible husband I am?”

“His majesty was curious as to whether you’ve solidified your plans for finding the Heart, he is rather eager to get this whole ordeal over with.”

“As we all are,” Simeon set a few books on top of Solomon’s nightstand. Solomon couldn’t help but wonder if he had meant to say that last bit out loud. Had he even realized he said it out loud?

“Yes, I’m as prepared as I possibly could be, I think I know exactly how to find it.” They would have to go a little off path of the symbols. If Solomon’s hunch was correct, and if his memory wasn’t too disturbed from his run in with Azazel, there should be a slightly different symbol in the passageway below. It wouldn’t be obvious if you weren’t looking for it, but if he was paying attention he could find it and it would lead them right to the Heart. He had to be right, and even if he wasn’t he’d have to fake his confidence. There was absolutely no room to waver. 

Barbatos nodded, and his eyes wandered towards the doorway, “And, would you like me to ask his lordship to speak with the prince?”

“No.”

Solomon’s answer was immediate. The word flew past his lips faster than he could register. Even before his thoughts caught up with him  he knew why he’d said it. It was one thing for Solomon to tell Asmodeus he had to stay behind, it would be something completely different if he asked Lucifer to say something to him. It would be different if Lucifer wanted to speak on his own volition, but for Solomon to ask him to talk with him would be a violation of trust. It would be a terrible betrayal. Solomon couldn’t tell him what to do, he couldn’t control him and it would be wrong of him to do so. Going to Lucifer, well, that would certainly feel like attempting to control Asmo. 

“No,” he repeated the word again, but softer this time, “I’ll speak to him.”

Barbatos nodded. There was no other word on the issue.  

Simeon moved across the room silently, thoughts were tumbling over in his mind, "I can't say I blame him. I'm not that fond of this idea either. You really don't plan on bringing anyone else with you?"

"I wouldn't feel right doing so, Simeon."

"You don't have to be a hero you know."

Solomon could feel the edge in his words. He knew Simeon disagreed with him. That was what he liked about Simeon, he was never afraid to vocalize what he felt. It was refreshing and Solomon needed a voice like that. But that didn't mean he had to follow his friend's words. 

"Luke needs you, Simeon, it would be selfish of me to steal you from him."

Maybe Asmo was right.

Maybe he was walking straight to his death.

And maybe he wondered if he would welcome it with open arms.

***

“You have Asmodeus quite upset with you.”

Solomon had wanted to run into Satan, but he hadn’t been expecting the fourth prince to be looking for him as well. Solomon tried to read his expression, he couldn’t tell if he was angry at him in particular or the situation as a whole. Maybe it was both.

“His voice was echoing off every wall in the library, I'd never seen him like that before."

Satan did say that Asmo told him everything in the confines of the library. He could only imagine how his partner must have been if Satan couldn't get him to quiet down in his library. 

Solomon ran his hand through his hair, "I figured he wouldn't be the happiest with me. I didn't expect him to take the news well."

"So you knew it would upset him?"

"My intention was not to upset him, no."

But he had a feeling it would, all the same. Asmodeus adored him, just as he adored Asmodeus. Asmo was doting and kind, and Solomon knew he had anxieties, many of which stemmed from trauma. With all that he knew of Asmodeus, Solomon knew that he would hate his idea from the very beginning, but he also never tried to talk him into not doing it. Instead he wanted to go with them, and Solomon couldn't let that happen. 

"I would like to speak with him again," Solomon continued, but Satan would cut him off.

"So you can upset him again?" Solomon didn’t miss the edge in Satan’s voice this time. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest.  He upset Asmo, so he deserved it. 

“No, of course not. I’d just like to speak with him again. Leaving him in such a state would be unthinkable,” Solomon meant no harm, and he hoped that maybe he’d be able to have Asmo understand things from his perspective, “Do you know where I might be able to find him?”

***

There was something cathartic about walking through Arcadia’s lands. He walked by the arena, seeing Leviathan practice with his favored guard as Mammon lounged back in the stands and away from the main grounds of the palace and into Asmodeus’ sector.  It was so vibrant and pretty, he wanted to commit every image to memory, every tiny flower, the way the people interacted with each other. 

And then there was his husband.

His beautiful perfect husband. 

A man so fit to rule by his side and care for his kingdom, well, his section of Arcadia.

Looking back, Solomon swore he was glowing, that the sun formed a halo around his perfect pretty curls. Solomon couldn’t help but lean against a nearby tree and just admire him. He looked so pretty smiling and laughing, dancing in between men, women, and children alike. They adored him, they loved their prince and he loved them just as much. Who was Solomon to take him away from them?

He felt a wetness prick at his eyes, even if only for a moment, before he wiped it away. 

By the time he looked up, Asmo had seen him. They locked eyes and Solomon straightened himself. 

They met in the middle and then walked in silence to a place they had gone to talk time and time again in favor of avoiding prying eyes and ears. Time seemed to slow to a near stop. He committed their walk to memory. Every tree, every stone, every flap of a butterfly’s wings became seared in his mind’s eye. When they finally led themselves deep enough into the woods, Solomon sat at the edge of a hill, watching only for a moment as his husband stood and stared out at the sky on the horizon.  

After a moment longer, Solomon cleared his throat to speak, but Asmodeus had other plans in mind.  

“Twice now, you have told me that I am as dangerous as I am beautiful, that you know I’m strong,” he glanced down at Solomon, “Did you not mean that?”

“No, of course not, I meant every word I said to you-”

“Then why are you so insistent that I stay?”

Solomon felt his throat tighten, his face stared straight ahead. He focused on the sky ahead. 

“I love you, and I can’t stand to lose you.”

The sun.

“I don’t have many people who care for me, but you- Asmodeus you have so many people who love you. So many people would grieve you if I let something happen to you.”

The clouds.

“And if anything were to happen to me, I need you to care for our people. For Simeon. For Luke.”

The birds.

All of them became blurrier and blurrier with the ever passing seconds. He already hated the idea that he was taking Arcadia’s king with him. He couldn’t risk the chance of him stealing away another one of their beloved princes, a prince who Solomon had come to love and adore more than anything. His darling little bunny, so warm and loving and with so many to love him. So many people were at risk he couldn’t place another life on the line, especially not the one he loves. 

He didn’t notice Asmo kneeling before him. It took both hands on his cheeks and a turn of his head for him to notice, and even then, he didn’t want to look in his partner’s eyes. “You have many people who love you, including me, and I don't want to lose you either," Asmo stroked his cheek and pressed their foreheads together, "What about all of those promises you made me? What about the life we're supposed to have after?" 

Solomon didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. Instead he collapsed into Asmodeus and let his worries fall from his eyes.

***

The countdown had begun in Solomon's mind, and so he started committing every inch of Asmo to memory. It hit him. He hadn't wanted it too, and it did. He wanted to touch every part of his skin, remember how his kiss felt on his lips. He wanted to remember roses and honey, and eyes that held entire sunsets.  

Asmodeus  kissed him while they were still alone, and then the little bird charm on his bracelet. 

"I promise I'll take care of them," he whispered  "Promise me you'll come back. Please."

Solomon remained silent, eyes becoming lost in the wall behind them.

"Solomon."

"I'll try my best. I will," he cupped Asmo's face and sighed, "For you. I want to, so so badly." 

They stayed in their embrace, time ticking away ever so slowly. If only they could be in a different life. Everything could have been simpler for them. If only the stars had been kinder.

If he could trade a few years of his life for only 

seconds more with Asmo he would.

The rest of the family trickled in front of the cavern doors. Asmo's fingers moved slowly in his palm as they all stared in silence.

"Mammon," Lucifer's voice has the second son coming to attention, eyeing his brother with a certain kind of anxiety, "I expect you to take care of things while I'm gone. Take care of your brothers."

Mammon nodded, "I wouldn't have done anything less."

It was hard to believe that this was the same family Solomon had had so many dinners with. The same family who hurled food like they did insults. It was the family that Asmodeus loved, and Solomon was part of it now and he was going to do something to benefit the family.

Lucifer was looking at him now. It was time to go. Slowly he untangled his reluctant fingers from warm, tender hands and moved next to Lucifer’s side. It was time to repay the family that took him in. It was time to pay his due diligence to Arcadia. Lucifer reached for the corridor doors.

Then they thumped. Lucifer pulled back and Solomon felt magic start to tingle at his fingertips. 

“What the hell is that?” Mammon murmured, hand already reaching for the hilt of his sword.

“Nothing good,” Leviathan chimed in, mirroring his brother.

Growls started to emanate  as the thudding came faster. The door could only withstand so much. And when it did give out, it burst into a thousand tiny splinters hurtling through the sky as the caverns gave birth to one of their horrible monstrosities. Its neck was incredibly long, and its head very pointed. To Solomon it almost looked like a giant bird, but if it had been anything else before, it was unrecognizable. It had tiny claws for hands and points for hind legs that cracked the ground with every step. With tiny, black, beady eyes that  scoped around the room, looking at its prey and then its mouth unfurled like a flower from hell, lined with razor sharp teeth,  as it let out a screech that sent chills down Solomon’s spine.  It lunged for Lucifer, and Solomon’s body moved on instinct.

Without thinking he shielded them both with his magic, and the creature came down on them over, and over again. While he focused on keeping the shield up, he saw a second one crawl from the depths out of the corner of his eye.

He heard Mammon yell something, and metal cut through the air as the creatures let out terrible screeches. They had to think of something, had to come up with some way to take these creatures down. They needed a plan. 

"Let down your shield."

"What?"

Lucifer had his sword drawn, eyes focused on the monstrosity before them,  "Let your shield down. When I say."

Solomon was hesitant, but one look at Lucifer and he knew that anything else wasn't an option. So he waited for the creature to rear, and when it was at its peak, he lowered the shield and Lucifer lunged. 

He struck the creature with force and it screeched. Solomon flicked a quick spell towards its eyes and it started to topple backwards, but not before one of its hind legs smacked Lucifer, sending him toppling down the passageway. As it fell backwards it hit one of the pillars.  Solomon just started to register the screams of the servants as the pillar cracked and started to fall towards him. He needed to do something and yet his body froze around him, rendering his consciousness a prisoner.

Slowly his hands moved and magic sparked, but it was all too slow. He wasn't fast enough, couldn't be fast enough.

And then a thud sent him flying. A warm body with his tumbled down the stairs as a pillar collapsed over the entryway. When he finally stopped tumbling, he had to take a moment to catch his breath. The searing pain in his arm returned. Forcing himself upwards he registered two things:

Lucifer trying in vain to push past the blockade to rejoin his family in combat.

And the last person he wanted to see stuck down here with him.

Asmodeus slowly pushed himself upwards, his attire was ripped and scuffed, and a few offended scratches dared to mar his body. He pushed himself up and turned to look at Solomon and then his brother, who at this point realized he could do nothing but stare helplessly at the blockade before him. 

"Lucifer."

Asmo's voice was soft. Lucifer's shoulders had slumped forward, his frame broke for a second. Solomon was seeing the weight of everything that had happened finally hit Lucifer. There was an air of helplessness surrounding him, and it was very disturbing. But there were more pressing matters on Solomon's mind.

He stumbled trying to stand, suppressing the way his arm throbbed, and made his way over to Asmodeus placing his hands on his shoulders. "We have to find a safe place for you to stay."

"What?"

"Your brother and I are going to be going deeper into the caverns, it's only going to be more danger-"

"You're fucking kidding me."

Solomon was taken aback.

"You're seriously going to leave me by myself down here and call it a day? You're going to leave me here?"

Asmo was backing him up now and all Solomon could do was raise his hands in defense.

"Of all of the idiotic, stubborn-"

Rocks falling stopped Asmo in his tirade. The pair turned around looking at where the noise came from. Solomon readied himself, stepping closer and closer to whatever horror was sneaking up on them.

And then he pounced.

"I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't be down here! I'm sorry Solomon!"

Things couldn't possibly be worse.

Luke sat in front of him, scraped up knees and tears in his eyes, little hiccups interrupting his words, "I didn't mean to come down here! But I wanted to wish you luck and give you something before you left! It was going to be dangerous and- and-"

Simeon was going to kill him. 

Well, maybe not kill him, but he was certain that not knowing  where Luke was in a situation like this would have  his scribe in a frenzy. Perhaps Barbatos would be feeling a similar way. How did he not notice the boy earlier?

Asmodeus being down here was one thing. At least Asmodeus was an adult. Luke was only a child.

 "We should all stick together."

At some point Lucifer had left the blockage to join them. It was only now that Solomon also realized that his sword was broken near the tip.

"There's safety in numbers, splitting up could only lead to disastrous consequences."

Solomon bit his tongue. Lucifer was correct, but he hated the idea of bringing Asmo and Luke along with them. What if they got injured, or worse? Solomon would never be able to forgive himself.

"There's nowhere we could leave them safely?"

"I think I would have said differently if there was."

He resisted the urge to put his head in his hands, he resisted the urge to scream out of frustration. Instead, he took a deep breath in and let  it out. Fine. If this was how things had to be, then so be it. 

***

It took them a while to find the correct markings. The differences were slight and easy to miss. Two people were in charge of keeping hands on the wall at once just in case the person in front made a mistake. He and Lucifer took the lead on most of the journey, mainly switching between who was in front.

It was when he was in the back that Asmo nudged him.

"You're stumbling."

He was thinking too much. He knew, but focusing on more than one thing was nearly impossible at this point. How could he clear his mind and focus when there were so many things happening at once? All he could do was keep moving. Whenever the room spun a little too much, he would close his eyes and rely on his fingers as they slid over bumps and grooves. He hadn't felt like this in the caverns in a long time.

Usually Solomon was calm and collected and maybe he still was on the outside, but on the inside he was struggling. 

When he first arrived the future had been so straightforward and simple. Now he wasn't sure if the future would survive the next five minutes. Everything was cloudy and hazy, and nothing was visible.

Well that part wasn't just a metaphor anymore.

The pressure of the caverns was closing in on him, and he didn't notice until hands were already grasping at him.

"Solomon!" 

Luke was standing in front of him as the darkness slowly started to fade from his vision. Thin and strong arms were steadying him as he found his way back to the wall. They were close to the Heart, they had to be. They were deep below the palace floors now, there wouldn't be much farther to go.

"Darling, please," Asmo's voice was caressing his ear now, "Please. Pace yourself."

"I'm fine, we're almost there."

"Solomon-"

"Asmodeus."

He couldn't meet his gaze. He knew what he'd find.

Luke was shifting back and forth where he stood, unable to look at either of them. Meanwhile, Lucifer only spared them a glance. 

They had to keep going.

"It should just be a little farther-"

He stopped. There was something coming towards them. Slow and lumbering. Solomon recognized those footsteps. Pushing Luke behind him was his first instinct. 

The child didn't need to be burdened with the curse of this knowledge.

"Oh my god," Asmo's hand flew to his mouth, horror evident, Is that really-"

"Father," Lucifer finished, "Or his husk of a corpse anyways. Am I correct Solomon?"

Solomon couldn't tear his eyes away as the monstrosity lumbered closer. The stench of decay and death following in its wake. His hand reached upwards to touch his mangled arm.

"Yes."

Lucifer gripped his broken sword a little tighter. "I suppose he must have missed the news then. Which means it is my duty to deliver it to him swiftly." 

Its dead eyes were upon them now. Its expression was as unchanging as its broken jaw. But even so, it hoisted some form of rusted weapon over its shoulder and prepared to charge.  

"Take them and get to the Heart, and keep my brother safe, King Solomon."

The words echoed in his head alongside the cold clashing metal and the gurgling of the beast. Asmodeus was quick to pick up Luke and bolt, and as Solomon stayed close behind them he couldn't help but notice that he'd taken the time to cover the boy's eyes.

And so they continued on their own, down deeper and deeper into the abyss.  

Their walk was silent, Asmo had taken to keeping up with Solomon's stride.  Solomon glanced over towards him a few times, trying to think of anything to say. 

"Are you worried about your brother?" 

"Lucifer is strong," the words came out quickly, "He's extremely capable. I'm sure he'll be okay. He has to be."

The last few words came out so quiet, Solomon felt like an intruder just listening to him. Of course Asmo was concerned, how couldn't he be? Solomon saw the admiration he held for him, and he saw the way Lucifer cared for all of his siblings uniquely. His affection for each one was crafted specially to them.

Where Azazel found Asmodeus abhorrent and disgraceful, Lucifer found beauty and elegance. And the farther he had distanced himself from Azazel  the more Solomon saw what Lucifer did. 

"He'll be fine," Solomon said, "I've never met a man so hellbent on serving his family. If he would crawl to hell and back for you, I think destroying your reanimated father will be the easiest thing he's ever done." 

If Solomon hadn’t noticed the change in lighting, he would have sworn his husband’s smile was what illuminated the dark cavern in that moment. But the closer they walked, the brighter it became, he’d become so accustomed to the darkness that it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the newfound light source, and when they finally came out of the tunnels, all Solomon could do was stare in awe. 

They now found themselves in a giant stone room illuminated in a soft blue light. Flora and fauna grew in patches around large stone pillars, on the floor, and stalactites hanging from the ceiling. And on the far end was a large crystal-like structure surrounded by moss and small flowers. It was the source of the light and wisps danced around it.

“That’s the Heart right Solomon?” Luke asked, “That had to be the Heart right Solomon?” Excitement was growing in his voice. Solomon couldn’t blame him, a certain type of giddiness overcame him. Like a magnet, Solomon found himself drawn to the Heart. His hand came up to its surface reverently. 

This was it.

All of the stories he’d read, the legends he heard, everything he had hoped about Arcadia was true. It was all true. He couldn’t react properly, how could he react properly? What was even the proper way to react.

He could feel Asmo over his shoulder.

“I could kiss you right now,” was what his head finally decided on, “God if the circumstances were different I would kiss you right now.”

Gentle fingers caressed his jaw and tilted his head towards him, “And what’s stopping you?”

Something flipped in him when Asmo’s soft lips met his own.   Lightning shot through him and before he knew what he was doing, he was picking Asmo up with his free arm and twirling him in a circle kissing him over and over again as the love of his life squealed.  He briefly caught a glimpse of Luke covering his eyes and making a face. 

So many emotions were running through him at the moment,  he didn’t know where to start. It wasn’t until he finally put Asmo down and kissed him one last time did Luke speak. 

“So this is it? This will fix our problems?”

Solomon nodded and then went back to caressing Asmo’s face, “Yes, yes it will.”

“Well isn’t this just touching?”

Solomon felt the room go cold as his head turned towards Azazel. He was smiling, but something about him was… different. His veins were illuminated like vines wrapping around his skin. As he strode into the room, two more monstrosities followed, skittering over the walls and crossing over each other only stopping when  Azazel lifted a hand. 

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asked.

Solomon felt Asmo jerk forward, he pulled him back.

“A pity, and after I came all this way to congratulate the new holder of the crown.”

Asmo’s eyes widened in horror, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Azazel. 

“Dear nephew, did you really think any of you stood a chance in light of such an unfortunate accident? I honestly believed you perished along with the rest of them.”

As he took another step closer, his form started to morph further. The white’s of his eyes blackened, the veins on his face glowed brighter, and the tips of his fingers lengthened and blackened.  

“I got to see a little glimpse into  your future nephew, you got to enjoy it for a little bit,” his voice was two toned, his mouth split open wider, his teeth sharpened, “But now it’s time for me to finish what I’ve started.”

“What have you done to yourself?” Solomon pulled Asmo and Luke back farther.

“You didn’t honestly think you found the Heart before me did you?” Azazel laughed, “Please, I spent all this time down here, and I’ve found that the effects of mixing remnants of my aberrations with the Heart’s essence is quite astounding.”

His head twisted from one side to the other, “Allow me to demonstrate.”

A shriek was all the command the other two creatured needed. They charged forward, and Solomon was back to being quick on his feet. Ward’s were already  thrown around Luke. The child hadn’t even been able to make noise as terror gripped at his heart.  Now he just needed to split his focus. He needed to make sure he kept that shield up. Now for Asmo-

His fiance was already gone splitting off, one of the creatures hot on his heels as the other kept its focus on Luke, continuously hitting at the bubble protecting him. 

He summoned bolts, prepared to strike at it, and then he was slammed against the crystal, causing him to misfire. His spell was sent crashing into the ceiling, and rock was sent tumbling atop one of the two beasts, although he wasn’t sure which. 

“One more chance,” Azazel crooned, “It’s not too late King Solomon.”

Solomon struggled as Azazel kept pressure on his shoulder. He could feel his body straining again, desperately trying to keep itself from breaking once more. He needed to get out, to keep his wards on Luke up, to help Asmodeus. He needed to protect them.

“Join me, and I’ll let you keep your little family here. I’ll even let you keep Asmodeus, with some adjustments to his rebellious tendencies of course,” Azazel hissed, “You liked Lilith before, and you’ll enjoy Asmodeus even more. You’ll have more power reigning over Arcadia under me than you could have ever imagined, you’ll go down in history as one of the greats.”

Solomon fired off another spell, aimed directly at one of Azazel’s eyes, causing him to screech and drop Solomon. Quickly, Solomon fired off another shot at the aberration trying to break his ward. As it hit, the creature made a noise and quickly skittered back into the darkness. But Solomon wasn’t able to catch his breath yet, Azazel came at him again. Their dance became steps of Solomon using wards to defend himself and sending off his own attacks when he could. 

Strike up.

“I have been so incredibly patient with you-”

Left.

“I offer you power beyond your wildest imagination and you deny it in favor of following and bending to that bastard’s every whim? You’re more of a fool than I thought.”

Azazel was coming at him hard. If Solomon didn’t have to split his attention maybe he wouldn’t have struggled so much. But he had to keep his focus, he couldn’t afford to lose it. Yet as the fury of blows continued to rain down upon him, he knew he couldn’t keep up. Maybe if the days had played out differently. Maybe if he hadn’t had to exude himself. Maybe if he’d come down here by himself. Maybe if he’d ended Azazel when he had the chance-

But it was too late.

Solomon made a mistake. 

A fatal mistake.

Pain bloomed in his side and he was thrown back against the Heart. Warmth spread on his abdomen as the blood seeped through his clothing. Azazel  looked more insect than human now the way his body morphed and elongated, and Solomon thought that rather fitting.

“You will die here,” Azazel hissed, “Knowing that you were a fool, knowing you could have had everything. Now you will have nothing and history will forget you.”

Solomon watched as Azazel’s other sharp hand raised, aiming straight for his chest. Even now Solomon tried to summon what little strength he had left to strike for somewhere that would at least give Asmo and Luke a chance of escape. Then Azazel stopped. A rock fell from hitting his head and onto the floor below. 

“Leave him alone.” 

Asmo stood behind them, another rock in hand. He threw it, causing it to bounce off of Azazel’s head once more. 

“I said leave. Him. Alone.”

Solomon wanted to scream at him. He wanted to force Asmo to get away somewhere he’d be safe. Instead he was forced to watch in horror as the hunter’s head turned to his new target, and the bunny refused to run.

“You won’t be going anywhere,” Azazel growled, pulling his claw from his side and letting Solomon sink to the ground, “I think I’ll make you watch.” 

Asmo threw another rock at him, but this time Azazel caught it in his claw, crushing it until it was nothing more than tiny pebbles, and then he dashed towards Asmodeus.  Asmo moved out of the way, causing Azazel to crash into a pillar. The once advisor turned monster was in a furious frenzy.  All Solomon could do was watch in horror as he clutched his side and struggled to get to his feet, but his body had given up on him. 

“I should have killed you long ago along with all of your siblings,” Azazel roared, “I should have had my brother marry you off to someone I would’ve known would do my job for me.”

He gained on Asmo, and just as he was about to turn again, Azazel caught him, sending them both crashing into the pillar. “I thought I could make you a perfect pawn. All you had to do was obey nephew and I could have let you live. I knew you were no good the moment that wench of a woman stepped through the palace doors, and now I will rid of you once and for all and take my rightful place on Arcadia’s throne.”

He raised his claw, and Solomon felt his stomach sink, somewhere in the distance someone yelled ‘no!’ as flesh was pierced. But Azazel had stopped, a look of surprise crossed his  face as the scorpion-tail etched blade pierced his chest. Hot, angry tears were streaming down Asmo’s face.

“Fuck you.”

The words were soft at first, and then Asmo twisted the pushed blade deeper. Blood already started to trickle from the wound and stain the blade.

Azazel dropped him, but Asmo held on, grappling and forcing the monster to the ground. There was a new fire behind his eyes. He had one goal, and it was to rid his family of the evil that plagued them.

“Fuck you and everything you’ve done to me and my family! I hate you. I never deserved anything you did to me!”

He pulled the blade out and stabbed again. “You and father both! I hope you rot and suffer in hell! I hate you I hate you I hate you.”

With each word, Asmo dove deeper and deeper into a frenzy, and Solomon could do little more than watch  as he saw Azazel’s life leave in weaker and weaker movements until there was nothing but stillness.  Asmo screamed, plunging the blade into the corpse one final time, and then his voice was nothing more than choked sobs.

Solomon’s wards fell, and he barely registered Luke coming closer.

“Solomon?”

“Oh god, oh god please no,” Asmo was on him now, moving quickly from touching his face to his wound. He could hear the ripping of fabric and then a deft pressure on his side, “Oh please please- Darling? Darling look at me.”

Solomon let his head lull to the side as he looked up at Asmo, “Hey.”

His voice felt weak.

“Oh thank god.” 

Gentle fingers caressed through his hair, lulling him into a soft and warm security. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t think I ever gave you enough credit. You’re strong Asmodeus, incredibly so.”

“I am  your husband aren’t I?”

Solomon went to laugh, but it quickly turned into sputtering, the taste of metal covered his tongue. 

“Just hold on a little longer okay?” Asmo choked, “Just a little longer, we can get you back up to the surface. I’ll take care of you, I’ll never ever leave your bedside okay? I just- please, please just a little longer.”

None of them noticed the monstrosities emerging from the shadows to fight over the body left behind as they carried it back off and into the abyss. None but the King of Arcadia, who stepped into the caverns battered and bloody  but alive.  

“Asmodeus-”

“Lucifer! Lucifer do something! Please do something.”

Lucifer came closer, placing a hand on Asmodues’ shoulder as he looked at the scene laid out before him. Asmo cradled Solomon in his arms keeping him close, too afraid to let go. 

Solomon reached over to his belt, pulling out his findings and pushing them towards his spouse. “You know what to do.”

Asmo shook his head fervently, pressing himself closer to Solomon, tears falling on top of his head.

“Yes, yes you do love,” Solomon smiled, his words nothing but a hoarse whisper, “Can you please sing for me? I love to hear you sing.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Please? Just for me?” Solomon reached up and tried to wipe some of the tears away from beautiful  sunset eyes. He never realized that he himself had also been crying, “It calms me.”

Asmo was silent, and then in shaky tones he started to sing.

And as his vision went dark, Solomon couldn't help but commit the face before him to memory. Shrouded in the pale blue light, features so soft and delicate, even now in agony with tears cascading from his cheeks and covered in blood and hair askew Asmodeus looked like an angel. He didn’t have as many thoughts as he thought he would. In the end there was only Asmodeus, and Solomon was at peace.

He’d done what he needed to do.

***

Death is a natural part of the cycle of life. Without Death there is no Birth, and there is no Life. The Heart represents the basic principles of Life and Death, and somewhere in between there is Love and Birth. All of the first myths and legends surrounding it carry these themes, I personally believe the Heart may also operate in some form of equivalent exchange, but I am uncertain. The Heart is dangerous, but not on its own accord. The danger comes from those who wish to misuse and abuse its power. Leading up to our journey I have felt rather close with Death, and I think I’ve finally started to accept it, which is why I cannot allow you to come with me Asmodeus, I haven’t accepted it for you. Please forgive me, I know you will do a wonderful job taking care of everything and everyone in my stead. Please give Diavolo my best wishes for his recovery, I hope he regains all of his strength soon. Please keep my memory, think of me every time you open my journal. I love you.

-Solomon

***

To my Darling Solomon,

You are an incredibly stupid and reckless man.

Forever and Eternally Yours,

Asmodeus

***

Asmodeus stood on the balcony, watching the carriage below. All of the preparations were almost finished and he would be departing from his darling Arcadia today. Anxious butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Of course he’d been to his new little home before, but that was so long ago now and so many anxieties that came along with it. His eyes moved from the carriage to fix upon Lucifer. His darling older brother was overseeing every item being loaded onto the carriage just to make sure everything was right, just for him. That was until Diavolo snuck up behind him and lifted him off the ground, before tripping and sending them both toppling over. He watched his brother chastise Diavolo, and then Diavolo kissed him. It was tender and sweet, Asmo could tell that much even from where he stood. He always loved seeing them together, even if he had felt spikes of jealousy from time to time.

Thankfully the ritual had worked, Asmo didn’t want to think about what the future would be like if it hadn’t. (Hopefully they could use it on Belphie too, to help with the long term exposure.) The evidence left behind was a small red streak in Lucifer’s hair, and a black one in Diavolo’s. 

…

He would miss this.

He’d miss all of his brothers, and of course Barbatos and Diavolo too. 

He hadn’t thought he’d feel this way upon leaving Arcadia.

Arms snaked their way around his waist as eager lips made their way to exposed skin. A shudder ran through him and a soft sigh escaped his lips. Diavolo wasn’t the only one who’d benefited from the ritual.

 “I’m still upset with you.”

Another soft noise escaped him as the lips started to nip at him, “Are you now? You seemed perfectly happy with me last night.”

Asmo whipped around and tried to put on his best glare, “You were comatose for a week Solomon. A week! Of course I’m angry with you for thinking you could just run off and be a hero and then die.”

“But you still would have loved me and remembered me if I had died a hero wouldn’t you?”

“Dead heros don’t get mind blowing sex or wonderful good morning kisses from beautiful people,” Asmo wrapped his arms around his neck so that he could kiss him properly, “So don’t do that again. Like ever.” 

Solomon laughed and smiled into one more kiss,  “I know my little scorpion.”

“I will smack you next time. Barbatos will not be there to save you.”

“I know my little scorpion.”

The scene had been quite the spectacle, Barbatos attempting to hold back a screaming Asmodeus who had thrown himself into absolute hysterics. An Asmodeus who was in a limbo between wanting to kiss Solomon like he’s never been kissed before, and killing the man himself. It had taken a lot of wooing on Solomon’s part to soften and tame the furious prince.

“Simeon and Luke should have everything ready for our arrival, they made the cutest enclosure they could for all of your bunnies,” Solomon said, “So I can do plenty of apologizing and spoiling you when we arrive.”

He was leaning in for a kiss again, “Does that sound promising?”

Asmo couldn’t stay mad at him. The wound was still fresh was all, but the more Solomon recovered and the more the palace was returned to her former glory, the more Asmo felt anger seep away from him.  Lucifer was even considering closing up the corridors for good, just in case. 

“You’re going to have to work hard.”

Solomon chuckled, “The hardest I’ve ever worked, just for you.”

Asmo couldn’t suppress the smile that made its way onto his face as the two of them embraced. There was always passion behind the kisses, and the way their bodies moved together. Asmo loved him. He loved this man with everything he had. Asmo loved everything about him too. The way he carried himself, the way his nose would crinkle right before he was about to sneeze, how his brow would furrow when he was focused,  how he was clumsy in his dancing, his laugh, the way his blush would creep up the tips of his ears, how gentle he could be when his hands caressed down his waist, his horrendous handwriting, the way he would crawl into bed and into Asmo’s arms after a long day of working on his studies-

There was so much to love about his darling Solomon. 

Asmo hadn’t realized he was gripping Solomon’s hair, dragging him down deeper into the kiss. He couldn’t help himself! Especially not when he was recounting every single way he loved him. Maybe he should write his own little poem about it and get it all on paper. 

They could be a little late on their departure.

He was sure no one would mind. 

Asmo dragged him back inside giggling and pinning him up against the wall.

“Are you still angry with me?”

“Oh absolutely furious.”

If it hadn’t been for the knock at their door, Asmo probably would have hiked up his skirt and had Solomon on the floor. 

“King Solomon, Prince Asmodeus, I’ve been sent to fetch you,” the look on Barbatos’ face when the door opened was nothing short of unsurprised, “Unless you would like fifteen minutes?”

“I would need more than that Barbatos.”

“Shame. I can only offer fifteen.”

The pit in Asmo’s stomach sank further down. He was really leaving now wasn’t he? Barbatos led them outside to the carriage, packed and ready for their departure. 

Diavolo was the first to wish him goodbye, scooping him up in a giant bear hug. “Safe travels, and don’t worry I’ll make sure I take care of Lucifer in your absence. I know how hard of a time he’s having with you leaving the nest.”

He leaned down closer right next to Asmo’s ear, “And I believe Barbatos packed some sweets away for you and Luke, but don’t tell him I told you.”

He zipped his lips tight and then ran over to tackle a flustered Barbatos in a hug as well, he couldn’t forget the person who’d made his favorite treats and who helped care for both his brothers and injured husband. 

“Let me know if there’s any hot singles in your area yeah?” Mammon nudged him, “At this rate I think Levi might be the next one if I don’t find a worthy suitor soon.”

“Mmm, I think you may be right, I’ll see if I can find anyone to put up with you,” Asmo squealed as Mammon swatted at him and then wrapped him up in a tight hug, “Let me know if he ever finally gets laid by his favorite knight yeah?”

“Yeah yeah, just as long as you take care of yerself and send us letters daily got it?”

Speaking of Leviathan, Asmo wasted no time bringing up Henry as soon as he hugged the next brother, “Just ask him out already. You like him.”

Levi pushed him back, stuttering out some sort of objection but Asmo was quicker.

“Hey Henry!” he yelled over at the guard, “Are you free tomorrow night? Good! Because Levi is gonna take you out on a date!”

“Shush! Do you ever stop meddling in other people’s lives?”

“Nope! And now you have a date tomorrow because of me. You’re welcome! I want to hear how it goes!

Leaving behind the library would also be hard. The library meant leaving behind Satan, one of his brothers he could depend on through thick and thin, no matter what.

“You can always write to me you know,” Satan said, “Or get your husband to do that mirror trick again that way we can talk whenever you want to.”

“Or when you want to talk to me?”

“Sure, or when I want to talk to you.”

The twins wrapped themselves on either side of him in a big group hug.

“Oh I’m going to miss my baby brothers! Who’s going to defend you from our big older brothers?”

“I’m taller than you Asmo, and bigger,” Beel furrowed his brow  in confusion.

“I’m pretty sure we can take care of ourselves, but if we do need help, you better run back here right away with that dagger of yours,” Belphie smiled. 

Asmo squeezed them tighter, “Leave lots of flowers at Lilith’s memorial for me.”

And now finally, one of the hardest goodbyes he’d have to say.

“Lucifer-”

The King of Arcadia didn’t say a word, instead he wrapped his arms around Asmo and held on tightly, “Take care of yourself.”

Asmo didn’t want to let go. He wanted to commit everything about Lucifer, everything about his brothers, to memory. 

“Write to me daily, and I swear if he does anything to hurt you-”

“He won’t hurt me Lucifer.”

Lucifer brushed his fingers over Asmo’s cheek, “You’re so precious Asmodeus, remember that, you are special. And he better treat you as such.”

He pulled Asmo in for another hug, “And you should treat yourself as such.”

“I will.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“And you will write me daily.”

“Lucifer!”

Asmo laughed. When Lucifer finally pulled away, he walked Asmo over to the carriage where Solomon was waiting for him and helped him up into the seat. Asmo squeezed his hands once more before looking at his family. 

“Goodbye! I love you all so much!” Asmodeus waved to his family until he couldn’t see or hear them any longer. His hand fell, and he slipped his head back into the carriage. He didn’t say anything for a while. He had to get his words together first.

He reached for Solomon’s hand “Solomon?”

“Hm?”

"I know I asked you to take me far away from here," Asmo squeezed his hand tightly as he stared out the carriage window, "But could you promise me something different now?"

Solomon nodded his head, "Ask away."

"Bring me back someday."

Solomon smiled and pulled him closer, “Of course dear one. I wouldn’t ever imagine keeping you from them.”

"Do you promise?"

Solomon grinned and tapped the tiny bird on his wrist.

Asmo smiled and leaned in to kiss his husband once more, and so maybe he pushed him onto the cushion below, but what did that matter?

“Now?”

“Asmodeus. When we get back to the palace.”

“But that’ll be so long! We’re alone, I want you now.”

“We are not alone!” Solomon squeaked, as Asmo bit his neck, “Asmodeus the driver!” 

“It’s not like people don’t know we’re intimate-”

“Asmo-”

“I mean there’s a reason no one interrupted us after we got married, and people did leave food outside our door.”

Asmo squealed as Solomon pushed him, effectively switching their places, “I will not listen to you talk like this a second longer.”

The tips of his ears were red. Adorable. 

And then Solomon leaned down to kiss him. 

“As soon as I show you your new room, then you can have me.”

“Promise?”

“Of course, when have I not wanted you just as badly?”

Solomon lifted them both back upright and brought Asmo to his chest, “And if I change my mind and want you to hold me all day instead? What then?”

“Then that is what we shall do.”

Solomon carded his fingers through Asmo’s hair and held him tight. His heartbeat was strong, and it lulled Asmo into a sense of security. Even the hooves of the horses outside seemed to fall in line with the steady beat. 

Solomon couldn’t help but stare down at Asmo with absolute adoration in his eyes. He was going to do everything in his power to care for him and help him adjust to his new life. After all, what type of husband would he be if he didn’t make sure that Asmodeus was comfortable?  Slowly he moved his fingers up and down Asmo’s back, as Asmo’s fingers circled around his hips.

He needed to think of a title for his new book of memoirs for all the adventures he would have with his husband. They had plenty of discoveries to make and Solomon needed to share them with the world.

For the first time in either of their lives, both of them felt truly safe. No matter what the next adventure may be ahead at least they would have each other. After all, the life of a king didn’t have to be a lonely one.

Solomon kissed Asmo's forehead once more, before laying his head atop champagne curls and closing his eyes. They had a long journey ahead of them.

[fanimesenseiwrites]

So I had piece commissioned of my MC, Hoshiko Higure, presenting as both female and male.

The artist is karoshin_arts on Instagram.

And to go along with the art is a little fic I wrote, mostly, about Hoshiko coming out to the boys.

This fic takes place after Belphie gets out of the attic and before the MC goes home for the first time.

Hoshiko's Coming Out

Hoshiko stood in front of their full length mirror in their bedroom, staring at their reflection.

They were dressed for school but instead of wearing the skirt, they had decided to wear uniform pants today. They were also wearing a binder underneath their dress shirt, effectively hiding their breasts. They tied the top half of their hair back before putting on their circle rim glasses.

They stared at themselves in the mirror once they were totally ready.

"Okay... you look good. You can do this. Everything is gonna be fine," they told themself, trying to psych themself up.

They nodded at themself in the mirror before walking out into the hallway.

Mammon was headed to Hoshiko's room as they were walking out.

"Hey Ho... shi..." Mammon stopped mid step and mid sentence and just stared at Hoshiko. He narrowed his eyes at them, seeming suspicious.

Hoshiko turned a bright red. "It's me! I swear! I'm just... wearing pants..."

"You're doing more than that..." Mammon told them as he finished walking over to them.

"Yeah, I just... sometimes I..." They couldn't look at Mammon. "I don't feel like a girl all the time... sometimes I feel like a boy..." They wrapped their arms around themselves.

"So what, you just wanna wear pants and not have boobs sometimes?"

They looked up at Mammon. "I mean, in not so many words, yeah."

Mammon pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hoshiko sighed and looked down at the ground. "You don't wanna be my friend anymore, do you?"

"What? Quit your mopin'! I didn't say that!"

Hoshiko looked back up at him.

"I'm your first! You're s'posed to tell me everything, no secrets between us, remember?!" Mammon perched his hands on his hips.

Hoshiko teared up. "Oh, Mammon!" They threw their arms around him and cried into his chest.

"Hey! Don't do that..." he blushed and pushed them away gently. "You'll break your glasses." He offered them a handkerchief from his breast pocket.

Hoshiko nodded and took the handkerchief with a soft sniffle. They took off their glasses and wiped their eyes.

"C'mon, you gotta eat some breakfast before school."

They nodded and headed to the dining room with Mammon. "... Will you stay with me all day?"

Mammon looked at them. "Huh?"

"I... I'm actually afraid of being by myself, looking like this..."

"Oh... yeah, of course. You gotta know the Great Mammon will always protect ya!" He flashed them a brilliant smile.

Hoshiko smiled at him. "Thank you." They grabbed Mammon's hand.

Mammon blushed but squeezed their hand in return.

Everyone looked at them when they entered the dining hall.

"Hey! So today Hoshiko feels like a guy and we're gonna make her feel- well, him-"

Hoshiko nudged him.

He stopped talking and looked at Hoshiko.

"You can just use they/them," Hoshiko told him.

"Right!" He looked back at his brothers. "So we're gonna make them feel comfortable and if ya don't, I'll kill ya," he was actually the most serious Hoshiko had ever seen him.

Hoshiko squeezed his hand. "Calm down, it's not that serious."

He looked back at Hoshiko. "Yes it is. Your feelings are important."

Hoshiko smiled at him. "I appreciate you saying that."

"Mammon is right," Lucifer spoke before dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

Hoshiko and Mammon looked at him.

"Your feelings are important, Hoshiko. If there's anything you need or if anyone gives you any flak, you let me know," only Lucifer could say something so sweet, yet so venom filled.

Hoshiko nodded. "I will, thank you."

Lucifer nodded. "Of course."

"Have you always felt this way?" Satan asked Hoshiko.

Hoshiko looked at him. "Uh... it's hard to say. It's only been in the last like... 3 years that I had the terminology to describe how I feel."

"And what is the correct terminology?" Satan asked as he pulled out his DDD and opened up a note taking app.

"I'm genderfluid. Which means I don't fit into the typical binary model of gender. Even though I am biologically female, I don't always want to present myself as traditionally female."

"Conforming to gender norms when it comes to clothing is so boring," Asmo commented. "You should just do what makes you happy."

Hoshiko smiled at him. "I like that. Thank you."

Asmo smiled brightly at them. "Of course, love!"

"So wait..." Belphie started.

Everyone looked at him.

"This is new to everyone, not just me?"

Beel nodded. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"So, you've felt like this for at least 3 years?" Belphie asked Hoshiko.

Hoshiko blushed and nodded, understanding what Belphie was getting at.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Levi asked.

"I didn't feel comfortable showing y'all until now. Even getting ready this morning I was nervous as hell."

Levi only nodded.

"Okay, I think that's enough questions for now," Lucifer interjected. "It's time to get to school."

Hoshiko was actually grateful that Lucifer had stopped them from asking them questions, they could feel themself getting overwhelmed.

Hoshiko smiled slightly at Lucifer before getting up and clearing their plate from the table.

The brothers followed suit, then everyone left for RAD together.

True to his word, Mammon stayed next to Hoshiko all day, though they didn't really need any protecting as they had originally thought.

After school, at the student council meeting, Diavolo asked Hoshiko how their first day presenting as a male was.

"It went well! Most folks were more curious anything. Azazel asked if I actually did have magical abilities because of how I changed my appearance. I thought that was funny. And Solomon offered to teach me how to make potions to deepen my voice for when I want to present as a guy. And Mephistopheles said I was stunning no matter how I presented..."

Most of the brothers rolled their eyes, but Mammon let out a little growl.

Hoshiko smacked his arm. "He was just bein' nice."

"Uh huh..." he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Diavolo chuckled at their interaction. "Well I'm glad today went so well for you, Hoshiko."

Hoshiko grinned. "I was really surprised, I thought that maybe at least a couple folks would give me hard time, but no one did."

"Demons are not usually so concerned with presentations of gender like that," Barbatos informed them.

"Oh... well I wish I had known that sooner, I wouldn't have been freaking out as much about today."

"That's not true," Barbatos corrected them.

Hoshiko pouted. "I don't like it when you call me out like that."

Barbatos chuckled softly.

Diavolo grinned. "Well I'm glad that our residents didn't take advantage of Hoshiko being a human when they changed their appearance. This is good for the exchange program!"

"I concur," Lucifer interjected.

"Well that concludes today's meeting," Diavolo announced before standing up.

Everyone else stood up with him.

Diavolo left the table before anyone else moved.

Asmo ran over to Hoshiko. "Hoshiko! Do you want to go shopping? We can pick you out some more masculine looking clothes if you want."

Hoshiko grinned. "I'd like that."

"I'm goin' too," Mammon declared.

Asmo pouted. "Why do you have to go?"

"Hoshiko asked me to stay by their side all day, so that's what I'm gonna do!"

Hoshiko chuckled. "That was when I thought I was gonna get made fun of or even beat up. I know I'll be okay now, so you don't have to stay with me."

"Nope. You asked so I'm gonna stay with you all day. The Great Mammon doesn't break a promise."

"What?! Since when?!" Levi interjected. "You still haven't paid me back!"

"Yeah, you obviously just want to be next to Hoshiko," Asmo pointed out.

"What?! That ain't so!" Mammon protested as a blush appeared on his cheeks.

Hoshiko chuckled at them. "Come on, we can all go shopping. It's not that big of a deal."

Asmo sighed. "Alright, as long as you're happy." He smiled slightly.

"We'll all be happy, I'll treat you two to dinner afterwards," Hoshiko promised.

Asmo beamed. "Okay!"

The trio went out to go shopping and went out to dinner before returning home to the House of Lamentation.

Hoshiko walked in sporting a new lavender suit and purple dress shirt.

Asmo insisted on showing them off to everyone in the house.

Hoshiko got a little embarrassed when Asmo dragged them to Lucifer's study. "Asmo, he doesn't care..."

"That's not true! Lucifer!" Asmo called as they walked into the study.

Lucifer looked up at them from where he sat at his desk.

"Look at our handsome little exchange student!" He exclaimed as he spun them around, giving Lucifer the full view.

Hoshiko was blushing.

Lucifer chuckled. "You look nice, Hoshiko. Though it is apparent that Asmo picked out that suit."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment," Asmo said with a pout.

"I just think Hoshiko would look better in something darker."

"There's more colors besides black and red, Lucifer," Asmo informed him.

Hoshiko chuckled at their interaction.

Lucifer glanced at Hoshiko briefly. "Asmo, would you leave us? I'd like to speak to Hoshiko alone for a moment."

"Ooh, okay!" Asmo sang just before leaving the room.

Hoshiko felt their ears get hot. "Uh, am I in trouble?"

"No, not at all. Please, take a seat." He motioned to a chair right in front of his desk.

Hoshiko nodded and sat down, crossing their legs as they did so.

"I just wanted to ask how your day went."

"It went well, you were there in the meeting when I told Lord Diavolo how it went."

"I just wanted to verify that nothing has changed since then. Make sure my brothers haven't harassed you about it."

Hoshiko laughed. "No, it's been fine. I appreciate your concern though."

Lucifer smirked. "How has your stay in Devildom been, thus far?"

"Aside from nearly dying like four times, it's been great!" Hoshiko teased.

Lucifer pursed his lips. "Right..."

"I'm only kidding with you. I've actually had a good time and I've learned a lot... it's kinda sad to think about how I'll be leaving in just a couple months."

Lucifer smiled slightly. "I'm glad you think of it that way."

"It certainly helped that all my housemates were hot too," Hoshiko told him with a wink.

Lucifer couldn't help the blush that rose to his cheeks. "Hoshiko," he chided.

Hoshiko snickered. "I'm just teasing you. That's a good thing. It means I'm comfortable with you now."

Lucifer hummed. "Should you be?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?" Hoshiko asked with a sly smile.

Lucifer stared them down, frustrated at his inability to give them an answer. "... Regardless, we've been happy to host you. I'm glad you were chosen for the program."

Hoshiko rolled their eyes. "Are you going to continue to be this formal until I leave?"

"Perhaps," Lucifer replied simply.

"Uh huh." Hoshiko stood up and straightened their suit jacket. "Well I will be upfront with my feelings and tell you that I like you and all your brothers and I'm really enjoying my time here... I hope we can all still be good friends after I leave."

Lucifer watched them and smiled slightly. "I think my brothers will be lost without you here."

"I think I'll be lost without all their crazy antics keeping me busy," Hoshiko laughed.

Lucifer chuckled.

"Hoshiko!" Asmo squealed as they ran into the room and went to hide behind Hoshiko.

"Speaking of crazy antics," Hoshiko said to Lucifer before looking at Asmo. "What is-?"

Hoshiko jumped at being suddenly sprayed in the back of the head with water. They whipped around to see Mammon standing in the doorway with a water gun.

"Oh you're gonna get it now!" Hoshiko told him with a grin.

"Good luck catching me!" Mammon told them before running away.

Hoshiko quickly ran after him.

Asmo ran after the two, not wanting to miss out on the fun.

Lucifer shook his head with a soft smile on his face. He knew the "crazy antics" would never stop, but he was grateful for a particular human that had caused them to become less deadly.

[laikuh]

12, 30, 33 for the ask game if you like :)

yesss!!! i do like!!! thank you so much for asking <3

12. Which season do you think is best written? Which is your favourite?

oh man. ohhh man. it's hard to separate out a season when i think the entire pacing of s1-5 are incredible and build on each other so perfectly. but best written might be 2 or 3? my favorite is probably s3. it's just one fucking incredibly ep after another.... my fav seasons are probably 3, 7, 4, 5!

30. Is John Winchester redeemable? Is he complex? Is he in love with Azazel?

oh, john. i think i answered this last time, but i can talk about john winchester until im frail and gray, so im happy to answer this again.

idk what redeemable means. idk that redemption is something any of us decides as viewers. idk, i've thought a lot about forgiveness this year, and i've thought a lot about sam and dean and john and whether they've forgiven john for how he raised them and treated them. and honestly, i think the show can't decide if he's forgiven either, which is why these later seasons are so wishy-washy on how john gets referenced. how you can have the boys home and dean saying things got dicey and sam saying dean protected sam from john, while also having an episode like lebanon that intentionally calls back forgiveness feelings sam expressed all the way back in season 1, and yet ALSO gives us a deleted scene where dean calls john by his first name for the first time and sam seems shocked they'd choose to honor him in the same breath as mary and bobby and cas.

and i guess what i'm trying to get at here is that even if the show had somehow found a way to make john seem like a good father, i wouldn't be the one to decide if he's actually redeemed or forgiven. and on top of this, forgiveness is an incredibly difficult, complicated, and personal experience. we forgive people for different reasons but ultimately for ourselves, because we can't go on living with the hurt of what happened to us anymore, which is how you can forgive someone without them knowing you had a problem or someone who's long-since died. and why i bring this up, is because even with john depicted as he is, even if the show didn't try to "redeem" him, i get the sense sam and dean have forgiven him anyway, and that's more than enough for me.

as for if he's complex, that's a hard yes lol. i just rewatched the henry episode, and i think that ep does a really great job of complicating john further, even complicating dean (and to a lesser extent sam). so yeah, i think john is complex. i think he's layered. i also don't think that excuses anything, and that's where other people's takes sometimes irk me a bit. john isn't either good or bad. there's no fucking excuse for what he did to his kids, but i can hold that truth in my heart the same way i can hold an absolute tenderness for a man who loved his boys and loved his wife and had no blueprint for being a good father.

lol is he in love with azazel? yeah, that's a no from me, but y'all have fun with the ship i support you 10000%.

33. Ideal Supernatural ending, when, where?

sam and dean on a beach. dean says the same speech he said while dying, but this time he says it with his toes in the sand at sunset, watching the waves, drinking a beer with sam.

if im choosing an existing finale as a place to end the series, then that's also easy: s11.

thank you again for asking! if anyone else wants to send an ask with one of these questions, i'd be so happy :)

[casguy]

in MY secret good supernatural when dean finds out about sam and ruby he has a full on mental breakdown and then sam says something along the lines of "why don't you trust ruby? because she's a demon? she SAVED my life dean. multiple times? can't you see she's different?" or sth and dean goes "yea and i did think she was different but then you know what happened sammy? i went to hell. i went to hell and i was surrounded by countless of demons for DECADES. demons who wanted nothing but to torture me again and again and again until i could barely even feel pain anymore. who laughed and cheered everytime a soul was torn open by their blades, screaming. not one, not a single of them ever showed remorse, hesitation, anything. i begged and screamed and pleaded for help and that only made carve deeper into me. hell, in the end i almost became one of them. i would have become one of them. i was cold and unfeeling, and the only thing, the ONLY thing that gave me joy in that fucking pit of despair, you know what that was sammy? it was taking that blade in my hands, making people feel so much pain i almost forgot about my own. i know what they are like sam. i know what being a demon is like because i almost was one! and not because azazel payed me a visit in the crib and made me superman, no sam, because i choose to be. and i know what they're like, so tell me sam, why should she be any different? because you like that her poison makes you feel powerful? i would love to think that ruby is on our side, that what you're becoming is something good, something that helpful to people, but when are things ever good for us?" etc and he would say all of these things while shouting and crying and breaking down and sam would just be awestruck, finally understanding the severity of what dean went through.

[rewatching-supernatural]

s12e12

5:20 PM

The whole family (+Wally) having dinner together

Omg Dean trying to hit on the waitress but she's only interested in Cas

These turning shots, everyone talking on top of each other, this is such a different vibe

*****

Oh, it's gonna go very bad

very bad indeed

*****

THE WOUNDED ANGEL

EARLIER

*****

"Urination. I understand." Cas 😂

*****

these moving shots are simply art

*****

A demon stronger than the demon blade???

stronger than Cas??

YELLOW EYES? AZAZEL?

more demons!

OH MY GOD STOP STABBING CAS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

NO 😭😭😭😭

Mary hit him with a car!

Cas is dying 😭😭😭😭😭

*****

9:05 PM

What the hell happened? Yellow Eyes??

*****

MOTHER MARY

Mary's working with the British Men of Letters

8:23 PM

oh

is that Michael? I feel like it is, I feel like we've seen it before and it was Michael

what the hell is Mary doing???

betraying her own kids, wow, great role model

*****

9:03 PM

Cas is dying and Mary is texting people

Dean coming in to see Cas 😭😭😭

something's wrong, he can't heal, and he's all black on the waist

😭😭😭😭😭

Oh, Crowley

Crowley???!!

*****

Ramiel?

ah, Prince of Hell, of course 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️ this fucking show pulling things out of its ass

*****

SIX YEARS AGO

MR. CROWLEY

ah, the lance of Michael okay, I was right

so Crowley went to Ramiel for him to be King, and he refused, so Crowley took the place?

okay, that makes sense, I guess?

*****

Crowley being sorry for Castiel, uh

Dean's fucking breaking apart, he's angry

9:07 PM

Oh, Crowley's going to try

welp, that didn't exactly work

*****

A REAL BARN BURNER

9:12 PM

Cas is dying 😭😭😭

"Look, thank you. Thank you. Knowing you, it's been the best part of my life."

"You're my family.

I love you."

"Just, please, please, don't make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run. Save yourselves. And I will hold Ramiel ofd as long as I can."

"Cas, no."

"Yes. You need to keep fighting."

"We are fighting. We're fighting for you, Cas."

"And like you said, you're family. And we don't leave family behind."

Dean and Cas' look here, the desperation and sadness

If we go down, we go down together

*****

Is Mary going to let them all die for what she stole?

Apparently she is

*****

They managed to kill Ramiel, but Cas? Cas is dying

Oh, Crowley's back, and he figured it out

the runes

I hate the music they chose for this scene so much, wow, really ruined the moment AND Crowley's move, great

Crowley saved Cas though

*****

ONE LAST THING

Men of Letters dude again??

Fuck him

Oh yes Mary, tell him

and also stop working with him, what the fuck

it's YOUR fault for trusting these people

*****

Wait wait wait

all of this

for THE COLT???

ARE YOU KIDDING ME???

🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

*****

They really did Crowley dirty this season, what the fuck

ah, and Lucifer

*****

// Okay, I have more thoughts about this episode

First, it goes in the favourites pile for how creatively different it is from the others: the camera shots, the jumps in time back and forth, the multiple storylines, the secrets, so many characters, the chaos and confusion that somehow makes sense

It had the vibes of a How I Met Your Mother episode

But, I profoundly hate what they're doing with Mary. Having her come back from the dead, to then not only betray her own kids, but actively work against them with the organization that tortured and tried to kill them??? the woman who died to try and save Sam, doing everything she can to get them hurt??? I'm not buying it, and there is NO WAY to justify what she's doing

She COULD tell them she's working with the Men of Letters to take out monsters and she'll drop them if there's anything fishy. She could tell them she wants to hunt and feel useless. She could tell them she wants to rid the US of monsters so they don't have to be hunters anymore. There is SO MUCH she could do that would make her make sense. But nope, she's going behind their backs and risking their lives on secrets.

Also, Crowley. Crowley, who would make deals and only help someone if it brought him something personally, is now an accessory? They took all his power, all his authority, all his grandeur, they took everything from him to leave him but a shell of the character he used to be. I know he drank human blood and was emotional for a while and that was awesome! But then, he needed to spring back. Not end up... whatever he is now.

[demonsfate]

also tired of ppl implying jin being a bad guy makes sense because "he wanted all the mishimas to die since 4!!!!" liiiiike uhhh can you blame the guy??? SDFNDFJGNFAH i mean. SERIOUSLY, look back at 4 through the context of 4 - before all the stupid retcons happened, before jinpachi was actually Le Alive and Lars Existed. literally every known living mishima at the time was a cunt who arguably deserved death. the only thing jin went too far with was wanting to kill himself as well. seeing as he hadn't done anything bad and just went overboard with thinking himself cursed. and like... i don't care if the "mishina bloodline ends here" or whatever quote still exists in tek5. it's clear that by the end of tek4, jin didn't quite feel that way anymore.

and then ppl try to say "BUT HE EVEN KILLED JINPACHIIII-" it's canon that jinpachi is grateful for that, and considered it a "mercy kill" / "sacrifice." jinpachi was completely consumed by an evil power he couldn't control, an evil power that threatened to DESTROY THE WORLD. much like jin, jinpachi would rather die than be used by an evil spirit to kill and destroy the world. also jinpachi is like 100+ years old. i'm not saying it doesn't matter if he dies 'cos of that, but saying that's probs a factor as to why he couldn't control the evil spirit and why he would've died when defeated anyway. it's not like jin ended a dude's life prematurely. not to mention, jin didn't seem concerned with going after kazuya at all during 5.

then if we're continue talking canon here. in 6?? i don't even know if jin wanted to actually kill lars. like i think he just wanted the rebel fuck to stay outta his way. i can't be assed to remember if jin knew about lars' relations to the mishimas at this point but like. still. there was no jin being focused on killing the mishimas. like FUCK, the WAR wasn't even focused on that. like jin never even mentioned killing the mishima bloodline being a priority. jin's war was to 1) save the world from azazel, 2) end the devil gene (not the mishimas) 3) end corrupt governments and tyrannies (ironic lol). none of that had anything to do with the mishimas - and in fact, jin wasn't even thinking about kazuya in the war, the ONLY reason why jin had conflict with kazuya in the war is because kazuya started opposing him. same reason why jin had conflict with lars. it's not specifically because they were mishimas & jin wanted to Kill All Mishimas, but because they just happened to oppose his goals.

finally, CLEARLY he's definitely changed his mind by TK8 when he's literally good allies with lars (and lee, even though lee isn't a blood relative lol) so like, jin only really wanted to specifically kill the mishimas in 4 and that was due to strong evidence they were garbage, and also a trauma response. jin pretty much dropped that in later games.

and lastly, maaan fuck tek6. tek6 was about war and it sent me to a fandom war that never ends (the fight against the horrible mischaracterization + misinterpretation of jin)

[zerablackwell]

Chapter 1: Crashing Reality Part 2

Awaking with a start, Zera covered her mouth to muffle her scream. Then she took a moment to try to calm herself, successfully doing so. Realizing she had been crying, Zera wiped her eyes with shaky hands. Her mind was foggy, disoriented, Zera looked from herself to her surroundings to find that she was in the same clothes from classes today and in confusion she looked around to see where she was.

Zera was in her room, she took a pained deep breath, her lungs feeling like they were on fire. Slowly regaining her composure, she took in the comfort of being in her own home. The white walls of her room reflected the sunset shining in through her large windows, her silver sheets slightly messy from her tossing and turning. She tried to think back to her nightmare but could not recall it for the life of her. The only thing that came to mind was amber eyes.

Shaking her head, she focused on her surroundings. Zera sensed her best friend's presence as well as Elijah's. However, she noticed there was someone else in the house, Zera dragged herself out of bed, smoothing out her school uniform. She then walked to the stairs; halfway down she could hear Azazel blowing up on, Zera assumed, his younger brother.

"You irresponsible, annoying little pest!" Azazel screeched at Seth, Zera quietly walked down the stairs, stopping at the door frame of the room. Carefully she peaked in, the supposed adults too busy arguing to notice her snooping. Just as Zera peered in, Azazel had punched Seth square in the jaw, throwing the younger on the floor who then spit out blood.

"Are you done?" Seth hissed angrily, eyes flashing crimson.

Azazel growled and pulled on his jacket to smooth it out, "Now. I am done." His lavender eyes were once again that ice cold blue.

"Good." Seth stood as he wiped the blood from his mouth, "She has a right to know, she isn't a child anymore Azazel." Seth then picked himself up, only a couple inches shorter than his older brother.

"She is my daughter and I will decide when and if she needs to know anything about those-those-" Azazel growled and took a deep breath. "Seth, I am trying very hard to keep my calm."

"She is my niece, and she wants to know everything you are hiding from her. I see it every day, she's constantly distracted, and I've been watching how she behaves towards others."

"Yes, I can see how she speaks to Elijah. We are working on that, but she is none of your concern."

Family is my concern Azazel, you can't keep shutting me out." Seth pleaded, "I just want her to know who she is, where she comes from! She deserves to know!"

"You're playing the same tune Seth, it's getting old. You don't care, you only care about yourself, not the well-being of others. Even if you did, you are only her uncle, I am her father. Her welfare is my responsibility not yours." After this, Azazel began to speak in a foreign tongue, one Zera did not recognize.

They continued to argue in this strange language she had never heard before, and Zera let it continue for a good several minutes before she had enough. Zera walked in and stayed in the doorway, "Father, Seth."

"Zera, you should not be up and about, you need to rest." Azazel huffed as he walked to his daughter who did not budge from the doorway.

"I feel fine, what language was that you were speaking in?" She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning on the door frame.

"Don't fret," Azazel began, but Seth continued.

"Your family's native tongue, the language of angels, it is called Veraiyaka."

She stared blankly at the two, "Why do you know it? You were born a demon, weren't you?" Zera directly asked Seth who merely chuckled.

"I was, but the demon's language wasn't used in heaven. I only ever knew my father's language, I never truly knew my mother's heritage." Seth explained patiently, a hint of delight in his eyes.

Zera nodded slightly, "So they tried to erase your heritage?"

Azazel snickered and hid his mouth with his hand while Seth stayed quiet, a frown growing on his face. He stuttered before clearing his throat to answer, "N-no, no they didn't. Father just..." Seth's voice trailed off, uncertainty in his eyes as the gears seemed to turn in his mind.

"Father just what little brother?" Azazel pressed, smirking deviously. "Why was it that you only knew Veraiyaka? Why you never met Lilith? Why was I the one who had to teach you Raiwadahkre? Or even how to tame your hunger?"

Seth visibly tensed up, "Father was always busy Azazel, you know this. Besides, none of them were familiar with the demons' culture."

"You have always made excuses for him, for the love of- just open your damn eyes Seth!" Azazel snapped, throwing his hands in the air, exasperated.

The green-eyed male began to tear up, clearly trying to calm himself. Zera found the whole interaction between the brothers' confusion and irritating. Azazel wasn't letting up on his little brother, and Seth was just an emotional wreck waiting to explode. She wasn't sure how to keep his walls from crumbling and didn't know how to diffuse the situation. Zera was more comfortable escalating but didn't want to deal with the consequences of doing so.

"Azazel..." Seth's voice was soft and wavered a touch, "Brother, why do you do this? I just want us all together. To put the past behind and start fresh... What is so wrong about doing that"

Azazel's face was void of expression as he spoke in a calm and even tone, "My wife is dead." His eyes turning from lavender to ice cold blue, at this Seth had frozen up. "Mrai sharaiz pehtekwarya Seth."

"May I remind you both that I do not speak that gibberish." Zera chimed in, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently.

Seth cleared his throat, looking from Zera to Azazel, "Should I translate or you?"

Azazel hissed at Seth, "I merely told him I protect my own."

"How truthful was he being there?" Zera asked her uncle who seemed pleased by his answer.

"For the most part, accurate translation."

Zera watched them for a long while before she was satisfied, "Fine, now why don't we keep to English? I'd prefer you to be straightforward. If you hide things from me, I promise I will find out the truth."

"There is nothing to discuss Zera." Azazel shook his head, his lavender eyes showing now tired he was. It was a strange sight for Zera, seeing her father this vulnerable. "Seth was just on his way out, right little brother?"

Seth stared at Azazel for a long while, when Zera was about to say something he spoke up, "No. I'm not leaving, I want to talk, I want to just work things out."

The older male glared, "I'm not talking anymore." With that in Azazel's place was Elijah.

Elijah took his jacket off and set it down on the couch, glaring at his alter's brother. "Seth."

"Bro-"

"I. Am not your brother Seth, Azazel is. Not me." He pointed a finger at Seth, "Now, Azazel does not want you here. Zera is not ready to hear whatever it is you have to say, respect her father's wishes."

"I don't believe you are the one to determine that Elijah." Zera hissed at her guardian, who took a step back. "Not you and not Father. The both of you are withholding information from me, cheating me out of my humanity."

Elijah tensed, Seth stared at them in disbelief, "I'm sorry, they what?"

"I made a deal with Father and Elijah to help me get revenge on my adoptive father and figure out my origins." Zera explained, her eyes never leaving Elijah. "Supposedly, the contract was completed long ago. However, with everything you've informed me with now it appears that I have been deceived. Although, what should I have expected from a pair of demons?"

"So Azazel and Elijah..." He turned to the white-haired male. "You two took her humanity?" Seth's shoulders slumped, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I don't believe that is your place." Elijah huffed, visibly uneasy.

"I'm really wondering what kind of parenting you are doing, I can not believe you!" Seth screeched, he looked at Zera, then back at Elijah. "What would Marnie think of this?"

"She doesn't agree either, but it's all done. Nothing changes what has passed. However, we can attempt to amend those mistakes by telling me the information that I am due." Zera snarled at Elijah.

"Okay we need a breather, need to take a break." Seth stood between the two, he looked at Elijah. "You and Azazel need to stop and look at this whole mess." He then looked at Zera, "You need to think about the way you go about things."

"We are done here, really. Seth. Leave." Elijah demanded, for the first time, Elijah seemed visibly shaken.

"I'll leave, as soon as you two take some time to cool down. Elijah you have to see that this is not healthy and not good for any of you." Seth put a hand on Elijah's shoulder, Zera watched as for the first time Elijah looked completely helpless. It was an unnerving sight, one she did not like. "Elijah really look at this, look where you guys are. Marnie never wanted this, she never wanted you and Azazel to do all this."

Elijah glared, "Don't. Don't use her name. Do not dare. You have no right to use her name."

"Elijah, you're overreacting, Mother is dead, she has been for over a hundred years. It is long past time to move on." Zera huffed loudly, "Mother, I'm sure, is turning over in her grave listening to you both."

"Young lady, watch your tone." Elijah was shaking.

"She was human, humans die. They live short lives, she was going to die no matter what." Zera snapped, "Why are you lashing out at him for talking about her?"

"She is dead because of them!" Elijah began to raise his voice, then covered his mouth.

"What do you mean?" Zera eyed him closely, growling. "John told me she died from giving birth to me, if there is anyone you should blame for her death it is me. Just as John did. Unless there is something you are not telling me."

Seth was at a loss for words, before he could say anything Elijah spat in Raiwadahkre, "Karwajeh chesah ena, tahkreth chesah cha."

"Rai jehkar Elijah." Seth sneered, causing Zera to almost explode.

"What is he lying about then? How did she die?" She screamed at them.

Elijah shook his head, "No." He stood his ground, though Zera could see just one push and he could topple, "Seth...I am begging you..." His eyes watered even as he tried to keep his expression firm, "I am begging you to leave."

There was a long pause between the three parties, a long time passed before Seth broke the silence. "Fine, I'll go. I'll leave for now, but I will not give up on this family." He turned and faced Zera, "I'll see you in school, and I do expect you to do the homework, no excuses."

Before Zera could respond, Seth vanished and she groaned loudly, "I hate

"Zera..." Elijah began, but his voice trailed off.

"Elijah, for the time being, I want nothing to do with you or with Father." She then turned and walked off, leaving Elijah in stunned silence.

Zera made her way over to the backyard, closing the door behind her. She took a deep breath and sat down on the stone steps.

Birds sang in the trees at the edge of the yard, the breeze was light and warm. Sun beamed down on Zera's pale skin and she closed her eyes, taking in the surroundings. With each deep breath, Zera could feel the overwhelming negative emotions slowly subside. The peace did not last long, her thoughts found their way back to Elijah and her father's betrayal. Growling, shadows began to surround her, and a familiar voice chimed in her ear, "Child, if you dwell on this, you'll give them power. Clear you mind in order to keep your eye on the prize."

Looking around, Zera did not see who the voice belonged to, "Who was that?"

"I'm hurt, you've forgotten me already? When you come to me for assistance in finding the truth behind your father's web of lies?" Listening to the disembodied voice, Zera felt a sense of relief overcome.

It seemed like a light bulb went off in Zera, "Luz."

"Correct." He cooed, and it felt like he was practically breathing against her ear, "You did so well with your father and your uncle."

"It wasn't enough." She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, angrily glaring at the grass. The shadows once surrounding her began to recede back into her being and appeared to vanish from sight.

"Give yourself a little more credit, you gained quite a bit of information. Now you need to pull back just a touch, if you dig too deep too fast, then you will set yourself back ten steps." The voice acknowledged and reassured her, Zera let out an irritated sigh. "I understand how difficult it is to be patient, but you must wait. Bide your time then you can get a bigger payout little one."

Zera thought it over for a long moment, "Fine. What plan do you have Luz?"

"The goal is to get you the history that you have been denied, to retrieve the full story we must find Madeline. In order to find Madeline, we must get you into Heaven's record room. That may have hints towards her last known location, considering they do so love to keep tabs on everyone. Only one slight problem."

She sighed, "And pray tell what that problem might be?"

"We need to get you past Archangel Metatron, the scribe of Heaven. He will be guarding it closely; however, if we get past him, we can find the key to answering your mysterious family history."

Zera mulled this information over for a long while before nodding slowly, she had already killed an angel, how much more difficult would an archangel be? "Very well, how do we get into Heaven?"

[elizabethrobertajones]

Hi, Lizzy. I know you said that you don't care about Asmodeus anymore, but I still kind of disappointed in the whole his existence? What was the point? He did absolutely nothing except keeping Cas and Lucifer off the plot for a few episodes. He failed at everything he was about to do. I knew from the start that he was a red herring, but he failed even at it. He was necessary neither for Gabriel's arc nor for Ketch's. But he still had quite a lore as a demon which was never explored. Oh, welp.

Hahaha yeah, exactly why I’m like “oh, welp” as well at this point :P 

At this point it seems like they’re tidying up for the end of the season and putting players in place. In terms of plot relevance, Asmodeus was used to bring Gabriel into play and though he’s the weakest YED, a YED still is a powerful player and theoretically it isn’t too wild to think that they’re roughly equivalent to archangels if we go on the assumption now that the princes of hell are Lucifer-fantasising-about-being-god creates a group of 4 princes to match the archangels. I’d even guess you could match them to the archangels loosely, with Azazel as Michael, the most loyal son and of course the Dean and John mirror and true threat.  While Ramiel and Dagon match a little less well but loosely to Gabriel and Raphael respectively for the leave me alone/belatedly show up to make good with an apocalypse plan attitudes :P

At this point in season 13 I’d say Asmodeus is the freakin Lucifer mirror. Posing and ridiculous, Cas specifically compares Lucifer and Asmodeus while they’re in his jail, mocking him that his weakest creation managed to capture Lucifer. At the start of the episode we had nice scenes with Lucifer and Asmodeus side by side on their thrones, opposites but still basically like father like son. And both narrative dead ends and kind of pathetic and power hungry and yet not even sure wtf they’re doing with themselves.

As Asmodeus was written by Buckleming, we got relatively little explanation for what he had been up to - we actually got a lot of connections to his lore this season, with the seal of solomon, the shedim, and I think people even found Gog and Magog connections? we also had Solomon referenced 3 times anyways. But he does feel like he has a thematic place in this season and I liked those connections, regardless of his overall effectiveness. For sure, now, it seems like his ineffectiveness was a part of his character and he’s all presence and dazzle and showboating, but at the end of the day he himself was a boy playing at the throne. 

In the same way, Lucifer is embedded into the show’s lore, and in a way all the things that ever happen on the show are directly or indirectly his fault. But the show struggles to find a place for him and he’s now being written as unable to change, and a self-defeating despot loser. I think it would be best for the show to at least put him away for a while, if not kill him, and be brave about trying to explore a reality post-Lucifer. Just as after season 2, with Azazel gone, the show had to try and find a way beyond the original motivating big bad, and again in a more meta way in season 6 it had to find a way beyond the apocalypse. 

Asmodeus as the last yellow eyed demon adds another level of not being able to use that trick again as a finite number were conceptualised, and those they were expanding on the Azazel brand, once again they’re all gone and the SPN world is YED-free. And it was inglorious and he was deep fried in a mocking way by one of his own victims gaining back power over his abuser, all of which are things which I want to see happen to Lucifer - and with Sam and Rowena, we even have a set up of abused and abuser and Rowena unleashing herself to be ready to take Lucifer down, if she has to face him again. I don’t know if they will be brave enough to kill Lucifer and put an end to the nonsense, but he’s thankfully resisting redemption, and meanwhile Buckleming are even showing that they do know they are writing him one way, and showing that, as eye-roll worthy as it is, Ketch is being softened up for redemption but they’re genuinely writing that with a mind to make it look like he means it and that this is something he is capable of doing, emotionally. 

So I think if we’re lucky, thematically Asmodeus may still have a part to play in the season or ongoing story, and if not immediately he at least has helped chart out some stuff for character parallels and added to the discussion about what may become of Lucifer, and the way he comes across.