#THE BANGS GOT MEEE HES BLIND

[fujoshoid]

i switched my dol+ save over to the susato mod 😭 dude how are you even seeing right now

[alisayamin]

Somebody To Love (Sheith Secret Santa - Pinch Hit)

Ashie!! I’m your pinch hitter for the Sheith Secret Santa! I hope you like this pre-Kerberos fanfic! ^3^

Read on AO3

Shiro never thought it was physically possible to wake up because Matt started playing that awful song again but he did.

“Caaaaaaaaaan…. Anybodyyy? Find meeee, somebody tooo loooooovee~”

The worst part was? Matt was actually studying at the dining table and would alternate between pausing and playing the song according to what Shiro was doing.

He was just standing up from where he had accidentally slept on the couch when the song continued, “Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little… Can barely stand on my feet!”

As he went inside the bathroom to wash his face, he could hear the continuation, “(Take a look at yourself) Take a look in the mirror and cry (and cry), lord what you're doing to me?”

By the time he was preparing his daily bowl of cereal, that horrible line was repeating again, “Somebody (somebody) ooh somebody (somebody). Can anyyybodyyy find meee somebody to love?”

“I work hard (he works hard) every day of my life” Shiro twisted his neck to the side until it made a popping sound that made Matt look over at him and grimace deeply, “I work till I ache in my bones- I work till I ache my bones- I work till I ache my bones- I work till I ache my bones-“

Shiro gave Matt his most unimpressed face (which Matt challenged with his own poker face) but Matt was still rewinding that one single line again and again and again, until finally, Shiro relented.

He happily buried his face in his crossed arms as he admitted defeat, “FINE. You win. I’ll take the weekend off.”

Matt got up from his seat with the most triumphant smile and began singing to his favourite Queens song. Honestly, sometimes Shiro wasn’t sure who the commanding officer in the room was anymore.

When Shiro first met Matt, it was when they found out they were roommates. Although they were in different programs, Matt was always there for Shiro. He was like the annoying brother Shiro never thought he’d meet. Even after Shiro became an instructor at the Garrison, he refused to move out from their shared quarters. Pros: Matt cared for Shiro and would make sure he ate and slept accordingly. Cons: Matt cared for Shiro and would force Shiro to take some time off from Garrison by giving him tickets to watch illegal races.

Shiro was walking to the secret track while simultaneously talking to Matt on his communicator that dual-functioned as a wristwatch as well, “Remind me again why you even had this pass. Do you really expect me to believe it was because of some racer?”

“Hey, Keith is awesome!  Make sure you bet him for me. He’s usually the one in red, number 23. And c’mon Shiro, loosen up!” Matt shrugged with a smug grin.

Shiro was already starting to regret his decision, “I’m a certified Garrison pilot who’s about to watch ILLEGAL racing-“

Matt’s expression suddenly became serious as he cut Shiro off, “Yeah but you gotta watch him. You’ll understand. Trust me.”

And that sealed the deal. Because if anything, Matt was the only Shiro truly trusted at the Garrison.

Shiro stared at Matt through his communicator before giving a curt nod, “I’m reaching the vicinity. Call you later.”

“Have fun!” Matt waved happily before he disconnected.  

When Shiro reached the marked building on his digital map, he went inside. It was a typical abandoned establishment in an abandoned city. He traveled quite far to watch this particular race so he hoped it was worth it. Following Matt’s instruction, Shiro walked to the ‘white ring’ and laid the ticket backside up on his palm. Abruptly, a red light scanned Shiro’s body and the ticket from the ceiling above him before it dispersed as suddenly as it appeared. Shiro felt a rumbling at his feet before the ‘white ring’ started descending underground.

It was a quiet ride that slowly grew louder as the walls opened up to a huge stadium. Shiro’s eyes grew wide with awe at the massive size of the underground track. From his still descending platform, Shiro had a clear semi-aerial view of the whole place. He saw that the rocky track was uneven and looked natural rather than man-made.

Blinding lights streamed from above. Reflective surfaces were used to direct the beams towards the race track, creating an incredible stage lighting effect.

When the platform finally reached the bottom, Shiro found himself lost in the crowds. Matt assured him that as long as he found his seat, he’d be able to bet and watch the race safely. The crowds were basically those that couldn’t get the passes but still wanted to watch the race. Shiro wondered how they found their way inside since the place was so deep underground.

It took longer than he thought to navigate through the masses but he was lucky to be on the right side of the stadium where his seat was located. The LED lights illuminating Shiro’s seat changed from red to green after he scanned his pass again at the small scanner located on the edge of the left armrest. Instantly, a rectangular touch-sensitive virtual display appeared in front of him; the betting screen.

The racers were labeled by colour and numbers. Names seemed to be optional since not many racers had placed their names in that particular section. Shiro scrolled for ‘Keith’ and made sure that it was also labeled ‘red’ and ‘23’. Matt betted a hefty sum for this ‘Keith’, enough for Shiro to pitch in his own units. Once the units were transferred, Shiro confirmed his bets. The display shrunk to a smaller screen on top of the right armrest.

Shiro perked up when he heard the familiar rumbling of a well-tuned aircraft. He looked upwards just in time to see a distinct red hovercraft swooping over his head. Shiro felt as though time slowed in that split second. It was surreal to watch the underbelly of a real flying (probably illegal) aircraft so close to his face. The resulting wind that slammed him into his seat was exhilarating. Shiro secretly wished he could ride his own hovercraft at that moment. Instantaneously, twelve other hovercrafts flew towards the track from all corners of the stadium. The crowds’ cheers drowned the revving engines as the racers took their position.

There was a commentator riling up the crowds and announcing odds of the possible winner. Shiro would have paid attention if he wasn’t so focused on the racers themselves. He noticed that there was definitely a major difference between the size (and age) of the other racers and this… ‘Keith’. Compared to the others, ‘Keith’ was practically a child! Shiro imagined Matt hitting his head for mocking someone’s height. Okay, Shiro conceded, ‘Keith’ was at least a young adult. A teenager. In an illegal race track. Racing illegally.

All sorts of alarms started ringing in Shiro’s head. Before he could properly organize his thoughts, a loud bang resounded throughout the stadium, signifying the start of the race.

Shiro literally forgot all about ‘Keith’ and that person’s age when he saw the smooth maneuvers that red aircraft was pulling off. The track was somewhat inconsistent, divided between a smoother pathway and a rocky one. The red aircraft, number 23, young adult ‘Keith’, was the only one in that rocky part of the track. And it was…

It was breathtaking.

Shiro himself had only ever did half those stunts strictly in simulators. Yet, here was a kid doing it with twice the risk and twice the skill Shiro could ever hope for. The control was flawless and the skill was.. Shiro couldn’t describe it as anything but ‘instinctual’. ‘Keith’ piloted that aircraft as though they were one. Matt had said before “You could take your eyes off him but you WON’T.” Shiro had scoffed back then. Yet, there he was, eyes figuratively glued to the red aircraft with a striking ‘23’ painted on the right wing.

By the time that red aircraft made it through the finish line first, Shiro was on his feet, clapping enthusiastically. He even cheered along with the crowds. The pilot of the winning aircraft came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the stadium and took off his helmet.

And Shiro received confirmation that ‘Keith’ was in fact, a teenager. His body was small and was of average height, probably 17, black hair styled into a mullet and he had a strong posture. Even from afar, Shiro could tell that despite his size and age, ‘Keith’ was not a child. ‘Keith’ walked to the podiums where the commentator was excitedly announcing all the amazing stunts ‘Keith’ had pulled.

As the commentator raised the winning pilot’s fist, Shiro was hit with an epiphany. Matt never did anything without a reason. And Shiro just realized what Matt wanted him to do and what he was already planning on doing the moment ‘Keith’ navigated his aircraft through a small curved cave that shouldn’t have been possible.

Shiro was going to recruit ‘Keith’ into the Garrison space pilot program.

Keith politely shook hands with the other racers that approached him. He was only going to stay till he received his units and not a minute longer. Unfortunately, he could feel eyes on him. Someone from the stands was watching him too intensely for his liking. By the end of the race, people would usually rush to reap their rewards from their bets at the collection counters. No one would stay behind to watch the racers or anything.

So when that uneasy feeling remained, Keith kept his guard up. The underground stadium was one of the more secure race tracks, so for it to be compromised would be very bad news indeed.

Keith started to undress from his racing garment, allowing him access for his dagger and other accessories in his utility belt to help with escape if he needed it. He would do anything to escape the system. Keith had just put on his red jacket when he heard incoming footsteps.

“Hi there.” Someone spoke from behind Keith.

As a reflex, Keith pressed the panic button on his wristband and withdrew his dagger, pointing it towards the suspicious intruder. Alerted by the panic button, everyone within a 100-meter radius withdrew their own weapons; guns, knives and other melee weapons, towards the person that was deemed a threat by Keith.

Said person simply raised his hands in a placating gesture. His eyes were wide and genuinely frightened but Keith didn’t take any chances.

“Scan him.” Keith commanded.

One of the other racers did so using a minipad and then announced, “Status, Garrison personnel. Pass holder, Matt Holt.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed at the stranger, “You’re not Matt.”

“N-no but I am Garrison personnel.” The stranger gulped audibly as he continued, “I came in Matt’s place. He’s my roommate.”  

Keith felt something loosen inside him as he remembered Matt telling him all about his ‘workaholic roommate’. The stranger definitely fitted Matt’s description of the hair and body type. Keith reluctantly lowered his dagger, “Shiro?”

The intruder looked taken aback, “Yeah.. How did you-“

Shiro seemed to forget all about the hostility around him as Keith heard Shiro mumbling to himself about how he was going to kill Matt six ways from Sunday.

“What do you want with Keith?” one of the racers asked with his gun still pointing in Shiro’s direction.

Without looking at the asker, Shiro stared straight at Keith and gave his answer, “I want to recruit Keith into the Garrison space pilot program.”

Then, it was time for Keith and everyone else to be surprised instead. The tense atmosphere broke with laughter. Keith would’ve laughed too if Shiro didn’t have so much conviction in his voice and if he wasn’t looking at Keith with such.. sincerity.

The others soon picked up on the seriousness of Shiro’s confession and the laughter died off.

“You’re serious.” The commentator deadpanned.

Shiro nodded, “Absolutely. If he comes under my recommendation, all he has to do is pass the entrance exam. I can help with that and so can Matt.”

All weapons were lowered and all eyes were on Keith. The teenager looked conflicted as he frowned at Shiro. Keith couldn’t comprehend Shiro’s desire to recruit him so he voiced out a soft but incredulous, “…why?”

The smile Shiro gave him was honest and warm, “Because if we had pilots with even half your skill, we’d be visiting Kerberos annually.”

Those words struck a familiar chord inside Keith. He allowed a small smile towards Shiro, “Matt said the exact same thing.”

“I’m not surprised.” Shiro rolled his eyes, “So? What do you say?”

Matt had once told Keith that his background wouldn’t be a problem if a Garrison personnel (especially someone like Shiro who was the Garrison golden boy) recommended him. He had lived the past few years as a runaway orphan, reading books from the public libraries, travelling with various mechanics to earn his keep, building his own aircraft and winning units through racing. Maybe it’d be nice to settle in one place to learn properly for once.

And if Matt and Shiro were a symbol of the Garrison, that place shouldn’t be too bad.

“I’m in.”

“You’re FIFTEEN?” Shiro gaped at Keith.

They couldn’t bring Keith’s (very illegal) hovercraft so Shiro opted to leave it in a secluded outpost somewhere in the desert. They were currently lounging on the porch together, watching the stars above.  

“I thought we established that already.” Keith sat at the porch steps while Shiro was leaning on the pillar to Keith’s left.

“NO. We established greetings and names, not YOUR AGE.”

Keith crossed his arms, “Drop it.”

Upon receiving the learning texts required to pass the entrance exam from Matt (through Shiro), Keith politely returned them to Shiro, saying that he had read them before. Shiro called bullshit and began quizzing Keith, only to eat his own words later when Keith answered every question correctly.

Keith caught Shiro sighing blissfully while staring at the stars. There was something about Shiro’s love of space that made Keith want to feel it too.

“I wanna explore all that one day…” Shiro whispered wistfully, “Just.. go wherever the stars trail to.”

Shiro turned to Keith, “Wanna come with?”

Keith played along, “Only if you’re leading the mission.”

“Ho? Why’s that?”

Keith didn’t answer but he’d figured that someone who loved space as much as Shiro did would always make it out alive somehow.

Rumours flew around the Garrison about Shiro adopting a stray. If that stray was an increasingly infuriating brat called Keith, Shiro would readily admit that rumour. Not one month since his enrollment and Keith was already beating every single one of Shiro’s records. Truthfully, that was all he was striving to do. Keith lived to watch Shiro’s face when he found out that Keith had beat his score.

Keith did well enough in class but he lacked participation and did not get along with his classmates. Shiro knew Keith was not used to regular human interaction and it took a long time to get those stories out about Keith’s past. But once it was out, Shiro tried making up for all the social interaction Keith needed to learn normalcy. Animosity among teenagers was something Shiro wished he never had to deal with but Keith was someone Shiro never wanted to see hurt.

Every time Keith excelled and gained fame for his piloting skills, many interpreted it as Keith being arrogant and a ‘show-off’. Shiro knew about all the ‘lessons’ some cadets would make Keith learn for being favoured by Shiro and the other instructors. Matt could wash away all the bloody cloths he used to help Keith but nothing could ever remove the black bruises from Keith’s body before Shiro found out. And Keith, being the stubborn brat he was, would never admit who exactly held him down while other people kicked the shit out of him.

Keith fought back of course, but never more than he needed to get away. Although Shiro never said it, Keith understood that as ‘Shiro’s recommended’, everything Keith did would reflect on Shiro too.

Shiro’s solution to the ‘secret beatings’? Secret self-defense lesson. Unfortunately, Keith could disarm and throw Shiro to the ground in no time. That was when Shiro realized that Keith didn’t use his full strength against his classmates. They were lucky too. Shiro and Keith had matching bruises soon.

Matt’s solution to the ‘secret beatings’? A vine account. A Garrison vine account. Where he used every blackmail material possible and posted incredibly embarrassing moments of almost every cadet in the academy.

It definitely distracted everyone from Keith, especially since no one knew who was behind the account (because of course Shiro, Matt and Keith would post stupid shit about each other as well).

Matt posted a vine of Shiro sleeping during a class after he had handed out quizzes.

Shiro posted a vine of Keith being smashed with a pie (from Matt) on his face for his birthday.

Keith posted a vine of Shiro constantly squeezing shampoo onto a panicking Matt who was shouting because no matter how badly he washed, the shampoo was still there.

Once a month, Keith and Shiro spent the weekend at the outpost in the desert. Shiro taught Keith about the constellations while they're both on their back, lying on the cool night sands.

In the mornings, Keith would give Shiro mini heart attacks by flying his hovercraft at full speed with Shiro as the passenger.

Keith enjoyed Shiro's panicked rants and shouts but not as much as Shiro enjoyed Keith's rare laugh and the way Keith looked with the wind against his smiling face.

Shiro was chosen to be part of the Kerberos mission. So was Matt.

Keith promised to take over the vine account and continue their legacy.

Shiro hugged Keith for the first time the night before he left. Keith didn’t know why he felt like crying when he was Shiro’s arms. It wasn’t goodbye but Shiro’s strong grip was misleading.

After Shiro let Keith go, he gently tilted Keith’s chin up and kissed him softly on the lips.

The rumours of Shiro and Matt being the owner of the Garrison vine account became null because the account was still running even after they left.

For 6 months, the vine account posted daily videos of the variety of students in Garrison. Those that pick their nose in secret, those that sang in the showers, those that were caught dancing with very risqué moves through the dorm windows, those that slept in class, and those that simply had funny things to say.

The Garrison vine account died the day the Kerberos mission was announced to have failed due to a pilot error.

Keith couldn’t stay.

He couldn’t stay and be ridiculed and lied to by people who said Shiro and Matt were dead.

Shiro was not dead.

Someone who loved space as much as Shiro did would not just die. And Shiro would not let anything happen to Matt. Besides, they promised to explore the stars together.

Shiro was not dead.

Keith ditched everything and left the academy. He went to the outpost in the desert to retrieve his hovercraft. Some of his and Shiro’s clothes were still there from when they would stayover so that Keith could tune his hovercraft.

Shiro was not dead.

Keith let himself wander with his hovercraft. Two weeks later, he realized that he was flying circles around a certain spot. A month of exploration later, Keith found the markings of ‘Voltron’. Few weeks later, he had all the markings on paper. He calculated the dates from the data he found using the formula he learned to derive from Matt. Something was going to happen soon.

Shiro was not dead.

There was a crash on the night Keith predicted something would happen. Although he believed that Shiro wasn’t dead, it was different to actually see and touch Shiro for real. He used his hovercraft to get Shiro (and the extra baggage) to safety.

Shiro was not dead.

When Shiro woke up on the bed they shared many times in the outpost, Keith didn’t hesitate to hug him. They stayed in each other’s arms for a long time. Keith wanted to ask about Matt, about the mission, about the past year and Shiro’s whereabouts but at that moment, he wished time would stop. Shiro’s grip was as tight as the night he hugged Keith before his mission.

Keith felt the urge to cry again but he didn’t stop it this time. He would let himself break just this one time, to embrace the fact that Shiro was not dead. When Shiro pulled Keith in for a kiss, Keith didn’t question it. He responded as desperately as Shiro was giving it to him. They never spoke about it, whatever that was happening between them but Keith was fine with it. He’d give Shiro anything he needed. Matt once said (sang) to Keith that Shiro needed somebody to love, someone to lead him home when he lost his way in space.

As Shiro’s hands began tentatively mapping Keith’s back, and his lips began trailing soft kisses down Keith’s neck, Keith thought to himself that he had already become Shiro’s beacon. Keith promised to himself that day that he’d always bring Shiro home no matter how many times it takes.

Author’s Note:

Everyone needs somebody to love. They remind you why you still need to live and breathe. I hope all of y'all have someone to love.

[cdg174]

Just another Babysitter: Part 2

Summary: Y/N dreams of the time she gave little Sammy and Dean her rings as keepsakes but is all of a sudden torn away from the happy yet sad time. She wakes up not in her comfortable bed but in a pitch black and confining wooden box under six feet of soil. Y/N’s initial thought is that she’s been buried alive but what she see’s when she digs herself through the tons of earth causes her to second guess herself. What will Y/N do when she realizes that the world she has woken up in is completely different from the one she used to know? Only time will tell.

Words: 1759

Masterlist

Cottonwood Falls, Kansas: Saturday June 24th, 2017

Y/N’s pov.

“Alright my little men, open your ears.” Dean stands directly in front of me as I kneel to his height and baby Sam is wobbling next to him, holding his big brother’s hand. Dean understands most things I say while Sammy only needs to hear my voice to pay attention. Their father John stands by the impala some feet away as I and his boys say our goodbyes after nearly two months of caring for them. Although I’m just a babysitter for kids, John sure needed reminders to eat, sleep and have showers too.

“Can you come with us and the bike and wagon too? Oh please, pretty please!” I smile at Dean’s attempt to convince me to ride along with them, he pouts his lip a little for extra cuteness.

“Sorry Dee but I gotta stay here. It’s my home just as much as you three have become. I would love to give you the tricycle and the wagon too but there’s no room in your daddy’s car for them.” Dean looks down sadly and Sam mimics him. I smile because I know they only do so to guilt trip me into coming with them. If only I could. I take a ring off of my left hand and one off of my right one.

“Hold out your hand little man.” I direct at Dean softly and he does so slowly. I cup his raised hand with mine and I place the two rings in his palm. “I made these with my auntie when I was eight and I want you guys to have them.” Dean looks at them with bright eyes and Sam peaks curiously at them over our hands. “These are to remind the both of you of a home you can come back to if need be. I’ll need you to keep Sam’s safe until he’s old enough not to be able to choke on it, alright Dean?” He nods at his new mission. I raise the gold wired one slightly. “For you Dee because you’re the treasure everyone is searching for.” I then pick up the slightly pink one for Sam to see. “For you because you look delicate but you hold everything together beautifully.”

I hug the boys rather tightly goodbye and once I let go to stand, they race to their dad as fast as their little legs can carry them. John nods his farewell to me and climbs into the drivers seat, closing the door behind him. The engine roars to life and soon the vehicle is rolling out of the motel parking lot. The farther the impala drives away, the thinner the air around me gets. I begin to stagger on my feet as I feel light headed but then I feel like I’m no longer touching the ground. My vision begins to fade, darker and darker. Then I feel nothing but myself gasping for breath.

I open my eyes, breathing hard. It’s dark, pitch black. Did I really open my eyes? I feel myself blink rapidly, so I must have. Where am I? I raise my head but I hit it on something above me. I begin to move my limbs but they are very stiff and painful to bend. Not that I could move much anyway, every time I do my knee or an elbow is blocked by something. I raise my hands and begin to feel what’s stopping my actions. It feels rough as it has a grain to it and it’s in long planks with hairline ridges between each. I’m on a box. Then I realize. 

“Coffin.” I wheeze past my dry, cracking lips. “I’m in a coffin.” I cough slightly at the attempt to speak, my throat is sore beyond description. I try to heave the top up but it doesn’t budge, it only causes the wood to crack at my touch and dirt to fall through the crevices. Buried. How do I get out of here? What if I never get out of here? I begin to panic and bang my fists on the coffin lid. The air is too thin and I scream as high as my dry throat will allow. 

“Let me out! Let me out, please!” I know my pleas aren’t heard, my voice is too weak to sound through who knows how much feet of soil but what else am I to do? I continue pummelling the wood, I don’t know how hard I hit the panelling even when I feel my fists cut open with splinters. I keep at it even when the wood cracks louder and louder. Then in a second, two panels crack enough that they can no longer hold the weight of the dirt above them. Soil piles in and takes the air away.

Dig. Kick up. Dig. Kick up. Emptiness. Air, I feel air. I’ve broken the surface. I reach my other hand though the dirt surrounding me and feel it punch through to the ground as well. I slowly but surely pull and kick my way up. I can breath again. I drag myself out of what used to be my supposed grave and lay on my back on what feels to be grass. Soft, so soft. I keep my eyes closed knowing the red glow behind my eyelids is the sun shining. I’ve just beat my way out of a pitch dark coffin and through suffocating earth, I don’t want to blind myself by a huge star in the sky.

After minutes of listening to silence, I sit up stiffly and hesitantly open my eyes. Once my vision adjusts, I see in front of me the dug up earth where I once was and next to then hole are two grave stones. I crawl to the first, not trusting my legs to hold my weight, on the first grey rock it’s engraved with my name. 

Here lies Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N Beloved friend, niece and a sister to many. May she fly in the heavens for all eternity. Born August 12th, 1965 - Died June 24th, 1984

I’m dead. Or at least I was. Before I panic again, I look to the next head stone. My mother. My auntie must have buried me next to my mother’s grave on our old property, where she died in our house that burnt down when I was five. I look up and gasp. Every single tree, bush and even the ruins of the house, all flattened to the ground. Looks as though a bomb went off. I stand and with difficulty I turn a whole 360 of to survey the area. Everything is down, not a single thing standing but me. What happened here? I look to the graves again and see they are untouched by all the fallen trees. I did this.

Hours later maybe, I’m not really sure how long but I’ve reached Cottonwood Falls. Our old property was a twenty minute drive out on the highway so walking back isn’t a hop, skip and beat away. The sun seems to be in the middle of the sky so when I was digging it must have been very early morning. I know the route back to town like the back of my now bloodied hand because aunt Terry and me would go out to visit mom once a month since she was buried there.

Before I get too far into town, I see some people walking about across the street from me. I look down at my clothes covered in dirt while their’s are neat and clean. I hide myself behind a tree knowing full well I’m filthy, I don’t want to raise attention to myself after all I am supposed to be dead. I’m supposed to be dead. How long have I been dead? I peek around the tree to observe the two people walking when I hear one of them laugh. They stop a moment and the one girl, maybe a little older than me, takes a small contraption out of her pocket. The front of it’s reflective, like glass and it has a red covering on the back. I can’t make it out much from this distance but I can see her tap the glass twice and it brightens up. 

“What in the world is that?” I say shocked. The girl holding the little machine mentions something about calling for a ride. She then proceeds to click on the glass a few more times before putting it to her ear and speaking into it. “My god! It’s a telephone!” It’s so small, the one my auntie had was six times the size of that one. How long have I been gone?

“Are you all right Ma’am?” Startled I turn around and see a woman. She’s looks about thirty with her tanned skin, she’s got long blond hair, gentle blue eyes, a slanted smile and wearing a floor length green dress covered by a black leather coat. I notice something else too.

“You don’t have shoes on.” She laughs slightly at my response.

“Well no I don’t. I just looked out the window of my house there.” The woman points to her right.

“And I saw you leaning against the tree in dirty clothes. Thought something was wrong is all. Shoes weren’t really on my mind.” I gaze back at the woman, she seems nice enough. As I look at her, she observes me as well. “Do you need help?” I can’t tell her I just came back from the dead and don’t know what year it is. She’ll just call me crazy a lock me in a padded cell probably so I’ll have to make something up. I was always good at telling kids bedtime stories.

“Yeah actually. I haven’t had a phone in a while so when my car got a flat on the highway, I couldn’t call for a tow. Then when I was trying to change the thing myself, I ended up slipping and rolled down into a ditch.” I look at my clothes, thinking it’s believable enough. “Hence the appearance.” She gives me a sad smile.

“Well here dear, why don’t you come inside.” She walks over and puts her arm over my shoulders. “Let’s get you cleaned up, I can spare you some clothes and then you can use my phone to call yourself a tow.” I nod in agreement as she guides me to her front door. “My name's Gwen, what’s yours?” Well I can’t give her a dead person’s name, so I improvise.

“Name’s Dawn.”

Special mentions : @palominojacoby 

Call me Jane Doe Tag list: @arazialotis @cyanpintglass @goldenolaf25 @when-innocence-is-gone @jaylynnaredsky @fallen-castiel @spnfanficfavorites@anothertimeinspace @klleexy @flare-chan003 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @imnotalosechester @mary-meee @yascalum @jsamstar@driadgoch @vvinch3st3r @kayarisa@misguidedconqueress @heeeeeether @messy-buns-and-shotguns @breathexxinxxthexxflames @ryantherandomhero @simirachel@supernatural-fangirl13 @lilypalmer1987 @beatlesobsessionlove @ultracleverthing @possesstiel

[chaiteakusuri]

Allow me to Demon-strate

Read it on my AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9927530

           “Hey.” Ivan said as he made it to the top of the basement stairs. “Hey.” Ivan repeated, louder to the blonde lump on the couch on the other side of the room. “I need you to be coming with me.” he added as he approached the man, rolling his sleeves up.

          The blonde on the couch let out a dreamy sigh upon seeing the other man as Ivan grasped his shoulder to turn him to face him.

          “Your Russian accent is just soooo cute.” they said, ignoring the other’s demand to, instead, flash a toothy grin at the taller man.

          Ivan’s expression, however, didn’t budge in the slightest, the irritation he was trying to hide still present despite himself. “You are coming with me, da.” Ivan said, picking the shorter man up into his arms.

          “Oooh; carrying me!” The blonde man sang cheerily, going as far as to swing his legs back and forth in the same manner a gleeful child would swing their legs while on a swing. He hummed lowly, shifting his weight and grasping onto the Russian’s shirt. “Mmm, speak more Russian to me.” The glasses clad man hummed. Ivan began to make a retort involving Alfred’s minimal at best understanding of the Russian language before the blonde opened his big mouth again, cutting Ivan off.

          “Your Russian makes me so horny baby~.” he rumbled seductively, petting at the taller man’s chest. The blonde caught his lip between his teeth and practically moaned, now clutching at Ivan’s shirt as they reached the bottom of the basement steps. “Ivan Babbyyyy~!” he moaned, craning his neck to bring his lips closer to the Russian’s, begging the other for a kiss.

          “No.” Ivan said flatly, turning his head to the side, denying the other, “Stop this.” he added, shooting the other an irritated look.

          “Mmh, baby are you going to chain me up down here and fuck me?” the man asked, giving the basement a quick look around, absorbing the details they found important: hooks, chains, archaic symbols, Ivan. “Kinky~” they crooned softly, looking up at Ivan and licking their lips in a sensual manner.

          “No.” Ivan said again, anger sneaking into his voice.

          “Ooo,” The blonde cooed softly, giving the other a wide smirk at Ivan’s increasing impatience with him, “hate fuck me, Ivan!” they chirped happily, making the Russian scrunch his face in distaste, “Ivan, babby, hate fuck me into the cold hard floor!” he cried, gripping the man’s shirt tighter. “Fuck me with your huge--”

          “Stop!” Ivan interjected, glaring at the blonde, “Stop, stop, stop.” The russian demanded of the other and brought him towards the middle of the basement to where a full, basin like, tub waited.

          Upon nearing the basin, the man in Ivan’s arms seemed to become hyper aware, snapping his eyes up to Ivan. “Ivaaannn you’re holding too tiiight.” the blonde whined.

          “Get in.” was all Ivan had to say in response, looking at the man before nodding purposefully towards the basin directly before them.

          “Ivan you’re hurting meee.” The blonde moaned, squirming in his tight grasp.

          “Get in. The tub.” Ivan said, deadly serious as the blonde in his arms seemed to lose the pained expression they wore so naturally before.

          “Ivaaann-” The man began but was cut off by the booming voice of the man he was addressing.

          “Don’t call me Ivan! Don’t call me baby!” Ivan growled, jerking his arms slightly as they began to feel more and more heavy.

          “Ivan!” The man cried in apparent dismay.

          “No! You’ve been saying my name the Russian way for two days now! Alfred always always has said my name the American way! For as long as we’ve been together, he’s always said it ‘eye-van’!” The Russian howled, making the blonde’s eyes widen.

          “That’s because--!”

          “And you went a whole day without your glasses or contacts; Alfred is almost legally blind without his glasses!” Ivan boomed, continuing to attempt at moving his arms.

          “I was wearing my--”

          “And you’ve were speaking fluent Russian before! Alfred hardly knows any Russian! He knows how to say hello and I love you, not ‘fuck me into the mattress’!”

          The man in glasses in his tight grasp had willed up a set of tears and was beginning to blubber an explanation when Ivan interrupted him once more, this time with an odd sounding chant. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica...” Ivan muttered this quickly, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Ivan went to continue, but, the very moment the first word had fallen from the Russian’s mouth, the blonde in his arms reacted violently: thrashing in Ivan’s grasp. Ivan screwed his eyes tight in concentration as he continued, but was cut to an abrupt stop as a rough jab was driven into his mouth.

          Ivan faltered. He faltered and that was all that it took. As he opened his eyes in pained shock, suffering and misery swelled in his eyes upon taking in the horror before him.

          “Don’t say that.” sounded from Alfred’s mouth, a strangled sound to his voice. The natural color began to drain from the American’s skin and was slowly being replaced by a sickly color as he continued to speak, ���If you’re a priest go find a toddler to fuck.” was what flowed from the man’s mouth as a wicked grin spread across their face. Ivan felt like he was going to be sick from hearing such a thing spill from the American’s mouth so naturally; the feeling only worsened as what could only be blood swelled in the American’s eyes and poured in thick streams down his cheeks and past his mouth where more blood freely oozed out like a putrid drool. Ivan was barely able to stand the sight.

          “Let Alfred go!” Ivan cried, a sickly feeling swirling wildly around in the Russian’s stomach, threatening to make a hasty exit upwards. His growing anguish was the last thing Ivan needed in his current situation.

           “Iiiiii’m Alfred.” they mocked relentlessly in a singsong voice, the hateful grin that they worn now coated in blood. Their eyes slipped closed for a quick moment before snapping open, revealing the absence of all the eye’s normal features to have been replaced by a dark, empty, black void that glinted in the dim light of the basement as blood streamed from the man’s eyes more ready than before. “Don’t you love me?” They asked with mock innocence, a soft gurgle to their voice as blood pooled in the back of his mouth before gushing out in waves of alarming increasing frequency.

          “I love Alfred!” Ivan shouted, his emotions beginning to get the best of him, “Alfred!”

          “I’m--” the blonde began but was quickly cut off

          “You’re not Alfred!” The Russian roared, tears welling up and rolling down his cheeks “You could never be Alfred!” he added, now distraught as he noticed new changes to the American’s skin

          “If you love him you’ll fuck me!” Came a sharp reply from the other’s mouth, gashes and welts swelling into existence on his face “Fuck me fuck me fuck me.” he chanted, his voice gaining a dark, rumbling tone as he continued with more volume, the skin of his face looking as if it was beginning to melt, “Fuck me fuck me! Fuck me!!”

           “Stop!” Was all Ivan could manage to say while attempting to reign in his emotions and increasing nausea.

           “I’ll bet your tears taste delicious,” the man growled before continuing, “Fuck me! Fuck me Ivan! I’ll rip off this dick and fuck you with it if I have to!” He snapped, a horrifying amount of blood drooling out of the American’s mouth.

            It was at that moment that Ivan lost it. With the remaining strength and willpower that he had left, Ivan heaved the American from his arms in vain hopes of landing him in the tub he’d prepared. Ivan’s hopes were dashed as the American’s body stopped its descent abruptly in mid air, floating just above the threshold of the tub. The head of the American snapped quickly to lock eyes with the horrified Russian; there was a betrayed look to there face, but it quickly melted away to display the utter amusement of the man. Ivan was left horrified in place, nausea almost claiming him before he quickly turned tail and flew up the stairs, locking the door behind him; as Ivan fished a rosary from his pocket and secured it around the doorknob, there was loud crashings and bangings from the basement before Ivan heard “Fuck me Ivan!!” from the man now essentially trapped in the basement with his lover’s body.

          Desperate, Ivan lurched over to the telephone and dialed the only person who would be able to help. Moments after dialing and holding the phone with shaking hands to his ear, the Russian recoiled as the man on other end of the phone scolded him.

          “Look, you plonker, I know it’s 9pm there, but that means that it’s bloody three--!”

          “Arthur! Alfred has been the possessed!” Ivan said in a rush, silencing the man on the other end. Ivan listened to quick and quiet murmurings between Arthur and someone else then the rustling of bed sheets before Arthur finally came back on the line

          “He’s been what?” Arthur asked over the phone.

          Ivan almost broke into hysterics as he attempted to explain the current situation. About two days ago, after coming home from an impromptu optometrist appointment, Alfred had suddenly began acting very differently. Seemingly forgetting what his favorite food is, saying Ivan’s name in the correct Russian way, not wearing the glasses that they just got him the other day: It confused the Russian to no end. It was when the mood changes came to the forefront that Ivan became extremely worried. Alfred spoke of nothing but sex- violent sex. “Fuck me into the table Ivan.”, “Strangle me, baby.”, “Punch me; right in the face.”. Never in all the years that their relationship spanned had either lover even remotely telegraphed that they desired that; this set off many red lights for the Russian. When Ivan would deny him or offer something else, the American would quickly become temperamental and steal himself away to curl up grumpily on the couch or their bed.

           “It’s a lust demon.” Arthur said almost too simply as there was a pause in Ivan’s explanation. “It must be. It sounds like it’s most likely a lower demon of the second level of hell: one of Asmodeus’s followers perhaps.” Ivan heard Arthur explain, hearing the shuffling of pages throughout the explanation. Despite the intense gravity of the situation, Arthur wasn’t able to stifle a soft yawn before continuing to speak, “Did you try to exorcise him- them- it?” Arthur asked. Upon hearing confirmation from the Russian, Arthur hummed softly and went on, “Demons are like humans sometimes; you need to meet their special, individual, needs.” Arthur explained before letting out a hiss after a moment, sounding farther away as he must have turned his mouth from the receiver “You do realize you just called me a demon, you sleepy frog.”

          “Special needs...” Ivan echoed, electing to ignore the other’s side conversation.

          “Quite so.” Arthur confirmed with his reply, “Ivan get yourself a pencil, this will get a little lengthy.”

            Upon getting a pad and pencil, Ivan took the most detailed notes he’d ever taking in his whole life. Ivan almost dissolved completely into relieved tears when Arthur assured him that Alfred had not truly been harmed by the ghastly transformation he’d witnessed. He would save Alfred, he had to.

            “As long as you’re in the circle, he won’t be able to harm you; all he’ll be able to do is break your concentration- you can’t let that happen. The bugger will be doing everything they can to stop you from finishing that chant, so surround yourself with things to focus on to keep your attention from the stupid twat-- but not so distracting that you forget where you are in the chant.”

           “Yes.” Ivan replied following it with, “Thank you, Arthur.” once he was sure that he fully understood what he had to do. “I will go be saving Alfred now.”

           “You will, I know it.” was the last thing Arthur said before they ended their conversation, leaving Ivan to go collect an array of pictures and knick knacks from around the house. After doing so, Ivan returned to the living room where he placed his collection of items down on the floor and began drawing the ritual circle onto the wood flooring with a piece of chalk. He checked dozens and dozens of times to make sure he drew it correctly; he would not leave room for mistakes on his part this time.

             Ivan looked at the door a long moment, noting the absence of incessant pounding on the door, before approaching and grasping the rosary firmly; once he took this off, the demon would, without a doubt, take notice and soar up the stairs to have a hand at tormenting the poor Russian again. Ivan took a deep breath, removed the rosary from the doorknob, and quickly made his return to the ritual circle which he planted himself firmly in the center of. It wasn’t long at all before Ivan heard loud, crashing footsteps on the staircase and he quickly busied himself with some of the pictures and oddities he’d collected for himself.

             “It’s ya boi! Alfred!” The demon spat as it kicked open the door, clearly trying to imitate Alfred’s manner of speech, using the blonde’s voice with a malicious grin plastered to his face that Ivan didn’t see. Much to the demons displeasure the Russian was looking down, staring at a picture he held firmly in his grasp; it was a photo of when the couple had visited the Kennedy Space Center in Florida on one of their vacations. To the demons even greater displeasure, a small smile appeared on the Russian’s face as he appreciated his boyfriend’s cute, ecstatic face in the photograph and he began chanting confidently.

          “Aresimtempuni elay...” Ivan chanted, focusing on Alfred in the photograph. Alfred still had the sweater they’d purchased there, Ivan was sure. “Ergot messeni ilse imur..” He continued, admiring the American’s handsome face.

          Suddenly, the demon was just outside the ritual circle, expression furious and jagged teeth bared aggressively, “Shut your fucking mouth!” the demon shouted, trying it’s best to break the man’s concentration. “Shut your fucking mouth!” They screeched.

          Ivan kept himself focused, however, moving his attention to a new trinket; a napkin of all things. Ivan looked down at the dainty, elegant looking napkin while continuing the chant, “Ila ire... Sio merne..” this was the napkin from the pricy restaurant that Alfred had taken him to on their first date. He remembered it like it was yesterday. The corny pickup lines and one liners. The nervousness ever present despite Alfred’s best efforts; Ivan would always remember it clearly.

          “Bitch, I’m talking to you! Bitch! Ivan!!” The demon shouted with increasing hatred and dismay, “I never loved you!” The demon cried using Alfred’s voice once more, “You’re a stupid Russian bitch! You’re ugly, a crazy psychopath, and no one should love you!!”

          “Ergot mesile undri ile” Was what Ivan said in response, focusing all of his attentions now on a keychain charm that Alfred hand crafted himself. “Ivan: World’s best boyfriend.” was engraved on it. And although Ivan would disagree to instead say that Alfred was, in fact, the best boyfriend, Ivan continued the chant, engrossing himself with the keychain, running his thumb along it slowly, “Ari..sim.. Patem.. Uni.. edi.”

          “Ivan! Ivan!” The demon roared as it stormed around the room, ripping pictures down from the walls and crashing over bookshelves- anything to distract the Russian, but it was all to no avail.

          “Ergot messe nile.” Ivan chanted, looking between a collection of other pictures that he had grabbed of himself and his Alfred. Pictures from the theme park, a cosplay convention, and famous landmarks in Russia and America- The two lovers never had a shortage of photos together. “Lael geni sila... semi tempur nie...” He chanted, paying no mind to the ripping, tearing, and wailing that the demon was creating to instead keep his focus on how much he loved his boyfriend. The idea that he might fail and lose Alfred forever crept into Ivan’s mind, but he quickly banished the thought, willed away the tears, and focused his eyes on a lovely photo of Alfred. Alfred was poking his head through the stems of the Russian giants in a beautiful sunflower field Alfred had taken him to; Ivan could practically hear Alfred calling happily out to him like he did that day: “Ivan, baby, lookit, I’m a sunflower!”. Alfred really was Ivan’s sunflower.

          Ivan glanced up at the last moments to see the body of his lover curled over backwards, clawing at his face and howling, brought to the precipice of agony and despair as the demon was brought to its knees by the banishing chant. Ivan shook his head and brought his gaze back down to a photograph of Alfred in a tuxedo, looking quite dashing. One day, one day Ivan would marry this man. Ivan, however, wasn’t about to marry a demon and with that in mind, Ivan continued through the last of the chant, speaking above the howling and wailing, finishing the chant with a loud shout of “Andi ergot el empti il en!”.

          Ivan looked up to see thick, dark whisps of what looked like black powder erupt from Alfred’s eyes and mouth. Alfred convulsed against the floor, limbs thrashing about wildly as the demon tried to maintain control of the body and guttural groans flew from the American’s mouth. Despite all of this, Ivan was still pleased; this is exactly how Arthur said the the exorcism would end if Ivan did everything correctly. Ivan watched the black dust whisk itself out and away from Alfred’s body, escaping through any possible exit in the house.

          Ivan looked at Alfred a long moment, making sure that the danger had passed before he hurried himself up to his feet to dash to his lover’s side. “Alfred, Alfred...” Ivan whispered worriedly, kneeling himself beside the unconscious form of his boyfriend. Luckily, thank god, Alfred was unharmed; all of the apparent damage had truly been a grand illusion like Arthur had said. “Oh Alfred...” Ivan said softly, running his hand to through the man’s golden hair.

          A soft grunt sounded from the American’s worn out body and Ivan pressed a soft kiss to the side of Alfred’s head. “I-Ivan” Alfred muttered, voice cracking and strained. “Baby?” Alfred asked upon opening his eyes, darting his eyes around the room quickly before settling on his lover’s face. Anguish blossomed on the American’s face and Ivan quickly put together that Alfred must have been semi-conscious, but helpless, for the whole ordeal, “Baby I’m sorry.” he whispered weakly as tears welled up in his eyes quickly.

          “No, no.” Ivan crooned softly, raising his hand to wipe gently at Alfred’s cheeks before gathering the American securely in his arms and standing up to begin the journey to their bedroom, leaving the remnants of the exorcism for him to clean later.

          “I-I’m so sorry.” Alfred apologized regardless, wiping at his eyes, his breath catching in his throat in soft hiccups as Ivan escorted him to the bed. Ivan shook his head, insisting that as long as Alfred was okay, everything was okay. Ivan laid the other down slowly on the bed, Petting his hair and settling himself down beside his lover.

          “Alfred... Arthur said that a reason you may have been easy to possess was because you were in a bad place emotionally...” Ivan said slowly, scanning over the blonde’s face slowly, signs of discomfort becoming clear on Alfred’s face. “Won’t... won’t you tell me about it? Did I do something?” Ivan asked, adopting a worried look.

          “I... I-I was so jealous...” Ivan heard Alfred whisper, leaving the Russian in complete confusion. As if sensing the other’s confusion, Alfred went on “I th-thought you were flirtin’ with that one l-lady at the doctor’s.” Alfred lamented, his face growing hot in shame and embarrassment. “I s-saw you s-smilin’ at her and, and laughin’ ‘n I.. I got super jealous.” Alfred whimpered softly, turning onto his side to curl up into a ball on the bed

          “Alfred...” Ivan said quietly. He reached out, grasping onto the smaller man and pulled him up into a hug, “No, Alfred, Sunflower. I’m sorry I made it seem like that.” the Russian apologized, caressing the blonde’s back, “Do you know why I was so entertained, talking to her?” Ivan asked, nuzzling the American’s head gently before continuing when Alfred shook his head slightly, “Because I was telling her the reason we came into the optometrist: because you snapped your glasses in two when you thought your vision recovered, but it turned out you fell asleep in your contacts.” Ivan explained, planting soft kisses on the side of the other’s head.

          Alfred flushed in renewed embarrassment and shame from his past blunders and wild conclusions that he had jumped to.

          “It’s okay, Alfred.” Ivan said, having anticipated the apology that Alfred was about to give. “The demon is gone, and I have my angel back.” Ivan soothed softly and Alfred flushed, smiling weakly as the taller man pushed his glasses out of the way to kiss away the American's tears.

          “S-Still sorry that I was possessed by a demon.” Alfred muttered, settling himself against his lover in a comforting snuggle, nestling his head against the Russian’s chest.

          “I’ve already forgiven you.” Ivan reassured, bringing a hand up to pet at his boyfriend’s hair. The two laid together, embracing one another for a long while. Alfred listened as Ivan slowly answered the questions the American had about the whole ordeal. “It was about two days and then all of that happened and I called Arthur to give me advice about exorcising the demon.” Ivan said, nodding as his explanation was complete.

          At this point, Alfred let out a soft, albeit weak, chuckle “Haha, dude. My boyfriend’s a demon slayer.” he said, his voice rife with exhaustion and the definition of fatigue. At this, Ivan tutted and held the worn out American close to his chest.

          “You’re a silly American..” Ivan murmured softly, bringing his hand up slowly to pet and caresses his lovers hair, encouraging him to let exhaustion win and have sleep take him.

          “I love you too, baby.” Alfred murmured, just above a whisper as he bent to the other’s will and drifted into a much needed slumber.

          “Ooh, but I love you more.” Ivan hummed quietly, situating themselves comfortably on the bed and under the sheets. Ivan cradled the American close and he allowed himself to be brought to sleep by his lover’s quiet breathing. Ivan would simply have to remember to thank the Briton for the advice later.