#he can’t live without lucifer but has to anyway.’

[shanastoryteller]

They destroy a hundred seals in thirty days, which feels like good progress until Sam realizes even if they can keep up this pace, it’s going to take them nearly two years. “There has to be a faster way to do this.”

“It took three hundred thousand years to set the apocalypse in motion,” Castiel says dryly. “Patience is a virtue.”

“It took a year from first seal to last, don’t exaggerate,” he says, pacing the length of the motel room. Cas may not need things like food and sleep, but Sam is still human at the end of the day.

He’s refusing to touch the virtue bit. No one’s keeping track of those and they both know it.

Cas gives him a bitchy look that Sam tells himself he’s not growing fond of. “Yes. Sixty six seals took a year to open. We’ve destroyed nearly twice that in a month. You are not being reasonable about this.”

Maybe not, but they don’t have time to be. Can’t Cas feel it? Like something’s bearing down on them, hot breath on the back of their necks. If there’s one constant in Sam’s life, it’s that he never gets enough time. He doesn’t see why this should be any different. “What if we killed Lilith? She’s the last one, right? As long as the first seal hasn’t been opened, killing her destroys the seal. If the last one can’t be opened, Lucifer can’t be set free. Right?”

Cas tilts his head to the side. Sam kind of hates how quickly he’s picked that up this time around, but he’s only realizing now that it’s a gesture Cas learned from him, not Dean, and the first go around they hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time together in the beginning. “Likely correct. But even if we could find her, I’m unsure of your capabilities.”

“Fuck you too,” he says without heat. “I killed Azazel. I killed her before. I can do it again.”

“She wanted to be killed, last time,” Cas says. “She knew her death would grant Lucifer’s freedom and she did not fight you with all her strength. Killing Azazel is not killing Lilith. They are different beasts.”

“Wait,” he says, “are you telling me that Lilith is stronger than Azazel?”

Having killed them both, that’s really not what he would have guessed. Which means that Cas is probably right. Damn.

“What is stronger, blood or bone?” he asks. “She is Lucifer’s firstborn. There is power there.”

Great. “I’m more powerful this time,” he points out. Azazel’s blood – Lucifer’s blood – is still buzzing under his skin, not quite as hot and pounding as it was at first swallow, but not fading and sputtering out like Ruby’s blood always had. Something in between, maybe, except those first few drops of blood as a baby hadn’t had any immediate affects either. It’s probably a good thing he won’t live another twenty two years. Who knows what Lucifer’s blood will have done to him by then.

“Yes,” Cas says. “I just don’t know if you’re powerful enough.”

And if he’s not, Lilith won’t even kill him. He needs to be alive for Lucifer to wear, after all. No, whatever she does to him will be much worse.

Sam.

He turns, even though he knows they’re alone. But his name had been so clear.

Sam, please!

He looks around uneasily. “Do you hear that?”

Cas blinks. “No.”

“Seriously?” he demands.

Sam, please, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll give anything, please help me. Help her. Sam –

He moves, not entirely sure what he’s doing, shifting from one place to the other, not entirely sure where he’s going until he arrives.

He’s standing in an empty apartment building, a ghost howling in front of him that looks sort of familiar. What the hell?

“Sam!”

Taking his eyes off the ghost is probably stupid, but he looks behind him anyway and finds Ellen on her knees, tears streaming down her face. Jo is clutched in her arms, skin pale and eyes open and unseeing, bits of plaster in her hair and a gaping hole in the wall behind them.

“Holmes?” he asked incredulously, turning back to the ghost who’s getting steadily closer. Last time they trapped him in the basement and cemented him inside. Last time Sam hadn’t spent years researching how to banish the worst sorts of evil.

The incantation rolls off his tongue easily, half Latin and half something older than that, and Holmes screams as he burns up in whisps of smoke.

“Sam, please,” Ellen begs. “Please. You have to help her.”

How does Ellen even know him? They’ve never met before. Not here. He kneels across from her, heart clenching at Jo’s body. He’s supposed to be making things better, leaving and destroying the seals is supposed to fix things. Except he guesses he and Dean weren’t here to find Jo this time and Ellen got there too late. “She’s dead, Ellen.”

“So?” she asks fiercely. “Jim was dead. Caleb, that girl, Meg. They were all dead. You brought them back.”

He stares. “How do you know that?”

“Please,” she repeats. “She’s all I have left. Please, Sam. I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Just bring her back.”

Sam knows that desperation. He’s felt that desperation, those miserable four months when hell tore his brother apart.

But he doesn’t have the same overfull, burning power he had with the taste of Azazel’s blood in the back of his throat.

Ellen, proud, tough Ellen, has tears down her face and begging him.

She lost her husband because of his father. He can try and save her daughter.

He reaches out, gripping the back of Ellen’s neck, and pulls her towards him. She opens his mouth for him, kissing him back without hesitation. He bites her tongue, blood hot and salty, and she doesn’t so much as flinch, doesn’t pause, just holds Jo between them and lets Sam take.

When he pulls back, his mouth is full of blood. He leans down, pressing his lips to Jo’s, letting her mother’s blood slide between her lips and presses his hand against her chest, trying to quicken something in her that will bring her home.

She gasps under him and he pulls back. Her eyes dart around, cheeks flushed, and stutters, “What – who–”

Ellen lets out a sob and clutches Jo to her, letting out a choked litany of scolding that has Jo patting her back and making soothing noises that Sam doubts Ellen hears at all.

He sits back on his ass, rubbing a hand over his face and wondering if anyone will care if he just lays down and takes a nap. Resurrection is exhausting.

“How?” Ellen asks, looking at him with red eyes and a puffy face and so much gratitude he can barely stand it. “There’s nothing special about my blood.”

“There’s power in sacrifice,” he says, wincing at the roughness of his voice. “Not a lot. Not enough. But,” he shrugs. He’s spent a lifetime making something out of not enough.

“What did I sacrifice?” she asks. It’s curiosity, nothing more. He can tell that she doesn’t care about the answer, that it really good be anything ant it would still be a bargain well made as far as she’s concerned.

This is how apocalypses are started.

“Nothing I’m going to collect on,” he says tiredly. “But it’s not a trick that works more than once. So be careful, okay?”

That last bit he directs to Jo, who’s just staring at him with huge eyes. “You’re Sam?”

“Yeah,” he says. “How do you know who I am?”

Jo and Ellen share a look, then she says carefully, “I met your brother.”

“How is he?” he asks, almost before she’s finished speaking. “Is he – I mean,” he cuts himself off, grimacing. Sam made out with their possessed father, killed the demon, and left. It’s a real toss up about what messed him up the most. “You shouldn’t hunt on your own,” he says, switching tracks. “You need a partner, one who can show you the ropes if you’re going to keep this up. See if you can talk Dean into it. I think you two will get along.”

Jo swallows. “Uh, okay. You’re not what I expected.”

What had she expected? He’s sure the rumors about him are nothing good, if not outright setting a bounty on his head. Ellen might have been desperate enough to seek him out with Jo dead, but that doesn’t mean anything. He and Dean both ran to demons when they lost the other.

There are footsteps down the hall and he tries to muster a smile for them before he’s leaving, returning to the motel room he’d been in with Cas.

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Getting back here had taken the last bit of energy he had. He flips Cas off and collapses face first into the bed, barely managing to kick of his shoes before he falls asleep.

Dean would have taken them off for him, but Dean isn’t here.

~

When he wakes up twelve hours later, it’s to Cas standing above him and staring.

He groans, rolling over and away from that piercing blue gaze. “Don’t do that.”

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Sam tells him. It doesn’t take long, but his voice is still strained by the end of it.

“You heard her prayers?” Cas asks.

“No,” he says, then frowns. “I don’t know. I guess. Can I do that?”

Cas is learning human expressions one by one. Judgement had come quickly and easily.

Whatever. Apparently he can do that now.

“You said Azazel was a prince of hell,” Sam says. “Does that mean there are more of them?”

“Three,” he says warily. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Think they’d be willing to part with some blood in exchange for their lives?”

Sam’s not going to survive this. He knew that from beginning. It doesn’t really matter he has to do to himself to finish it.

There’s power in sacrifice.

“This is a terrible idea,” Cas says, which isn’t a no.

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

~

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

[strawberrykuro]

Hi, Happy New Year ^^ (I hope it's not too early, it's just that in my country the new year has already started)

Can I request headcanons on how the seraphim whb celebrate new years?? :0 (I apologize if my English is bad, it is not my native language (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`) )

How would the seraphim celebrate the New Year?

Warning: slightly ooc, an can’t go one day without adding angst (especially on Michael part), heavy mentions of Luci, kinda rushed

Sorry this might have took longer than expected p(´⌒｀｡q) life decides to fuck my mental state like a bitch. Also your English is doing just fine friend 💗

New Year's isn’t quite celebrated in heaven. As a long-living species that has been alive since basically the start of time, New Year's is seen as nothing special; just another year passing by once again. That doesn’t mean they can’t do something special, it’s just very uncommon and slightly frowned upon.

Let’s just imagine them being stuck on earth searching for Solomon's descendants and it so happens to be New Year's. /ᐠ -𖥦-マ .・゜

⠀⸻⊱༺  ♰  ༻⊰⸻⸻⊱༺  ♰  ༻⊰⸻⸻⊱༺  ♰  ༻⊰⸻⸻⊱༺  ♰  ༻⊰⸻⸻⊱༺  ♰  ༻⊰⸻⸻⊱

Gabriel is particularly moody when it comes to this day, so much racket! It’s either seeing a bunch of humans drinking and spilling alcohol on each other or those extra fireworks that he swears get bigger and bigger each year, on rare occasions it looks like someone set a bomb off in the middle of the city, just what are they putting in these so-called “fireworks”??? (Gabriel remembers almost getting knocked out of the sky cuz someone set off a firework where he was flying…)

This is the one day of the year when he treats himself to all the wine he wants; it’s his New Year's secret. Gabriel dapples enjoys wine, and now and then, he allows himself to truly unwind. As long as no one sees him, it’s fine, right?

-—

Raphael enjoyed New Year's a bit. He even goes out of his way to grab some food to snack on while he looks for a good rooftop to kick back and watch some early fireworks go off. It’s romance in a way, the cheers, and confetti falling like snow. It’s unbelievable how these humans are a spect compared to creatures unparalleled in their imagination or cruelty towards themselves.

It’s so laughable… Maybe to them, it feels nice to pretend none of their worries exist for a day or tomorrow. Must be nice. Anyway, as much as he wants to lie and watch the fireworks, Raphael has a more important task to do.

-—

Michael tends to grieve on New Year’s.

Those bright lights and joyful smiles, oh how he hates it! Just watching them being "happy" with their little families just fills him with this embarrassing jealousy. Why is he, Saint Michael, getting so riled up for nothing? Even his golden eye is starting to shed tears…

It all reminded him of Lucifer, his older brother. He shined the brightest of every angel in heaven; Lucifer was a gleaming beacon to everyone, especially Michael. He hated being reminded that Lucifer wasn’t there spending this in heaven with his actual brothers, but instead with those devils and dragon. Michael just wanted to spend time with him just like before and see Lucifer shine as brightly as the fireworks humans set into the night sky.

[quietwingsinthesky]

anyway fucked up samifer time travel au where post-cage, in love with Lucifer but cannot reach him because he’s in Hell Sam gets sent back in time and guides his past self into opening the Cage again, so that past him and past Lucifer can be united.

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader confesses to the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Anon request: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub, react to shy gn crush confessing to him nervously?

.

A/N: life became hard for 4 full days and writer's block hit me with the power of a thousand suns. Then I went to therapy and I immediately started writing. Here it is, folks, 1899 words.

.

Mammon

There’s no doubt that Mammon loves to have fun. Either counting money at casinos or wildly drinking and dancing at various clubs, the sight of him with the occasional fling by his side is not a strange one for the demon folk.

He doesn’t look for it; it’s not like he needs to, anyway. After all, who wouldn’t like to be with The Great Mammon? He’s a catch!

But no, it isn’t something he needs to feel good. His heart beats for one thing and one thing only: money. Gold sparkling on his fingers and coins filling his pockets, what else is there to live for?

His brothers would never understand him. When Beel empties the kitchen it’s cute, but when he steals Levi’s figurines, Asmo’s jewellery and Lucifer’s wallet suddenly it’s a problem.

And what’s his punishment? Taking care of a dumb, weak, boring human.

You better leave him alone, MC! He’s a very important demon and he has very important things to do! Don’t you listen to what his brothers say about him! Listen only to him!

Also, pay him attention and ignore the others! He’s so much better, you know? Can’t you see by now? He wishes you did and he isn’t sure how he feels about it.

The pang in his chest, his reddened cheeks and his avoidant gaze aren’t things he’s used to, but they become the norm once he spends more time with you.

Enduring his brothers’ jokes and taunts is humiliating and he perfectly knows he would act the same if he wasn’t the one involved, but damn MC, why do you have to be the way you are? Why are you so easy to fall in love with?

You have to feel the same, right? With your stammering and your bashfulness, you have to feel the same.

Mammon thanks his Father when you invite him to your room out of the blue and blurt out your feelings. The situation is ridiculous, he’s sweating buckets and your hands won’t stop shaking.

He tries to confess back without directly saying he loves you.

Key word ‘tries’.

Leviathan

Love is not for him, or rather, he’s not made for love.

That’s just who he is. A shut-in who finds companionship in fiction, in the idealization of friendship, romance and loyalty. His expectations are set way to high, near long opening titles and uninterrupted rambles, and he doesn’t expect people to reach them. Is he even worth the effort?

He has internet friends who he met through online gaming and forums and he cherishes them very much, but it makes him feel lonely and insecure sometimes. What type of life do they have when they’re not gaming or role playing or just talking on video calls with him? Do they act like plain old normies, taking their partners out on dates or having lunch with their classmates after class?

He prefers not to think about it.

Your arrival to the Devildom doesn’t change his life at all. He’s curious, sure, but what are the chances of you sharing his interests? Also, you quickly become friends with Mammon, which says enough about yourself.

At least, that’s what he thinks at the beginning. Time passes, as well as the TSL quiz, and he immediately realizes that you’re not who he thought you were.

There’s no judgement in your eyes whenever he rants about the latest piece of media he has consumed, instead filled with curiosity and fascination; and not only you’re the sole person in the house that doesn’t make fun of him, but you also defend him against his brothers.

His romantic feelings for you grow strong and fast, but your friendship is what’s most important for him.

You’re so, so much better than what he initially thought, even when you remind him of himself sometimes.

The glint in your bashful gaze, the doubt in your words in search of the right ones and the everlasting fidgeting with your fingers. You are the perfect romantic interest from the perfect otome game and he can’t believe how lucky he is to be the main character.

When you finally confess to him under the comfort of the blue lights of his aquarium, you’re barely able to finish your sentences while looking at him, which in reality is a blessing, because he can’t bring himself to look at you either when he confesses back.

It’s awkward, but sweet. Kind of like him.

Satan

Romance is for him what a painting is to the viewer. A novel to the reader.

He understands the significance, the words, the colours. What the creator wants to portray and what the consumer interprets. Narrative rules, the significance of flowers, metaphors, history… All of that mixed with the abstract of the mind.

He understands.

He just doesn’t feel it. Not at its full potential, at least.

There had been partners in his life, years ago, and he knows he’d loved them, but he wasn’t in love with them. Whatever line kept him from going forward with his feelings is what made him stop trying alone.

Books and cats and the Anti Lucifer League are enough for him to be occupied. They also make him happy, so his views on romantic love are easily set aside.

He doesn’t think much of you at the beginning, mainly because he doesn’t expect you to last very long, but you quickly show an amount of potential he’s ready to exploit.

Diavolo dreams of unifying the three realms and Lucifer would do anything to not spoil those plans, so what better way to annoy his brother than through you?

It’s selfish and reckless and of course his eagerness screws the whole thing up, but it ultimately helps him realize he shouldn’t have underestimated you.

You are kind, brave and smart. You see him beyond his wrath and his academic knowledge, remembering him even in the smallest of details that surround you. It was such care and affection that made his feelings grow.

For the first time in his very long life he starts to relate to the characters in his books, his heartbeat increasing when the scenarios feel too familiar or when the dialogues replicate exactly what he yearns to say to you.

It’s thanks to his novels that he recognizes your feelings. The shy and endearing romantic interest quietly approaching the main lead, confession learnt by memory.

His first reaction is to be surprised. He doesn’t expect something like this to happen to him, let alone you being the one to reciprocate his feelings. How much luckier could he be?

Asmodeus

What better love exists than the one he feels for himself? He’s beautiful, charming, adorable, addictive and every other compliment in the book. He can’t get enough of them!

He’s obsessed with the idea of being surrounded by people, by their affections and their devotions, touching him, looking at him, singing him praises. Unfortunately for everyone else, his narcissistic tendencies only grow when those that fall under his charm feed into his “delusions”.

That’s how Mammon calls it, at least.

At the time of receiving, he doesn’t distinguish between romantic love and sexual attraction, although it’s more difficult for him to reciprocate the first one.

Deep down, hidden amongst his insecurities, Asmo believes no one would love him for his truest self. That’s why he insists on looking perfect at all times, following a strict sleep schedule and a well-balanced diet, going out to remain in everyone���s minds; always a trending topic, a sensation.

If his outstanding physique and impeccable personality aren’t enough for you to know he’s the best amongst his brothers, then his charm would do the work.

But it doesn’t.

When he purposefully makes eye contact there’s no sign of you falling for his magic and, suddenly, he finds himself at a loss of words.

He doesn’t panic too much, given that he is still a beautiful and powerful demon that could devour you in a second, but knowing that there’s no barrier between the two of you to protect his vulnerability gives him an unpleasant feeling of exposure.

Surprisingly enough, it’s also your resistance to his powers what centers his attention on you. You’re one of the very few people that knows him as he is, even with the ugly parts, and it doesn’t take too long for his affections to become obvious and somewhat desperate.

Asmo is elated when your behaviour around him changes. He recognizes the pattern, since he’s seen it many times in his fans, and he can’t believe that someone who’s seen him at his worst still considers him as beautiful as those who have only seen what he wanted to show.

Although you don’t really need to confess, due to him immediately wanting to be with you, hearing your feelings spoken out loud sends his heart into a frenzy rhythm.

The attention fuels his ego, sure, but it’s the veracity of your words what makes him want to cry out of happiness.

Beelzebub

He’s not really interested in relationships. There is a fling here or there, sure, he still has other type of urges, but he hardly thinks about it.

The feeling of emptiness follows him around like a metal ball and chain and the only consumption that can give him relief, even if temporarily, comes only in the form of food.  

He’s often seen as emotionless or famished and, although he knows he’s popular amongst many students, his height and muscles make him look too intimidating to engage further than necessary.

It isn’t something that bothers him at all. His love goes straight to his family and there’s nothing food can’t fix.

However, when he is told Belphie is the demon chosen for the student exchange program, the hole inside of him grows deeper and deeper. His urges go on a rampage and Lucifer has to give him a pep talk to drill into his brain how important it is that you are to remain uneaten.

It’s not like he’s very interested in you anyways, so leaving you alone doesn’t feel like a draining task.

Of course that changes when you physically put yourself between him and Lucifer. A stupid, idiotic, reckless decision that serves to prove how brave you are.

Your friendship quickly blossoms after that and, unlike many other people, you start seeing him beyond his hunger. That makes him cherish you even further, but it’s your dedication to helping his family what sparks a romantic interest in you.

Since he’s not that experienced in that regard, it feels a little intimidating, but you make it seem easy and effortless. The both of you are equally shy in your affections and there’s a mutual unsaid understanding that helps you build the base of a relationship, so the confession isn’t really necessary.

Still, hearing you say the words makes his heart flutter.

His response is short and blunt, but sweet in nature. He is blushing the whole time, not breaking eye contact with you, and for the first time in many years, he feels completely satisfied.

.

.

Tagged: @darkflowerav

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

I can’t stop thinking of demon! Adam going through development and reaching the point of like,, doing something nice without anyone telling him to do it, purely for the sake of doing it. Something he never would have done before. Even if it’s something as small as sitting down with you while you’re watching your favorite movie or show and not shitting on it the whole time, just to keep you company. Or something like that. I dunno. I’m just a sucker for slow burn subtextual romance.

THAT, and the reader seeing his face beneath the mask, looking him the eyes, and smiling a little. Even if they say nothing. I feel like that would stick with him.

Exactly. Demon!Adam lives in my head rent free now. I know this weren't a request of sorts but I kinda wrote something for this

random ficlet below

Demon!Adam x GN!reader (Fluff)

DemonSinner!Adam is something that plays on my mind a lot. He still doesn’t believe in the whole redemption shit that Charlie is laying down but if it gets him a glimpse of seeing heaven again he is willing to try.

-----

Adam was bored and needed something to do that would put off the inevitable “therapy” session with Lucifer’s brat later. So that must be why he finds himself outside your room. He knocks lightly on your door. You didn’t answer, he knocked again louder this time. Still no answer. So he opens the door and peers in.

“Hey errr (Y/n) Charlie asked me to check on you.” A blatant lie but he won’t tell you that.

He sees you’re watching TV.

“Huh? What no shitty nickname this time?” You mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn. Adam walks over and flops down on the couch next to you.

“Oh yeah, nah I didn’t really feel like it.” He grabs a handful of your popcorn.

You quirk a brow.

“Also Charlie said nooo giving nicknames to people that demean them and also who don’t want it and people were given names to be used blah blah blah.” He shoves the popcorn into his mouth. “So what are we watchin?”

“I'm watching a movie I really like so if you're staying either shut up or fuck off.” You sink back into your blanket cocoon.

*10 minutes later*

“What the fuck! This guy clearly likes her but she goes for the other bozo. Is she blind . . . . as well as ya know hot.”

You choke on your drink. You didn’t think that this would be his kinda thing but here he was emotionally invested in the film you had picked. You had really wanted to just wallow in your depression by binge watching trashy romcoms but what was really making you feel better was watching the ‘dickmaster’ himself rooting for the underdog to open up about his feelings to the lead woman.

You go to grab some popcorn but see the bowl is empty.

“Gotta pause.” You go to stand but he stops you.

“I got this.” He hides the good deed by quickly saying “And I need to piss anyway.” You pass him the bowl.

“Not in the popcorn I hope.” You rearrange yourself back in your blanket burrito.

“HAA, You nasty but don’t watch without me. Coz that is a dick move.”

“You know all about those.” You mutter into the blanket. But Adam had gone to the hotel kitchen to make popcorn.

You chose to scroll on your phone until he got back. There were a few messages but you didn’t really feel like answering them. You flop on your side. You can always move when he came back.

While you waited in silence for Adam. You think back on how he really was getting better. After seeing him slowly open up to Charlie’s ideas and seeing that he can be a good guy when it suits him. You smile to yourself.

Your door slams open.

“Okay I’m back bitch.”

Nevermind looks like he has thrown up his walls again.

He lays out the armful of snacks and the bowl of popcorn that looks way bigger than the bowl he left with. He sees you on your side.

“You comfy down there?”

You groan and slowly sit up again. He sits back down but wraps an arm around you and hugs you into his side and nothing more.

“Okay we can continue now.” He grabs the popcorn and rests it on his lap.

You set the movie going again and snuggle just a little bit closer. For popcorn reasons of course not that Adam was nice and warm and you felt safe next to him.

“Clearly she don’t know a good thing when she sees it.” You pipe up after about three minutes into the film again. You had seen this film so many times but there was one scene that always brought out annoyance in you.

“Right!! She needs to open her eyes this guy clearly loves her for who they are and not some fake ass bs that other . . . what?” Adam stops mid-sentence looking down at you resting against his chest.

You blink a few times before realising you are staring “Huh oh nothing.”

You focus back on the screen in front of you.

The climatic end of the film was approaching and the main lead were confessing their love and as the credits role you can here someone crying. You glance up and see Adam wiping away tears.

“You okay.” You sit up and reach for the tissues on the table to hand them to him.

“What!!! I’m fine. Of course I’m fiiiine. Shut up bitch.” He grabs the tissue box from you.

“If it helps I cried the first time I watched this movie.” You wrap the blankets tighter around yourself.

“I . . . ah . . shit.” He saw you curling further in on yourself. He feels guilt crawling into his stomach. “Sorry, I’m . . .Ugh. Look I’m bad at these feel your feelings crap that Charlie spouts. But it was a good film and yeah I cried but . . .”

“It don’t make you any less of a man.”

“Yeeeah I know. Of course I know. I’m the first man.”

“Huh back to that are we.” You bump shoulders with him, making him laugh.

He pulls you back into his side “So what are we watching now?”

------

I really didn't mean for this to be as long as it was. I'm sorry

[ifearzombies]

Headcanons about living in the HOL

My personal headcanons about living in the House of Lamentation. This is based on me being the second eldest of like 10 kids. So some of this is based off my personal experience.

==================================================

- There is. No. Privacy. There is ONE bathroom for everyone who’s not Asmodeus. If you’re in there, you’re more than likely sharing. If you’re in the shower/bath and someone needs to pee, tough luck. You’re hearing someone pee.

- Your room is below the brothers. That means you hear Asmo’s bed creaking, Levi’s music and dancing, and Mammon tossing and turning in his sleep. You get used to it, but Levi’s music and dancing has led to creative ways to make him shut the fuck up when you really want sleep. You go upstairs, flash him, and make him pass out in shock before going back to bed.

- There’s lots of yelling in the house. Even with no one angry. Sure they text a lot, but they also will yell from outside their rooms to each other if needed. It’s a LOUD house. But you love it anyways.

- Things are borrowed/missing all the time. Some of it’s Mammon’s kleptomania. But most of it is actually the fact that this is a family. And sometimes, families borrow without asking/thinking. Asmo has your blouse. You have his leggings. Belphie’s got your fuzzy socks. You have Lucifer’s shirt. So on and so on.

- You use each other’s shampoos/body washes/lotions, etc. Mammon’s out of shampoo? He’s swiped yours. You’ve run out of body wash? Beel’s smells nice.

- The chore chart is... flexible to a degree. Asmo hates dishes. They ruin his nails! He’ll take laundry if Beel does dishes. Beel hates sweeping. He’s so tall it hurts his back a bit. Levi’s tail is useful. Lucifer does approve any swaps to make sure no one’s taking over too much from someone. You have noticed that the brothers really like when you cook though and always offer to swap for you to cook.

- There is a closet with futons and blankets on the lower level. You’ve all gotten into a habit that at least once a month, you all haul the futons out to the planetarium and have a big old family cuddle pile. Satan sleeps pretty far from Lucifer most of the time. But... not all of the time

- There are stashes of snacks in various places around the house. Beel is always hungry and sometimes he can’t make it to the kitchen, so the brothers have random places around the house that house snacks for him.

- Movie nights happen often and you’ve informed the brothers they can buy giant bags of popcorn in the human realm (like garbage bags full- this is true). Beel is super happy and you’ve set up a schedule of who picks the movie so everyone gets a turn. The angels, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos have started joining in and have been added to the roster.

- Lucifer taught Levi to waltz and now he’s teaching you. Once a week, you and Lucifer have dance lessons where he teaches you to waltz for when Diavolo hosts formal parties. The brothers all take turns leading and it’s turned into a dance night routine.

- You’ve all started to get in the habit of texting goodnight in the HoL group chat before you all go to sleep. 

- If you go out to eat, you order double what you normally would so you get a full meal after Beel eats off your plate. You’ve started applying this to the servings you get at dinner time when you eat at the HoL since Beel’s bad habit tends to leave you hungry (He always feels SO bad when this happens).

[molly-ghuleh]

Honeysuckle - Mountain x gn!reader

Mountain's rut is coming up soon, and the only thing he can think about is you.

~*~

Contains: smut, MDNI!! ghoul heat cycles, masturbation, breeding, oral (both receiving), penetration, knotting, soft Mountain uwu, pining

Notes: Reader is intended to be gender neutral, so I tried to use non-specific anatomy as best I could. Enjoy!~ AO3 link

It’s hot. Too hot, and Mountain can’t sleep. He always gets like this just before his rut–as if his body is saying, in case you didn’t have the whole week blocked off on the calendar already, it’s happening soon–and more often than not, he ends up jerking himself off anyway.

Dew and Swiss call it his ‘pre-rut nut’. 

He feels all the aspects of a rut. His body burns, his dick is sore, and his tail whips around faster than usual, but he doesn’t have that animalistic urge to breed anything that walks yet. 

Yet. 

Hence, pre-rut nut. 

Mountain sighs and throws the thin blanket off his body. The cool air from the window flows over his bare chest, raising goosebumps in its wake. His nipples pebble slightly at the sensation and he shudders. He can live with hard nipples. 

His aching cock, though, is a different story. 

When he’s this close to his rut, he has to jerk off every night. During the day he can assuage his urges, distracted by his duties. But at night when he has nothing else to do, the full force of his unholy urges hit him like a tidal wave, a near-orgasm in and of itself. In the days before his rut he edges himself all day without even realizing it. Usually it’s his pants constricting around his crotch just right, or he sees a perfect ass filling out a pair of pants that makes his dick twitch, but lately… Lately, the only thoughts making his dick twitch have been of you.

Oh, Lucifer, he’d made his way down to the gardens this morning and had been greeted with an eyeful of your ass as you bent down. The sight nearly made him trip over his own tail. He just wanted to grab your hips and– 

His cock jumps in his boxers and he groans. He slips his legs out of the material but keeps them close, so he can clean himself up after he blows his load to the thought of you. 

Mountain knows it’s wrong of him to think of you this way, but sweet Satan, he can’t help it. Not when your scent is the most tantalizing thing he’s ever smelled. Whenever he’s around you, your essence wraps around him and inside him, tugging at his heart as if you know it beats only for you. Just the smell of you, so strong and enticing beneath your perfume, is enough to bring him to his knees, and it has. The first time he’d smelled your scent after a day working in the gardens together, he’d pinned one of his pillows between his knees and rutted down into it like a rabid dog. 

He briefly considers doing that now, but he decides against it. He’d ruined his pillow so thoroughly that he had to throw it out. 

Mountain wants to ruin you instead. 

He brushes his hand down his neck, over his collarbone, and down to circle one of his sensitive nipples. Oh, he just knows you’d treat him so well. Your hands, so small and soft compared to his, would explore every inch of his skin as you exposed it. Your hands would accidentally brush his nipples as you unbuttoned his shirt, but when you heard how his breath hitches at the touch, you’d do it on purpose. Maybe you’d even tilt your head down to take one of them into your pink lips and pull just to see how he’d react. Ah, the sweet little sound you’d make when Mountain’s hips grind up into yours…

Mountain palms his length, only applying a light pressure. No fingers yet, no–in his mind you’re still wearing clothes. He can’t slide himself inside you before he’s made you cum at least once. He knows his size is daunting. He’s been humbled in the past by potential partners who’d gotten one look at his hard cock and fled for the hills. But you would see it as a challenge. He can practically hear you purring into his ear, Come on Mounty, how many inches do you think I can take before I beg you to stop?

Mounty, Mounty, Mounty…

You’re the only one who calls him Mounty. Satan, it makes his knees weak. He wants to know how it sounds in his ear, against his neck, in his mouth. He wants to know how it sounds muffled around his cock. He wants to know how it sounds when he drags it out of you, the last syllable spilling from your lips in a pathetic little whine. He just knows you’d take him so well, all the way to the hilt, and past it when he’d knot you– That thought makes a low growl erupt from his chest. He finally, finally takes himself into his hand, giving himself a few slow, firm strokes. He can’t decide if he wants to imagine it’s your own hand, your lips, or your dripping hole wrapped around him, but his mind lands on your mouth. You’d insist on trying to take him as far as you can down your throat. That’s another challenge you’d pose–how long you can keep him in your mouth until your jaw starts to ache. If you can even fit him. 

But Mountain would only let you touch him after he gives you pleasure first. He wonders how you would taste at the first lick. A little salty, maybe? After your first orgasm, you’d be sweeter, slicker, and because he knows you would be so good for him he’d give you another one. He’d make you scream for him, beg him with incoherent little pleas of your nickname for him. Oh, he can almost hear you in his mind. Oh sweet Satan, Mounty, please… 

Only then would he let you test your little theory. Such a sweet thing for him, crying and drooling around his thick cock and telling him you can take more. 

Mountain grips at the sheets underneath his naked body as his hand slides languidly up and down. He knows he needs sleep, but the visions of you are too delicious to rush. No, you deserve to be revered. Worshiped like the unholy being you are. He prays to you, kneels at your altar, communes with your divinity through his lascivious fantasies of your body under his. He wants to make love to you. He wants to take you so, so slowly at first, stretching your muscles around his dick when he enters you for the first time. He wants you to feel every thick, prodding inch of him inside you. He wants to watch your body arch under him when his tip drags against the spot on your inner walls that will, eventually, make you scream his name. He wants to swallow your moans and whines of discomfort with his lips and shush you and tell you that it’s alright, the stinging stretch will go away in a few seconds. He wants to lean down to your ear and whisper that he loves you, and he wants you to say it back. 

Lucifer, he hasn’t even kissed you yet. 

Mountain would wait until you say you’re ready for him to move, and then he’d pull out nearly all the way just to angle his hips upward and push back in. He imagines the way you’d gasp in surprise that the uncomfortable stretch has turned into pleasure. You’d wrap your arms around him, tugging at the hair on the base of his skull the way you know he likes. Your fingers would brush against the base of his horns by accident. He’d shudder at the contact, rutting his hips into you harder than he meant to, and then you’d do it again on purpose. 

His free hand absently raises to his head to touch his horns the way he imagines you would. The hand wrapped around his leaking cock begins to stroke faster, harder. “Oh f-fuck, petal, that’s so good…” 

His own words echoing in his room make him blush. Mountain knows you like it when he calls you petal. You haven’t explicitly told him so, but he notices the way your eyelids flutter and your mouth quirks up whenever he says it. Once, he’d groaned with soreness from kneeling in the gardens all day and said, you’re killing me, petal. It had sounded more lewd than he’d meant. He had to pretend that he couldn’t smell your arousal suddenly flaring up in you after he’d said it, but oh, you smelled delicious then. He’d had to excuse himself for a few minutes just to rub one out to your lingering scent before he came in his pants. 

Mountain knows you like him, too. Your scent has started to change over the last few months, after you’d started working in the garden with him. You smell sweeter now. Sweeter means your heart pounds a little faster, a little harder whenever you see him. 

The endorphins your body releases at the sight of him make you smell like honeysuckle. 

He grips the base of his horn tighter and pulls. He can picture you riding him like your life depends on it, holding onto his horns for stability and because you’d know he likes that. Your lovely hips would feel so plush and warm in hands when he digs his fingers in to drag you up and down his length. You wouldn’t have to do the work, no... Mountain would take care of you. He’s the biggest, strongest ghoul, but also the most gentle. He’d lift you like you weighed nothing and guide you back down onto his cock without you having to put an ounce of effort in. He’d treat you so well, petal. So well. 

He fists his cock faster now. He can tell he’s going to cum soon, but fuck, he doesn’t want it to be over so soon. Not when his mind is conjuring such sweet pictures of you. 

The ghoul wonders how you’d sound when you get close. Are you loud? Would you get louder? Would you start to beg him to make you cum, or would you go silent? Would you whine out his name for him? His full name or the nickname you gave him? Could you cum from just his cock, or do you need him to help you? Do you need his hands? Oh, sweet thing, you can have his hands. 

He meant to tell you. He wanted to tell you how he feels about you, and then show you, and show you again. But he wants your first time together to be slow, passionate. He wants the only thing on his mind to be you. When he’s in his rut, he can only focus on his primal need to breed, and he doesn’t want that for you. Not yet. Would you like it, though? Mountain imagines what you would sound like begging him to breed you and his knot begins to swell at the base of his dick. He wants to explode inside of you, over and over, until your belly is swollen with his seed. One of his loads will take, right? It must, after he’s fucked his cum into you more times than you can count. His thick knot will keep it inside you until it takes. 

Pre-rut nut, his ass. 

Mountain moans your name like a prayer. He’s sure the other ghouls can hear him call out for you, but he doesn’t care. “Yes, petal, take my knot. I—fuck—I know you can take it all, sweet thing. You’re so good for me, taking my knot so well—”

He imagines you crying out for him, cumming on his cock so hard like he knows you can. He’s not finished yet. Not yet. Just a little longer, please—

You would bring his head down to yours and kiss him so tenderly while he thrusts into you like a man dying. You’d whisper in his ear that he feels so good, fucks you so well, and that you want him to cum inside you. Inside, Mounty, you’d plead, gasping and moaning from his cock still dragging over your walls. He obliges. 

Mountain cums with a loud groan. His hips buck up into his hand and spurts of his viable seed—wasted when it’s not buried deep inside you—land on his stomach and chest. The shocks of pleasure roll through his limbs, making his toes curl and his back arch off the mattress. He wishes he had your body to hold onto when he cums. You would anchor him to the world, even though you were the one to send him to space with pleasure in the first place. Briefly, Mountain squeezes his knot with his hand to imagine what it would feel like stuck inside you, but it’s bittersweet. The rest of his dick is exposed to the cool air of his room. No, it wouldn’t feel like this. You’d hold him inside like a warm, soft cocoon. 

He opens his eyes and the illusion fades. He’s alone in the ghoul dens without you, with drying jizz on his stomach and a rut that came two days early. 

He wants to hold you. 

He wants you close to him, to soothe his aching muscles in between the long periods of fucking you. He wants to massage you too, because he knows he’s big and you’ll be sore for days after his rut ends. Next year, he thinks ruefully. Next cycle, after he properly confesses to you, and then properly makes love to you, many times. He wants to make sure you know he adores you before fucking you like some feral beast. 

Mountain sighs and cleans himself up with his discarded boxers. He doesn’t bother putting another pair on.

[2d-reality]

Little Things (The Envious Thirdborn)

characters: Leviathan, GN!MC navigation: Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie content/warnings: little things you do for the brothers, out of love. fluff. established relationship (implied you are dating all seven brothers equally with the exception of mammon whom i love more) word count: 1334, this one got away from me a little notes: Each brother has their own part, linked above. I am still my own editor and I loathe editing, so please forgive any mistakes!

Adrenaline pulses through Levi’s veins. His hands shake with it, even as he sits back in his gaming chair, and cold shock ices over the hot rush of blood in his veins. 

A Sucre Frenzy collectible has slipped from his grasp. It was a limited-time run, only live for a few minutes, given how quickly stock had sold out. He’d been watching the drop for days, even though the band had only posted vaguely to something happening, with a link to a blank webpage with a countdown. No one had known what it was they were hinting at, and even though Levi had what he thought was every e-commerce website preloaded to ensure a fulfilled order no matter what website hosted a flash sale, the limited edition merch he’d coveted since the launch went live was now nothing more than a distant dream. Maybe he didn’t click fast enough. Maybe the slight error in the shipping address that had forced him to re-enter his details had pushed him out of the running. Maybe Sucre Frenzy knew that he was just a worthless shut in, and didn’t deserve the special treatment. Maybe he just wasn’t good enough after all. He should have known.

A frantic knock at his bedroom door registered dimly in the midst of his self-deprecating spiral. It isn’t until his tail, flicking anxiously behind him, knocks over the stack of manga next to his desk and he hears the sound of your voice on the other side of the door, that his thoughts grind to a halt long enough to push his body into action. 

It’s muscle memory that gets him up, still half-lost in his head, and leads him to the door. He’s speaking the other half of this week’s special passphrase before he even realizes he’s doing it. He reaches for the door handle, then pauses. For a moment, he watches his hand tremble, and hears you again. 

“Levi?”

Sucking in a breath, he opens the door, and the smile you wear nearly blinds him. You’re clutching your DDD to your chest and look fit to bursting. 

“So?” you chirp. “Did you see it?  I bet you’re excited to get it all! We don’t even know exactly what they’re giving us!” 

Us. You had managed to get your hands on the drop. Jealousy sparks in his chest, sharp and biting, and for a moment, he resents you. He was the one who introduced you to Sucre Frenzy, and now you were the competition. In the next moment, a bucket of cold shame is dumped over his head. He couldn’t be angry with you, not really, not when your eyes sparkle in the ambient light of Henry’s fish tank. The green monster still coats his tongue as he speaks. His tail swishes over the tile behind him as he grips the side of his bedroom door, attempting to shield himself from your exuberance. 

“I didn’t get it.” It sounds pathetic in his head, but comes out of his mouth as a snarl. Your expression falls. 

“Oh.” You take a step forward, maybe without even thinking about it, and he begins to shut the door without thinking either. “Oh, Levi.”

Your foot stops him from shutting himself out completely, and you slip inside. “What happened? You’re usually lightning fast.” Your gaze slides to his monitor setup, and you take a step before stopping yourself, turning back to him to await a response and permission to continue. He can’t find anything to say, but forces something out anyway as jealousy clouds his mind. 

“It’s stupid.” 

Your hand settles on his arm, soft and unobtrusive. Your brow is furrowed, and while your eyes are sad, your voice is firm. “You’re not stupid.”

Levi realizes he’d said I’m stupid. Shame shocks down his spine twofold. You hated it when he talked down to himself. Hot tears well in his eyes as he shuts his bedroom door and crowds his body against it, forehead pressed to the wood and shoulders hunched forward. Your hand slips from him in the process, and his tail curls around both of his legs. Now he had not only lost out on this once-in-a-lifetime drop, but he’d disappointed you, too. He really was a useless idiot. 

“I hope you like your merch,” he says. He means it, at least partially, but you can hear the jealousy in his voice. “Just leave me alone.”

You’re silent for a second. Levi waits for the word of encouragement you’re sure to leave before you go, holding back angry tears until he can hear the door shut behind you.

“Levi. I didn’t get this drop for me. You can have it.” 

He doesn’t believe you. He was too slow, not well prepared enough, he didn’t deserve the merch. He wasn’t quick and bright, like you. He wishes you would leave him to his misery, but it seems you’re not done.

“Not to mention, I can’t leave.”

He glares at you from over his shoulder. “Why not?”

The corner of your mouth twitches as you gesture to him. “You’re standing in front of the door.”

He is, you’re right again, and the third hit to his fragile ego is enough to shatter it. All mirth vanishes from your face as his chin quivers and tears finally spill over his lashes. 

“Leviathan,” you say, gently, and he allows you to take him into your arms. His tail wraps around you before the rest of him, and you hold him with one hand bracing the back of his neck, and the other secured around his waist, pressed as close as you can be. He buries his face into your neck, and your cheek rests over his ear. “I mean it,” you continue as he shakes. “I know you like to have one thing to use and one to preserve, so I figured I would try to snag a second set. It won’t be exactly how you want, but I really only wanted to get it at all for you.” 

A whine pulls from his throat. He knows you well enough by now to know you’re telling the truth. You’re too good to him. 

Your hand strokes his hair, nails catching on the base of one of his antlers. “Shit happens. It isn’t your fault you didn’t make it this time, but you also have your Henry as backup. I’d never let my Lord of Shadows miss out on something I know is important, if I can help it.”

You pull away, and he reluctantly lets you, but can’t bear to look at your face. Your gentle fingers brush his long bangs out of his eyes, and the hem of your sleeve brushes over his ruddy cheeks, catching a few more tears. “I love you more than any piece of merch. And who knows, maybe Mammon caught on to the hype and managed to get in to turn it at a million grimm markup. I bet I can convince him to -ahem- permanently loan it to you. Through me.” 

This makes him chuckle, and he risks a glance at you to see you smiling. Your expression, coupled with your touch still tingling on his face, soothes over the hurt like a balm. 

“Thank you, MC.” 

You set his heart pounding again by pressing a trail of kisses across his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. “Of course. Now, they leaked a new music video link in my receipt email, so we have to watch it before anyone else does.” 

This brightens him significantly. “Really? Yeah!” He breaks away to bound over to his computer. You forward him the link, and pull your matching gaming chair next to his, settling in to help him liveblog his reaction. 

You’re true to your word, and when the conspicuously large package arrives a few weeks later, you’re breathless at his door in seconds. You hold the camera while he livestreams the unboxing, and neither of you is sure who is smiling brighter.

[angelicvigilante]

Obey me characters I think would need glasses and why, because I keep thinking about my own.

Lucifer

-Farsighted, should wear glasses all the time but absolutely refuses to. Only puts them on when reading paperwork, or when someone tries to show him a video on a phone, still puts the phone miles away from his face to see it.

Leviathan

-Based on my own prescription, but with how much he stays inside and living in the devildom, he’d definitely need transition glasses and have a high light sensitivity.

Mammon

-Also based on my own glasses and sight, he needs reading glasses, not because he can’t read without them, but because it’s more helpful than not. Mixes up words and letters very occasionally, refuses to put them on ever, probably doesn’t even know where his glasses are anyways.

Simeon

-He feels like the kind of guy who’s needed glasses his whole life, like  has always had to be in front of the class and everything, but just goes “it’s completely normal.” when anyone asks. I think he’d be slightly nearsighted, not for any specific reason. I just do.

Luke

-Once again, reading glasses, will wear them to read books and recipes and somehow always remembers where he left them.

[abberant-butler]

Again. You wake up in your bed.

___ 1/2 I started this, my room flooded. I took a week off because all my stuff was in the living room. I set up my computer, worked on this, the dishwasher leaked and the pipe that flooded my room burst again when I got back from fixing a flat tire. I feel like an OBM truther with an active hit or something (/joking, very joking). Anyway, here's the first half of a Timeloop MC. The second half will happen... eventually. I'm very invested but and life and computer access keep testing me. lol ___

Waking up in your bed wasn’t the surprise. For now, there was a moment of hope. Had you done it? Had you managed to escape? Your feet hit the cold stone floor and you know that you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. Yet. Belphegor wasn’t at breakfast. The drop in your mood is noted, but no one yet knows you well enough to ask. So that night, you travel up the stairs, standing at an arm's length.

Belphegor berates you for trusting him. You remember that it used to break your heart to hear him talk to you like that. Now, it’s just easier to get it over with.

Again.

You wake up in your bed.

Leviathan was angry that you thought you might have answers he didn’t. Enraged that, in the end, you did. Blinded by his passion and envy, he hadn’t even connected the dots of sharing space with his favorite author. In your confidence, this time, you push him past the edge.

Mammon wasn’t quick enough to save you. Yet if you’d let Levi win, he would have killed you anyway. It was something you’d already tried. Just as you’d tried this. Over, and over.

Again.

You wake up in your bed.

You’ve never lied to Asmodeus. You know his powers don’t work on you, but on one of the tries, you just let him think it does. Naturally you tell him the truth at every moment, yet in his own paranoia, he pulls out your heart- just to be sure. It’s strange to hear how quiet your body is without that heart. Without a pulse. The first time was horrible. Now, at least, you can appreciate the swiftness and the expensive perfume as you pitch forward into his arms.

You’re not sure if his brothers ever forgive him entirely, or if the exchange program goes on. It’s not like you’re someone as important as Solomon. Sometimes you think that his end is your favorite, because it’s always out of love. Twisted, scorned, strange love.

Again.

You wake up in your bed.

It’s getting old. You’re learning. Don’t be surprised by the way that Diavolo greets you. His butler is watching. Accept your place and stand up to Mammon, because he needs to know that you’ll fight. He needs to know that he’ll have a chance to get to you, when you need him, even if you already know he won’t be. 

This time, when Lucifer tells you to guard the fridge at night from Beelzebub, you fail. Everyone is asleep. There wasn’t anything you could really expect them to do. It’s part of your internal debate on whether or not they even find evidence of your fate, or just fill out the paperwork to report you missing. Again. You wake up in your bed.

Satan offers you his pact. You know it’s reactionary… … You also know there’s no ‘right’ answer. If you accept, he’ll resent you for acting on his moment of weakness. If you reject, he’ll find your rebuff a personal affront to his importance. He’s angry beyond logic, beyond reason, but this time you try once more. There has to be a way out of this. In other tries, Satan is your friend. He shares his mystery books and his academic skills to try and help. It never works, but there has to be a way.

At least, like Asmo, his fury makes your end swift. Unlike Asmo, his rage doesn’t stop when your heart does. You imagine he goes on to destroy the rest of the house, the way you’re told he did when he was young. Again. You wake up in your bed.

Lucifer looms over you in the crypt, furious at your discovery with his brother and Luke. You can’t even blame him. It’s an invasion of privacy that you hadn’t even considered in context. Yet. You can’t bring yourself to really be upset, either. This only adds to his fury.

“Do you actually think I’m going to allow a lowly human that choice?! THAT YOU CAN HAVE WHATEVER IT IS YOU WANT?!”

No.

No, Lucifer, you never offer a choice.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Numbness is the only thing you can feel. There are no more unexpected turns. There are no more arguments that you’ve muttered to yourself for hours or days just to use them on the next try. Death is always the result, and it’s the only way that you can have a moment of peace. Otherwise it’s yelling or bickering or life threatening situations. Mammon tries, he always tries. You’ll forgive him every time for his greed, because it’s the only thing that’s never killed you.

You wake up in your bed.

You wake up in your bed.

You wake up in your bed.

It doesn’t matter if you roll over and sleep in or if you tear apart every piece of fabric that you can twist your fists into. It doesn’t matter. It always ends, it always begins again. It goes. Over and over. The only metric that you can measure by is how it will make you feel in that moment. Today, you are just… tired.

It’s old. It’s ancient. You’ve learned. Don’t be surprised by the way that Diavolo greets you. His butler is watching. Accept your place-... The butler is watching. Has he always looked so sad?

This time, when Lucifer tells you to guard the fridge that night from Beelzebub, you know that if you do not get out of bed, the wall will collapse in on you. It will be because Beel finds his pudding missing. Suffocation is the worst death, so you pull yourself from the warm blankets to head around the corner to at least find something swifter than asphyxiation.

The butler is there.

He has brought a feast.

It’s the first surprise you can remember feeling.

Beel eats what has been brought from the castle, and goes to bed. You stand, in disbelief, with your hands in hot water as you help wash the dishes. The Demon Prince’s servant is gone shortly after. He hasn’t said a word.

You slip back under your covers, the sheets still slightly warm from your earlier presence.

You wake up in your bed.

Again… 

You suppose. 

The new day feels different. Yet the same. 

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Golden Rebellion.

A scene from s2 ep9.

Adam in a crater that was supposed to be a lake.

Adam, not facing with Vaggie: Don’t worry. I won’t pick a fight. There’s no Titan blood.

Vaggie, raising his spear anyway: Then… Why are you digging?

Adam, turning to her all of a sudden: Oh simple really. Sera, needs Titan blood to make a portal key. Can’t get to the human world without it!

Vaggie, holding the key that’s on her neck: There’s… Blood in the key?

Adam: And since I failed my last misson I thought, “Hey, a chance to make up for it!“ But I can’t go back empty-handed- Ahaha!

Adam, looking at the small hole he dug: Not again.

Adam: Long story short, this is *Points at the small hole*, ma grave. *Turns to her smiling painfully* Want me to make you one too?

Angel: This is getting disturbing.

Adam: Lucifer is small enough we could share to save time! Hehehe, cause we're all gonna die.

Adam face planted in the dirt.

Lucifer: No one is dying.

Lucifer internally: Except maybe me from getting the perfect view of your ass in the air.

Adam turned his head to the side: Do me a favor Vaggie and cover me with dirt.

Vaggie shrugged but Charlie stopped her.

Vaggie: What? He asked nicely.

Charlie: We are not burying anyone alive!

Adam: Why not? It'll be a more merciful death than what the Empress has in store. No one betrays her and lives......

[fanby-fckry]

What do you think Hazbin crew (Lucifer, Charlie and Vaggie included) would do if they were suddenly transformed into humans? For sinners it would be back to their human forms and for Morningstars and Vaggie it would be the "if they were ever humans" appearance

Ooh-hoohoohoo, this is a good question.

Sorry I’m late responding, but I’m gonna dig right into it, now.

Alastor:

Alastor would probably have the strongest negative reaction. He already hates the fact that his agency (and possibly his power) is limited by his Deal, can you imagine what being turned human (and therefor stripped of the majority of his power) against his will would do to him?

To be human is to be weak. He cannot be weak, won’t allow himself to be weak. He spent so long building his power, his reputation, his empire, and now it’s gone? Just like that? He’s back where he started in this measly human body that can’t even hold a smile properly?

Instant mental breakdown.

Angel Dust:

Angel’s reaction is going to be a bit strange, because I think it’d be less emotional and more sensory.

He’d be going from eight eyes to two, four/six arms to two, dropping several feet of height, hearing from ears vs hair, having different feet. He’d be grateful for the feet thing, don’t get me wrong, but he’d still have to relearn how to walk plantigrade, on top of all the other changes.

He’d go to reach for things with arms that aren’t there, stumble on feet he isn’t used to, and feel like a horse wearing blinders without his extra eyes for peripheral vision.

Charlie:

I think she’d be delighted, tbh. I’m not sure if this is still canon, but at one point, Viv said that Charlie has a very idealized version of what it means to be human. She’s never met an actual human (as opposed to a Sinner or Winner), and has never been to the Living World. I think she’d sing a song celebrating this opportunity to “experience the beauty of a human life!”

And then over the course of the story arc, she’d learn that, 1.) human bodies are fragile, 2.) humans are just as capable of cruelty as demons and angels, 3.) maybe her views of humanity were off just a smidge. And then she’d wanna go home.

Husk:

Idk how canon this is, but old-lore says Husk hates his demon form! So, I think he’d have a fairly positive reaction to getting his human form back.

Not that he’d show it, of course. His poker face is too good for that. He’s not going to let anyone know. (Angel figures it out, anyway. Alastor would’ve, too, if he weren’t so preoccupied with hating his own humanity.)

Lucifer:

Freaks out -> Tries to calm himself down by saying, “This can be a learning experience!” -> Freaks out again when he realizes that Charlie is human and vulnerable, and he’s human and weak, so he won’t be able to protect her the way he could as a Fallen angel.

Also, the no shape-shifting thing would be a bummer. In between steps 2 and 3, he’d be experiencing various mundane human annoyances that he never had to deal with as an angel.

Lucifer: How do you people live like this?

Alastor: Technically, we don’t! We’re all dead. :)

Lucifer: Sheesh, way to bring down the mood.

Alastor: I had to get it on your level somehow, your lowness.

Niffty:

Wildcard. I have no idea how she’d react.

I maintain that she was just as weird in life as she is in death, and that her demon form just gives her better ways to express her weirdness. So she’d probably still be hunting/torturing bugs, just with less efficiency now that she’s bigger, slower, and less fireproof.

Vaggie:

I think this one kind of depends on whether or not the Exorcists are Winners.

I, personally, think this would be Vaggie’s first time being human. I think she’d feel incredibly uneasy with it. Just an overwhelming sense of anxiety and powerlessness, constantly on edge and unable to do anything about it.

Bonus Round!

Cherri Bomb:

I headcanon Cherri as having lost an eye in an arson/explosion mishap, so she wouldn’t have as drastic of a sensory change as Angel Dust, but like. It’d still be an adjustment, considering her eye would be smaller and moved to one side of her face.

She also wouldn’t be able to summon bombs at will, which would be a major bummer. But she probably still remembers how to make them from scratch, so that’s not going to stop her, just slow her down a little.

Sir Pentious:

Leggies! He hasn’t had legs in over 100 years! He doesn’t remember how they work! But wow, it’s nice to have them!

Bonus-Bonus Round!

UHverse Lilith:

She hasn’t been human since Eden. She doesn’t quite know how to feel about this. It’s been so long since she’s been this woman. Since she’s been so unsure of herself, so weak.

She puts her emotions aside for now because they aren’t productive. She can unpack them when she gets home – cry in her husband’s arms for the first time in a century or so, knowing that she and her family are safe in their relative immortality again.

In the meantime, she needs to be present and looking for a way to fix this. Alastor is already down for the count and Lucifer is distracted by his strange new humanity. She’s going to have to take initiative here. She needs to protect her family and get them back their bodies, their powers, and their home.

Aaa, thank you so much for this ask! I had a blast answering it!

[delusionalwings]

can you do barbatos, mammon and simeon with a darling that’s physically weaker than most people? like they’re lethargic, can’t lift heavy things, pass out sometimes just from standing too long, etc.

― synopsis -> with a darling who's physically weaker than most

― characters -> mammon, barbatos, simeon

― gender neutral reader

― headcanons

― warnings -> yandere behavior, induced dependence on him (everyone), gambling, making you feel guilty, disregarding you (mammon), mentions of kidnapping, mentions of anger and violence, emotional manipulation (simeon), mentions of kidnapping, treats you like an object (barbatos)

hope this is fine!

MAMMON

First and foremost, he is glad that you don't have the strength to hang out with those other lower demons grrrr. You are his trophy and it will remain that way.

"Dontcha worry! The Great Mammon looks after his servants," he announces before using your ailment as a reason to borrow more money and gamble it all away.

He truly wants to make a fortune so that he can take you to a doctor and offer you a better life. As a result, however, he just invites more debt and a long lecture from Lucifer.

"Don't you look so concerned about me! I will find a way to make quick money and take you somewhere better."

Your pleas for him to stop fall on deaf ears. His schemes make you feel guilty; it makes you wish that you could do more for him. The bruises on his face that he clumsily tries to hide makes you feel pathetic. Since he is working so hard for you, you wonder what can you give him in return.

But then again, why can't your words be valued? Why can't he respect your wishes? Especially when his way is sure to fail? He seems to believe that since you can't get up and stop him because of your health, he would do his bidding anyway. It's almost as if you're a noble excuse for him to gamble more, without any restraint or fear or guilt.

That's how he starts returning to you with a downcast face every single day to confess the amount that he lost while you lie there, feeling mentally exhausted too, blaming and cursing yourself.

BARBATOS

Hmm... It does pose a problem but since every problem has a solution and Barbatos knows them all, he solves your dilemma too.

All you need to do is smile for him and help him relax during the rare times he is free. Other than that, worry neither about making a living nor about having any kind of freedom. So it doesn't matter if you are incapable of extreme physical exertion. There shall be no need for that when you have magic and Barbatos.

You will be provided for and get your condition checked by the best doctors and magicians. If anything, you are in very capable hands so you can just sit back and let him make all the decisions for you. Focus all your energy in resting and thinking about him till you are needed to act like you are living.

When he tells you to get up, you will get up. When he orders you to entertain him, you will obey. But be assured that he won't go out of his way to torment you physically. There's no merit in it when you can't help yourself. But you will mentally stimulate him, even when your mind is in shambles because of physical pain. You will need to push yourself often with Barbatos. It's your voluntary obedience that he desires and he will take it.

You need to learn proper etiquettes in his presence. He is your master and you need to be perfect wherever you can.

He is at ease knowing that you won't run away anytime soon so he can perform his own duties in peace. Still he is always on the watch.

SIMEON

You have your angel at your beck and call. Leave all the heavy lifting to him. All the housework is his job anyway. What else can one do when they have taken you away from the entire world? You are his duty now.

Sit down, lie down and give him cuddles, validate him, love him. He is still shy about holding you close but he enjoys your warmth and wants to get more familiar with your touch. So instead of spending the time working, take rest and let him take care of you. And when he returns tired each day, be a sweet angel for him.

It isn't like you are completely unable to use your body. A little movement here and there actually helps but Simeon doesn't believe that. Why are you getting up? No no, you will get sick. He is overcautious, to the point of hysteria.

What will he do with you if something happened to you? What will you do without him? Work yourself into some life threatening ilness!

An angry Simeon is bad news and you learn about it when you find yourself in a situation where you can't even run away. You are trapped and exhausted, scared and alert and you never escape without bruises. Sometimes he only fumes over your unconscious body before turning around.

Despite that, he always apologises, asks you to understand that it is your fault for pushing him so far. If only you had listened to him, he would have maintained his composure. Then he applies ointment on your wounds and tells you to rest. You will listen to him this time, won't you? After you saw what he is capable of otherwise, you must.

He is already upset about hurting you so he wants you to rest till you feel better. If you feel bored or want to get out of the house, he reads you various books so that you can imagine the wonders of the world. Even if you can't visit these places because of your health, you can always picture travelling there with Simeon. Imagine Simeon guiding you to the ends of the world. Always there to pamper you.

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 7: mammon / rain + hug

ao3 link

note: this takes place during chapter 14, after ik loses her hand but before she wakes up properly - i.e. during the same general period that lucifer's pov section in chapter 15 takes place in! since this slots right into that (and since ik doesn't remember this anyway) this could now be considered canon to jtta!

i combined two separate prompts - 'hug' and 'rain', with hand-loss scene being from the rain request, since i felt like they worked well together, i also did a bit of a play on the rain prompt - requesters, hope you don't mind!! ^^

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

It occurs to Mammon that he’s never held someone so small before. He doesn’t remember his brothers being little enough to gather in his arms so easily.

In the beginning, he’d imagined that humans couldn’t feel that different from demons or angels - after all, they’re pretty much the same thing, just in different sizes. And he’s had to pick IK up several times already, but this had been different.

Everything after stepping into the tomb is a blur. His memory only sharpens into focus after Diavolo intervenes. As the prince shouted himself hoarse, he’d looked up, and seen the three of them - big demon, little angel, scarily still human - huddled by the wall.

There had been Luke, barely disguising panicked tears, and Beel’s face had been set and pale. For a moment, it felt to him as if he were watching his brother cradle a corpse, with a mess of smoking wounds where its right hand should have been.

He sits now by Beel’s bed, where he insisted IK rest, and finds himself staring at the haphazardly wound bandages around that same wrist. He wrapped them himself, even though Solomon had told him they were unnecessary - perhaps more for himself than for IK, who isn’t conscious to appreciate the effort.

He’d been the one to carry her up from the tomb, too, insisting despite Beel’s assurances that he could do it himself. That’s the part that sticks with him even now.

It was frightening. IK, as he has learnt, should be lively. She’s a bundle of contradictions, of course - defiant in the face of monsters despite being afraid of loud corridors, bold and brave despite that instinctive polite nervousness - but, out of everything, she is never silent and still.

“Idiot,” He mumbles in the silence of the room. No one hears him - Solomon and Beel are both downstairs, and Levi’s stalked back off to his room.

“...mhh…”

His head snaps up. IK’s eyes are wide open.

The relief is tantamount to being dunked in ice after spending a year in the desert. He scrambles out of his seat, unable to bite back a grin. “Took y—”

Then he stops. Something isn’t right.

IK glances at him without moving her head. There’s something unsettling and robotic about the way she blinks.

“Good morning,” She says vaguely.

It goes without saying that the room is dark. He tries to play along, wondering if he should shout for help - did she hit her head? “Yeah, mornin’, sleepyhead. Finally up, huh?”

“Huh,” IK mimics, and this is where she’s supposed to laugh. She doesn’t. “Hey… what’s your name?”

He feels his heart sink. He tries not to let it show. “You forgot? Honestly. It’s Mammon, duh.”

“Mam-mon,” IK repeats, stumbling, as if the sound is foreign in her mouth. “Ma…mon.”

“That’s it. Good job.” He watches her face scrunch up in discomfort. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Hot,” She mumbles, and she sounds younger than he’s ever heard her. “Ow… ow!”

“Hey, hey—” He springs forward without thinking, using his hands as barriers so that she can’t suffocate herself on the pillow. “—shh, shh…”

Her cheeks feel red-hot against his palms. There’s something he’s supposed to do for that, right? He glances to the side, then remembers the basin and towel on the nightstand.

“Alright, kid—” He makes sure she’s listening. “—I need ya to stay still. Can ya do that for me?”

“Hurts,” IK mutters hoarsely, and he feels something damp trickle over his knuckles. “Mammon…”

“Shh,” He repeats, quieter. It’s strange how naturally it comes to him. “You’ll feel better soon, alright? Won’t be a second.”

He moves as quickly as he dares, dunking the towel in the cold water, then wringing it out again. He turns on the lamp while he’s by the table, and IK’s little tear-stained face is thrown into sharp relief. It just about breaks his heart.

“Deep breaths,” He says absently, and lays the towel across her forehead, like he’s seen Solomon do. “One, two, three…”

He watches the anguish melt from her face, but the relief only lasts a moment - because now she’s blank again, and it feels like she’s staring right through him. IK blinks once, twice. One last gathered tear slides down her face.

She reaches up - with her left hand - and touches her face. “...it’s raining.”

“Sure,” He agrees quietly. “It’s raining.”

It might as well be. The strange, static-y sound in his ears is just like any downpour he’s ever heard.

IK lifts her right hand and reaches for the ceiling - for those umbrellas the twins strung up for whatever reason, years and years ago. They’ve never been used the way they’re supposed to.

“I can’t reach,” IK mumbles. “I can’t… hold anything. I can’t feel my fingers. I don’t have…”

She stares at the white bandages around her wrist. Mammon suddenly wishes he’d done a neater job. From here, in the dim lamp-light, it looks like jagged bone; he can’t decide whether that’s better or worse than the web of dark scars beneath the clean gauze.

He can’t think of anything he could possibly say. Slowly, IK lowers her hand again.

“Did I make him angry?” She asks. She looks tiny. “Did I… did I do something bad?”

He shakes his head firmly. “No. No way. Lucifer was just being an idiot.”

IK’s eyes widen a little. “You can’t say that. He’ll hear you.”

“So what if he does? I can say whatever I damn well please,” Mammon mutters, thinking that he should’ve socked him properly while he had the opportunity.

IK is smiling at him now. It’s small, almost ghostly, but it relieves him all the same. “You’re cool.”

“Duh. Ya only just noticed?” He tries not to look too pleased. She seems more comfortable now, so he decides to remove the towel.

Her eyes are a little red at the corners. He gives them a dab, then chucks the towel back into the basin, and pats her face dry with his sleeve.

…feels like he’s playing house. Has he ever done something like this before? Even back then, he wasn’t exactly responsible enough to be playing nurse.

“Mammon,” IK says, voice small again, “Am I dying?”

“What?!” It comes out louder than he means it to. He quickly lowers his volume. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“I’ve seen this in movies,” She mumbles. “I feel like… I’m going somewhere. Somewhere really far away. Or maybe you’re going…?”

“I’m right here, kid. Nothing’s gettin’ rid of me.”

And he makes his next decision on a whim. He carefully tucks some of the blanket out of the way, slides his arm beneath IK’s shoulders, and pulls her into a hug that - conveniently - keeps him steadied enough on the mattress to still the trembling in his arms.

IK barely moves, remaining unnervingly still throughout it all, but she hums as if to say thank you. So he stays there until her eyes close again, and for a little while longer after that.

She’ll be alright - IK’s a strong kid. Any human who makes it in the Devildom has to be, but especially one capable of stepping in front of a seething Avatar of Pride, and insulting him to his face, according to Solomon’s account.

It confuses him a little. If he had a spirit like that, he’d be on top of the world, but IK carries herself more like an inconvenience than a presence.

Right now, that presence is small, warm, and alive. She’d been limp and still as he carried her up here, the chill of the tomb clinging to her clothes - small, stiff, each breath laboured, as if they might stop at any minute. It’d been like holding a puppet whose strings had broken.

He doesn’t know when he started caring so much - doesn’t know why he keeps this weird little human nestled in his arms - but it scares him. If something like this happens again, he just might die.

[hoziernaturalevents]

MEET THE AUTHORS!

Here's a peek at our list of authors and some of their past works to give you a taste of what you can expect from them in the coming months!

@amypond45

Link to Work

Title: If We Live Through This Rating: Mature Words: 13,421 Relationship(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Castiel, Lisa Braeden Additional Tags: Post Season 6 AU, Wincest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Post-Lucifer's Cage Summary: Dean feels like a failure when he can’t get Sam out of the Cage. When Sam just shows up one day, with no memory of how he got out, Dean is beyond grateful but wracked with guilt too. Sam’s too traumatized to hunt, so he and Dean settle down in a cabin in the woods, near a lake. But Sam has nightmares of the Cage, and Dean’s guilt makes him desperate to atone for his failure to get Sam out by giving Sam everything and anything he needs, even if it means crossing that line Dean swore he’d never cross.

@avalonsilver

Link to Work

Title: Once Upon a Blue Moon Rating: Teen and Up Words: 9,347 Relationship(s): Castiel/Sam Winchester, Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jimmy Novak Additional Tags: Canon Divergence, Mystery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary: Shortly after Gadreel's exit, Cas and Sam spend time in the Bunker so Cas can heal him. With trepidation, Cas also returns a memory that Sam doesn't know he'd lost years ago. It’s an old memory of a chance meeting with Jimmy Novak when Sam was nineteen and on his way to Stanford. The memory's effect on Sam is one neither had been expecting.

@cautiouslycas

Link to Work

Title: The Toy Soldier Tattoo Rating: Teen and Up Words: 17,999 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Jo Harvelle/Anna Milton Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Casitel, Benny Lafitte, Anna Milton, Jo Harvelle Additional Tags: Missing Persons, Hospitals, Mentins of Wounds, Mentions of Kidnappings, Mention of Character Death, Nightmares, Tattoos, Tattoo Artist Castiel Summary: Two years after Sam disappears, police officials inform Mary and Dean Winchester there are no more trails for them to follow. The case is cold until new evidence makes its way over to them. It’s the day Dean gets his first tattoo. In honour of Sam. That night, he walks out of the tattoo shop with not only a brand new toy soldier tattoo on his thigh, but also with a crush on his ridiculously cute tattooist Cas. As life continues and his relationship with Cas unfolds, life proves it will keep going on even without his brother and maybe, he should move on too.

@lazarus-rose

Link to Work

Title: This Tainted Love You've Given Rating: Explicit Words: 17,100 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore Additional Tags: Murder Husbands, Serial Killer Dean Winchester, Witch Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Topping from the Bottom, Choking, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Murder Kink, Temporary Character Death, Minor Character Death, Dark, Innocent Castiel, well not that innocent but kind of, Blood and Violence, Torture, they're both unhinged but there's also the power of love, Sort Of, Mentioned Animal Murder, Naked Castiel, Immortal Castiel Summary: Everyone has their hobbies—Dean’s just happens to involve a lot more blood and screaming than most people’s. And sure, maybe murder isn’t the nicest way to blow off steam, but Dean’s always thought that being nice is overrated anyway. His latest victim, a pretty guy with startling blue eyes, should be nothing special, just another nameless body on Dean’s list. But then, after Dean kills and buries him, he turns back up at Dean’s house again the next day. What’s a guy to do when they’ve accidentally gotten an immortal witch convinced that they’ve got some kind of profound bond?

@mbqnoyolo

Link to Work

Title: Rutting Moon Rating: Explicit Words: 16,961 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cesar Cuevas/Jesse Cuevas Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Cesar Cuevas, Jesse Cuevas Additional Tags: Childhood Trauma, Generational Trauma, Child Loss, Indigenous Practices, Indigenous Language, Magick, Mpreg, Non-Omegaverse, Ojibwemowin, Shape Shifting, Bisaan, References to Residential Schools, Pregnant Castiel, Original Characters, OC Indigenous Person Summary: In Grassy Butte, North Dakota an old woman remembers her long walk home after being torn from her family as a child and a young woman mourns a loss no parent should know.

@masoena

Link to Work

Title: Guardian Angel Dean Winchester Rating: Explicit Words: 13,456 Relationship(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Post-Season/Series Finale, Angelic Grace as Lube, Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Sam Winchester, Implied Switch Sam Winchester, Safe Sane and Consensual, Gay Sex, Angel Dean Winchester, Grief/Mourning, Affection, First Time Bottoming, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Suicidal Thoughts, Mentioned Miracle the Dog, Mentioned Castiel, Mentioned God | Chuck Shurley, Mentioned Jack, Wing Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Communication, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Taking Care of Sam Winchester, Taking Care Of Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Requited Love, Wincest, Sibling Incest, Brother/Brother Incest, Smut, Sex, Past Bottom Dean Winchester, implied bottom dean winchester Summary: Sam is in over his head on a solo hunt about a year since Dean passed way, he finds himself on the forest floor bleeding out and pretty much welcomes death as it would reunite him with his brother. Moments later he is tucked in a blanket in the backseat of the Impala and someone is in the front seat bench waiting for him to wake up. Big brother instincts never die, not even in literal death."

@sammichgirl

Link to Work

Title: All Too Familiar Rating: Explicit Words: 7,160 Relationship(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod Additional Tags: Wincest, Witch!Sam, Soul Bond, Sex Magic, Post 15x20, Canon Divergent, Mutual Pining, Requited Love, Slow Burn Summary: Sam's new hobby has consequences they never saw coming. Turns out, that's OK with Dean after all.

@samanddean76

Link to Work

Title: Joyous Memories Amongst The Sorrow Rating: Mature Words: 878 Relationship(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer Additional Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Dead Dean Winchester, Sam Just Needs to do This One Thing, Post-Episode: S03E16 No Rest for the Wicked Summary: The hellhounds killed Dean. Now Sam needs to bury him. And he has the perfect spot all picked out.

@sevensugars

Link to Work (Sevensugars is sharing a rec of a favorite work from another author rather than one of her own)

Title: Every Living Thing by Askance Rating: Mature Words: 36,144 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Medicinal Drug Use, Disturbing Themes, Animal Death Summary: When a pair of hunters on the eastern coast witness the arrival of a very disturbing omen, it isn’t long before the news hurtles across the country, piquing the interest—and fear—of people everywhere. In a matter of days, the new, safe world that Sam, Dean, and Castiel have been inhabiting is flipped upside-down. Something enormous is coming—and this time, it’s something they can’t fight. Faced with rapidly diminishing prospects, holed up in a tiny, empty Nebraska town, they are forced to confront fears, secrets, and emotions that might have otherwise never seen the light of day. It seems every story must end somehow, and the only thing that remains to be done is to make the most of what little time they have left.

@thisisapaige

Link to Work

Title: Non Solum Rating: Explicit Words: 16,061 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester Additional Tags: AU-Fantasy, Witch Castiel, Hunter Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Strangers to Lovers, Huddling for Warmth, Injury, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-War, Sexual Content, Frottage, POV Castiel (mostly), Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss, First Time, Touch-Starved Castiel, Bad Parent John Winchester (or at least the residual effects of it because he's dead) Summary: Castiel lives a quiet life, a solitary life, a lonely life. He cannot risk anyone finding out he is a witch, lest any hunters seek out his isolated cabin in the frozen Northern Wastes. Interacting only with those who require his healing services, Castiel constructs an existence that ensures he will be alone. Alone, that is, until a bloodied, dying man crawls up to his front door and threatens to tear down everything Castiel has built.

[cas-kingdom]

Supernatural Masterpost

Main Masterpost

one shots

A Brother Like No Other (Sam x Dean) - Sam sometimes forgets that he’s not the older brother.

Toast (Sam x Dean x Castiel) - Castiel makes toast for the first time.

My Humans (Sam x Dean x Castiel) - Dean sticks post-it notes to his brother’s back, and Cas is one confused angel.

Louder Than Thunder (John x reader) - John helps you overcome your fear of thunder.

Sunset (John x reader) - You and John have a picnic and watch the sun set.

Tears (John x reader) - You talk to your dad before he leaves to go on a hunt.

A Father’s Love (John x reader) - “No man in this world can love a girl more than her father.” You learn this after having a pretty horrible argument with Dean.

Ladybird (Gabriel x reader) - Gabriel. A brother, a protector, a survivor. And most importantly, your best friend.

Into Battle (Gabriel x reader) - You’re about to enter the biggest battle you’ll ever face. A snowball fight.

A Light in the Dark (Dean x Crowley x reader) - Part of being an older brother means chasing away the nightmares. That’s what Sam and Dean’s been doing since you were a little girl. Now, it’s Crowley’s turn.

All That Matters (Sam x Dean x reader) - You lose against Dean in a wrestling match. What could get worse than that?

Get Some Sleep (Castiel x reader) - When you refuse to go to sleep, it takes a certain angel to remind you who’s the boss.

To Annoy an Angel (Castiel x reader) - There’s no better way to pass the time than annoying Cas. Cas, on the other hand, has a different opinion on the matter.

Fade Into You (Castiel x reader) - Sometimes, you just need a hug, and Cas is all too happy to oblige.

Bring Him Back (Gabriel x reader) - Gabe was here, but he wasn’t… here. Not your Gabe, anyway. But don’t worry, you’d bring him back.

Hey Brother (Dean x reader) - You were meant to be home six hours ago. Dean’s not happy. At all. Or: Even when you’re alone, your brother is always there.

Living (Sam x Dean x Castiel x reader) - Cas walks in on you and Dean sliding along the hallway in socks. It’s all fun and games until someone breaks their ankle.

Nobody Knew (Lucifer x reader) - People forget that the Devil was once an Angel.

Gimme a Kiss (Crowley x reader) - Crowley wants a good night kiss, and he’s not letting you leave without one.

I’ve Got You (Crowley x reader) - You’re injured, and the first person you go to is Crowley.

About a Dog (Sam x Dean x Castiel x reader) - Even dead, Gabriel still finds ways to make you happy.

Learning to Love (Sam x Dean x Castiel x Jack x reader) - A nephilim asks an angel for dating advice. What could go wrong?

Archangels and Austerity (Gabriel x reader) - After Jack asks you out on a date, Gabriel turns up… and he’s not happy.

Toro (Dean x reader) - He looked like a bull about to charge. And what do you do when you’re faced with a bull? You run.

A Memory (John x reader) - Jack has disappeared, you haven’t heard from Cas in a while, and you’re starting to miss how things used to be.

Taken (Sam x Dean x Castiel x Jack x reader) - The blood of a virgin is needed in many a spell, and Sam and Dean have become accustomed to turning to you. However, after one particular night, they’re about to find out they’re going to have to turn to someone else from now on. And it can’t be Jack.

Real (Dean x reader) - While Michael’s possessing Dean, he says things to you that make you think.

Soldier (Gabriel x reader) - Gabriel finds out you’ve been keeping something from him, and he’s not impressed.

Locked In (Sam x Dean x Castiel x reader) - Jack’s locked in the box, and you’re only just finding out.

A Little Unsteady (Jared Padalecki x reader) - You have to get a cavity filled, and it’s your first one. Naturally, you’re quite nervous, and who better to help calm those nerves than Jared Padalecki?

drabbles

John x reader (“I was just worried.”)

John x reader (“You can’t give up something you haven’t even started.”)

John x reader (“Remind me never to play this damn game with you again!”)

Dean x John x reader (“Are you really reading right now?”)

John x OC (“I shouldn’t have to tell you how dangerous that was!”)

John x OC (“You did this to get my attention and now you fully have it. Let’s hear it.”)

Gabriel x reader (“I don’t care when you go to bed, but do you have to wake me up in the middle of the night with your loud music?”)

Chuck x reader (“You forgot to say the Magic Words.”)

Sam x Dean x reader (“What are you running from?”)

Dean x reader (“Give them back.”)

Chuck x reader (“Don’t make me come get you.”)

Sam x reader (“You don’t scare me.”)

Gabriel x reader (“Move over!”)

Dean x Ben x reader (“Seriously, have you seen how old he’s gotten?”)

Castiel x reader (“That’s against the rules.”)

Crowley x reader (“When am I going to join your little game? Hm. Never.”)

Bobby x reader (“Could you stop throwin’ that damn ball against the house?”)

Gabriel x Chuck x reader (“Wanna build a tree fort?”)

Dean x reader (“Sorry, I can’t help you.”)

Dean x reader (“How long will this take?”)

Castiel x reader (“Oh? You want me to tickle you that bad?”)

Gabriel x Chuck x reader (“Now, let me watch the freaking movie in peace!”)

Dean x Sam (“You’re okay, Sammy.”)

Dean x reader (“I love you.”)

Dean x reader (”Don’t tell Sam?”)