#but god the handsome hunter and the beautiful angel were in love

[nacvamp]

Unfortunately, Misha Collins is incredibly intelligent, funny, deep, charming, humble, egregious, fearless, and kind, and he restores my faith in humankind. Unfortunately, participating in spn fandom and letting myself be absolutely cringe-silly over pairings and fanworks has diminished my long-fought mental illness, given me access to joy and ease again, and I have hope for the future. Unfortunately, I am happy!!

[shelbgrey]

Can you do one where the reader is Gabe's soulmate and they have a breakdown cause they were hiding all feelings, good and bad. They break down in Gabe's arms and whilst venting say “I gotta say, I'm not doing so great. I keep trying to start over, but I can't get anywhere because I'm lost.” Then Gabe comforts them?

Love this request. Glad I got to write for my favorite angel again.

Love of a lifetime (Gabriel)

Paring: gabriel x Soulmate!Reader

Prompt: 1.1) “I gotta say, I'm not doing so great. I keep trying to start over, but I can't get anywhere because I'm lost”

MasterList

Call Gabriel what you want. He can be manipulative or harmful to humans if he really wanted to. But one thing is for sure he'd never lay a hand on her or even put her in danger. He'll play all the practical jokes he wants on her brothers or send them to any univers, but when It comes to her no harm will come.

Gabe didn't know how to discribe it. When he first met her and her brothers were after him. Of course he was pissed but when he first saw you all anger seemed to dissolve. He didn't know why... Actually he did but he didn't want to admit it.

Arc-Angels are supposed to have Soulmates or they'll be assigned a person to watch over. Unfortunately God didn't trust Gabe to be a Garudian Angel so he was surprised when he felt the love sick feeling his whole body was feeling when he saw her kind eyes.

That day he voved to always protect her even if she never found out about his unconditional love he felt for the the hunter. He's all jokes and partying but when he promises something he keeps it. When the mystery spot becomes known to her and her brothers, Gabe made sure she didn't get sucked into the time loop Sam and Dean were in.

He knew how much y/n loved her brothers so while Dean was dying and sam was losing his mind y/n was completely clues. But she wasn't too clueless, she started slowly putting the pieces together and soon she had a dozen questions for the so called Trickster.

The third time she was sucked into TV land, but like he promised there was no harm to her. He would put y/n in the same reality as her favorite shows to impress her. But after the Winchesters Cracked the case once again she finally asked her unanswered questions while he stood in the holy fire.

“call I ask you something?” she asked after brothers left. His brooding face soften and he simply shrugged.

“Sure Sweetheart”

“Why us? Specifically why do you target my brothers but not me?” he stifled a laughed and put his hands in his pockets.

He weighed out his options. He could either tell her the truth and get rejected or he could lie and not only protect him but her. He also knew he was bad news and even dangerous. And even if he promised to always protect her its not safe for an Angel to be with a human.

“... Just wanted to see how it would play out” he lied right through his teeth. She slightly nodded with disappointment. She couldn't explain why she had a soft spot for the Trickster or she started to notice how handsome he was.

“see ya around Gabriel” she nodded putting outt the holy fire and walking to the impala. She never breathed a word to her brothers about the conversation she had with the Angel.

--------(1st pov)--------

“GOOOOOD MOOORNING!” my alarm clocked shouted. I sat up suddenly and heard Gabriel's voice shouting through the speaker of my alarm. I sighed and tried to shut it off but his voice continued in a broadcasting voice.

“it's a beautiful day in Kansas with 80% chance of a vengeful spirit flying around, but don't worry the Winchesters are on the case... I'm your host T Rickster”

I sighed and ripped the corde out and tossed the alarm clock to the side. I sighed finally getting some quiet.

“that's not very nice Sweetheart” I jumped at the suddenness of his voice. I looked and he was leaning against the was of my room. I rolled my eyes and got out of bed. I opened the door of my room.

“if you don't mind” he rolled his eyes with a smirk and with a snap of his fingers he was gone.

This happened for months. I woke up to the sound of his voice everyday. And everyday turned into him coming to the bunker to heal whatever scratches or bumps I got from a hunt.

As the months went on we got closer. He always knew how to make me laugh or smile. I also noticed how pretty his wisky colored eyes were and how adorable his smile was. But the harder I fell for him the scared I got.

Then one drunk night I got something I never knew how badly I really needed it. Once his lips met mine it felt too good to be true... I guess it was. He started to distance himself for me. Is voice wasn't heard every morning and it slowly turned to maybe three days a week.

It hurt... I guess it wasn't all his fault do to the fact I was scared to tell him how I felt. Scared of what my brothers would do if they ever found out. After about a week of mopping(as Dean would put it) I admit it to Sam. I knew I could trust him and he didn't get angry like I knew Dean would.

“we can't help who we fall in love with” he told me.

After a particularly hard hunt I ignored my brother's worries and went to my room. As soon as my door closed I let out a sob. Everything seemed to be hitting me all at once. Every possible negative outcome happened tonight. I felt broken and tired, I felt even more pain when I realized Gabe didn't show up like he usually dose.

Dispite the pain I fell backwards on my bed and chocked down a sob. Feeling the acke in my back a rolled over to my side. As I moved I was face to face with Gabe's leather jacket that was just carelessly crumbled on a chair near my bed. It was right where he left it... Right before he started distaning himself from me.

I winced as I got up and wrapped myself in the jacket. The smell of his colone and what ever candy he ate invaded the my sences the closer I pulled the piece of clothing closer. I crawled back into bed trying to get some rest.

“you look like shit” a all too familiar voice said destroying the quiet. I quickly set up and saw gabe leaning against the wall with his head down.

“thanks” I grumbled and slowly set up. He sighed and walked up to me. He raised his hand getting ready to heal me. I slapped his hand away before he could.

Gabe gave me a sorrowful look and pulled his hand away. I looked down not wanting to meet his sad look. “I'm sorry” he said just above a whisper.

I scoffed then looked up at him. “What did I do wrong?” I asked him as tears pricked my eyes. He tilted his head like he didn't know what I was talking about. “you were my friend... Then you just disappeared... Was that kiss so awful?”

“What? No! No... T-that's...” he scoffed and shook his head as he became lost for words. “it's just... I'm not right for you... You need to start over and find someone who will treat you the way you deserve” he said quietly.

I gulped thinking of all the pros and cons of what I was about to say. I thought of the negative out come of it, but it's now or never I guess. “I gotta say, I'm not doing so great. I keep trying to start over, but I can't get anywhere because I'm lost”

He looked up at me and gave me a soft look as I continued. “I'm lost without you... Everyday I woke up to your voice and everyday I fell deeper and deeper for you” I said feeling my chest tighten.

Gabe gently pulled me into his arms. I was engulfed into the smell and touch I missed so much. I finally let the tears fall as hid my face in his chest. “I'm so sorry” he mumbled and kissed the top of my head as he held me closer.

“I love you... And it scares me” he confessed. I looked up at him with watery doe eyes. He softly smiled and placed his warm hand on my cheek. “but I don't plan on giving you up again”

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my lips. It wasn't like our first drunken one. It was softer and longer. It felt like it was supposed to be our first. It felt like forever was in our favor.

[writingakanatorior101]

His lessons

Minors DNI

Summary: When Sam finds Y/N's diary of her fantasies of him he can't help but reciprocate the feeling

Contains: Bondage, Choking, Dom and Sub, teacher and student dynamic, penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, yandere sam if you squint.

Smut below

Sam's anger wasn't like Dean's that was for sure it didn't come out in a violent rage he never raised his voice with you. Dean had scolded you multiple times but Sam never did if anything he tried to prevent it. You were in Bobbys' care at first after your parents who were hunters died unforantley most likely from a vengeful spirit. It was two weeks later you were handed over to Dean and Sam.

Dean was handsome, to say the least. He belonged on the cover of a magazine or something the past few months you had been with him there were girls pawing over him hell even the last few hunts. But Sam god Sam was something different. After all the angelic face was always the reason you finish. Those long hard nights after dangerous hunts where you had to spend extra time showering thinking about him with your hands between your thighs.

He taught you so much from lore to self-defense the most basic things. He even coached you through more touchy things like your parent's death and that boy who broke up with you. It's not like you don't feel guilt over it you do. Sometimes it's hard to look him in the eyes.

Well, it didn't use to be hard. Your journal was always there for you. Dean used to tease you and call it a diary but respected your privacy anyway Sam would sometimes causally look over always suspicious but never bothered looking. It was a nice-looking diary of red velvet with a padlock on the front. The contents of it would make even the most promiscuous lady of the night blush. It contained no shortage of detail about your love for Sam and how much you adored the beauty he contained.

It should have ended there right you would just wait out the lust and keep a tight seal on it and in most cases you would have been right. But it was a dark night in the motel you had just gotten done hunting a poltergeist however what you neglected to notice was the damned thing that blew your journal open it had gotten rid of the lock on the journal like it was nothing.

So you left in on your bed while you showered thinking nothing of it.

Sam thought everything of it and he definitely noticed the loosened journal. You would be in the shower for a while he isn't stupid he knows what you do in there. He can't blame you he has to as well most of the time it is while you sleep with your panties in his hand the laced white ones after all those were your favorite to wear. He does it when you are sleeping normally he grabs them and runs to the bathroom thinking about the curve of your ass or maybe how you always try to please him on hunts thinking of your voice "Sam did I do this right" or "Can you help me please I'm worried". You innocent girl had this man panting like a fucking dog over the sink did you know you did this to him. The guilt after finishing swallowed him whole he was supposed to be teaching you and protecting you not wanting to fuck you like a dog in heat.

Would you even be able to take him, your so much smaller? He feels like he would crush you. Either way, your journal was open on the bed and he wasn't missing this opportunity he swiped it greedily off the bed and sat it on his lap whilst disguising another book over it. Overall your handwriting was neat and a lot was written like the death of your mom and dad the friends you missed and what was this. The handwriting looked messy now and rushed it was slanted and damn near cursive. It was all about him.

How you dreamt of his cock imagined it and wondered how it felt. How did his hands feel around your neck did he like begging?? Or maybe you are on your knees for him your diary even mentioned that you had never had cock before only lusted for it. Sam could feel the blood rushing in his pants right about the same time the shower turned off. Fuck he might as well rip that damn towel off and ask to take you right there, he could be your first and last.

He cleared his throat "Y/n are you done yet I really need in." What did he need that bad you thought so bad he needed the door open while you were naked. Without being able to say anything the door opened and your towel fell from the shock.

What was even weirder was your dairy in his left hand you remember writing that page vividly it was the one about your fantasy with him you even had your hand in your pants while you did it. "I see you found my diary Sam."

"I understand why this needed a lock now, don't be embarrassed this is normal." Despite his statement, your cheeks were still red and you were naked in front of him. You noticed one very prominent bulge in his pants. He makes steps towards you. "From my understanding princess, you have never had any cock ever?" You shake your head you can feel your legs starting to shake. "How about we learn a little bit about it ok I can make you into a woman baby let you learn how to take a man?"

The puddles in your clit probably weren't going away anytime soon "I would like that." He lets out a low chuckle before picking you up and setting you on the bed. The room was dark and nothing was on but the TV. The bed caved you in and it was so soft it smelled like him. His cologne the musk sent your head into a haze. You reached for his hand just wanting to feel him. "Shh baby I'm right him Im not going anywhere."

The bed shifted in weight when his body hovered over yours. All that was missing from him was his belt it was in his left hand. "Ok princess I'm gonna tie your hands ok are you ok with that."

The belt was cold and had no shortage of pressure with it. He was in complete control. How much of your journal did he read shit or did he just like belts??

"I want the belt S-sam" It was hard to get words out hard to believe this was even happening. Sam's hair looked so fluffy you reached a hand out to grab it but he was so far above you it felt meaningless to do. His eyes were so dark their green hint was.

"What trying to pet me baby" he let out a chuckle before lowering his head. Without another word, he restained your wrist with one hand. His demeanor changed to something more feral. "We'll have time for all that later princess Just let me have this now." Your legs were wrapped around him now struggling to encase his body with them. Your wrists were starting to hurt from the pressure and most of all you could free the bulge pushing into your core. Little mews were coming from your mouth while he was tying the belt. The wetness gathering on his crotch was starting to become noticeable. At first, you could feel his nose on your neck then the moisture from his mouth.

The sucking is painful but blissful at the same time. "I'm sure you won't care if I mark you right babe, I mean people can know that we do this." He grip on your wrist became harder. You could feel his tongue swirling on your neck all you wanted was him in your heat. This was cruel teasing. Looking over to the mirror next to you it was floor-length and took up half the wall you could see the paleness of your skin and a purple and brown spot on your neck with your legs still on his back.

It was a beautiful sight but being fucked into a mattress sounded better right now than teasing. Tightening your legs on him you began to shift your hips up and down the feeling of how big he was you just knew you wouldn't be walking right for days.

In truth Sam knew you were gonna have to rely on him well into the morning carrying you into the bathroom and helping you get up he liked the idea that made him feel like you were his and that hickie on your neck confirmed it. But now you were rutting your hips on his cock. God were you that fucking desperate for release but then again he did tie your hands with a belt.

"Does someone want my clothes off" he dipped two large digits into your clit and began a back-and-forth motion. Your eyes widen and you feel a stretch and a little bit of pain with a moan escaping from your mouth. "So tight, this is the most that's ever been in you huh, maybe I'll be gentle huh." The pace of his fingers was merciless now your back was arcing off the bed . "You said you would be gentle." It's all you could manage to get out he felt mad at you. "After what you wrote about me in that journal little girl gentleness is out of the question and if I didn't know better I'd say you wanted to be treated like a whore babe."

He let out a sigh followed by a low laugh. "Close your eyes I want you to feel me before you see me." At that, your whole body tensed up your eyes closed not because you were following orders but because you were scared of how big his length was his fingers felt like they were tearing your apart you can't even imagine how his cock feels. The sound of the zipper is all you can hear and you can feel your nipples perking up. Sam was at the edge of the bed admiring your body. He murmured something about a beautiful sight while dragging his hand down from your chest to your thigh.

"You are so blessed princess a body like this and you haven't been touched yet, makes me feel so disgusting." He can feel you trembling under his fingers it makes him carnal. The weight of the bed was shifting again all you could do right now was breathe. His large hand met your hip holding you steady "Make as much noise as you want princess let everyone know how happy you are."

You felt a tip being dragged in between your folds gathering your wetness he was leaving beads of precum at your entrance applying more pressure to your hip you felt his length go lower "Breathe baby" and that was it his tip was in and it felt like tearing and stretching was the girth and length. Both his hands grabbed your legs and pulled them up to his shoulders the deeper he went you could feel one very prominent vein all the way down his shaft. You lost control of your legs and he wasn't even fully in yet. "Someone's legs are shaking I see I know I'm big baby but I think you're doing great, you have a little bit more than half left ok."

Sam looked down your cunt was greedy trying to swallow him whole there was even a cute little puddle of wetness under you. You wanted him that badly. So tight he wasn't going to have trouble finishing. Pushing his length in more he could feel you shifting your hips on him again trying to push yourself down. "Greedy little girl, not scared of my cock good." His voice went low again. His hand kept your legs on his shoulders but one shifted to your neck. Sleazy moans escaped from your mouth.

Before you knew it his full length was inserted and you couldn't feel your legs anymore. He let you wrap your legs around him again and that's how you were holding onto him. "Good girl, all mine now yeah."

His grip on your throat got tighter and his thrust started to get faster. "Gonna fill you up so good sweetie, you won't be walking for a good while." Those words only made you more wet. Your mews were uncontrollable now spurring Sam on in a very disgusting way. "I felt so gross wanting this babe, looking at you like this" You could feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head now there was not much you could comprehend. "I had my cock in my hand all the time thinking about you, I could break you, princess." His breath was hot in your ear.

"When I saw you first I knew what I wanted I felt horrible but it was an urge and uncontrollable one I thought maybe I was possessed again or maybe you're just meant to take my cock." All you could give him back were moans in response.

"I'm sorry babe" Your legs were shaking and you were a moaning mess. Hot thick rope of cum coated your insides. "you can open your eyes babe."

[specter-writes]

Pet Names

pets names are cute and fun! You know what else is cute and fun? The owl house! Here you are, my friends!

Warnings: swearing

~°~°~°~°~

Luz:

She'll call you the cheesiest shit you can think of with no remorse. Pumpkin, honey bunch, boo, hermoso/a, bonito/a, carino, and sweetieVpie are her personal favorites. In return, you're even more sappy with names like light of my life, sugar, beloved, love bug. If you speak another language, you call her every compliment you can think of in it.

Amity:

She gets sort of self conscious with pet names, but her favorites are love and darling. She also calls you chip sometimes, in memory of the time Luz was trying to teach you to make chocolate chip cookies and you ended up putting the bag (plastic and all) in the oven. You call her the same names, but with the addition of smartypants, because you want to teasingly remind her how smart and talented you think she is.

Willow:

She loves plants, and she loves you more, so it tracks that her favorite pet name for you is flower. You call her sunshine, because she's been a ray of light in your life.

Hunter:

The concept of a term of endearment is pretty foreign to him. He had read about it, sure, but he'd never actually seen it. He just shortens your name most of the time, and occasionally calls you love. He would do more, but he isn't really sure how. You on the other hand, have a million pet names for him. Your favorites are bug, sunflower, lover boy, casanova, nerd and loser (both affectionately).

Eda:

Oh my god. What don't you two call each other? It goes from insanely sappy to ruthless mocking in a split second. Loser, dickhead, and popsicle sucker to angel, doll, and superstar. You also called her sugar tits once as a joke and it sort of stuck around. She seems like a casual babe enjoyer as well.

Raine:

The both of you feel like your names are generally sufficient, so you use those, or a shortening. You did overhear Eda calling them Rainstorm, though, and you thought it was creative so you use that from time to time. Melody and moonlight are used too.

(PLATONIC/PARENTAL)

King:

You just insult each other.

Gus:

He doesn't tend to do the whole "pet name" thing. You like to call him the illusionist because it sounds cool and he says it makes him feel powerful. Also, tater tot, because it makes him mad and it's funny.

The Collector:

He calls you doll (fitting), and the both of you like to playfully insult each other. They never go too far though, he's grown a lot from his time back with the stars and he's happy to finally have a friend.

Lilith:

She doesn't seem like a pet name kind of person to me. Maybe she'd call you a nerd every once in a while, and you'd called her a smartass.

Camilla:

She likes Spanish pet names and squeezing your face in front of your friends while calling you her "beautiful/handsome son/daughter/child." She thinks it's funny to embarrass you and she wants to let you know how much she loves you. You just call her mom (I've made Camilla, Darius, and Alador parental figures and you can't stop me)

Darius:

You use each other's names earlier on. You started off calling him sir back when you part of the emperors coven, but he told you to stop with one of those "it makes me feel old," speeches boomers do, you know the ones. When the emperor's coven falls apart and you have no where else to turn, he brings you in. You'd start to slip up and call him dad, and he'd start to call you his kid. Eventually you accepted it, and now he loves to call you his child, and you love having someone to call dad.

Alador:

You also call him sir or his name. You were his apprentice at Blight Industries before he quit, and now he teaches abominations at Hexside after the old professor was fired for misconduct. You're his teacher's aid and live with him and his kids. You call him dad sometimes on accident.

[feministqu33n]

So, just gonna drop my IDV OC right here.

TW!: Eyes, a lot of them. If you are sensitive to this, dont press read more. (the lighting sucks btw) Plus, you can't see it but her right arm is supposed to be riddled with eyes.

Name : Ritta Monroe / "The fallen angel"

Age : 23

Nationality : German

Height : 168 cm / 5'6

Weight : 63 kg

Likes : Spring, Bells, women fairy tales

Dislikes : Sinners, coffee, Elke Huber

Personality : When she was alive, she was a patient and humble girl. Now, she's bloodthirsty, sadistic, and has a short fuse

Faction : Hunter

External Traits:

Holy eye (0 presence) Ritta can rip out an eye from her right arm and send it to a survivor. Said survivor will gain a 10% debuff in both decoding and healing due to the uneasiness of being watched and can reveal the survivor's location. This can be a double-edged sword however, as survivors will gain a 10% buff in both vaulting and pallet dropping due to the fear-induced adrenaline. Cooldown is 30 seconds

Holy Protection (1st presence) Ritta can now protect herself from stuns with her wings. Only applies to stuns from Coordinator, Wilding, Forward, Batter, and Antiquarian. Can also block pallet, wall, and tram stuns. Cooldown is 40 seconds

Holy Vision (Full presence) Once Ritta gains full presence, she can now stun survivors with her stare if they face her while she's using this ability. Survivors will be stunned for 5 seconds. Cooldown is 40 seconds. (shown by the image on the top right corner)

Unholy Being Ritta's fear radius is larger than normal.

Background :

Born in a small, religious village, Ritta's birth was seen as a blessing, for never has there ever been someone in the village with such heavenly blue eyes and angelic beauty. Thanks to her looks, she managed to capture the heart of the most handsome man in the village, Noah, and thus, they were engaged. However, even with a good and loving fiance, Ritta yearned for the affections of someone else. Someone who her parents, her fellow villagers, the holy lord, nor the object of her affection would approve of. The priest's daughter, and her best friend, Liesl. To make matters even more complicated, Liesl was head over heels with Ritta's fiance.

One night, before her wedding, Ritta decided to confess her "sins" to Liesl, and the result? Ritta was thrown out of the house by her beloved. Hurt, Ritta simply wandered around crying, until she ran into a................ peculiar individual.

The next morning, everyone gathered at the church, hoping to take part in a beautiful union of two souls, and came home preparing for a funeral. Everyone was distraught at the sight of Ritta, lying motionless on the church floor without her heavenly blue eyes. Everyone including Liesl, who to this day blames herself for causing her best friend's tragic end. Liesl, for the remainder of her days, visited Ritta's grave carrying a bouquet of white tulips, praying that one day they would meet again, as angels.

Liesl's prayers were left unanswered. For heaven has thrown Ritta out for a rather violent rampage. All her life, Ritta had been patient. She obeyed god's every word, she had played the perfect daughter, she lived a good person. And this was her reward? To be murdered violently and left without eyes? Even when the upper part of her face was completely destroyed when she landed on a rock, her wrath did not recede. Eyes growing from the wounds she acquired from the fall.

So that's how it's gonna be huh?

Fine, being a good girl wasn't very rewarding in the end anyways.

Rumor : "After being thrown out by the heavens, Ritta had decided to reap what she was owed"

[justforficsjules]

Hello there, my doodles and darlings! Today, I present to you a lovely piece by a dearest darling doodle of mine, my angelic friend, Meyer. Meyer doesn’t have any accounts on these websites, so I’m doing them a favor and posting it in their stead. I, for one, love their writing style, and I’m sure most, if not all, of you doodle darlings will enjoy it as well. And now, a word from Meyer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello to all the pretty boys, handsome women, and all around beautiful people (yes, you, gorgeous). I hope you all enjoy my writing. I'm very open to constructive criticism, as this is my first story, and in fact encourage it. We often see how cruel gods can be to the world in stories. But what about a world cruel to its gods? Nobody’s perfect, especially not the gods, but they still want the best for their people. The king of the land, however, does not. The forces of the universe must claim their victory against him, no matter their differences. And they have many. Perhaps they will overcome it. Perhaps it will light a flame in their hearts. Or is the correct term, relight?

– Meyer

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aren’t they glorious? I think so. What a summary!

Love, Jules.

Starry Day

Darkness clothed the trees, bringing them modesty in the night. The new moon brought no light to this land. Clouds pursued the sky relentlessly. But if a lost traveler were to peer into the jet black of the night, perhaps they will be blessed enough to see the spark in a mischievous eye. A risky hunter could open their ears to hear the trots of an animal, but instead stumble upon an angelic laugh. And the kindest heart might try to speak to the animals in the deepest parts of the forest, stunned by a woman surrounded by darkness, fair skin being the only thing white in the past mile of shadows. Yes, there is always opportunity lurking in the darkness. Forbidden lovers, dangerous felons, heroes betrayed by the world they had given everything to. But you are set free when everybody else is blind to the magic around them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you my lovely readers!!! May your smile “darken” somebody’s day!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please excuse me while I platonically simp for my friend and fan-person over their writing.

[chaoticorganizedmess]

| Masterlist | Navigation | Dean Masterlist |

About Time

Dean Winchester x F. Reader

While accompanying a Winchester on a hunt new revelations are brought to the attention of old friends.

Warning: Smut Ahead💋👇🏻 [18+]

You let out another sigh in boredom as you set the remote down in front of you. Your body was sprawled across the bed on its right side, head resting in your palm as it sat propped up with your elbow digging into the rough comforter. Dispite the ugly pattern that matched the bland colors around you this motel room wasn't that bad. You've certainly been in worse. Lived out of worse for a short while if you were being honest. After your eyes roamed the decore around you they fell back to the rerun playing on the old TV across the room. It was good enough to have on for now. At least this channel came in well enough.

Your could hear the slight 'tick' sounds of the keyboard as your companion attempted to pull up any info that would help you two on this hunt. As a low groan left Dean's throat you looked over in time to see him run a hand down his face and roll his eyes before gripping the bottle and taking a long sip of his beer. "Having a little trouble there, Sport?" you questioned in a teasing voice. Dean immediately looked in your direction, lips slightly perched with an unamused look to his face.

God was he good-looking. He could have any expression on his face and it would still make you want to jump his bones.

You had always had a crush on Dean since you two were young. You were also part of a hunter legacy, after all. Your mom was an old friend of their mother, Mary. Best of friends since they were young. Your mother was the only friend Mary had that knew of her and her parents being hunters. The closeness was generational as Samuel, Mary's father, was best friends with your own grandfather. Your mother was the only true friend Mary felt she had in the chaos a life such as that brings, and those feelings were mutual. Mary was actually your godmother, and yours was Dean's. You always wished you could remember more of her, but you were young when she died, with your age being between Sam and Dean. You always remembered her long blonde hair and beautiful face though. She was like an angel.

"I hate this crap. He usually does all this stuff." He set his beer back down and attempted to continue on. Your eyes wandered over his handsome features before your mind wondered how Sammy was doing. You had suspected they got into another fight, but didn't pry. If Dean wanted to tell you, he would. Ah, brotherly love. He hadn't mentioned his younger sibling once since picking you up in the morning that day.

~~~

When you heard the horn of the Impala blow you threw two water bottles into your duffle bag and zipped it shut. As you slung it over your shoulder you glanced around to make sure there was nothing else you wanted to grab. As you turned on your heel to continue towards the door you heard two more honks ring out. 'He must be in a mood', you thought, 'I'm not even taking that long.'

Stepping through the door you threw your arms up giving an exasperated sigh to show he was being impatient. Obviously you knew Dean was the one driving but you were slightly surprised to see him alone.

You pulled the front door shut and locked it. The house may not be much but you and your housemate made it home. You were both hunters so it was often that only one of you were home at a time, but a house belonging to hunters like you was far from unsafe. From intruders of any kind. A devil's trap lay hidden under mats at both the front and back doors, and inside the walls and floors under every window and door was pvc pipe lined with plenty of salt.

The weather felt slightly warmer than you originally thought so after slinging your bag into the backseat you slid your flannel off your shoulders and tied it around yourself just below the waste line of your ripped jeans. You felt much cooler in your white tank top and slid into the passenger seat, laying your arm on the door with your bent elbow hanging out.

"Took long enough.." Dean sighed with a roll of his eyes but his smirk showed he was messing around with you, as always. "Shut it, Jerkface.." you laughed. "Where's Sammy?" Dean gave a quick shrug of his shoulders before responding. "On a lead for a different case, so it's just you and me this time." He raised an eyebrow teasingly as he flashed that gorgeous smile of pearly whites in your direction. "That alright with you, woman?"

"Yeahh, I guess soo. Someone's gotta babysit you after all, you man-child." you teased back. You definitely hoped the blush your felt wasn't noticeable to him. His mouth flew open and he grabbed a fake wound to his heart as he feigned shock. "[Name]..I'm hurt! I don't think I'll make it..." He groaned, earning a loud laugh from you as you swatted his arm.

You didn't know it, but he secretly loved your laugh...your smile...your lips.

~~~

You guys had spent the next amount of time (a little over an hour of not mistaken) singing out loud to your favorite '80's metal. You didn't mind listening to whatever he put on since you liked most things he did anyways. You weren't allowed to pick anything to play regardless since you were the passenger. Thems the rules, after all. Besides, Dean openly loved bands with you that he hid from others.

Once you guys made it to your destination you did your thing. He was already in his suit, a real sight to behold, and first went into the local police department alone to speak with the Sheriff. Once he came out and filled you in the two of you made it to the newest crime scene and after finishing there you quickly stopped at the site of the previous incident to compare any similar evidence that anyone else certainly wasn't looking for. After leaving there and grabbing a dinner consisting of BBQ bacon cheeseburgers and fries, and stopping for a pack of beer, you made your way to the nearby motel you currently resided in.

Your mind was still wondering about Sammy. You grew up with them both and while Dean had been your lifelong crush, Sammy was absolutely like a little brother to you also. You weren't sure if you had even seen Dean talk to him on the phone all day.

Another groan from Dean pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled and stood up, grabbing your own beer from the bedside table, and made your way over to the larger table he sat at. You took a sip as you took your position standing behind him, looking over the screen of the laptop. You leaned down to get a better look and it brought his smell into your nose tenfold. Cologne and hunky man. You attempted to steel yourself as you placed your arms at each side of him as your fingers moved over the keys in place of his. "It'd be easier if you did....this" you said quietly beside his ear. Sure enough you were able to pull up the new pages he was trying to access, while keeping the other tabs open on display. "Show off.", he teased. You didn't know that you being so close was giving him goosebumps in the best way. He needed to change his train of thought and distract himself from your closeness. "You're as big a nerd as Sammy...Who am I kiddin'? Probably bigger.", he jabbed at you. You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder as your eyes continued to read the information on the screen. "Shut it, Jerkface." you replied with a grin. Dean could see your beautiful smiling face in your reflection in the screen and his breath hitched.

 

You were halfway right when you had guessed that he and Sam had gotten into a fight. It wasn't a big fight that sent them on their way of separate paths from one another like those they've had before. Sam, being the brain he was, had deduced long ago that Dean and you had been pining for each other. He of course never betrayed your trust and revealed your secret; he confronted Dean before about it though, but it only led to his older sibling bickering with him any time he did. He was determined to get his stubborn brother to admit how he felt to you. When this case came up he voluntarily took himself off it so Dean could team up with you since he knew Bobby was busy. While they didn't necessarily have a fight, the older Winchester certainly gave him a hard time before conceding when Sam threatened to tell you himself if Dean wouldn't. You didn't know that though.

You didn't know that Dean had felt the same about you for almost as long as you did. When he learned you hadn't kissed a boy yet in your preteens he offered to be your first. He had crushed on you after that but when it never subsided as he expected he wondered perhaps it was something more. When they nearly lost you in the thick of the brutal action in a vamp nest a few years back was one of the few times in his life Dean had been truly frightened. Not being fast enough to save you was gut wrenching to him whenever the memory manifested. Luckily Bobby was with them and close enough to protect you in that moment. He knew then he without a doubt absolutely loved you.

Although he enjoyed his time with plenty of beautiful women it was often your face that he would see flash across theirs. It was yours that he saw whenever he held his full erection in his hand when he took care of himself. Imagining what your naked body looked like and what you would do to each other.

If he didn't try today he would never hear the end of it. Sam would definitely tease him and Dean could hear all the cheesy "chicken" jokes his younger brother would arm himself with already. At least if the attempt went down in flames he could always blame Sam for it. He could smell the lavender of your hair from your shampoo and a touch of perfume. Although you never wore perfume on the nights you attempted to close any case you would wear it here and there. Even though he knew you could definitely kick his ass if you wanted too you still kept up with "girly" stuff despite also having a tomboy edge to you. You certainly had it all. Dean took a deep breath in through his nose and turned his head your way. "[Name].." He spoke softly and an octave lower than normal. When you turned your head to face him it was your turn for your breath to hitch. Your noses were nearly touching and your faces were so close. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks and though it was hard to draw away from his pretty eyes you noticed a pink hue to his cheeks as well. He quietly cleared his throat as you watched his gaze move from your eyes to your lips a time or two. After seeing some shocking things in your life you weren't quite ready for feeling his lips on yours. While it wasn't very long it was a few moments before he pulled away. You weren't sure what to do.

Dean had just kissed you.

You didn't know what to think. Did he mean to? Did he drink too much? It never crossed your mind that he would actually want to.

"I...I-I..." you stammered. You could barely speak coherent words. Your mind was going a mile a minute. "I'm sorry, I had to." Dean said, cutting you off. His voice quieter than normal. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." You stood upright, taken aback by his words. Your fingers danced nimbly over your lips.

'He's wanted to do that?', you thought.

He shook his head slightly, hoping he didn't screw up. What if you didn't want him to kiss you? What if you only thought of him as a brother? What if he just single handedly ruined the lifelong kinship between you two? He shifted in the chair to face his body to you fully. "I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted." He ran a hand down his face once more as he began to ramble. "I've always wanted to and...a-and Sammy told me to do it. That I-I should just come right out and say how I felt like this is some chick flic-". His fast words were cut short when you placed a finger to his lips as he surrendered his explanation. The smile that was plastered on your face made him feel more at ease.

"It's alright, Dean...I've always wanted you to do that.", you replied softly. Your confidence couldn't have been boosted more. "I feel the same."

You thought of all the times Sam had suggested that you admit your feelings to Dean, and now you wonder if he did because he knew that Dean was in the same boat as you. 'He could've just made it easier and told me his brother felt the same, that creep.', you thought.

Upon hearing you say those words Dean flashed his million dollar smile once again and sprang to his feet. His hands held your waist as your lips met in a firey kiss. His lips were softer than you expected but what was happening between you was everything you could ever dream of. For Dean, kissing you was better than he could ever imagine it. His strong hands moved to grope your ass and you let out a slight gasp which allowed him to work his tongue into your mouth. He felt around every corner inside as both muscles danced together erotically.

You hadn't realized the two of you were stepping backward until the back of your calves met with the one of the two beds you had been previously laying on. You only broke away from the kiss when you both needed air. Your eyes remained closed as your foreheads met. "I can't believe you could actually feel for me like that.", you laughed softly. Dean gave you an almost incredulous look. "How could I not?", he replied. It was true. He felt you were more beautiful than any woman he ever bedded. You were awesome: smart, funny as hell, strong willed and badass...how could he not fall in love with you.

He truly was. Dean was head-over-heels in love with you.

Just as you were with him.

"I love you.", he whispered. As if he said it too loud you may not like how it sounds and change your mind. The corners of your lips curled into an elated smile. "I love you too."

Just like that you two found yourselves engulfed in a fierce kiss again. Hands all over each other. He lifted the bottom of your shirt slightly, as if silently asking permission. When you raised your arms upward he smiled and parted the kiss to lift your shirt over your head. You brought your arms down to lift his shirt next and the second it came over his head your lips met greedily again. Both of you went to unbutton the other's pants at the same time then and once yours pooled at your feet you laid back onto the bed, leaning up on your elbows. Dean audibly hissed as he drank up the sight of you in your bra and underwear. You were indeed a vision. Pushing his own pants down quickly he laid over you clad only in his boxers. "[Name]..", he cooed in your ear as he began marking your neck, "..you have no idea what you do to me." However you had an idea, as you could feel his girthy cock poking into your thigh as he grinded against you.

You gave out a soft moan at his words and wrapped your arms around him. Your left hand gripped his right shoulder as your right arm wrapped up and you held the nape of his neck. You would slide your hand up into his soft hair every so often. Dean definitely knew what he was doing, but you already knew he had a talent with the ladies. You couldn't believe you were finally experiencing it for yourself just like you've always wanted. As a matter of fact Dean had his own thoughts on the issue, however they brought fear and doubt to his heart. You knew everything about the Winchester boys and Dean knew full well that you knew of his escapades. You had teased him before about it but as his feelings grew for you he worried more and more that you'd have no interest in a man like that. Like him. To find that he was wrong all this time lifted a ton of weight off his already burdened shoulders. To kiss you was heaven. To feel himself against you was divine and if this was wrong then to hell with right and wrong.

He unhooked your bra with ease and pulled back to take in the view. His breath hitched before fondling your full breasts with his rough hands before attaching his lips and tongue to your skin once more. He slipped his hand downward, sliding over the soft, supple skin of your hips before bringing it forward and dipping into the band of your panties. He faltered a second as he felt the wetness of your folds. "Wow, we didn't even get that far yet and your soaked.", he said as his cocky smile grew. You could only peer upon his gorgeous face as your breathing grew heavier. Normally you'd tease back or give him a playful slap. You lustful eyes held the gaze of his lidded ones. His beautiful lashes almost covering what portion of his eyes were open and without a second more to waste his slipped a long finger inside you and you threw your head back. Your mind was reeling as any vocabulary went out the window with the exception of Dean's name and "yes". You were all gasps and moans until he curled up and hit that wonderful spot that had your gripping the motel sheets with white knuckles.

After a few minutes Dean had brought you to the edge. "Dean...I-I'm gonna..CUM!" The last word came out in a squeal of ecstasy as you came tumbling over the edge. Your body a writhing mess. "Yeah, baby.", Dean groaned as he felt your walls clench around his finger. His smile beeming with pride that he got you there with his finger alone first. He worked you through the last aftershocks of your orgasm before a small whine escaped you as you felt him remove the digit from inside you. You bit your lower lip as you looked to find him quickly ridding himself of his boxers. His cock sprang forth and even that was better than you had imagined. Bigger, but not absurdly large. Length and width of him enough that your mouth began watering. You pushed him down onto his back and Dean gave a slightly surprised look before he threw his own head back as you carefully took him into your grip and stroked him slowly at first. When he felt your moist tongue lap up the precum on his tip he brought his gaze to watch you as you continued taking him in your mouth. You ran your tongue along his length and stroked what wasn't enveloped by your soft lips. The sounds he made because of you only made your cunt throb harder than ever. He was coming undone all because of you. With a careful twist of your wrist as you stroked his brows furrowed, thighs tensed and hips began to jerk slightly as you brought him to his own edge. You were shocked however when he grabbed you at your upper arms and carefully pulled you off him. You thought perhaps you were mistaken and he wasn't enjoying himself anymore and didn't want you to continue, but as quickly as the thought popped into your head he must of noticed a disappointed look in your eye before he interrupted your thinking and corrected your internal questioning. "I can't take it,", he answered in a shaky breath, "I need you. Now." He rolled you over and hovered above your form before sliding your panties down off of you. He had waited long enough to tell you how he felt. Yearned for you long enough that he wasn't gonna wait any longer to take you.

Kissing you deeply once more he lined his cock to you and slid his tip along your folds gathering the wetness that hardly ceased since this encounter between you began. "Please..n-need you..inside m-me.", you softly pleaded into his ear as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Dean granted your request as he slowly pushed into your heated core. "Son of a BITCH!" he cried as he bottomed out into you. He had to pause for a few moments. First to let you adjust and make sure you were comfortable with his size inside you and second so that he didn't explode at feeling your tight walls around him. He was wrong. Your lips may have been heaven, and while they were truly something, he quickly found that this was his heaven.

After a few moments you rolled your hips and he began to match with his thrusts. He had stretched you out in the most amazing way and Dean truly knew how to use your bodies to the fullest extent as you felt that lower knot growing once again. Your nails dug into his skin and he never enjoyed it more now that you were the cause. After quite an enjoyable amount of time of feeling him thrusting into you, sometimes even deeper somehow, you knew you would be unraveling again soon. "I'm gonna...g-gonna come again." Your ragged breath left you speaking in whispered words, but oh how Dean heard you. You could feel his cock inside ready with his own release. "That's right, cum on my cock this time...Fuck!..", he ordered as his own breath had become more labored. "That's it, baby. Your taking me so well."

At those words your walls tightened once again as you cried out in the wave of your second orgasm slamming into you. His hips bucked out of sync of his thrusting and he seized up as he fell over his own edge. You both remained still, breathing heavy as you came down from your highs. Once the fog of lust started to clear from your heads you found each other's gaze. Both of you enjoying the fucked out expressions on each other's faces. While he would've loved his cock finding slumber in your pillowy core he slowly pulled out, both of your sexes now sensitive after all your carnal activities.

Dean rolled onto his back and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest. You traced shapes into his pecs as you enjoyed the position you now found yourselves in. In a dangerous world where living the hunting life meant not knowing what would come next, you two were finally sure of a few things in that instant. That had just happened. You belonged to each other now. You were his. He was yours.

Someone had definitely heard your prayers and decided to oblige you. You already had the boys backs, and knew they had yours, but Dean and you were also your own separate thing.

You both knew you would have one another until death you did part. Whenever that was, and the two of you hoped you still have a long road ahead.

"Well...you weren't half bad." As you teased him a long yawn escaped your mouth. "Shut up.", he replied with a chuckle. He planted a kiss on your forehead before nuzzling his cheek again the crown of your head. "Get some sleep. We'll get an early start in the morning, Babe." Dean gently ran his fingers along your back and after a while your finger had stopped tracing shapes and soft snores echoed from your lips. He knew sleep finally overtook you.

Dean continued smiling as he relished finally having you in his arms in the ways he always wanted. He never dreamed he'd be lucky enough to call you his. Never thought he deserved you but if the universe thought otherwise he wasn't gonna argue.

The beeping of his phone pulled him away from his thoughts and he reached over with his free arm and grabbed his cell off the bedside table. He flipped it open and wasn't surprised to read the text.

Sammy[9:45:23 PM]: Well? Did you do it or what?

Done and done. Everything's all good. :[9:45:47 PM]

Sammy[9:46:02 PM]: Finally..

Sammy[9:46:11 PM]: It's about time.

[handsome-john]

Community Gardens

Guess who’s finally dragged themselves out of writer’s block hell and is using this energy to fix the terrible lack of Hanahaki fics in this fandom! Check reblogs for ao3 link if you prefer reading that way

Relationships: Rhack, with some Timoxxi in the back ground

Words: 3621

Warnings: Blood, vomit, strong language, and sexual humor 

Summary:  It was a rose, complete with a thorny stem. It was soft, delicate, beautiful, and drenched in blood.

Handsome Jack did not fall in love. Sure he slept around, maybe had a few candle lit dates, once even playfully kissed a co-worker on the cheek while a little tipsy. But he did not fall in love. 

  Sure Jack fell in love plenty of times. Even married twice and almost got married a third time before Nisha had the common sense to walk out the door. But Jack died long ago, in a godforsaken vault on that godforsaken moon. 

  All that was left was Handsome Jack. Powerful, rich, and sexy CEO of Hyperion. Who did not fall in love with anyone! No one at all. 

  Handsome Jack told himself that every night. But that did not stop the soreness in his throat or the tightness in his lungs. It didn’t stop the constant flow of rose petals he coughed up each night.

  Handsome Jack did not fall in love. He plunged head first into it, just like Jack plunged into that vault all those years ago. And just like that vault, the only thing Jack would gain from love is disappointment and permanent scars. 

  He didn’t realize he’d been zoned out for the past half-hour until the hot piece of ass Jack called his PA snapped him out of it.   “Your coffee, sir.” Rhys said, handing him a mug with Jack’s face on it. “I made it as sweet as you, sir.” 

  The coffee was black, just how Jack liked it. He gave him a smile that was all teeth. “You’re lucky I’m too lazy to find another personal assistant as good as you, pumpkin. Anyone else would be getting an up close and personal look at my airlock for that kind of sass.”

  “I know sir,” Rhys said with the tone of someone who knew exactly how important they were, and the smirk to match. 

  Do you really? Jack wanted to ask. Do you have any idea how important you are to me?

  Rhys made Jack feel vulnerable, and he had the charm and personality to make Jack not even mind. He had Handsome freakin’ Jack wrapped around his little cybernetic finger and there was nothing Jack could do about it. 

  Well there was one thing. But Handsome Jack didn’t do that. Even if he wanted to. 

  He was snapped out of his thoughts once again by another coughing fit. His throat had been killing him all morning. It’s the worst it’s ever been and the strangest part was that there hadn’t even been any petals yet. Sure he was grateful, wouldn’t want to spit bloody sunflower petals all over Rhys’s stupid asymmetrical shirt, but it was odd. 

  “Are you alright sir?” Rhys said with concern so genuine it made Jack’s stomach twist into a knot. 

  “I’m freakin’ fine-” He wheezed, sounding like a dying dog. He gripped his desk for support, coughing his throat raw. 

  “I’ll go get some cough medicine!” Jack didn’t want to be alone at the moment, but he’d rather Rhys not see what happened next. 

  Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, definitely seeping under his mask and splattering across the desk. The burning in his throat made his eyes water, like he ate a cup full of razor blades. No scratch that, a cup full of razor blades would be preferable to this.

  He jolted forward, retching when he felt something tickling the back of his tongue. It was soft, like a tissue. It was also very good at hitting every single one of his gag triggers. 

  He knelt over his trash can and shoved two fingers into his mouth. He was desperate to get whatever the fuck that was out of him. 

  The pain intensified tenfold as he tugged. Black spots danced in his vision. God he was pathetic.

  Finally there was a soft snap and Jack threw the wet thing onto the floor with a soft splat. He grabbed the bin and hacked up petals and whatever he ate for breakfast. With his stomach emptied, Jack laid down on the floor, the cool tile nice against his burning face, and examined whatever the hell he just coughed up. 

  It was a rose, complete with a thorny stem. It was soft, delicate, beautiful, and drenched in blood. 

  Of course it was a fucking rose. 

  The door opened with a whoosh, alerting Jack that Rhys was back. He quickly threw away the rose and whipped his face. Hopefully Rhys wouldn’t notice all the blood on his desk, or floor, or in the garbage can, or leaking out the side of his mask, or…

  Okay so he was screwed.

  “What the hell happened!? Jack! Jack, do I need to call anyone!?” Rhys knelt by his side, gently shaking the man on the floor.

  “I’m fucking fine kiddo.” He grimaced, his body screaming at him to shut the hell up. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him. 

  “You should lay down. Rest your head. What happened? Is there a doctor I can call?” 

  “No!” Jack growled. He hated doctor’s. Last time he went to a doctor for anything more than a shot or a regular check up was when he was getting a mask grafted to his face. He hated their pitying looks and how they treated him like glass. He could never trust a doctor. 

  But he trusted Rhys. Rhys had only worked for Jack a little over five years. But in those five years Rhys had gotten closer to him than anyone else. Jack trusted Rhys enough to open up about his daughter, his sweet Angel that was off with another pair of sirens learning to use her Phaseshift powers. 

  Could he trust Rhys with this? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice because the more he thought about Rhys, the itchier his throat felt, until he was sputtering out sunflower petals. 

  Rhys’s expression was hard to read. A mix of horror, realization, and sympathy. “Oh… Oh no.” 

  Oh no was a pretty good way to describe hanahaki. It wasn’t contagious, but it was extremely easy to catch. There was no cure, at least no cure that was worth it, but with advances in modern medicine it wasn’t deadly. 

  There were three levels of severity. Tier one which was common in kids with schoolyard crushes that would really go anywhere. It usually only involved petals. Tier two is what you had to worry about, coming from the kind of crushes you could actually see yourself marrying. Sore throats, difficulty breathing, and small flowers.

  Tier three was the worst kind. While the flowers and vines themselves won’t kill you, suffocation and blood loss will. There were medicines that could get rid of the stems, and small surgeries to help the lungs, but completely removing the flowers could be extremely detrimental to both your physical and mental health. 

  Tier three hanahaki came from deep love that was surly unrequited. But that’s just what the ECHOnet told him. And what did the ECHOnet know. Handsome Jack did not fall in love.

  Sure his doppelgänger fell in love, but Tim wasn’t Jack, even though Jack was paying him to be. Tim was actually where he learned about hanahaki. It happened after they met Moxxi on Concordia. 

***

“Does anyone have a bottle of bubbly I can smash against this thing?” Jack asked as they prepared to launch the Meriff’s statue-head into Pandora’s asshole. “Ah nevermind. Go ahead and fire!” 

  Nisha cackled as she slammed her hand onto the launch button. The remix played as it zoomed off. 

  Jack glanced around, noticing one of his vault hunter’s missing. “Say have any of you seen Timmy around? He was supposed to be here for this!?” 

  “Lost track of him after we spoke to Moxxi.” Wilhelm said, which was probably one of the longer sentences he’s said yet. 

  “I think I saw him run to the bathroom. Probably to deal with a ‘little problem’ of it,” Nisha said with an exaggerated wink. 

  “He’s going to have bigger problems in a minute.” 

  Jack made his way over to the bathrooms, fully ready to chew Timothy out. “Tim! You better not be Jacking-off in here!” 

  He heard Tim groan in pain and ran over to his stall. He found the doppelgänger kneeled by the toilet, face first in it. Jack let out a low whistle, feeling a twinge of sympathy.

  “Moxxi rope you into having one too many drinks?” He paused, noticing a trial of magnolia petals. 

  Tim looked at Jack and coughed, spraying petals across the floor. 

  It wasn’t hard to figure out it was hanahaki. Looking up “coughing up flowers” really only has one result, not including weird fetish porn. 

  “It better not be Moxxi.” Jack said, threat emanating from his voice.

  Tim had a bashful look on his face that Jack would never be caught dead with. “She’s just so pretty. And smart! She’s a mechanic and she looks cute even witho-” he whimpered as more petals filled his mouth.

  It only seemed to be a tier two case, still it would be annoying if Tim was kept from work just because of some flower petals. Though it would also be annoying to watch his ex and his doppelgänger get all mushy and gross together. 

  Somehow the tiny little piece of him that felt bad for the doppelgänger won out. 

  “Okay fine. Go for it.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve got my charm and good looks. You can win her back no problem.” 

  Tim smiled, wiping the drool and petals off his face. “Thank you sir! I won’t disappoint you sir!” 

  That night Tim fell in love. But Jack was not Tim. Handsome Jack did not love. 

***

After Jack refused to see a doctor, Rhys decided to assign himself the role of caretaker, starting with getting Jack home. Handsome Jack wasn’t sure why Rhys insisted on supporting him as they made their way up to Jack’s penthouse. It wasn’t like his legs were broken. 

  Rhys laid Jack onto the couch. “Stay here and rest. I’ll make tea, it'll help with your throat.” 

  “Fine fine.” Jack wasn’t even sure if he had tea. He was more of a coffee man. 

  He didn’t usually bring people up to his penthouse for social calls, if you could call whatever this is a social call. Actually he never let anyone in here that he wasn’t planning on fucking or killing. The more he thought about it, the more likely he would probably end up doing one of those things to Rhys. 

  Rhys returned, handing him a teacup. “This will taste bitter, but it helps with the sore throats and the thorns.” He smiled at him. A soft smile that made Jack feel weirdly vulnerable, like Rhys could see right through him and still wanted him.

  Jack shuttered, his throat burning when he thought of Rhys. It was coincidence of course, Jack was not in love with Rhys. 

  He took a slow sip of the tea and forced back a gag. “God you weren’t kidding when you said bitter!” 

  Rhys winced. “Normally people add a bit of honey to help with the taste, but I couldn’t find any and I was in a hurry.” 

  Jack stared at the swirling grey-green liquid and decided a bad taste was better than a sore throat. 

  “How do you know so much about this shit anyway?” 

  Rhys sat down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I had a friend that had a chronic case of it. I learned a lot helping them out.” 

  “Oh… How long did your friend have it?” 

  “Five years.”

  “Damn. How does someone live that way.”

  Rhys shrugged. “You get used to it. Eventually taking pain meds and hiding flower petals in your shirt becomes as normal as waking up every morning and going to work. You adapt.” 

  Jack wasn’t sure what to say, which was probably a good thing since it was killing him to hold a conversation this long. Rhys stood up, signifying that this conversation was probably over anyway. 

  “I’ll make dinner. Something soft. Do you have ice cream? I guess obviously you probably do. I’m going to walk away now.” 

  Jack pretended he wasn’t staring right at Rhys’s ass as he left. Rhys always seemed confident at work, when he was making phone calls and chewing someone out for Jack. But the few times Jack had caught Rhys outside of work he was a whole different person. Jack could certainly understand putting on a mask.

  Speaking of masks, god his was itchy. He trusted Rhys, but he didn’t want to take his mask off around him. Rhys would be disgusted, probably be asked to be transferred to a different part of Helios. Jack would probably have to kill Rhys in case he tried to use his secret against him. 

     No, the reasonable side of Jack protested. Rhys never once tried to manipulate Jack. Sure sometimes he would hackle Jack about a raise, but he never once used Angel against him, or slipped a little alcohol in his drink so he’d be more agreeable. Hell the kid hasn’t even tried to get in bed with Jack. And at this point, shooting your shot with the Handsome Jack, might as well be in the job description. 

  Jack wheezed as he coughed up hyacinth petals into his now empty glass. Why hadn’t Rhys ever made a move on him? It wasn’t like Rhys was afraid of Jack. Is it possible Rhys just doesn’t see Jack that way?

  No that’s impossible, Jack’s vanity said. Everyone in the ship, no matter the sexuality, wanted a piece of Jack. And Rhys’s feelings didn’t matter either way, because Handsome Jack did not fall in love. 

  Rhys, the pure angel, returned with a bucket and a tub of chocolate ice cream just in time to catch the hyacinths Jack puked up. 

***

“You know this would be easier if you took off your mask,” Rhys said softly. 

  “You’ve said.” Jack growled, plucking petals out of his drink. Jack didn’t remember when Rhys dragged him over to his bed but that’s where he’s been the past couple of days.  

  “I just want to help you. I promise I won’t tell a soul. It just can’t be good for you to wear it this long.” 

  Rhys had been up in Jack’s penthouse for a week. Jack refused to see a doctor and his condition was slowly getting worse. Rhys did what he could, but what Jack really needed was a doctor or to confess his feelings. 

  It hurt watching his boss and friend, at least Rhys hoped they were friends, in so much pain. For many reasons. His most selfish reason was that he was sure that whoever Jack loved, it definitely wasn’t him. 

  Jack gave him a cold look that made Rhys’s stomach twist for many reasons. 

  “Fine I understand. I’m going to go make dinner.” Rhys got up and made his way over to the bathroom instead. He kneeled over the toilet, jacarandas spilling out of his mouth. At least they aren’t roses, he thought bitterly. 

  Jack insisted that he could eat solid foods just fine, but Rhys knew from experience that probably wouldn’t be a good idea without proper medication. 

  Proper medication that Rhys hadn’t had access to in a week because he’s been at his boss's beck and call ever since he watched Jack hack up three bloody roses on the floor. 

  His condition was getting worse, he could feel it. He’s had to step out more and more to deal with his problem. And just being around Jack in itself made his condition worse enough. 

  It was only a matter of time before it slipped out and Jack threw him out. God if only he could just get over his stupid crush. 

  Rhys was careful not to get kalmias in the smoothie he was making. He’d have to go shopping soon too, they were running out of supplies. Though Jack probably got everything delivered. 

  Jack glared at the cup in Rhys’s hand. He was tired of eating out of a straw. But at least Rhys seemed to know what he was doing. 

  He was running out of time and he knew it. It was only a matter of time before he suffocated on petals, or the roses and sunflowers fucked up his throat beyond repair, or worst of all, he accidentally confesses his feelings and scares Rhys off. 

  Why was Rhys staying with him anyway? It wasn’t like Jack asked him too, and Rhys wasn’t getting paid for any of this. Is it possible Rhys could like him back?

  Jack immediately regretted letting himself go down that train of thought. He could feel a sunflower pushing his way up his throat. Sunflowers were the worst. Sure less thorns, but god were they huge and seemed to come up the most. 

  Rhys frowned sympathetically, reaching out to massage his throat. Normally Jack would murder someone for getting so handsy, but he wasn’t in any position to snap at him. Besides it was helping. Has been helping for the past few days.  

  “Jack! Please let me remove your mask.” Rhys said, trying to be soft. This felt big and it would certainly help if there wasn’t a mask in the way. 

  Jack glared, trying to push Rhys away against his better judgement. In his defense he was loopy from oxygen deprivation. 

  Rhys sighed, future him could deal with the consequences of reaching out and undoing the latches and throwing the mask onto the floor. Rhys tried not to let his gaze dwell on the deep scar running down Jack’s face. He focused on soothing Jack and keeping him calm. He could feel his own throat tightening with petals. 

  Slowly he helped Jack up, bringing him down the hall to the bathroom. Petals were already seeping from Jack’s scarred lips. 

  Jack could feel the sunflower’s head hit the back of his mouth, making him gag. Rhys brought him into a kneeling position over the bowl. Jack shoved his hand into his mouth, trying to yank it out, also against any logic. 

  Rhys winced as he pulled out a sunflower the size of his head. It would be beautiful if it weren’t covered in blood.  

  “Remember to breathe through your nose. Doesn’t try and force anything out. Just relax your throat and let it all fall out.” Rhys kept his voice calm, an emotion he absolutely did not feel. He grabbed his stomach, suddenly going into a coughing fit. Shit not right now. 

  Jack wasn’t sure what he felt as he watched Rhys spit out kalmias. Well he didn’t know what he felt besides pain and envy. 

  “Shit!” Rhys said, once he got it out of his system. “I’m sorry!” 

  Jack grabbed the front of Rhys’s shirt and pulled him in, locking their lips together. Rhys froze, his brain lagging behind everything else. Was Jack kissing him or was he finally dying and his brain was making him happy before he goes. 

  Jack wasn’t thinking at all. It wasn’t a kiss out of love, Handsome Jack did not love.

  Okay fuck it, Jack was stupidly in love. Stupid, stupid, stupid feelings! Rhys already loved someone else and was probably going to run off as soon as Jack let go. 

  So just never let go, Jack’s possessive side said. Jack hugged Rhys tighter, kissing him harder.

  So this was real. Rhys melted, having trouble keeping up with the kiss. Tears spilled down his cheeks, he wasn’t sure if they were his or Jack’s. He felt his lungs twist and he shoved Jack back.

  Five years of roots were coming up all at once. Rhys braced himself, grabbing Jack’s hand hard enough to hurt.

  Jack was about to say something but was interrupted by a sudden lurch as his own roots forced their way out. They weren’t as deep, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

  After several minutes of hacking up repressed feelings, they both collapsed on the floor. 

  “So…” Rhys said, cringing at how his voice sounded. “How’d you get that scar?” 

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Jack said, voice squally scratchy. “I don’t want to talk at all.” Jack cupped Rhys’s cheek and pulled him into a kiss, and Rhys happily let him. 

  Maybe Handsome Jack could love, just this once. 

***

“There you two are! I’ve been trying to contact you for days!” Timothy said, glaring at his boss. “You can’t just say you need me to take charge of Helio’s for a while and then not give me any information! And where have you been!?” He points at Rhys. “You’re supposed to fill me in on what’s going on. I’ve been winging it for a week!”

  Rhys gave him a nervous smile, taking Jack’s hand. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Tim who was starting to deflate. 

  “I told you I was sick.” Jack said. “Rhys was taking care of me.”

  “Whatever. Just don’t complain to me about all the work you have left over. And don’t forget to pay me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll ECHO you later. Don’t you have a girlfriend to run home too?” Jack really just wanted some alone time. Well alone with Rhys time. 

  “Fiancée.” Tim corrected. Jack could tell his dopplegӓnger was blushing slightly under his identical mask. “I’ll see myself out. Congrats on finally getting together.” 

  “Finally?” Rhys asked, but Tim had already skipped out. 

  “Don’t mind him.” Jack said, kissing his cheek in an oddly gentle way. “We have work to catch up on.”

  Rhys smiled, pulling Jack into a kiss. “I’ll get your coffee then, sir.”

  Jack shamelessly stared at Rhys’s ass as he walked off. Yeah this could work out. 

[baelonthebrave]

Dean turned forty-two on a Sunday, and all he really wanted was for Cas to kiss him.

[Ao3] ~3k

The thought was ringing in his head, clear as a bell, as he sat up in bed sometime after six in the morning.

The angel was a warm, solid lump on the other side of his - their - bed, his face pressed firmly into the pillow to ward away the first signs of daytime. Dean smiled to himself, at the way Cas’s brow furrowed in sleep, desperately clinging on to oblivion. When he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Cas’s temple, the crease in his brow smoothed out like ripples on a lake.

Dean left Cas sleeping - he would only be another half hour or so - and trailed off to the kitchen in his slippers and dressing gown, warding against the late January chill in the air. The sounds of hushed voices and clink of cutlery and mugs guided him through the dim morning light and the fogginess he felt before his first coffee. Like he’d expected, Jack and Sam were already at the kitchen table, Jack with a bowl piled high with the kind of cereal that made him jittery, and Sam with a cup of black coffee and a serene expression. Dean mumbled a good morning, smiling but politely ignoring the cards and presents stacked in a small, neat pile in the middle of the table until they were explicitly given to him, and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

He could tell it was his birthday just by the fact that Sam had likely been up since five but had still kept the coffee piping hot, ready for Dean.

“Morning!” came his brother’s chirpy morning voice. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

Dean turned around from the coffee pot to say a thanks, and only managed an oof as his little - hah - brother enveloped him in a hug. For someone of Sam’s size, it bewildered Dean that he could sneak up on anyone. Or maybe Dean was just getting unobservant in his old age. “Thanks, Sam,” he said, giving him a pat on the back. Even now, after nearly four decades, the smell of his brother’s clothes still reminded him of a long-gone family home in Lawrence, but that thought didn’t raise any more sadness in him now than a faint and settled pang. He called it progress and clung a little harder to his brother’s flannel.

When they broke apart, Jack was practically bouncing on his seat. “You gotta open my present first,” he insisted, his mouth half full of chewed cereal and little marshmallows that glowed like nuclear waste.

Sam smiled, stepping back from Dean, “Jack, remember, you gotta-“

“Oh!” Jack said, lurching out of his seat less like a God and more like a hyperactive three-year-old. He was both, Dean guessed, but definitely favoured one. Jack was about half Sam’s body mass, but he hit Dean at such a speed that he still forced a grunt out of his chest. “Happy birthday!”

The feeling that flooded Dean’s ribcage was like a torrent of molasses, warm and heavy. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s back, even let himself rest his chin against Jack’s head. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Sam wrinkled his nose over Jack’s head in a way that read as a faint apology for letting Jack get at the toddler rocket fuel before dawn, but Dean didn’t much care. Jack had kinda been like this for a few days anyway, and the glitter that had been appearing everywhere in the bunker and was now covering an envelope on the table was enough of a hint as to why.

Jack was still bouncing on his toes, and Dean laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Before I open presents, we gotta wait for-“

“I’m awake,” came a gruff voice behind them, in a tone that could only be described as regretful. It did nothing to slow the lurch that Dean’s heart gave, and when he spun around, he saw a smile mirroring his own spreading on Cas’s lips. “Happy birthday,” Cas said.

He had a card and wrapped present in hand, but he still stood awkwardly, a country mile away from their little three-person cluster by the coffee pot. And it made Dean’s heart pang. Part of it was just Cas - an eternity of angel mannerisms couldn’t be scrubbed out by a mere decade on Earth - but part of it was....

This was dumb. They were dumb. He crossed the space between them and wrapped his boyfriend, his angel, his life partner up in his arms and pressed a sloppy kiss to the peak of his cheekbone. “Thanks, baby,” he said, as solid arms wound around his lower back.

It was Sam who masterminded breakfast, dicing up little bowls of strawberries and blueberries between flipping pancakes on the stove top. Cas manned the coffee pot for Sam and Dean, steeped himself a mug of tea, and fetched Jack a glass of orange juice with a straw in it, because he worried about the acidity wearing down Jack’s tooth enamel. That left Dean at the kitchen table, supervised by Jack, as he worked through his little pile of cards and presents.

From Sam and Eileen, there was a beautiful photo album, bound in smooth black leather. It was half-filled already, with rare pictures of Sam and Dean as children, Jack on his first birthday, Dean and Eileen posing for a picture, leaning against the trunk of the Impala with beer bottles in hand after a successful hunt, amongst others. And one that looked too candid for him to have known it was happening, his hand slipped into Cas’s, and Cas smiling at him with that stupid look that never failed to make Dean’s heart thud like a mistimed bass drum. The rest of the pages were left empty, an open invitation from Sam and Eileen to keep filling it with new memories. “This is beautiful, Sammy,” he croaked, and did his best to meet his brother’s eye.

Sam smiled, didn’t call him out on his emotional constipation, and said “Eileen will be over later, I think she’s got another treat for you.”

Dean was thrilled to hear it, but didn’t have the chance to respond, because now Jack was pressing a ridiculously glittery envelope into his hands. He knew he’d be washing the stuff out of Jack’s clothes for a month, but the gleeful look in the kid’s eye was enough to make Dean bite down his complaint, and he tried very hard not to grin like an idiot as he opened the envelope.

The card was indeed full of glitter and hand cut heart-shaped confetti, but it was the shaky writing on the front that made his breath catch. With each letter spelled out in a different coloured marker, Jack had written “Happy birthday Dad” on the front, and then there was the present Cas had brought. The joint, accompanying gift from Cas and Jack was enough to set his bottom lip wobbling – a blue coffee mug with #1 Dad on the front in big, yellow letters.

“C’mere,” Dean grunted, and pulled Jack tight against his chest, furiously blinking away the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. There was thick emotion in his chest churning and gargling like a carburettor clogged with gravel, and he mumbled, “Love you,” into the boy’s as-yet unbrushed hair. Jack let out a happy sigh and leaned into him heavier.

Cas and Sam were both looking a little glossy eyed by the time the pair pulled apart, which Sam artfully covered with a loud clearing of his throat and the lighting of the candle on top of Dean’s pancake stack.

 The most tone-deaf chorus he’d ever heard of “Happy birthday” followed, which was a given, as he was the only one who could actually carry a tune, but he refused to sink to the level of douchiness of joining in on his own birthday song. Then, they were digging into their pancakes, talking about their plans for the day, and just soaking in the early morning serenity.

Before long, Cas and Jack were hugging the brothers goodbye and promising to be back by five to help ready Dean’s birthday supper. He would’ve liked to have them for the whole day, but there would be plenty time for that once heaven was - well, heaven again – and truthfully, he was just grateful he got the morning with them.

Once Jack and Sam were ready to go about their respective days, they stepped away from Cas and Dean, leaving them just kind of looking at each other. Dean was normally like a shot fired from a pistol to cross the distance between them, take Cas into his arms, kiss him silly, but he couldn’t nudge that first thought that had ricocheted around his head when he’d woken up this morning.

Cas was looking at him. Standing at a distance. Hands hanging at his sides. “Have a good day, Dean,” he said, in a soft voice that made Dean’s chest ache.

Two months. Two whole months since they’d bust out of the Empty, saved the world together and held each other, aching, and crying and kissing fervently in the aftershocks.

Twelve years spent falling in love, two months spent being in love, and Cas was still just standing there. Like a dick.

With a barely concealed huff, Dean crossed the chasm between them and kissed him, gently cradling a strong and stubbled jaw in both his hands. “You too, baby.”

When Cas and Jack were gone, he belatedly realised he’d forgotten to open Cas’s card after feeling like he’d been sideswiped by a freight train after Jack’s.

It was a simple, handsome card. Navy with gold lettering.

To Dean,

Happy birthday.

I love you.

from Cas

He held it to his chest. 

—

Turns out Eileen’s idea of a birthday treat was the hunter’s equivalent of a game of whack-a-mole. When she’d driven him and Sam out to a horse ranch an hour down the highway and explained, Dean had started laughing and pulled his (hopefully, future, one-day) sister-in-law into a bear hug.

The ranch was infested with little goblin-like creatures that Eileen had affectionately termed “gnomes”. It was by no means the kind of world-ending threat they were used to, but the “gnomes” had been popping up out of the ground and spooking horses, even landing a few bites, which had led to more than one infected wound and thrown rider. “I thought it warranted the Winchester-Leahy treatment,” Eileen said and signed to Dean, who was bouncing on his toes like a kid in a candy store.

When Eileen turned back to her car, Dean said behind her, “Hey, your names sound pretty good together, huh, Sammy?”

Sam’s only response was to glower.

That only served to put Dean in a better mood, though, and soon they were all wreaking havoc on the overgrown field, trying whatever their best instincts and experience said oughta work.

The little gremlins were fast, ducking and diving into burrows quicker than Dean could get a good swing at them, and popping up behind him to grab at his ankles. “Little bastards!” He growled as one sunk its teeth into his ankle.

The gnome blew a raspberry at him and uncannily parroted back “Bastard!” It was then that he finally connected a hit but was quick to find out that an iron crowbar was about as much use on the little shits as, well, a crowbar.

“Hey!” He yelled to his compatriots, waving an arm over his head. Sam and Eileen both stopped to look, wearing twin expressions of wild bemusement, and really, he wished he had a camera on him. “Iron sucks!” He said, signing it large and waving his useless crowbar.

Eileen nodded, but Sam seemed to have an idea as he watched one of the slimy little creatures wiggle its ass at him tauntingly. A familiar spark lit up behind his eyes and he pulled a smallish burlap sack of rock salt out of his coat pocket.

No faster than Sam could throw a handful of salt like cast dye, the gnome exploded with a yelp, splattering Sam with green-yellow goo. “Gross!” he yelped.

Dean felt childish laughter bubble up out of his chest at that, disbelieving, as Sam shook his hands free of gunk and wiped it off his face. “Oh my god, they’re like slugs!” Dean said with a sharp cackle.

“This is fucking gross,” was the only response from a churlish Sam, as both Dean and Eileen laughed at him.

“Dean!” Eileen called, and then there was a small bag of rock salt arcing through the air towards him, which he caught neatly.

Then they were off to the races, with Dean and Eileen automatically falling into a pattern of systematically herding the little bastards and then working with Sam to do the exploding. The yellow-green goo stunk to high heavens, and made Dean’s eyes water, but they were having so much fun he barely even noticed, too busy hooting, hollering, and laughing as Sam got prissy about his new jacket getting stained with the monster equivalent of snot.

When they were down to the last few, they had to chase them down manually, amongst the litany of profanities the creatures were picking up from them and hurling back. Dean had his last gnome cornered between himself and a fence post when he heard a warning shout from Sam.

A second too late.

The rock to the back of his knee was such a shock that it buckled his leg, and he thumped into the soft dirt. There was a particularly large and menacing gnome glowering at him from its burrow, reaching for another stone, and Dean was scrabbling for his rock salt before he ended up with a concussion on his birthday-

But then the air crackled with static, and there was a whooshing wing beat, as the gnome was - smited? Smote? - from existence, splattering Dean in the foul-smelling goo from top to toe.

He looked up at the angel - his angel - clad in his signature trench-coat and frown. And he fell back into the dirt in fits of laughter.

“Dean,” Cas said in lieu of greeting, looking vaguely troubled at the monster snot covering his dress shoes and trousers.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said with a wheeze, and reached out a hand to signal Cas to help him. He felt himself being yanked to his feet like he weighed nothing and was still quieting the waves of laughter racking his stomach when he saw the way Cas was looking at him.

The soft glow in his features, the amusement, the adoration. “What exactly are you idiots doing?”

Dean flashed him his most charming smile – the devil-may-care one – and said, in a very low and serious voice, “Saving the world.”

Cas held onto his fingers, reticent to let go, and he just stood there, and looked at Dean with the softest smile on his face.

“I thought you said you’d be back at five?” Dean finally asked, breaking the beat of charged silence.

“I, uh,” Cas looked away with pink rising at his cheeks, instead watching as Eileen and Sam picked their way back across the field to each other, still wild-eyed and laughing. “I forgot to show Jack how to set the clock you gave us in our office, so I believe it shows the wrong time.”

The image of a God and a seraph running the reconstruction of heaven from a cosy little office but being unable to set a ten-dollar clock from Target to Central Standard Time was enough to set Dean off chuckling again. Don’t ever change, he thought faintly, as he watched his own amusement reflected back in Cas’s extraordinary eyes.

Cas was still holding his hand. And his eyes were so soft, and so blue.

It caught Dean’s breath in his throat, and something bubbled up.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said. His stomach gave a jolt, but he had to ask before he lost his nerve. He squeezed Cas’s hand, to give himself courage more than anything. “How come you never kiss me?”

Cas looked dumbfounded for a second, his eyes darting to Dean’s lips, and by God if this wasn’t the wrong time and the wrong place, Dean thought, as a rock settled in the pit of his stomach. The dim winter sun above them was still warm enough to make the monster snot on both of them stink that little more, and Cas’s jaw was slack and flapping a little as he searched for the right words.

Dean suddenly felt stupid and awful for bringing it up.

Except- he didn’t, not really.

Because every kiss, every touch, every everything, had to come from Dean. And he wasn’t sick of it – he could never be sick of anything that let him touch Cas, be with Cas – but he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt sometimes.

Like on the morning of his forty-second birthday, and the man who had admitted to being crazy, stupid, “loved the whole world for you” in love with him two months ago had stood six feet away and just looked.

Like he was just looking now.

“I- it doesn’t matter,” Dean said, his eyes falling, his heart falling. “Sorry, I don’t want to ruin the day.”

The sound that came out of Cas came from his chest, and could only be described as a grunt, pure frustration.

And then suddenly, there was a hand on his face and a thumb on his upper lip, swiping away disgusting, sickly, stinking goo from the curve of his cupid’s bow.

And then there were lips.

Hot and chapped.

Crushing against his.

Some ridiculous keening sound was forced from Dean’s chest, and he threw his spare arm around Cas’s neck with abandon, his other still clasping Cas’s fingers firmly in his. Cas’s weather-worn lips against his soft ones felt a little sore, and he was going to buy him a chapstick, and their respective tea- and coffee-breath was mingling together in a noxious mix, but it was perfect. Perfect in the way that Cas was pulling him against his broad chest, reeling him in and holding him tight and saying I will never let you go.

And Dean would never let Cas let him go, he thought, and nipped at his bottom lip.

“When I told you,” Cas was saying as he pulled back, into the bare couple of inches between their lips, “that my happiness was just in being, in the act of loving you, I never dreamed I could have you.

“Most days, I still don’t believe that I get to have you.”

Thump went Dean’s heart, and it was his turn to reel Cas in and press crushing kisses to Cas’s lips, blood roaring in his ears and battering against his ribcage. “I’ll teach you,” he mumbled into Cas’s hairline, temple, nose, jaw, anywhere he could land a blistering kiss. I’ll teach you to believe it.

They both sucked in ragged breaths in the cool, crisp air of late January.

A light frost bit at the ground, and curling clouds of white emanated from their lips.

“I’ll teach you. I’m yours.”

[prairiedust]

The Further Folklore of Supernatural

Here’s a little more folklore meta in light of how season 15 has been playing out if anyone is game. I genuinely thought that Moriah would be the end of the folklore stuff and tossed out “Folk the Author” as an “epilogue,” so this is probably less of an addendum than it is a waymarker as I try to continue to parse these themes into the last seven episodes.

Welp. *waves hands at everything* THIS is not how anyone expected 2020 to go. Things got a little bit big and I stopped thinking about Spn in light of needing that energy elsewhere. But I also don’t want this crapfest to ruin how I fan my favorite show, so here I go again. I will attempt a TL;DR, too!

If you’ve read my old “folklore” analysis here about how I think fairy tales and all their baggage fit into Supernatural season 14, you know that I believe Castiel has stepped into a Sleeping Beauty type story, and that coincidentally a few themes and symbolism from Snow White kept popping up around Dean. (I hold Sam to be a Protagonist in the modern “literary fiction” sense of the word, but emotionally, thematically, and narratively he’s always been a little inaccessible to me. I finally understood him when the death-of-the-author plot surfaced, and I’ll get to Sam eventually here. And Jack, there’s a little Jack in here, too.) 

If you would rather have the TL;DR than read several thousands of words about how folklore and myth *might* be abstractly connected to an American genre show, all I can say is that I tried. The textual support is all in the folklore posts. This is as succinct a summary as I could fabricate. At least I’m not gonna talk about Sam and bricolage and freeplay! This is an almost completely theory-free post! If you don’t want to read or don’t need a refresher and just want to know how this has been working in 15, you can scroll down to “END OF TL;DR”.

So, to catch up, I’m not talking about the folklore and mythology that this show has always relied on for plot and MOTWs. I wasn’t drilling down into urban legends like Hook Man or world folk monsters like shtrigas or pishtacos. By “folklore” I mean the study of storytelling tropes and tale types that have been with us for ages. One of the many subtexts of the end of the series. I’ve been tracking this because I think it’s fun to see how fairy tale imagery and mythology might layer preconscious suggestions into the text of the show. I personally think it was loud enough to be seen easily, but more than likely viewers felt unsettled, felt cheered, or felt like they knew what was coming? I’m curious to know. Anyway.

When we found out that Kelly Kline was going to name her baby “Jack” waaaaay back in season 12, things started chiming. Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack the Giant Killer. Jack Tales. Jack is a powerful Western character, sort of a cross between a noble hero and a trickster, featuring in stories that often blur lines and boundaries. He is both the poor man’s youngest son and the equal to King Arthur’s heir. Jack is both everyman and extraordinary. Jack is so cool, I wish I had more time to parse that but his qualities are not subtle in the text/subtext, anyway.

But back to my half-crack reading of seasons 14 and 15. 

Once upon a time in Supernatural, there were two fairy tales being told. Both fairy tales are found all over the world and in many forms, but they all can be grouped together because they all contain shared elements of the same basic plot or shared themes, and these two in particular are sister stories. So when I mention “Sleeping Beauty,” I’m talking about lots of different versions of the folk tale, and the same for “Snow White,” which can be found in one form or another in storytelling traditions all over the place. It is both helpful and irritating that these are both Disney movies, too.

Jack makes an allusion to Sleeping Beauty in 14x03 The Scar while talking to Castiel-- it’s the kind of subtextual flash that in and of itself means little and proves nothing, but then beginning with The Scar we got three stories in a row that dealt with “sleepers” of some sort-- Lora in 14x03 doomed to die because of a witch’s spell, Stuart in 14x04 Mint Condition in a coma because of a ghost attack, and Sasha’s father in 14x05 Nightmare Logic under the spell of a clever djinn. It’s powerful subtext, like a soft light that bathes these episodes in the color of fairy tale and makes Jack’s Dramatic Swoon at the end of Optimism all the more Dramatic-- subtext amplifying the plot. Jack goes to Heaven, but is eventually cornered by the Shadow, who wants him in the Empty where he will sleep forever-- the Shadow being an entity who has claimed the husks of dead angels since their inception and thus implies a “curse” laid on Jack from the moment he came into being-- but Castiel, who is ever a thief in oh so many ways, makes a bargain with the Shadow and essentially takes over the consequences of Jack’s Sleeping Beauty story (hence my rarely used but hilarious tag “Castiel Thief of Endings.”)

Now that we know from 14x20 Moriah that the Shadow and Billie the Reaper are, if not allies, at least working together when Jack is awakened in the Empty, does that mean that Castiel’s deal is still on the table, or has that fate been thwarted? *pounds table* Was Jack’s death and Chuck’s rise as a “greater threat” in 14x20 enough to shift Castiel’s ending? It’s the kind of subtextual question that lends tension to the narrative and it’s what I am here for. 

Well, speaking of thwarted expectations, Dean’s arc was being shadowed by a Snow White tale type. We all know Snow White but why don’t I sum it up anyway, since Disney messed up the folktale ending lol. Snow White is cast out of her home by her jealous stepmother (and echoes of the stepmother’s magic mirror show up in 15x02 Gods and Monsters) who sends her huntsman to kill her; the dude can’t do it and turns the girl loose in the forest instead. Snow White joins a band of outsiders who live in the forest-- in the Disney movie and the Grimms’ tale they are dwarfs, in some versions she happens upon a band of robbers-- and they love her very much and we presume she’s safe for the rest of her life; Michael mysteriously turns Dean loose to join Sam’s gathering of hunters, however we know, like Stepmom, Michael is still out there. The stepmother finds out that Snow White is actually alive and contrives to kill her herself. Eventually succeeding, Snow White appears to die and is usually laid to rest in a crystal casket/glass coffin. Her stepmother’s machinations have _stolen her agency_ (further paralleling Dean’s possession by AU!Michael.) A Handsome Prince stumbles upon Snow White, is besmitten with her, and he asks her protectors if he can have her, as one does. Leaving the Disney adaptation aside, Snow White awakens when whatever item that has caused her death-like state is dislodged (piece of apple in her throat) or removed (magic corset) or withdrawn (poisoned hairpin) by her protectors. Snow White is a story about the community of the dwarves of band of robbers or adopted family caring deeply for her, and when Dean starts making his own crystal casket, the ma’lak box, in which he will ride out eternity in tormented symbiosis with Apocalypse Michael, he has to rely on his family to help him see the plan through. However, here’s where Jack-- who is as much a chaos engine as his surrogate father Castiel if not more so-- steps in and ruins the ending. Jack smites Michael. Dean Winchester is saved. Again. To put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, Jack later destroys the ma’lek box entirely. 

That was quite the surprise ending… for one of the stories.

Was the end of season 14 the end of the Sleeping Beauty theme, also?

END OF TL;DR

I quit writing about “folklore” for a while, but that doesn’t mean it stopped being a theme. It just stopped being fun to write about as the story got more and more dark, and when it transmuted into two parallel themes of “folklore” or storytelling by the people versus Death of the Author--or storytelling by a lauded authority-- and there was so much angst about the boundaries of Chuck’s powers, I just wanted to sit back and enjoy that. I did distill my thoughts about Sam’s new arc in the DotA plot, which I thought would subsume the folktale themes but hey, we still have folktales around, too. I mean, we have Sam and we have Dean, and we have two “literary” subtexts, or maybe rather two subjects about the nature of story, something that I thought was a little bit of a surprise.

Storytelling was a Feature of 15x07 Last Call, both in the sense that Lee and Dean swap new stories and tell old tales of their adventures together as they catch up, but also in the sense that we got additional “text”-- hints of a backstory where John and Dean hunted with Lee in that swampy long-ago “Stanford era,” and again we get storytelling when _Lee recounts how he ended up keeping a marid in his basement_. There is also an allusion to the Thousand and One Arabian Nights in that episode that I yelled about in a meta that I never put on the interwebs, but the “marid” is in a specific tale in many editions of that collection, and thus calls in not only a different folktale tradition but the concept of a framed/nested narrative, which I believe will be important to understanding the last episodes of the series, but that’s an aside. In 15x08 Our Father Who Aren’t In Heaven, Castiel _tells Michael the story_ of how everyone ended up where they are now to convince him to help. And Michael and Adam’s allyship, if not friendship, was probably the best subversion of any “storytelling” expectation we’ve ever had on this show. Belphagor set us up for “room full of crazy” or something, but, no. We got symbiosis. 

That almost sums up how I’ve been viewing the last “era” of spn. This wasn’t in the master post, but I shouted a lot about underworlds before 15x09 Purgatory 2: Return to Purgatory, and then stopped shouting because I had to ferment for a while. Also, as has been mentioned, the world turned to crap. But talking to other meta writers during the ramp up to the resumption of the season helped me realize just why this reading of myth to folktales to literature feels so right.

Underworlds and Otherworlds…. Everybody has crossed into an “underworld” or three in Supernatural, it’s really nbd. It was actually surface-level plot in season 13. By the time 15x09 rolled around, our heroes are just, like, strolling in and out of “sealed off” Hell after doing a level one spell and chilling with Billie in the Empty and even that Purgatory trip didn’t have the same feeling of danger that, say, crossing into the AU did. But also, we’re at the point where subtext is leading us to a _satisfactory_ ending. Where before we had serial text, like a cumulative tale type-- “The House that Jack Built”-- which just kept adding more and more plot, we’re hurtling o’er the apex of Freytag’s pyramid now and things are getting loud.

But they’re also getting very shifty.

I wrote a little bit about Sam Winchester successfully reviving Eileen in 15x06 Golden Time and the “Orpheus and Eurydice” symbolism of him keeping his back to her. (I’m not linking it because it’s so, so rough.) But because Sam is not an underworld hero, not completely-- I see him as a modern Protagonist coming to terms in a psychoanalytical model with things like mortality, fallibility, and mastery-- maybe bildungsroman, even -- he was able to subvert the tragic ending of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice because it is not “his” story. But if I were pressed to find a mythic or folk tale type to measure Sam against, I could. I would probably sideye “the sorcerer’s apprentice” trope (ATU 325-The Magician and his Pupil :D ) which began as a poem that entered European folklore on different fronts. (and weirdly, that story was also Disnified in Fantasia. That’s probably more my own limitation as a gen x american lol than anything coming from the writer’s room.)

Dean got his moment in Purgatory where he was able to finally come to grips with his anger and heal the rift between himself and Castiel because Purgatory is a different kind of underworld. Dean is a successful threshold-crosser, having crossed that boundary out of Purgatory before, but in 15x09, his prayer to Castiel is all a subtextual evocation of doing the emotional and mental work of therapy, which Sam, as a modern protagonist, is usually caught up in. The mythic hero also deals with mortality, failibilty, and mastery, but in different terms. I hope I’m doing an okay job peeling apart these nuances that I’m seeing.

Since Castiel accompanied Dean to Purgatory, and in the past made his own wildly successful incursion into and out of Hell with Dean’s soul, and was the one in The Trap who actually retrieved the Leviathan blossom, Castiel counts as an underworld hero, too, but you can pull the lever and send the tumblers spinning again and make him a fairy tale character in that he has made this Bargain with the Empty which is both in the “modern” tradition of subverting a fairy tale, and the tale type “deal with the devil.” Or he could be seen as a modern protagonist in that he’s lowkey grappling with questions of selfhood and identification. “I am an angel of the lord.” “I am no one.” “It’s Steve, now.” “You are nothing.” “I am an angel.”

We even got an episode that playfully explored the concept of “hero” by subverting our expectations (Sam and Dean were rescued by, of all people, an upgraded Garth.) It was called The Hero’s Journey, after the Joseph Campbell book about mythic heroes.... !!! Like, what??? !!!! I didn’t even have anything to say about that episode, it just rocked. The “meta” was just all out there in plot, like the olives and boiled eggs in a 1950’s gelatin recipe. 

Some of this slipperiness in the subtext points right at the study of folklore and the (admittedly Eurocentric at first) efforts to transform a “soft science” into something approaching scientific rigor. The Aarne-Thompson-Uther folktale index is today a codifying or cataloguing tool, with which anthropologists and literature scholars can line up stories based on the motifs found within them-- it is useful for cataloguing tales, making comparative studies, and for trying to trace these stories back through human history to find the One First Story of that type, for instance the ur-story that led to Snow White. When did people first start telling that tale, where, how did it spread, and why are we still telling it today? The danger in using the ATU index is that by stripping a story down to it’s bones, we lose the story, if that makes sense. The beauty of using the ATU index is that you find many, many more interconnected stories. It’s sort of a paradox. Some scholars criticize the ATU, claiming that one could take a random selection of these motifs and shuffle them to create a story and, you sort of could? That’s the beauty of the system. 

So that brings us to Jack. I feel like Jack, as in Jack of all Trades, is anything that the narrative needs him to be. As far as I can find, “Jack” is not a “tale type.” He shows up alongside any number of them-- sometimes as a trickster, sometimes as a hero, almost always as a kind of slippery character. In the first folklore post, I invested many words in exploring Dabb’s obsession with threes-- AU Michael asks three beings what they desire, asks his human victim to guess his name three times, then we follow three sleeper stories, and so on. The original TFW was three people. But Jack makes four. 

What is Jack’s story going to be?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And speaking for a sec about the origins of myth and folklore-- what about ALL OF THE OTHER PEOPLE in the world? Are they lowkey churning the matrix of reality on their own and generating their own content, like Becky and her AO3 stories and mackettes? 

*¯\_(ツ)_/¯ intensifies*

It all just feels so good at this point, even the peril that I feel surrounding Castiel.

I *think* this will be the last of the longform metas before the end of the series. I mean, I can only hope so. I’ll drop some stuff about individual episodes that might be applicable as I rewatch, and I might clean up my post about Last Call and drop it on here, but I just wanted to kind of hold this up as a mile marker before the Final Seven air.

[meanhoeforcb97]

Pairing: Vampire!Hyunjin x Fem!Human!Reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: some blood, fingering(f), spanking, slight degradation, slight name calling (angel mostly), unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy)

Requested: yes

Words: 2.4k

Summary: You go hiking on the mountain with your friends when suddenly you drift from the rest of the group. Desperately searching for them you stumble upon a handsome tall guy who was more than willing to help you out. What could go wrong, right?

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

You were currently desperately trying to find your friends in the thick forest. It was getting darker and you were getting more and more anxious. Earlier that day you and your friends had decided to go outside of the camping area and hike on the mountain.

"Come on Y/n we are not even going to go that high!" Elenor had exclaimed.

"Yes! Come one Y/n even Minho agreed! We promise we're gonna be back before sunset!" Felix had also exclaimed.

You couldn't help but follow your friends.

But you didnt expect for the forest to be so thick and hard to get around.

At some point the four of you accidentally split up when you thought you found the way out and drifted from the group.

You had no idea where they were or their condition at the moment. You had tried calling their phones multiple times but it was no use— the signal was horrible.

As you were walking you suddenly heard a bush rustling nearby and you slightly jumped at the sudden sound.

"Elenor?" You called out. "Felix?" Again no answer. Suddenly a figure appeared and it seemed like it was a male and a quite tall one at that. "Minho? Is that you?" You asked squinting your eyes and taking a single step forward before the figure walked towards you so fast that you quickly stepped back startled.

He then stood right in front of you, only a single step away, and he looked right into your eyes. He was intimidating to say the least. He was very handsome though.

His lips were plump and looked very red and kissable and he had this beautiful mole under his eye.

"I can help you find your friends. But you need to trust me and come with me." He said as he looked at you and raised a single eyebrow.

"What the fuck!? You must be out of your mind! I'm not 12 I know better than trust strangers." You said to him turning to leave but you felt a cold hand around your wrist and you gasped as you turned to look at him.

"I'm Hyunjin. You can trust me I promise." He said and his eyes were as if they were locked with yours. You couldnt tear your gaze away, as if he was hypnotizing you.

"Besides its getting dark and you're just going to get lost deeper into the forest. We dont want any wolf getting to you before your friends now do we?" He asked as he raised that same eyebrow in a cocky manner and you gulped.

"My house isnt far from here and I have a team of people who can go find your friends without any problem." He said as he let go of your wrist taking a step back.

"So what is it gonna be?" He asked as he stretched a hand towards your direction to take.

You sighed loudly as you looked away from him for a moment contemplating your decision.

"My name is Y/n.." you said as you put your hand into his larger one and he smiled before you both started your way to his house.

It had been some time since you arrived at his house and what he didn't specify was the fact that it wasnt a simple home but a freaking mansion that seemed as if it was from the 1850s. It had a beautiful exterior and an equally beautiful interior. He immediately introduced you to his "team of people" who you found out were hunters and usually hunted for meat once a few days so they knew the forest better than the back of their palms.

He then proceeded to give you a guest room to stay in and showed you the bathroom so you could take a shower and get rid of all the sweat and dirt on you.

After you were done with cleaning yourself you got dressed in some clothes you had in your backpack which were a pair of mid-thigh long shorts and a simple white tshirt which were the clothes you planned on wearing to sleep whenever you'd be back at the campsite.

As you were strolling around the top floor of the mansion you caught a glimpse of Hyunjin in his own room and he was changing out of his clothes. You knew you needed to get out of there and stop starring for gods sake but the moment you saw his arms flexing as he took off his white undershirt and revealed his abs you were stuck. You physically couldnt look away from the beautiful curves of his chiseled abdomen. He was godly gorgeous.

You felt your core clench around thin air as you just imagined his deadly sexy body over your own doing some very ungodly things.

"I know you're watching.." He said loudly so you could hear and you gasped. "This is your chance to leave.. if you stay..." He said turning his head and looking right into your eyes, "well.. you're gonna find out just how I treat people like you.." he said grabbing his belt and undoing it.

You were frozen in place not knowing what to do. You were so turned on and you hadn't had a good fuck in quite some time.

"Times up sweetie... come in or leave.. now." He ordered and you hesitated slightly before entering. He smirked and you saw... sharp teeth? What?

"You know... there's something that I didnt tell you before but you need to know if we are going to do this.." he said as he moved closer to you and you slightly cowered in fear. What was going on?!

He smirked at you and you caught glimpse of his sharp teeth once again.

He grabbed your shoulders and pinned you against the wall and a gasp escaped your parted lips.

"You know I'm not what I seem to be.. " he said as he showed you his teeth completely and you gasped again as you felt heat pool into your panties.

"O-oh..." was all you could manage to let out.

Suddenly he sniffed the air and his eyes grew wide as his pupils diluted.

"Did.... did you just get wet?" He asked as he looked from your slightly squirming thighs to your eyes.

You bit your lip as you shyly nodded.

"T-this is just s-so hot.." You let out barely louder than a whisper and he looked at you a bit shocked but also seemingly turned on.

"You know most girls screamed and ran.." He said and you smirked at him as you snaked your hands at the back of his neck pulling him closer— a sudden wave of confidence rushing over you.

"Well... I'm not like other girls.." You said in a breathy whisper as you moved closer to his lips.

"So what do you say Hyunjin... are you gonna show me what your vampire cock can do?" (I'm so sorry I cringed too)

You said against his lips as you placed a hand over his clothes member rubbing it through the fabric softly and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Hhmm.. You know this side of you is pretty fucking hot but I think you should be reminded who is the one in charge here." He said as he grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head.

He locked your lips together in a heated kiss as one of his hands travelled down your neck and to your chest, cupping one breast and massaging it through your clothes.

His moves were quick with undressing your body and you helped him get rid of his pants as it was the only piece of clothing in his body along with his boxers.

He pulled away from your lips to look at you and he groaned at the sight.

"I can't wait to devour this gorgeous body of yours baby." He said as he pushed you against the wall once again and kissed all over your neck until he found your sweet spot.

By the time he found your special spot you were a mess and suddenly you felt something sharp grazing your sensitive skin and you gasped.

"Can I?" He asked and you looked down at him gulping and nodding without a second thought.

He smiled widely and placed his fangs on your neck right on top of your sweet spot and at the same time moved his hand inside your panties –which was the only piece of clothing left on your body. The moment his fangs sunk in your flesh he started drawing circles on your clit to try and help you focus on something else than the pain. That in return made you let out a mix between a yelp and a moan and he groaned into your neck while sucking your blood.

"Fuck that was so hot.." He mumbled in your neck as he continued to devour you and finger you at the same time.

Even though the feeling of your blood leaving your body was weird and uncomfortable his fingers were so skilled that he did a great job with distracting you from it.

"H-Hyunjin~" You moaned and he hummed into your neck.

"Its t-too much.." You choked out as you started feeling dizzy. He quickly pulled away a bit of crimson running down his chin and onto his exposed chest.

"I'm sorry love, you tasted way too sweet.. I couldnt resist you." He said as he licked his cherry lips, his fingers not losing their steady pace for a second.

"H-Hyunjin, I-I need y-you~" You moaned out once again and he smirked wider looking into your hooded eyes.

"I know baby, I can feel it in your pants." He said and a shiver ran down your spine and your knees buckled but he was quick to catch you and pull you closer into his chest as he continued to work wonders inside your panties.

You were a moaning mess in his embrace and you griped his shoulders tightly as your nails dug into his flesh leaving angry red marks on his pale skin.

"You know I would love to see you cumming from just my fingers but I really cant wait to have my cock ruining you instead." He said as he pulled out his hand and quickly pulled you to the bed pushing you on the soft mattress and silky sheets.

He was quick to rid you of your undergarments discarding the piece of clothing somehwere on the bedroom's floor along with the rest of your clothes.

He quickly took off his own boxers and hissed when his member was finally let free from the tight restraints of his boxers. You gulped at the size of his cock you eyed it up and down. It was large, the girth seemed a bit too much to handle and his tip was an angry red and oozing with precum. You licked your lips as you lied back and spread your legs for him. He chuckled darkly.

"Angel, so good for me..." He said as he stroked your cheek with the back of his hand and his dark eyes were licked with your own hooded ones.

He grabbed his member in his hand and positioned it in front of your entrance slightly teasing it and getting your arousal all over his rock hard cock.

He slowly and steadily entered you bottoming you out. You sighed at the feeling of being stuffed to the brim and gripped his biceps tightly.

"P-please move.." You begged and he raised an eyebrow.

"Hmmm.. you're such a slut for my cock aren't you?" He asked and you gulped as heat rose to your cheeks and ears turning them into a bright red color. "So impatient.. I'm afraid that if you dont take what I give you you might not take anything at all sweetheart." He said and you gasped at that.

"N-no! You cant do this! I need you right now! Please move!" You begged as you thrusted your hips to get some sort of friction going on.

"Uh oh. Someone's being bad~" He mocked as he gripped tightly onto your hips pinning them down on the bed. He looked down at you with a sickly arrogant smirk on his face–he was enjoying this way too much.

"You know bad girls get punished.." He trailed off to see your reaction and decide whether to proceed or not.

"Go ahead master, do whatever you please with me. Tie me up, blindfold me, spank me do whatever you want but please move!" You choked out begging and he groaned at the thought of your ass up in the air, a bright red color and his handprint decorating it. He quickly pulled out and you were about to beg again thinking you did something wrong.

"Turn over, all fours." He instructed and you quickly obeyed.

He slid back inside you once again and both of you sighed in pleasure as the new angle gave you a whole new type of depth to explore.

He rubbed on your ass cheek lightly before landing a hard slap on it and you moaned at the pain mixed with pleasure wrecking your entire body. He slowly started moving finding a steady pace that had your thighs shaking from the pleasure.

"Do you like that angel?" He asked landing another harsh slap on your ass and you moaned. "Do you like being treated like the cockskut you are?" He asked and you moaned a breathy yes in response.

He licked up his pace and you couldnt hold yourself up anymore as the pleasure you were receiving was too much to handle for you so you rested your upper half on the mattress, this giving him an even better angle to fuck you even deeper.

"Hmm~ Such a good little slut knowing how to help me make her feel good.." He said as he spanked you once again.

Suddenly a particular thrust had you seeing stars as he hit your g-spot.

"Oh my gosh Hyunjin do that again! Right there!" You moaned out and he complied as he started hitting your g-spot over and over again.

"Ngh~ H-Hyunjin I-I'm gonna c-cum~" You moaned out a warning and in return, he smacked your ass once again.

"Rub your clit for me angel." He instructed and you did as told and suddenly you were coming without warning.

Moaning his name out loud over and over again and clenching around his cock, Hyunjin didnt last much longer, pulling out and releasing his seed all over your back and ass.

Suddenly the door opened and before neither of you could react—

"Y/n are you in her— What the actual fuck?!" Someone yelled and you gasped quickly turning around to look at the doorway.

"Minho?!"

Let me know if yall wanna see a part two with Minho and Felix getting involved ;)

[bisexualcrowley]

Fairytale of New York

Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader (Gender non-specified)

Summary: Jack gives you something you’ve always dreamt of while walking through a park on Christmas eve

Content/warnings: Fluff, songfic, little bit of angst, censored use of the F slur in song lyrics, can be read as romantic or platonic

Word count: 2, 581

A/N: I absolutely recommend you listen to the song while reading, I know it’s not really everyone’s taste but I feel that it adds to the mental image, plus there's a bunch of instrumental bits that I think are worth being included :) // Originally wrote this as a Jack fic, but felt that Jack fit better

The snow fell in a light drifting throughout the city, glistening in the glow of the streetlights and setting the scene for what in most movies would be seen as the perfect Christmas eve. It was quiet, peaceful, the soft noises of traffic heard behind the sound of slow Christmas music playing soothingly from a shop across the street.

Since becoming a hunter, you hadn’t really been much for the holidays, especially religious ones, but tonight as you walked side by side with Jack through the little park, boots crunching in the fallen powder with snowflakes dusting your hair as you made your way to a nearby pizza joint to meet Sam Dean and Cas, it felt different, the way Christmas should feel.

Tonight it didn’t matter that the apocalypse was approaching, the thought was shoved to the back of your head along with everything else that had gone wrong. Tonight was just snow, food, gifts, and family, and you found yourself smiling as you made your way along the path.

You were so caught up in your thoughts, or lack of them, that it took you a moment to realize you had been walking by yourself for a few seconds, and quickly doubled back to where the nephilim was standing.

You were concerned at first, his still figure bringing all sorts of unpleasant thoughts to mind, but your worries quickly evaporated when you drew closer to your friend. A peaceful smile graced his features, eyes closed and face tilted upwards, snowflakes hitting his skin and melting, the fair few settling softly on his eyelashes.

“...Jack?” You called quietly, hesitating at the idea of disturbing him but knowing he wouldn’t want to be late to dinner with the Winchesters.

Luckily, the nephilim’s peaceful expression cracked into a toothy grin as he turned his head to face you, a light dusting of snow falling from his hair onto his nose and making you giggle.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it Y/n. I never took the time to experience a snowfall properly before now, and it’s just... Well it’s just incredible. God did a good job with this one” He murmured happily, his gaze returning to the sky, this time followed by your own.

It had been years since you sat back and allowed yourself to enjoy a moment like this, year after year of hunting taking priority over and over again, and you were glad that there was time for it tonight. Jack was right, the sight truly was beautiful, the crystals of ice glistening as they blew through the sky and settled on every surface in sight.

You had just opened your mouth to respond when a familiar melody filled the air, and you paused in your thoughts. Fairytale of New York, The Pogues. You hadn’t heard this one in years, though you never forgot it, your teenage daydreams always somewhere in the back of your mind.

Apparently Jack had found your silence alarming and turned his attention back to you, finding you lost in thought, a troubled expression having replaced your smile from before.

“You look upset, Y/n, are you alright?” Your friend questioned, a concerned expression gracing his usually happy features, and his worry drawing a dry chuckle from your lips.

“It’s nothing Jack, lets just keep going, Sam and Dean are probably already at the pizza place” You replied in a dreary voice, sighing as the song progressed from purely instrumental to include vocals, the piano echoing sweetly in the darkened street and Shane Macgowan’s somewhat rough voice flooding your ears.

It was Christmas Eve babe

In the drunk tank

An old man said to me, won't see another one 

Turning away from Jack, you moved to cross away from the park, but found yourself held back by the angel’s hand landing firmly on your shoulder, forcing your gaze back in his direction.

“Honestly, it’s stupid, lets just keep going please” Your voice came out tight and clipped and the sound made you wince, hoping Jack didn’t think of it as rude. Luckily, in that sense, your friend didn’t seem to be offended, but unluckily it made him push the subject further.

And then he sang a song

The Rare Old Mountain Dew

“You've never been good at lying to me, Y/n, it’s clear that this isn’t stupid. Please, talk to me.” 

You shot him a defeated smile, the ache in your heart showing clearly in your eyes as you shoved your hands in your pockets, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

I turned my face away

And dreamed about you 

“I dunno, Jack, It’s just this song.” You mumbled, gaze falling to the ground in hopes of avoiding the nephilim’s concerned stare.

“Ah, I understand. Cas explained this to me, how humans can connect bad memories to songs,” He nodded, his hand returning to your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Got on a lucky one

Came in eighteen to one 

“No, it’s not that. It’s just... Ever since I was a kid I’ve always dreamt of dancing with someone to Fairytale of New York. I haven’t heard it in years, hunting kind of took over my life, but hearing it again makes me realize, as small as it is, I want it, so so badly. Being pulled close and spun around as the snow falls around me on Christmas eve, it’s so stupid but knowing the world is gonna end and I’ve never had the chance to experience it hurts like hell, Jack, and I know as a hunter I should have higher priorities, but honestly it’s all I fucking want, the only thing I wanted to do before I die and now I’m not gonna get the chance.”

I've got a feeling

This year's for me and you 

You didn’t plan to ramble on, spill such a close desire to your friend but as soon as you started speaking the dam broke, all your feelings slipping out at once. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the tears running down your cheeks, not until a gentle hand tilted your chin up, your eyes locking on Jack’s caring ones as he brushed them away.

“That’s not stupid, Y/n... Actually, I think it’s quite beautiful. There’s so much hate and greed in this world, but all you ask for is one moment in time...”

Jack’s voice was quiet but sincere as he spoke,  and though you couldn’t work up the strength to thank him, you appreciated what he had said.

So happy Christmas

I love you baby 

“It doesn’t matter, we can’t all get what we want, right?” You smiled tightly, quickly clearing your throat and turning to head towards the road again, and once more you were stopped by a strong hand pulling you back.

"Jack please, lets go, I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, ok? It’s upsetting and it’s getting cold, let’s just go meet the guys” You huffed, now slightly annoyed at the nephilim’s stubbornness, but the feeling melting almost immediately into confusion as your friend pulled your shorter frame against his own, leading one of your hands to his waist and capturing your other in his.

I can see a better time

When all our dreams come true 

“Dance with me, Y/n.” He whispered, smiling shyly at the expression on your face.

“..what?” You managed to ask, somewhat in shock at the quick movements Jack had made to settle you in such a position.

“Look, I know this probably isn’t exactly what you were hoping for, It’s barely snowing, we’re probably going to get yelled at by Dean and well, it’s me, but if the world really does end, I don’t want you to go out having not experienced the thing you’ve dreamt of all your life. I understand if you don’t want to waste the moment with me, but if you do I’d be more than happy to share it with you”

Jack chuckled at the end of his sentence, but didn’t go on, waiting for an answer as the music picked up, moving from piano to accordion.

You had to fight back tears as your friend spoke. It was hard to believe, but it was finally happening, you were finally going to get your dance, and you just beamed up at the angel, emotions overflowing with each second that passed, and as the third verse began, you nodded, Jack responding by matching your smile and settling his free hand on your waist.

They've got cars big as bars

They've got rivers of gold

But the wind goes right through you

It's no place for the old

You hadn’t danced to the song since you were a kid, twirling around in an oversized dressing gown with a broom in Bobby’s basement, and you were almost certain Jack had never even heard of it before now, but somehow the both of you knew exactly what to do, how to move. Two steps and a spin, swinging away from the angel only to be pulled back in, each switch of your hands, it was all exactly how you had always pictured it.

When you first took my hand

On a cold Christmas Eve

You promised me

Broadway was waiting for me

1 2 3 4 5 6, 1 2 3 4 5 6. You counted silently along with the patterns played, a squeal turning into a joyous laugh as a particularly passionate spin from Jack led the both of you sliding along a patch of ice, boots leaving trails in the freshly fallen snow.

You were handsome

You were pretty

Queen of New York City

When the band finished playing

They howled out for more

You hadn’t expected Jack to enjoy himself as much as he appeared to be. You figured, hey, he’s a nephilim, I’ve helped him out, he probably feels obligated to do this, right? To see that you were wrong, the elation on his face made the already indescribable moment all the better

Sinatra was swinging

All the drunks they were singing

We kissed on a corner

Then danced through the night

The rare passerby walking through the park would smile, pause for a moment to watch the two of you spin happily across the frozen ground before continuing on their way, each one chuckling to themselves over whatever joke they came up with about once upon a time being young enough to move like that

The boys of the NYPD choir

Were singing Galway Bay

And the bells were ringing out

For Christmas day

As the two of you danced, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful this scene would be in a movie, all done up in fancy clothes, cameras following each sweeping movement you made

You're a bum

You're a punk

You're an old slut on junk

Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed

Another step. Another swing.

You scumbag, you maggot

You cheap lousy f*ggot

Happy Christmas your arse

I pray God it's our last

Jack’s hands flew to your hips, picking you up as if weighed nothing as the chorus peaked once again, spinning you in the air and making you feel like you were flying.

The boys of the NYPD choir

Still singing Galway Bay

The moment your shoes touched the ground Jack bent you down in a dip, flashing you a goofy smile at the noise you let out

And the bells are ringing out

For Christmas day

Jack smiled, and you beamed up at him

I could have been someone

Well so could anyone

You took my dreams from me

When I first found you

The music slowed slightly, and Jack traded your previous quick footsteps for a simple back and forth box step, the softening of your movements giving him a proper look at you, with your hair mussed and face rosy from the cold. Your smile stood out the most to the angel though, the unfiltered joy crinkling your eyes and releasing whatever tension you were holding before

I kept them with me babe

I put them with my own

Can't make it all alone

I've built my dreams around you

The boys of the NYPD choir

Still singing Galway Bay

And the bells are ringing out

For Christmas day 

As the instrumental section came to an end, the wall inside you that you hadn’t even realized was there finally broke down, and you followed in suit. Your arms flew around the nephilim’s neck and you clung to him as if letting go would kill you, and you sobbed. The sudden burst frightened Jack, who quickly pulled away enough to meet your eyes, but was surprised to find that you weren’t upset, but were crying tears of happiness.

“Y/n are you alright?” He whispered, tightening his hold around you as you pulled him along, your complicated waltz now replaced by the simple motions of a slow dance, weight shifting from one side to another as the song neared it’s end

You didn’t reply at first, choosing instead to smile up at Jack with teary eyes and nod rapidly before managing to choke out the words “Thank you, Jack”. 

As the final few notes finally faltered off, you pulled away from the tight embrace, looking earnestly up at your friend, who wore a warm smile as well

“Really, Jack, Thank you. So, so much, that was incredible, I can’t even-” Your voice cracked, cut off, and unable to vocalize anything more you reached out and took his hand between your own, squeezing tightly.

Luckily Jack understood what you were trying to say. He knew he couldn’t ever truly understand the level of happiness the action had brought you, but he knew he was gonna cherish the moment for the rest of his life. It was the most fun he had had in as long as he could remember, but that wasn’t why he knew it would stick with with. There was something special about sharing such a moment with someone he loved so dearly, being able to give you that happiness that made life worth living, gave the strength to keep fighting whatever the hell would be thrown at them next.

You and Jack would have been happy to stay there forever, hands clasped together and snow dusting your hair, but as always, the reminder that all good things must come to an end was brought to you by whichever shop was playing music turning their volume way up, the blasting of trumpets from rockin’ around the Christmas tree hitting you like a truck and thoroughly ruining the peaceful setting.

Your reactions were like a scene out of a movie, the simultaneous jump, staring at each other in shock and finally breaking down in peals of laughter seconds later.

“I think that means it’s time to go” you snickered, the nephilim chuckling in response, and at that the two of you took off again, making your way towards the pizza place.

Thank you, you repeated silently. Thank you

-

Tags, let me know if you want to be added <3 @cursedbobs​ @frog-tiddies​  @imagine-whatever

[stetervault]

Hello! Do you do rec lists? Would you be willing rec some Steter fics that aren't the most common/popular ones? If not, no worries!

Technically this isn’t a rec-finding blog lol but I do make rec lists sometimes if someone asks and I have the time and I feel like it. Here are some (I think?) less known Steter fics, oldies that people may have missed or forgotten (Idk how well I succeeded, I just picked a bunch that have significantly less reads/bookmarks than the really big fics):

Fear (Doesn't Mean I Can't Fight) by azerblazer

Peter is the damsel in distress, the Sheriff is the hostage, random unnamed hunters are the bad guys.

Stiles has a bat, a hoodie and a willingness to do anything to protect those he's loyal to.

Bring it on.

A Lean and Hungry Look by kototyph

The woods aren't the only place you find wolves.

You're Mine, Valentine by orphan_account

In which Peter decides to court Stiles, and does so by leaving him hearts.

Bloody ones.

Zodiac by Green

"You know, Taurus and Libra make a good match," Peter says with a sly smile.

Stiles looks away. "Yeah. I looked that up, too."

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

He Is A Villain By The Devil's Law by neglectedtuesday

Stiles’ lungs are burning, blood is pumping through his veins and he’s pretty sure that if he stops running then he’ll just keel over into the gutter. But God does he feel alive. The sirens are wailing, loud and clear. Just one more block. One more block. Stiles ducks down an alleyway, the bag full of bank notes swinging behind him. It hits his side with a dull thud. The alley smells like cat pee and yesterdays trash so Stiles breathes shallowly through his mouth. He continues walking down it until he reaches the end. It opens out onto the street. He stops just shy of the exit, waiting. He waits a bit more. Then he kicks a can lying idle on the ground. He whips out his burner phone, punching in a number.

“Where the fuck are you?” Stiles growls, “Where’s my goddamn getaway car?”

“Change of plans Stilinski, you’re gonna have to get away on your own. Also ditch the phone.”

Fascinated by lemonstiles, migratoryslashfan

Stiles pontificates over Peter's naked body.

Night-blooming Flowers by imriebelow

Peter always gets what he wants. Stiles learns to live with it.

None of These Things (Are Happening) by Horribibble

After years away, Stiles returns to Beacon Hills just in time to put Isaac's insides back where they belong.

It's cute how people think he's trustworthy.

-

Peter can smell the violence inside him, the urge to do something grand and possibly cataclysmic. It’s there—mixed with a balance and natural calm, but in the undercurrent, it’s there. He has seen things beyond the scope of Beacon Hills’ petty horror show. He has learned things.

The Terrible Things We Do (For Love) by rospeaks

Being a demon, he’s seen some of the pretty nasty things that humans are willing to do for love. Things that, were he still alive (and human), would make him hesitate to be in a relationship with anyone lest his partner start getting some funny ideas. That said—

"This seems a little desperate for a kid your age," he says to Stiles.

Spin, Sweet Clotho by ChuckleVoodoos

Oh, it’s a beautiful thing to watch, the way they dance around each other, spun in sugar and glittering glass. Like a fragile little fairytale, a tender rosebud just waiting to unfurl. It makes Peter sick.

Because love is a fairytale, and his dear darling nephew does not deserve a happy ending.

whisper by tricksterity

Stiles was tired.

He was done of people pushing him and his pack around. They’d already lost so much and he was damned if he’d let them lose anyone else, especially to this psychopath who had no reasons for what he did other than he liked it.

And that’s when the whispers in his mind grew louder.

Remember Darling, All the While by Sang_argente

It was fire, ice, electricity. It was the first kiss, the last kiss, and every kiss inbetween. It was lips parting, tongues sliding, hearts beating.

Impress Me by ToAStranger

Their new English teacher has gone missing.

Falling Upward by moonstalker24

There is nothing quite like flying. There is a calm and a peace found in the sky that cannot be found on earth. All the chaos of the world is below you and there is no sound save that which the propeller makes as the engine turns it. You are free and unfettered and the clouds are close enough to touch; all you need do is stretch out your hand to grasp them.

Stiles takes Peter flying after he gets out of Eichen House.

Sweeter Than Gingerbread by taylorpotato (Stetallison)

The saying goes that lovers who commit suicide together start their next life as twins. Perhaps that's why Stiles and Ally feel the way they do about each other.

The Shadow Effect by Mysenia

What was the fun in being a twin if you couldn't trick a person or two?

Deep under by Sashaya

There's a reason Stiles knows so much about drowning. He'd rather not remember why...

All the World's a Stage (but the light design is subpar) by BonesOfBirdWings

Peter Hale is a successful Off-Broadway actor, and Stiles is a stage lighter who literally falls into his life.

Peter smiled at him. "Thank you, Stiles. But should I take this to mean that you don't want a meatball sandwich from Banh Mi Saigon?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "You - I - Yes, I want! Oh my god, you do the best apologies! Can you piss me off more, please? I accept all future apologies enthusiastically!"

Peter chuckled. "I'm sure that won't be a problem, dear boy. I've been informed that I'm an asshole by a very reliable source."

Stiles beamed. "But you have good taste in food, so things balance out?" he ventured.

Peter threw back his head and laughed. Stiles' grin brightened in answer.

The D.C. Backroom Deal by septima_sum

Stiles is a regular prostitute with moderate life goals – until his current client makes him an offer he can’t refuse.

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

Hold Me Down by sneksonaplane

Waking up in Peter Hale’s bed was weird. Waking up in Peter Hale’s body was even weirder. Stiles had been disoriented and confused when he’d found himself in a plush, king sized bed in an unfamiliar bedroom instead of in his own room (and seriously, why did Peter even need a king sized bed? Why would anyone need a bed that big?) It had all come back to him when he’d glimpsed the body he was inhabiting, one that was shorter but more defined than his own, and older, and kind of hot.

OR

The one where Stiles and Peter swap bodies, Peter relives his adolescence, Stiles suffers, and then suffers a little less when he discovers Peter's fetlife profile where he's listed as a submissive seeking a daddy.

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night by Guede

This is a ghost story. It’s not straightforward.

Put My Faith in Something Unknown by Twisted_Mind

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, suspended between thought and action, unable to feel. At some point, he becomes aware that there’s a hand on his face. A warm palm cradles his jaw, and a thumb brushes across his cheekbone tenderly.

The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

Enemy Action by pprfaith

Once is chance, twice is coincidence and three times is far too many bodies on the ground.

Buy Me a New Pair by Julibean19

"I don't practice law much these days."

"And why is that?" Stiles asked, wondering why a handsome and presumably successful lawyer wouldn't want to continue working.

"I've been drawn away by more pleasurable pursuits," Peter said, lips quirked upward as he spoke.

Tale as Old as Time by wynnebat

The one in which Lydia's got better things to do than be Belle, Stiles is a much more likeable Gaston, and Peter is a beast but not quite beastly.

The clothes make the man by FeelingsDusk

The trick to sneaking into a building where you shouldn’t be is to make it seem to all eyes like you should. Stiles has been doing this since he was a little older than toddler and he wanted to get back his Batman action figure from the evidence room in his dad’s Police Station.

(Spolier alert: just like back then, Stiles gets caught.)

Smile Like You Mean It by NinaRooxx

After sulking about the changing weather over the autumn, Stiles notices that despite the weather getting colder, Peter’s wardrobe isn’t changing at all.

Swing by ShippersList

Stiles wants to fly.

Angels, Devils, and Peter by Triangulum

Everyone has an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. They give advice, help guide their human through life. They tempt, they listen, they offer help. Everyone has one of each. Everyone except for Stiles.

OR

Stiles and Peter are murder husbands.

love and madness by sinequanon

Peter and Stiles haven’t seen each other in months when the alphas ask them to meet up to look over an abandoned house. Now, they’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for quite a while to come.

Not This Again by RebaK1tten

There's a rumor that the last episode of the show will have Peter getting killed, again. Perhaps to give him a redemption arc or something.

A Light at the (Near) End of the World by ladyoneill

The world he grew up in has ended in a supernatural war that devastated the human population. A survivor, Stiles lives a solitary, quiet life in Wales until there's a knock on his door.

Through Space and Time by MaroonDragon

When Stiles pulls the body of Peter Hale into his ship, he doesn't expect him to be alive. He also doesn't realise he might have gotten more than he bargained for.

His Color by SushiOwl

“Darling, have you been carrying a throw-away comment I made in your mind for almost four months?”

Stiles’s face felt like it was one with fire now.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

Looking After You by Slayer_of_Destiny

Can Peter be a chance for Stiles, can Stiles be a second chance for Peter? When Peter offers Stiles a relationship will the younger man take the chance with the werewolf?

Maybe We Both Are by lavenderlotion

The first time Stiles lets his fingers brush against Peter he wasn’t expecting the response he got. They were sitting on Stiles bed researching something. Or, they were researching. Now they were just talking. They did that a lot these days, just talked. They also ate together a lot. Or got coffee.

these words bear my scars (paint your love on my skin) by WindyRein

One day butterflies and childish codes change to I'm sorry you're meant for a murderer and he won't realize for years how much that changed his life.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

The Lady of Lightning by kiranightshade

"Those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside"

Can You Use Lube For That? by AlreadyBoss

“You think your what is haunted now?” Surely he'd misheard. There was no way-

“My vibrator,” Stiles answered with alarming sincerity.

Well. He hadn't misheard after all.

Pianist Envy by Bunnywest

Stiles is the piano player.Peter can think of other things he'd like to see those hands do.Shame the guy's straight.

Everything You Deserve by Areiton

You think about it. More than you should, you think about it. About what would have happened, if you had bitten Stiles instead of Scott.

Home by Ragga

Don't be like him, they would say, and then add, or else you get burned.

Unable to bear the whispers any longer, This One left. He forsook those who forsook him, left him bear his scars alone, the scars he bore for his herd. It was better to be alone, stay off the currents, than swim with those most undeserving of his loyalty. So mote it be.

That is, until he met That One.

Lord Peter by Therapeutic_Steter

Peter rung out the rag before gently placing it on his mother’s head, reaching over to feel his father’s equally flushed features.

“Such a good boy,” his mother said, patting his arm with what little strength she had remaining. His father smiled softly at him even as his fell unconscious. Peter pushed back the lump in his throat, smiling shakily for his mother before venturing out into the living space.

knit me together by nezstorm

Peter asks Stiles to stay the night after a really awful day.

Warriors by CinnamonLily

Peter is ten years old when humans discover Azure, a planet not unlike Earth. From there on, he wants to learn everything about their new neighbors and the planet itself. It takes him over twenty years to get to Azure, but when he does, it's so worth it. His anthropologist heart is happy, and a new acquaintance in the form of an Azurian called Stiles might just make the rest of him happy, too.

[wishfullyeternal]

Crowley x Reader- Hellhound

Crowley x Reader- Hellhound

Words- 1210

Warnings: Violence, fighting, gore descriptions, angst, death, language

A/N- A kind of different fic I went for here, more angsty and dramatic then most of the fluffy stuff I have been writing, my requests are open as always and of course, exercise caution as you read, this is not the worst, but certainly not pretty. Love you lovelies!

“Fuck” you hissed under your breath, Crowley scolded you,

“Language missy! I told you not to get into any trouble with squirrel and moose while I was gone-” You interrupted him sharply,

“Fergus!” You started, clenching your teeth,

“I know what you told me, and guess what?” You shrugged your shoulders, causing Crowley to put one hand on them to keep them steady, he was currently tending to a deep gash a vampire gave you.

“I,” You lowered his hands from cleaning the wound.

“Don’t,” Looking him in the eye you caught a glimpse of those beautiful brown eyes. He flicked them red and pushed you down whilst you hollered,

“Care!” Crowley put both of his hands on your shoulders, keeping you seated. You went to push him away but was met with a searing pain in your shoulder.

“Y/N!” He growled, “I was going to clean it so I could heal it better, but since you obviously want to disobey me and my orders, which are for your protection” He added,

“I might not” You pushed back your emotions and stopped resisting, Crowley sighed softly.

“There we go darling, now let me tend to that gash before I heal it, then you can get something special.” He winked at you before looking back to your wound that had freshly reopened, not like it had really closed in the meantime. Blood dripped down onto your blouse and you rubbed your hand to your shoulder to keep from staining it to no avail.

“Darling, just let me work my magic, okay?” You nodded and he grabbed a piece of gauze and doused it in alcohol. Molotov Cocktail anybody? You thought to yourself. He put it to your cut with no warning and it left you hissing in pain.

“Bitch!” You instinctively pulled away,

“At least warn me!” Crowley shook his head,

“And they called you the strongest hunter in the midwest.” You bit back a retort and resorted to sitting in the chair, letting him work his magic.

“Would you like me to tell you everything I’m going to do princess?” He mimicked you in a high voice. You stayed silent.

“I’m going to heal your gash now, princess.” He put a soft hand to your gash and a familiar warmth left his hand, the pain suddenly dissipated and you were left with new skin to injure again.

“Now don’t get into any more trouble with the Winchester boys, I don’t fancy seeing you hurt and I also don’t fancy giving them another visit, seeing what they did to me last time.” He cringed in remembrance.

“I’ll be seeing you soon I presume,” You shrugged,

“You know where to find me,” You winked at him, he waved goodbye and just like that, he was gone.

A few weeks passed and soon you were, ah, what was it? Praying? Praying to Crowley? God, it sounded rhetorical, but you needed to know what that present was going to be. Crowley, to your surprise, popped right into your bedroom.

“Hello love,” You heard panting and realized that there was a hellhound next to him.

“Juliet?” You guessed, Crowley shook his head,

“No, not quite.” Crowley held out his hand for you to hold and put it onto the hound’s fur. It tickled your fingers and Crowley said to you quietly,

“It’s your present darling.” You gasped,

“Me?” He nodded, “You need something to protect you since the Winchesters are…” He paused, looking for the word,

“A little, self-concerned so-to-speak,” You pet the hound a little more while he explained,

“So, to combat them whilst I am out doing King of Hell duties, you get to have this lovely little creature.” The invisible hound sniffed your hand as Crowley put your hand to the hound’s head. He murmured a few words under his breath and took away his hand, a sliver of your power seemed to be seeping into the hound’s fur and suddenly it became visible. A beautiful black coat with the perfect amount of sheen. Piercing red eyes that were paired with the body and strength of an Alaskan Malamute, your favorite dog.

“Oh,” You paused, asking Crowley the gender,

“He’s beautiful,” You corrected yourself,

“Handsome” You petted him more and he wagged his tail, just like a regular dog.

“So,” Crowley stated, “What are you going to name him love?” You paused for a few seconds, looking over the dog, and then Crowley.

“Romeo,” You said, Crowley smiled, the first true smile you saw him put on.

“Oh, I knew you’d find the right name.” You hugged Crowley tight and he hugged back. You found out a long time ago that the cruel King of Hell was one hell of a softie.

“Hey!” Crowley picked you up and laid you on your bed, he kicked off his shoes and climbed in next to you. Romeo jumped on the bed as well and laid towards the end. You put your feet gently against his fur and relished the hellish warmth he radiated.

“Crowley he’s like a damn radiator” You pointed to him and he chuckled,

“They are from hell, you know.” You blushed and cuddled up against him.

“You’re lucky I love you,” You said against Crowley’s chest. Crowley sighed and cuddled you closer. Romeo got up and managed to squeeze himself between the two of you. You cuddled with the both of them and slowly but surely, through the warmth of two of the most feared creatures in hell, fell asleep.

To tell yourself that Romeo didn’t help you was a complete lie, you loved him. He helped defeat vamps, ghosts, skinwalkers, and banshee’s alike. He got a little beat up at times, but Crowley would heal him and he would heal at three times the rate of a normal dog. He also could take on a lot more than the normal dog, a deep gash that would be life-threatening to a regular dog would be just a scratch to him. To say you didn’t spoil him would also be a lie. You treated him like royalty, making Dean build him a doghouse (even though he slept in your room most of the time), giving him the best food, (and no, not dog food) even though Romeo technically didn’t have to eat, he enjoyed the activity. So when Dean was cooking, or Crowley was snapping in a meal, they knew to make another portion for Romeo. A few months passed and every day started the same.

“Romeo!” You called, he came barreling into the room in puppy-like fashion, sitting at your feet obediently.

“Who’s a good boy!” He wagged his tail erratically,

“You are!” You pet him all around and he pretended to bite you. You heard the door of the bunker open and listened to the sound of Dean’s footsteps down the metal stairs.

“Dean!” You yelled to him, you received no response.

“Dean?” You asked again, Romeo growled,

“Romeo? It’s just Dean.” Romeo didn’t back down from his protective stance and backed towards you, barking loudly. Dean appeared in front of you and had a completely blank face to him.

“Dean?” You asked him again, “Stop fucking calling me Dean!” He yelled, what the fuck you thought. This was not Dean, Romeo barked again, louder, growling and baring his teeth.

“Back your hellhound off,” Dean ordered,

“You aren’t Dean,” You yelled at him,

“Who are you!” Romeo barked again as Dean took a couple of steps towards you,

“I’m the angel, Uriel.” You sneered,

“I’ve heard of you,” You yelled at him again,

“You hurt my friend!” He nodded,

“And I’m here to do the same to you,” You quickly prayed to Castiel and called to Crowley. Uriel laughed,

“Castiel can’t hear you from here, I’ve blocked angel radio.” Fuck you thought. Romeo kept to your side and you pet him comfortingly. Uriel pulled a blade out of his sleeve and charged at you, Romeo charged back and bit him in the forearm. Blood poured from the vessel’s body and you called to Crowley for help whilst looking for something to defend yourself with. Deciding on a dagger from a table Sam had been researching on earlier suited you. You didn’t care at that point if he needed it or not but you needed to get the hell out of here. Romeo went to your side as you parried the hit of Uriel and countered it by stabbing him in the side of the stomach, he lurched in pain and spit out red crimson blood. Romeo bit him again and shook his leg relentlessly. You screamed as Uriel brought the knife to Romeo.

“Romeo!” You screamed, the dog yelped in pain as the angel blade went through his shoulder. It poked out of the other side, diagonally through his body, cutting through the tough muscle and fat that surrounded the joint. You heard a sickening squelch as the knife was pulled and suddenly Crowley appeared.

“Y/N!” He quickly seized Uriel and avoided his stab. Putting a hand to his head he knocked him out and teleported them both away.

“Romeo…” You whispered to him,

“Oh, Romeo…” He laid on the ground, blood pouring from the deep wound on his flank.

“Romeo, Romeo, Romeo…” You whispered the rest of the quote,

“Wherefore art thou Romeo” Tears pricked at your vision as he laid there. He lifted his head from the ground, seeming taking an immense amount of effort. He licked your hand and laid his head back down. You screamed in your head for Crowley.

Crowley! Please help, Romeo, R-Romeo is gonna… You couldn’t finish the sentence. Crowley didn’t come, and you were left with your hellhound, unable to do anything. A regular dog would die, he would die too, his blood seeping out onto the wooden floor. You kissed him softly and sang to him. You didn’t even like the song but knew that Romeo would like the words.

Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone

I’ll be waiting, all you have to do is run

You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess

It’s a love story-

Romeo laid his head down and closed his red eyes, his flank stopped moving and he slowly let out his last breath. He was gone. My baby, my Romeo. My love. He was gone. You began to sob uncontrollably. Your hands were shaking as you kept stroking the every growing cold body of your once beloved hellhound. You screamed, your voice tearing through the rooms of the bunker, echoing around the space. Creating a tense volume of tears and bloodshed throughout the room.

“URIEL!” You screamed you kept on repeating his name, crying into your dead hellhound’s fur. Crowley appeared out of nowhere, seemingly drawn to your outburst of such raw unbridled emotion.

“Oh love,” He stammered, “Oh darling,” You cried to him,

“Crowley, t-there’s got to be something you can do, can you heal him, you’ve got to. You have to save my Romeo.” Crowley frowned at you,

“Darling, there’s nothing I can do, he’s already gone. You know I can’t bring back the dead.” You cried into the ground, crumbling into a ball. Crowley picked you up and laid you in a chair in the bunker, away from the sight of Romeo. He grabbed a washcloth and began to wipe the blood of your hound off your hands. You stared at the red blood, somehow wishing it could stay so you would have some memory of your friend.

“I’m sorry,” He started, he lost his words and stayed silent.

“What about Dean…Is he okay?” You felt bad for not caring about your friend,

“He’s fine love, Uriel didn’t use Dean’s body, he made it seem like it was him.” You asked Crowley again,

“What about Uriel?” Crowley answered softly, wiping off the rest of the blood off of your hands.

“I’ll take care of him, I have him captured, don’t worry, mourn your loss. I’ll be here whenever you call, you know that.” He washed the cloth and lifted you off the chair. He led you to your bed and tucked you in.

“I’ll make sure Romeo is taken care of, you can bury him later, or cremate him, whichever you prefer.” You nodded,

“Thank you Crowley, for everything.” Crowley kissed the top of your head before heading out,

“There’s no need to thank me love, I’ll always be here.”

[marvelfangirllll]

Like A Prayer

Archangel Michael X shy!reader

Requested by @blue-lion1

Request: A shy and sensitive woman is tormented by demons, and Archangel Michael tries to help her in her dreams. He ends up appearing in real life. The song to go with it is Like A Prayer by Madonna.

I had been walking home from a long shift at work.  I'd usually drive but I had got in a car crash.  I was fine but my car is totaled.

I look around to make sure no one's following me.  Its a cool full moon night.  Since the crash I've learned things such as that of which goes bump in the night.  The person who had crashed into me apparently wasn't human.  It was a demon.

They have been following me and and pushing me into walls and doing all sorts of things to hurt me but not kill me.  They try to get reactions out of me but all they get are slight whimpers.  I'm used to the bullying unfortunately just demons are stronger then humans.  I've always been smart just not really talkative or good with people.  I've always been closer to my books and animals.

I start to run ahead to get home quicker then out of no where I get tackled.  I'm pinned to the ground and the guy's eyes flash back.  I then grab a hold of my water and splash him with it to get off of me.  That's right, I drink holy water.  Since my learning of the creatures in the shadows I learned the weaknesses and anything to slow any of creatures down.  I even met some hunters who had learned about my case and taught me some tricks.

I get home and re salt the front door.  I decide to go to my washroom and clean up from work.  I get in the shower and do what I always do when I shower I started to sing.

Life is a mystery

Everyone must stand alone

I hear you call my name

And it feels like home

I stand in the shower just feeling the warm water on my skin relaxing my muscles. Then decide to wash up.

After my shower I through on my PJs and head into dream Land.

~In dream~

I'm in a beautiful garden one that feels comfortable and that I've never been before.  There was rainbows of colour and a nice breeze.

I walk around a bit then I start to hear music.

When you call my name

It's like a little prayer

I'm down on my knees

I want to take you there

In the midnight hour

I can feel your power

Just like a prayer

You know I'll take you there

That's when I seen a frame of someone facing away from me.   They had lovely short dark hair and it looked like they were wearing a Jean jacket.  They turned around it was a man, a very handsome one at that.

I hear your voice

It's like an angel sighing

I have no choice

I hear your voice

Feels like flying

I close my eyes

Oh God, I think I'm falling

Out of the sky

I close my eyes

Heaven, help me

I sing the next line.  "Who are you? Are you some hot guy I made up in my dreams.  If so I want to see you more" I ramble on.  "Hello (y/n) I'm flattered and I would blush if I could but I'm not some part of your imagination.  I'm an angel, my name is Michael.  I'm glad you feel like you can talk to me" He said.  "There's no way your an angel they are all supposed to be gone or so I've heard.  I also think being in my dreams makes me a little more confident" I say.  "I'm not just any angel I'm an archangel.  I'm here to protect you as you indirectly prayed to me, your demon problem will be solved he says and snaps his fingers.

I wake up and look outside to realize it morning.  "That's a weird dream" I say to myself.  I get up and go to get some food.  I get to the kitchen and notice a beautifully delicious breakfast on the table.  I then feel arms wrap around my waist.

Like a child

You whisper softly to me

You're in control

Just like a child

Now I'm dancing

It's like a dream

No end and no beginning

You're here with me

It's like a dream

Let the choir sing

He sung to me.  "I hope you like it.  I'll always be with you (y/n), even when it seems like I'm not around" he says and kisses my cheek and let's me go to eat.

[schrijverr]

I do my Husbands Make-Up

Dean attempts to do Castiels make-up.

Part of the Famous Husband verse, which is also a series.

On AO3.

Ships: Destiel

Warnings: none, but tell me if you want me to tag anything and I’ll do so happily!

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh no, I’m fucking this all up.” Dean said, in his hand he held a mascara and Castiels face had a big black smudge on it.

Then the intro rolled, it was a drawn impala that came down the road, it stopped in the middle of the screen and the drawn Dean gave a wink to the viewers, then he sped off again and the smoke was bridge back to the video.

They were sat next to each other, Castiels face now still free of black smudges as Dean started the video: “Hi Hunters! Welcome back, today I am making my already beautiful husband even more beautiful, which is frankly impossible, but I’ll try, with make-up.”

He looked at Cas and said: “I have no skills in make-up.”

“I’ll guide you.” Cas told him with a fond tiredness.

Dean grinned: “Great! Lets start and get you glammed up.”

“I knew showing you the beauty vloggers was a bad idea.” Cas groaned.

“What? Don’t you want me to beat your mug and spill the tea.” Dean smirked, only for Cas to groan louder and thunk his head on the table. Before the jump cut you could hear Deans cackle as it slowly faded.

Then they were facing each other and Dean was applying foundation with a beauty blender as he muttered: “This still looks like a buttplug.”

“And still it isn’t one.” Cas told him.

“Could be.” Dean argued.

“If I shove it in you ass, you’ll find that it really isn’t.” Cas said deadpan, making Dean choke before he laughed.

The deadpan expression changed into shock as Cas said: “You’re cutting that out, right?”

A mischievous grin came on Deans face as he replied: “No.”

“Dean.” in an obviously warning tone.

“Are you willing to do the laundry for a month?” Dean asked, either ignoring or not picking up on Castiels tone.

Cas squinted and the screen faded to show a picture of Dean folding shirts with underneath the text: He wasn’t willing

Dean had gotten Castiels permission behind the scenes and if Cas really hadn’t wanted him to put it in, he wouldn’t have, but this was funny, so he framed it as this.

The foundation was done and Dean sat back to admire his work and commented: “That was the easy part, look at your face now angel, cause it’s only going to get worse from here.”

Cas raised an unimpressed eyebrow and asked: “What happened to making me even more beautiful?”

“I remembered I cannot do this.” Dean told him with an open honest grin.

“Assbutt.”

“Live to please, darling.” Dean looked back to the table, “So, what now?”

“Contour.” Cas said.

Dean lit up and exclaimed: “I remember this, it’s the shadows on the face cause it’s flat now, right?”

“Yes.” Cas encouraged enthusiastically.

After having located the contour, Cas carefully explained what Dean was supposed to do with it, Dean listened closely before he started. He was about halfway through when he stopped to look and said: “This is terrible, sorry angel. I swear I’m trying and not deliberately fucking this up for the video.”

“I know, Dean.” Cas smiled at him before casting a quick look in a mirror, “It is quite difficult, god knows I struggled with this when I first started. Just try and blend it in so it isn’t so heavy.”

Dean smiled back, before trying to fix it. Cas now had two dark stripes on his face, because Dean had put on way to much, so he took a big brush and desperately tried not to fuck it all up even further.

With as much saved as possible Dean grabbed the concealer and held it up to Cas, who nodded. Dean mumbled under his breath: “Still don’t think you need it.”

That got him a kiss on the nose along with a: “That’s very sweet of you, Dean.”

The blush that spread on Deans face had been edited out by Dean and the video resumed when Dean was blending the concealer.

“You can press harder if you want.” Cas said.

“But I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.” Dean sounded worried.

It made Cas smile, who assured Dean: “It’s a sponge, a pretty solid sponge, but still a sponge. I don’t think you can really hurt me by beating me with a sponge.”

You could visibly see worry leave Deans shoulders, but he didn’t show it otherwise instead boasting loudly: “You forget that I would not only be beating you with a sponge, but also my enormous arms.”

He flexed for show, keeping it up until Cas snorted, before also laughing and returning to his task, this time a bit less like Cas was something too fragile to touch.

When he was done he said: “I think you also did blush right around now, but I think I will not be able to do that properly, so I’m not giving you a blush, not matter how much I’d love to see you with a cute blush on your face.”

Dean actually sounded quite sad that he would have to miss out on Cas with a blush, so Cas offered: “I can do it, you can edit it out and no one has to know.”

“Hmm.” Dean thought about it, then said: “I’ll keep it in, but please do.”

He held out the blush and Cas took it as Dean held a mirror in front of his own face wrong way ‘round, so that Cas could use it apply the blush. Dean asked: “How do I look with your face on my body?”

“Twice as handsome.” Cas told him.

Immediately the mirror dropped and Deans offended look emerged from behind it, Cas suppressed a smile and said disappointedly: “Ahw, it’s still you.”

“I am appalled and offended that my own husband, who has willingly married me and did so happily as I can recall, would just turn around and wound me like that. Stabbed in the back by the man I trusted most, I cannot believe this injustice.” Dean exclaimed loudly.

He was putting on a whole show and after a while Cas broke and laughed, before saying: “I’m joking, Dean. You are very handsome and I love your face.”

With a grumbling pout, Dean wearily asked: “You sure?”

“Completely.” Cas gave him a peck, then asked: “So what do we think of the blush?”

In his theatrics Dean had forgotten to look, but now he took the time to inspect Castiels face with the blush. It was subtle, but cute. He had even put a bit on his nose, so it looked like he was slightly cold. Dean couldn’t help, but pull him into a hug as he said: “You’re so incredibly precious, sweetheart.”

Cas allowed Dean to do this, clinging to Dean as well as it cut to Dean saying: “Now comes the hard part. I am doing simple things, like glossy lipstick with little color and white glittery eye make-up, the only difficult thing I will attempt is eyeliner and mascara.”

“Maybe put on power first, to bake the face.” Cas reminded him.

“Ah, yes. That. I was already planning on doing that.” Dean tried to put down the highlighter as subtly as possible as he grabbed the powder.

Cas rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment, because he didn’t face a mouth full of powder.

It cut to Dean applying highlighter, it had actually gone well and he was very proud of himself over it. He took the lipgloss and carefully put it on. He slipped at one point and looked up at Cas with wide eyes as he froze.

Patting his head distractedly, Cas wiped it away, before turning back and allowing Dean to continue even more carefully this time.

“I really don’t think me doing this is safe.” Dean said as his eyes flitted between the eyeshadow and Castiels eyes.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll close my eyes and you’ll put it on gently.” Cas assured him, before closing his eyes.

Dean hesitated for one more moment, before starting and saying: “Okay, but I’m sorry in advance if this goes entirely wrong.”

It didn’t even look like Dean was touching Cas with how gentle he was. His hand shook a bit and the end result was quite bad. The eyelid was covered for the most part, but so was the area surrounding it.

“Keep them closed, I doing eyeliner next.” Dean warned.

The line was horrible, it went practically over the middle of the eyelids and one went out too far and the other barely and they definitely didn’t have a shape. While he was applying it he kept up a constant stream of ‘oh noes’.

When he was done he said: “That looks completely shit, sorry. Can you tell me how to do mascara before I ruin that completely as well?”

It then cut to how the video had started: “Oh no, I’m fucking this all up.” Dean said, in his hand he held an mascara and Castiels face has a big black smudge on it.

Cas opened his eyes slowly and made eye contact with Dean, who look apologetically at him. He asked: “Want me to fix it?”

“Please.”

Then it cut to a few shots of Castiels make-up. It was pretty bad with too much contour and entirely fucked up eye make-up, but it could’ve been much much worse.

Cas had already seen the make-up throughout the video, so there wasn’t a reveal moment, but there was a brief clip of Cas looking into a mirror and saying: “This is not as bad as I expected, congratulations.”

And Dean beaming proudly at the complement.

It cut to the endcard and Dean said: “That might not have been the most entertaining video, because I was focusing a lot on the make-up and not on the banter, but I hoped you liked it anyway.”

Cas piped up next to him: “I enjoyed it.”

“Thank you, angel.” Dean smiled, “If you enjoyed it too, please leave a like and a comment down below and click the subscribe button and ring that bell to see when I upload again. There will also be links to click to see more of me and more of Cas, so click on them if you want to. And that was pretty much it. Wanna do the outro?”

“Uh, sure?” Cas said very unsure, then turning to the camera he smiled awkwardly: “Bye Hunters, see you on the road.”

“Bye!” Dean called out, then the video ended.

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I love how much Dean actually

tried, what an A+ husband

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cass doing the outro was so cute

we stan an awkward cute nerd

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DEAN ACTUALLY WATCHED THE BEAUTY VLOGGERS LOLLLLLL

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Dean was so gentle with Castiel

and I’m literally crying, I want

someone who treats me like that

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the beauty blender buttplug

moment, i cant

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is he really not going to say

anything about the fact that he

has a fucking kid? alright….

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Dean using gay beauty slang

both added and retracted ten

year of my lifespan

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I wouldnt mind if dean beat me

up with his enormous arms ;)

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This was so incredibly mushy,

would 100% get a tooth rotting

fluff tag on AO3, and I loved

every second of it

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SO CUTEEEE

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