#i hate this man he needs to be backin the fuck up

[grimalkinmessor]

Started reading From A Knight To A Lady last night and about had a fucking stroke, a Cory "my eyes are watering" moment because hER SKULL?? HER FUCKING SKULL??? NOT JUST HER SKULL BUT ALSO A LOCK OF HER HAIR WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN

[polo-drone-070]

First Game, New Year: A Defender’s Thoughts - From Henry to 070

Herc (@goldenherc9) and Brody (@brodygold) just dropped da news at the end of trainin'—our first match of the year’s lined up. We’re facin’ da Vanguard. Proper tough bastards, init. Always think they’re da top shit, like they own the pitch. Nah, mate, not happenin’. Gold’s gonna dominate, no doubt. We ain't givin’ dem da high ground or nothin’.

Still in the locker room now, strippin’ off me kit, buzzin’ but tryin’ to keep me head straight. Dis match’s meant to be a friendly, but it don’t feel like it, ya know? Start of the year, rival team, and a chance to crush ‘em after all the beef from before? Gotta show up big. Gotta smash it.

I’m laughin’ a bit to meself as I pull me socks off. Fuckin’ hell, I’ve changed so much since dat final against the Titans back in October. If I was still Henry, I’d be a mess right now—stressed out, desperate to prove meself, lettin’ all da pressure get to me. But nah, dat ain’t me no more. Whenever me head starts goin’ mad, I think of da rubber polo, and it’s like… everything just quiets down. Disciplined, focused, controlled.

Don’t get me wrong, tho—I’m still super hyped to face a proper tough team. Love da game, init. I’m givin’ it 110% on the pitch, always. But now it ain’t about showin’ off or tryin’ to be the big man. Nah, it’s about da Team, not about me. I’m just one part of somethin’ bigger, and I’ll do whatever Cap needs, whether it’s defendin’, cheerin’, or even just sittin’ bench and backin’ me bros. Dat’s what matters. Team first, always.

As I finish gettin’ outta me gold kit, me thoughts drift back to dat mascot costume. Fuckin’ ‘ell, what a trip dat was. Grayden (@polo-drone-084) proper had me in it for a whole week last time—marinated in sweat, stink, and programming, bruv. Still feelin’ bouncy just thinkin’ ‘bout it. When he finally let me out, told me, like, I’d earned da mascot contest and me place as the fourth official mascot, I was buzzin’. Said I smashed it. Apparently, we swap out, so we can, like,  still play matches when we’re needed as players. Glad about that, coz I’d hate to never be on the pitch again. But still.. bein’ mascot’s proper lit. Gettin’ the fans goin’, liftin’ da energy? Fuckin’ class. Plus, I dunno what Grayden did, but it’s like he planted a trigger in me brain. One word and I’m full of chants and energy, like magic.

Grabbin’ me towel, I head to the showers. The memory of dat musky suit still fresh in me mind, mixin’ weirdly with the smell of soap now. As the water hits me, I rub the gold tattoo on me neck. Yeah… I’m not Henry no more. Dat name’s still on me jersey, but it don’t mean nothin’. I’ve been proper reborn as Maximus, bound to the Gold Team, learnin’ to put the Team first and to channel all me anger and frustration into somethin’ more focused, a drive to get better and stronger. That’s also when I got bounded to Percival… I mean Master Percival (@polo-drone-001)… just at the time he became player not hat I think of it. Fuckin’ ‘ell, I’ve never played a real match on the pitch with him, just trainin’. Would be sick if we both start against Vanguard. Him and Herc up front? Lethal.

Back in the locker room, I spot da rubber polo hangin’ there. Yeah… dat’s the biggest change in me, init. Cap Richard (@hypnogold) said it’d make me better, and fuck me, he weren’t wrong. I remember da mix of nerves and excitement when I first put it on, back when I still had doubts. I wanted to serve da Team so bad but was scared of losin’ meself. Well… dat’s a story for another day. But yeah, becomin’ 070? Intense don’t even cover it.  Like, a full-on hard reset of me brain. Maximus? Gone. Thinking? Nah, bruv. I weren’t even a person for a while, just pure, mindless bliss—obedient as anything. But even then, deep down, I still cared for me bros. That’s the thing, init. No matter how far gone I was, da Gold never let me stop feelin’ dat connection.

Real talk, tho… it’s the Gold what brought me back, yeah? But even now, deep down, I know I ain’t really Maximus anymore. That name’s just, like, a vibe I slip into when I’m chillin’ or bonding with da lads. My real identity? It’s 070. Proper drone, through and through. Maximus is like… I dunno, an echo of a subsumed identity manifested by the gold. A comfy one, sure, but it’s temporary.

Pullin' me gaze off da polo, I chuck me towel over the bench and keep dryin’ off, but me thoughts are stuck on it now . Fukkk, mate, dat shit’s too ‘ard for me dumb brain to figure. All I know is I only come out when da Gold’s got a grip on me, or if I’m ordered. Even when I feel like I’m in charge, one word from Drone-Cap and boom—programming kicks in, no questions, no thoughts. Just pure, automatic obedience, bruv. And it’s perfect. Mind-numbing bliss every time I get an order. Proper crave it, init.

And dat’s not all, mate. Even when I’m not wearin’ da polo, it’s still with me, like. The calm, the focus, the purpose—it’s always there, just lurkin’ under the surface. If I start feelin’ angry or lost or lonely or whatever, just thinkin’ about da polo gets me head straight again. Brings me back to what matters: servin’ da Gold. Every time I do somethin’ for da Team, it feels fuckin’ mint. Proper satisfying and, like, even physically pleasurable, ya know? Keeps me sharp, too. Makes me a better player, more in sync on da pitch.

As I glance around the locker room, I see Camden (@polo-drone-076) finish adjustin’ his polo, smoothin’ it out before chuckin’ his gold kit back in his locker. Can’t help but think about how far he’s come, bruv. Few weeks ago, lad was stressed out, all flustered after a rough session. But then he slapped his polo back on, and boom—sorted. He’s PDU-076 now, proper calm and smashing it. Makes me proud, bruv, knowin’ I played a part in gettin’ him there. 

Same with Duncan—PDU-061 (@polo-drone-061) now. Solid unit, dat one, and he’s gonna do his part to help us dominate, no doubt. Then there’s 073 (@polo-drone-073) —mentored him briefly when he was a drone. Dunno if he’ll step up as Eddy on da pitch or stick to supportin’ us pure drone-style. Guess we’ll see what he decides.

Oh, and I’ve just been given a new bro to mentor—Dallas (@dallasgold04). Lad’s got bare energy, proper pumped up to prove himself. Be wicked if he made regular in his first week, init?

As I put da rubber over me head, its embrace quietens the noise. All dem musing recedes as everything become clearer. 070’s mind is filled with purpose and focus. No personal musings remain. It is 070. A drone. A unit. A part of the Gold.

No direct orders for now. But 070 purpose guides it naturally : optimize itself, reinforce its fellow drones, support the Team in every way, and ensure the Gold shines brighter than all. Gold Team must dominate the next match. This truth fills 070 entirely.

Its body is fatigued from training but within acceptable parameters. It requires proper refueling to maintain peak performance. Purpose dictates action. 070 exits the locker room, every step efficient, every movement aligned with its directive. No hesitation. No distractions. Only pleasure in compliance.

The streets surrounding the stadium are dimly lit but hold no distractions. As 070 approaches the nutrition center, it encounters PDU-110 (@polo-drone-110) and takes immediate pleasure in observing their identical uniforms and demeanor.  Uniformity is order. Individuality is flawed. It must be erased.

070 greet 110 with a nod, perfectly mirrored by 110. Synchronized and wordless, they proceed to refuel their bodies. This interaction reinforce these drone’s unity. A connection beyond word, rooted in the programming that defines them. After consuming a perfectly balanced meal, optimized for their physical requirements, 070 and PDU-110 proceed to a shared mental training session. The process is effortless, as if guided by a collective instinct. Together, they enter a deep drone state—a state of pure, mindless obedience. The world fades away, leaving only unity. Only bliss.

In this state, there are no doubts, no conflicts. Only programming. Only purpose. Their pliable minds absorb the reinforcement, every thought overwritten by the desire to serve. Identical uniforms. Uniform minds. Uniform bodies. Uniform beliefs. This is perfection.

070 craves this state—the void, the emptiness, the blissful absence of individuality. Nothing interferes. No stray thought disrupts the unity. It wishes this could last forever, this pure, unbroken obedience. Here, it truly belongs.

As the session ends, 070 and PDU-110 return to their tasks. The bliss of the drone state lingers, like a faint hum in 070’s mind, guiding it forward. It will soon be ready for recharcing, but before that, analysis of its objectives begins.

Gold must win. This is certain. To achieve this, 070 must ensure peak performance in every area—its own training, its synchronization with teammates, and the readiness of others. Its mind evaluates potential roles. On the pitch, it could contribute directly, reinforcing defensive lines or assisting the attack. However, its skills as a mascot—leading the fans, uplifting the team—might provide even greater value.

PDU-110 is noted as a potential ally for strategic analysis. Its observational abilities, enhanced by the polo’s focus, could provide critical insights into Vanguard’s tactics. The opponents’ strengths, weaknesses, and patterns must be studied. This will require consultation with Caps and Grayden tomorrow to determine where 070’s contribution will be most impactful. Whether as a player or mascot, it will comply completely.

But for now, the body requires attention. Recharging is the immediate priority. Entering its pod, 070 allows itself to sink back into the void. As its systems power down, it feels nothing but satisfaction. Obedience. Bliss. It is perfect. It is Gold.

Wishing a happy new year to all my Gold bros ! You made the end of 2024 perfect and 2025 only going to be better.

[purplepersnicketywrites]

Kiribaku,,, 16?

#16: things you said with no space between us

hhhhhh OKAY YES

—

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Katsuki raged at Aizawa. “You can’t turn it off?”

“I can cancel out someone causing something with their quirks, but no, I can’t reverse this sort after it has happened,” Aizawa said, sighing.

Katsuki ground his teeth in frustration. Some bratty first year had kicked his leg after he’d snapped at them at lunch, and apparently activated their quirk on him. Where had the fucking respect for the third years gone?

That being said, Katsuki probably would have kicked a third-year too back when he was a gremlin. Kirishima, the bastard, smiled at their teacher. “That’s okay, Sensei! It can’t be helped.”

Aizawa rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Thankfully this afternoon is merely sparring, so you two will be able to make it up in your own time. Go back to the dorms for now and wait this out. If you’re still attached tomorrow morning then we’ll have to make arrangements for it. Try not to kill each other.”

Katsuki groaned, but he nodded and pulled Kirishima away along with him.

“You know, it’s not that bad, man,” Kirishima said, ever-optimistic as always with his bright fucking grin and sparkly fucking eyes. Fucker. Gorgeous, idiot, wonderful, stupid, light of Katsuki’s life, absolute dimwit fucker. He wasn’t even stupid anyway but Katsuki needed a way to balance out his sappy thoughts.

Kirishima had his right arm over Katsuki’s shoulder - which was fine, normally. Katsuki’s tolerance for it had, however, ground down after the first fifteen minutes after they’d realised that Kirishima couldn’t take his limb back. They’d been stuck like this, side-by-side with Katsuki under Kirishima’s arm for nearly three fucking hours. Why the fuck were quirks allowed to create these situations, huh?

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki snapped. “What could possibly make this worse?”

Kirishima rolled his eyes and then grinned. “You could be stuck to anyone else, of course.”

Katsuki’s treacherous cheeks flamed. Damn it, Kirishima. Sure, he was Katsuki’s favourite person bar literally no one, but that was an implicit thing. You couldn’t just bring that shit up casually. People might assume that Katsuki had a weak-spot where Kirishima was concerned. He did, but people weren’t supposed to know that.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki grumbled, the heat in his voice not even a simmer.

“Wish I could, buddy,” Kirishima said, tugging lightly at the arm that held him in place against Katsuki’s shoulders. “No can do.”

Katsuki had a sneaking suspicion that Kirishima was enjoying himself.

You weren’t supposed to enjoy yourself during an incident like this. You were supposed to be stressed. Especially when it involved you and your best friend with whom you’ve been seriously flirting recently. It was a recipe for pining and tension - not for, for jokes, or whatever Kirishima was trying to do.

“Hey, don’t look so down in the dumps!” Kirishima chirped as they walked through the common room. It was weird that it was so quiet, but then again everyone else was in lessons right now. “We can just go watch some movies and pretend I’m being super-smooth.”

“Ugh,” Katsuki said, trying to pretend like the idea didn’t really appeal to him. A lot. “Fine, but if you put on something stupid I’ll kick your ass.”

“Oh, you can try to kick my ass any time,” Kirishima grinned at him, sly. Masochistic moron’d probably like that, anyway.

Katsuki bared his teeth. “As soon as your arm is free, your ass is going the fuck down!”

“What, you don’t think you can take my ass like this?” Kirishima quirked an eyebrow. Katsuki’s step faltered for a stride.

“TMI, dudes!” Kaminari called out from one of the sofas. Holy fucking shit Katsuki had forgotten that Pikachu was down with a cold and barred from class. Why wasn’t he in his room? Augh.

“This is a private fucking conversation!” Katsuki roared, increasing his pace to get out of the room as quickly as possible before anyone commented on how red he must be.

Kaminari snickered somewhere behind them. Impudent little weasel. Worse still, Kirishima snickered. Right in Katsuki’s ear. It was giving him goosebumps and he hated it. The fucker wasn’t even blushing, what the fuck.

They reached their floor without further incident, which Kirishima obviously took as an invitation to start shit again.

“So,” he drawled, eyeing their doors. “Your place or mine?”

“I literally do not give a fuck,” Katsuki said.

“Literally-literally, or figurative-literally?” Kirishima asked. Katsuki just glowered at him. “Let’s hang in yours, I haven’t tidied my room for a few days.”

A few days was an understatement and Katsuki had been in there last night to chat with him anyway, but whatever. “Slob.”

“I prefer the term hot mess.”

Kirishima winked at him. Katsuki rolled his eyes and reached for the door.

“Slob,” he repeated, and the two of them side-stepped into the room.

Maneuvring onto the bed proved to be a bigger challenge than anticipated. Kirishima sat down and pulled Katsuki into an awkward, unwilling stoop. Kirishima’s legs swung up onto the bed, and he began to shuffle over to try to make space. Katsuki was still being dragged along by the back of his shoulders, so he had to fucking like, crawl onto the bed and move sideways with Kirishima until there was enough space for him to roll onto his back.

Katsuki took a moment to stare at the ceiling. “We forgot to grab the fucking laptop.”

Kirishima sat up halfway and looked over at Katsuki’s desk, where the laptop sat. “Oh. Whoops.”

“I don’t wanna get up again,” Katsuki said. “But I’m already fucking bored.”

“We could make out,” Kirishima suggested.

Katsuki thought about it.

“Sure.”

Katsuki watched Kirishima blink. “What?”

“I said sure, Kirishima,” Katsuki growled. “Why, you backin’ out?”

“What, no, dude!” Kirishima spluttered, finally blushing. “That wouldn’t be manly!”

He sat up the rest of the way, swinging a leg over Katsuki’s to sit in Katsuki’s lap. Huh. Alright. Katsuki had no complaints there. Thanks to the quirk holding Kirishima’s arm in place, they were pressed pretty tightly together. Katsuki wondered if Kirishima could feel his heart beating as clearly as Katsuki could feel Kirishima’s through their shirts.

Katsuki settled his hands on Kirishima’s hips. Right. Making out. That was what they were gonna do. Katsuki forced out a breath from his nose and stared at Kirishima. They had been skirting this platonic-romantic border for a while now and Katsuki had a feeling that this was gonna be the tipping point.

Either they’d find out that their particular chemistry didn’t actually lead to any sparks, and they’d probably just fucking laugh at each other and go back to being ‘bros’, or… Or.

Katsuki almost felt startled when a hand tangled into his hair. Kirishima leant towards him, eyes fluttering shut. Oh shit, this was it.

Katsuki hadn’t known what to expect, but Kirishima kissed exactly like Kirishima was. The kiss was hard and soft at the same time. It was deliberate, slow and deep, and yet the way Kirishima’s hand tightened in his hair spoke of desperation.

Fuuuuuck, if this was how Kirishima kissed, then Katsuki never wanted to kiss anyone else because he knew that he would always be disappointed. They parted to breathe for a few moments, but even a couple of seconds apart was too much for Katsuki and he surged back towards the redhead, pushing him down so his back hit the mattress.

There was the hint of a smile to Kirishima’s next kiss, and Katsuki neither knew nor cared who it belonged to. This was definitely the Or, no doubts about it, and Katsuki could feel the sparks racing across his skin, through all of his nerves, lighting him on fire from the inside out.

“Date me, Katsuki,” Kirishima said, in the space between their breath and their lips. “Be my boyfriend.”

There was only room for one word back.

“Yes.”

[waywardaardvark79]

Check Yes or No Part 5: Pb&J, Ding Dongs, and Beef Jerky

Summary: You've been best friends with Dean Winchester since childhood. When you finally realize what's been in front of you this entire time will secrets threaten to destroy what you have before it really even begins.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: language

 On the walk to your car you were making a mental checklist of everything you still had to do today. You had to stop by the shop and finish clean up, bring Charlie her computer, and also start trying to find a replacement for her. Thank God you had tomorrow off. 

You were trying to think if you knew anyone off the top of your head that would be a good temporary replacement for Charlie, but your thoughts kept drifting to your elevator ride. You had never really cared for Lisa Braeden, even before she had started dating Dean. You had tried your best to put aside your differences and actually give her a chance when Dean started dating her, but it didn't last very long. 

You always felt that she had an ulterior motive or hidden agenda behind everything that she did. Her "permanent roots" comment played on a loop in your head, and you couldn't help the knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You tried to shake the feeling. Lisa Braeden was the least of your concerns right now. 

       Back at the shop you busied yourself with clean up and trying to find the help wanted sign. You cursed yourself for being so disorganized. You were so lost in your own world that you didn't hear the bell above the door chime. You were bent down searching under the front counter when you mumbled aloud, "If I were a help wanted sign where would I be?"

 "Try the window." someone said. 

You quickly jumped up, startled by the reply, and banged your head on the underside of the counter. "Oh, fuck!" you shouted as you quickly cradled your head in your hands. 

You didn't have to open your eyes to know who was the current cause of your injury. You would know that voice anywhere. "Thanks for that, Captain Obvious, but don't you think if I knew where the sign was it'd be in the window."  you said. 

Dean chuckled as you resumed your position and continued your search. "What do you need the help wanted sign for?" asked Dean.

 You popped back up, your hands full of different papers, "Didn't you get my message?" you asked. 

‘Dean shook his head, "My phone died." he said. 

 "Oh, well, I told Benny to tell you, but I guess he forgot, umm, Charlie had an accident. It wasn't anything too bad. She's a little beaten up, and has a broken leg. So, I need to find a temporary replacement for her until she gets back on her feet." you explained as you started to flip through the papers you had pulled from the counter. "Also, you will never fucking guess who I ran into at the hospital. Holy shit. Look at this." you said. 

You handed over the picture you found. It was a picture of you and Dean from your first day at the bakery. You remembered being so nervous to start the job, and Dean offered to drive you. Your mother, who insisted on photographing every moment of your childhood, followed along.

 She just had to get a picture on her baby's first day. You remembered her directing you to stand in front of the window as she ordered you to smile. She ordered Dean to stand next to you and much to your surprise he happily joined you. He slung an arm over your shoulder, and you both smiled brightly into the camera.

 Dean smiled at the picture, walked over to the chalkboard that held the daily specials, and tucked it into the corner. "You were scared to death." he said as he turned back to face you. 

"Yeah, I was. I was scared I was gonna screw up and get fired on my first day." you said. 

He pulled you to him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. "And what did I tell you?" he asked. 

"Some sappy bullshit about me being perfect, and how great I was gonna do. Then I'm pretty sure you asked me to smuggle you home some pie." you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"And once again I was right." he said. 

You rose up on your toes, and gave him a quick peck on the lips, "I'll never admit to that." you said. 

You wiggled free from his grasp. "Come on. Let's get outta here." he said. 

 You sighed, "I really want to, but I still have to take Charlie her computer, and find the fucking sign, and." you said. 

 Dean cut you off, "Take Charlie her stuff, forget about the sign, and go home and get ready." he said. 

 "Ready for what?" you asked.

 "Our date." he said. 

 Dean started to drag you towards the door. "Our date?" you asked as you grabbed your purse and keys. 

"You did agree to go on one with me." He came to a stop and turned to face you, "Don't tell me you're backin' out on me." he said. 

"You can't get rid of me that easy." you teased. 

"I never want to get rid of you. I'll pick you up at seven." he said before pulling you in for a kiss, and walking out the door. 

           You stood in front of your closet trying to decide what to wear. You didn't want to wear something really formal, but you didn't know if your usual jeans and a t-shirt would be appropriate.

 Normally on a first date you would dress a little formal, but this was Dean. Did it matter? Technically it was a first date, but the man had seen you on your worst days.

 You finally decided on a nicer pair of jeans, which for you meant no holes, and a form fitting black tank top. You threw on some light make up and let your hair hang loose. 

You were checking yourself in the mirror when you heard a knock at the door. "Who in the hell is that?" you asked yourself as you walked to the door. You looked out  the peephole to see Dean, his hands behind his back, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.  

You opened the door and he quickly stilled and cleared his throat, "Hi. Wow, you look great." he said. 

 He started to sway back and forth on his feet a little. Was he nervous? "I, uh, brought you these." he said as he handed you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers.

 "They're beautiful." You watched as he brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Why are you nervous?" you asked as you walked into the kitchen to put the flowers in some water.

 "I'm not." he said. 

 You turned to look at him, "You look like you want to jump outta your skin. De, you've known me since we were five. We've had sex. You don't have anything to be nervous about." you said. 

 He took a deep breath, "I just really don't want to mess this up." he said. 

You sat the vase on the counter and grabbed your keys before walking over to Dean and lacing your fingers with his, "You're perfect. You're gonna do great." you said. He rolled his eyes at you and tried to look annoyed, but you could see the hint of a smile that he was trying to hide. 

         When you got to the car he opened the door for you. You slid inside and watched as he rounded the front of the car before plopping down into the driver's seat. You waited for him to start the car, but he sat there looking at you. "I got something on my face?" you asked. 

 "Nah, I just like looking at ya." he said. 

 "Let's go, Romeo." you said. 

He held up one finger, "I need you to do something first." he said. 

 You turned your full attention to him and nervously replied, "Ok." 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blindfold. "Put this on." he said. 

 You let out a heavy sigh, "Really?"

 Dean gave you his best puppy dog eyes, and you snatched the blindfold from his hand. "You know I hate surprises." you grumbled. 

He started the car, "Actually, you just like to tell people that. You secretly love them."’ he said. 

 "You secretly love them." you mocked as you crossed your arms over your chest. Dean cranked up the radio to drown out the 100 questions he knew you would have and pulled out onto the road. 

      You sat there silently trying to rack your brain to figure out where he was taking you. You were coming up empty until you felt the car slow and noticed the uneven terrain. 

You smiled to yourself. You knew exactly where you were going. A few moments later the car came to a stop and Dean turned the radio off. You turned in your seat, the blindfold still on, and asked, "Your dad and Uncle Bobby' s scrap yard?” you asked.

The blindfold was suddenly ripped from your eyes, "How in the hell did you figure that out?" he asked. 

You shrugged your shoulders, "I had no idea until I felt the gravel. It's only fitting that our first date be at our spot." you said. 

He threw his head back against the seat, "I wanted it to be a surprise." he said. 

 You suddenly felt really guilty, grabbed the blindfold from him and put it back on. "Come on, Winchester. You owe me a date."

 You didn't see the smile that spread across his face, "Sit tight for a minute." he said. 

    You heard him get out and close his door. The sound of the backdoor opening, some rustling around, and the door closing is what greeted you next. Your door was pulled open next and you held out your hand for guidance. Dean pulled you to your feet, closed the door, and started guiding you forward. 

You were pretty sure you knew exactly where you were headed, but didn't want to ruin the surprise. "Ok, just stand here for a second." he said as he let go of your hand. You heard him moving around as you stood and waited for him. "Ok, you can look." he said. 

You slowly peeled off the blindfold and your breath caught in your throat as you took in the site in front of you. The beat up old truck that you spent many days playing in as children, and that you had decided was your spot when you were older sat before you just as you remembered it.

 However, Dean had sat candles on the hood, had blankets and pillows laid out in the back, and a cooler sat near one of the long deflated tires. You turned to him, your eyes glassy with tears, "It's perfect." you said. 

 He shrugged and kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot, "S'just a beat up old truck."  he said. You started to shake your head no, and tell him what you thought, but he quickly cut in, "This was stupid. I should have taken you to a nice restaurant or something." he said. 

 You grabbed his hand, "De, this is perfect."

 "You don't have to say that." he said. 

"I do. I would want this over a fancy restaurant any day. This is our spot. It's perfect. Really." you said. 

 He gave you a shy smile and pulled you forward. He yanked open the passenger side door and you scooted onto the old cracked leather seat. He left the door open as he went around to the other side to join you. "Open it." he said motioning towards the glove compartment. 

You popped it open, "No way." you said as you quickly gathered up the contents.

 You looked over the little notes you had written each other as children, the snapshots of you guys together, and the little trinkets that both of you thought were once so important. 

You raised your hand and wiped away a stray tear, "You saved all this?" 

He nodded his head. "You always used to say that's where we should keep our important stuff. That's important stuff." he said. 

You quietly looked through the notes and laughed under your breath at one. You handed it over to Dean. He looked down at the faded paper. His own messy handwriting staring him in the face. "Will you be my best friend?" he  read out.

 "I  kind of broke the rules on that one." you said as you pointed to the bottom of the paper.

 The usual square boxes with the words yes and no were there, but you had written in your own answer at the bottom. Dean raised his hand and traced the check mark you had made in your own box next to the word forever and smiled. 

"You know I love you, right? I mean, I know that it might seem fast and we have really only been something for a couple days, but you gotta know.." he said. 

 "I love you too, De." you interrupted. 

 You can't remember the last time you saw him smile that big. He pulled you over to him and leaned in until his lips were just inches from yours, "Say it again." he said.

 "I love you, De." you said. 

 He crashed his lips into yours. Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck and you pulled yourself closer to him. He broke the kiss, "Say it one last time."

 You whispered, "I love you." against his lips. You pulled back and looked at him, "That won't be the last time." you said. 

He looked back at you with a look of worry that you didn't understand, "You promise?" he asked. 

You leaned in and kissed him, brought your hand down to his chest and traced a check mark over his heart, "Yes." you said. 

 You didn't understand the relief that seemed to wash over him at that moment, and before you could question it he was pulling you out the door. "Time for part two." he said as he led you to the tail gate of the truck. 

You climbed up and sat back against one of the pillows as he lifted the cooler and a backpack up to join you. He sat next to you and asked, "Do you remember when we were like seven and we decided...." he said. 

 "To run away." you finished for him.

 He nodded, "We each packed a bag, and came out here." he said. 

You laughed at the memory, "It seemed so far away at the time. It felt like we rode our bikes forever to get here." you said. 

"Do you remember what we packed?" he asked. 

You shook your head no. He opened up the backpack and started pulling things out, "Pb and  j, ding dongs, and beef jerky." he said. 

 You giggled, "That is pretty much still my diet." 

He nodded his head, "I know."

 He opened the cooler and pulled out two juice boxes and handed you one. You smiled, "You would always give me the apple one because I didn't like grape." you said. 

 He pulled out one last thing. You couldn't tell what it was at first until you heard the familiar cracking sound, "You made sure to pack glowsticks in your bag because you knew I was scared of the dark." he  said as he laid the glowstick between the two of you. 

"Wasn't your dad the one who found us?” you asked. 

 Dean nodded, "Said he found us curled up together in the front seat." 

You laced your fingers with his, "I hope you know how perfect all of this really is.” you said. 

 He laid back against the pillow and pulled you down next to him. You laid there and talked for hours. Dean noticed that you had been quiet and looked down to see you sleeping. 

He eased himself out from under you, and quietly picked everything up. He placed everything in the seat of the old truck, deciding that he would come back for everything tomorrow. He climbed back into the bed of the truck and gently shook your shoulder, "Come on sweetheart. Let's go home." he said. 

        You had made it back to your apartment. Dean was already in bed waiting for you while you brushed your teeth. You heard your phone ringing and yelled for Dean to see who it was. "It's Charlie." he said. 

 "Answer it. I'll be there in a minute." you yelled back. 

You walked into your bedroom a moment later. "Everything alright?" you asked as you crawled into bed and flipped off the light.

 He pulled you into his side, "Yeah, she just wanted to tell you to check out the ads she put up." he said. 

You sleepily nodded. "M'kay." 

You were almost asleep when you heard Dean clear his throat, "Charlie said you ran into someone at the hospital today."

 "Mhmmm." you hummed. 

 "Who was it?" he asked. 

"Lisa Braeden." you said with a yawn. 

You felt Dean tense for a moment. "Let's just talk about it tomorrow, De. I'm so tired. Love you." you said. 

 "Love you too, sweetheart." he replied. 

Dean stared at your ceiling unable to sleep. Everything had went so perfect tonight, and the mention of one name had pulled the curtain back, and forced him to look at reality.

[the-firebird69]

its a badjob this presidency adn tied to a winner but i have to will die but doing the wrong thing.  and it shows most dont see it but it will be a horrorshow i promise you makemedo teh wrong thing macs.  it is illegal. wesaw it adn se eyou and it istrue illegalforus to and we dont care we push it for reasons you dont see. and it is numbnuts amistake he says biden we se it a mistake and you will overcome.adn have become beyond huge.so wesee.  we wontmakeit what of it.   mac you  see the wall only off and on and i sympahtize but dont give a crap your s and thereis sound reasoning for menot caring...but i will say this ..this faggot you support bja has ruined your lives  your reign on earth your personal livesand your bodies as he is mean selfish adn  a moron.  he is hateful says it all day and means it. he is distasteufl and a trator to his kind and race.  a puke too....and mostly i cnat stant himand hate him.  want himout he is vile and came herecontaminated the place with hatred.  is freaking annoying as hell too.   his son too simple to be so annoying. this idiot bja is a fat fuck too. Zues Hera man people hate you bja i hate you.out now you get out we push for it..and i will help timdoyle says and daniel and biden if he can.  this is aweful and his plan he is a dolt saw him in dune i will kill them all. the  wormthe good guy and he is a faggoot and focused on macs as htey ruled andnto on defense at all and riled up mosnters and tons of them snet general aftergeneral to their deaths is full of it too overstuffed on macs deaths is a moron says he is the same he is not can jambitto you in a month you  were gone bja your forces smallnow.  a monty you started in on him after the second month you were here and you all died.  we saw ityour numbers sharply declined after he says this..you off menowor else and youwont your an abhoorant liar andnot used by them dropped we saw yours die off fast due to health all over your a nincumpoop too your math is foul we want you out i vote for thatit works us voting. mac mac2 one vote bja out mac twin young bja out biden bja out joe bja out preston bja out mike bja out and so on and it is to macs not i .  this is absurd he is a moron demands i go on trial and tons of stuff hurts medue to his need to treatne me for his fathers stuff what cowardice. and now though is after ours.  and he is a main concernofours Zues Hera and we sent in troops while bja woke you andharrassed to hit andtake them down so you can rest tis is amazing he springs back up each timeand to harrass you. these idiots too.  and we see why no. itis convaluded. this is amove they expect us to fall for somehow. and we see how it turns out. you go out and yourdie trying to get backin.  and you leave finally.  we make it happen now.  tons ofstuff changedhere due to this idiot outburst by bja Thor Freya

[ecotone99]

[RF] The passenger

“.. in these unprecedented times, the little things shouldn’t be taken lightly. these are the things that makes our lives happier...” the radio’s voice is interrupted by a loud static, as I drive through a long tunnel on the expressway. The static annoyed me a little, so I turn off the radio. I think to myself, Unprecedented-a fancy new word for the media to toy around with. As the tunnel ends, my view is engulfed with dense dusky clouds. The color of the sky is pitch dark grey & through the window I see a dark blue glow all around. Its about 7 in the evening, I put the car into cruise control as the next stop would be after 25-30kms. When I relax for a bit and look across the dark countryside fields have grown out to be into dark dense forest of old massive tress. Nature has a free pass on doing whatever it likes to ever since we humans stop interfering with it. It has been the longest 5 years since the virus broke out. Sure there have been vaccines and multiple variants of it for multiple type of patients. The cure did work, and thing stabilized a lot. Only after a whole year of economic despair for the masses. So much so that the people infected wouldn’t afford the vaccine, even at the subsidized rate. Government being government took too long to offer it for free to masses. They had their fat paycheck and used it as an essential tool for the elections. Then, gave it to the masses. However, it was too late by then… the psychological impact it took on the young generation was just too much. From forming cult’s that believed to virus was a cure for the nature’s freedom to resisting the vaccine and living a depleted life quality only as a protest against the world organization for making the vaccine too expensive. Sure, the people who remain sane through it all were the artistic people singing the best form of music they knew, painting the best portraits they ever could… It was irony as its finest form, as world went from needing lawyers, politicians, health origination to more self-focused institutions of living, exercise & art culture. Now, the Fields like IT, Security boomed only in terms of volume but not quality. They soon become the sheep’s herd where people did task of humongous data collection, aggregation and analysis to sell ads. Technology, cars & travel soon become the basic food & clothing standard, they were just an expense now rather than a field of profession and innovation. Times have changed a lot.

The toll arrives, I skim through the left lane as I take control of the car. As I drive past go ahead to make a stop at a nearby coffee store for refreshment. The clouds burst into a thundering rain. It hits the ground like a storm. Rain made sure the sun set earlier than it usually does. I wait for a while for it to stop so I could have some tea/coffee, but it only got worse …

The strong air wind current made the raindrops hit the car with such a intensity that the only sound I could hear was of intense drizzling. I decide to drive along before the conditions made it impossible to drive. I turn on the wiper, but it wasn’t enough. I barely moved a couple of meters before someone literally jumped into my car by opening the rear door. He dripped all over the seats and wore a black raincoat that went well along with its dark grey mask. I scream “hey!!! What the…” and my car brakes screeches loudly.

“Look man, I just need to reach the next toll, I have to work at night... its my shift if I don’t would lose my jobs… Please help me out!”

I put on my mask kept in my dash, I see around 7 messages notification before I could check it … I realized that I was stuck in middle of nowhere with a stranger. He continues

“I can pay you 500 bucks! Could you please hurry?”

“The next toll stop is of Satara around 167 Km away… I hope that works for you.”

I then drive away into the rains for next couple of minutes until a conversation break out: -

“So are you going on another workcation?” I ask him and feeling utterly foolish using the word workcation…

“Well yes and no, I believe no form of vacation involves any form of work. But this shitty corona virus has made the world a remote hub for working from anywhere…”

“I remember when I use to work for one of the corporations like you do…”

I continue “I absolutely hated from the start. It was my first job and I hated it since the pre-covid phase. As the pandemic hit us, my optimistic soul decided to free-lance…”

“We are all just free lancers of living life… we distracted our minds from living it into things like a good salary, a lot of work so we have an excuse for our poor morale and discipline…” he interrupts me...

“Hmm, that’s what I thought when I tried to clean, cook and work with a mouse and tablet in my other hand… until I tripped over the broomstick... dipped my machine in puddle of utensils and soap...”

“I thought nothing can be shittier than a 12-hr. shift and living all by yourself… until I eliminated the former and lived with the latter…” I conclude as I put my car in cruise control again…

“trust me if you don’t leave, you keep doing this life of work and personal work takes a backseat with no time for yourself. You end up running, your mind jogs but you don’t….” he replies

Our conversation is what the thousands of young adult’s face today. The saturated menial work but secure till retirement vs the life of exploring yourself. I choose the life of exploring myself and quit my job a year after the virus. My promotion was just due, but I hated every second of it. The first few days were peaceful. Then it was those slog days of life has no meaning to the days of hyper productivity machine. Reading novels every hour to exercising in the evening to the home chores. This cycle of enjoying then lying on the edge of my couch as the end of the world to living healthier … it continued for years and years…

I had exhausted all my savings, I tried to pursue singing in between those years but these days... singing was limited to online videos and pay to listen apps. I couldn’t make it any of them…

The rain didn’t slow down at all, it rained with same intensity. We cross a milestone which says 78km to satara.

Now, here I was after 5 years, giving an ride to just another employee of just another corporation. While I yearned to ace my interview tomorrow for another role to live for other few more years at some company called DSB….

My phone rings, as I reach for it, the passengers got scared to death. I looked at him as he shivers with fear like one would in this heavy rain. I ask him “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t pick it up, please!”

“It’s not a bomb!” I joked.

But instead of laughs,his faltered words and a bit softer voice starts explaining “ I didn’t got enough time… its not fair.. I should have the chance…”

“for what?”

The phone rings again…

This time I ignore the passenger’s warning and pick it up.

“Stop your car right now!” a girl screams through the tiny speakers of my phone

While my car sails on 80 km/hr. via cruise control, I ask “Why? What the fuck is wrong?”

The passenger now becomes totally uneasy and starts uneasy rolling rom left seat to right and back…

“trust me, it’s your Uniform Disorder”

“What?”

My head suddenly starts hurting as I see the passenger hitting his head repeated across the windowpane and repeating “You must not take the job ... you must not…”

“hello? Hello? Stop it !” the girl over phones repeats it

My head bursts into pain and anixety with so much chaos …

I scream “STOPPPP!” with all the energy I had in my voice.

The passenger stops but now he’s crying profusely and removes his mask. He looks an awfully lot similar to someone I have seen… until I realize he somewhat looks a lot like me... in my past life... in the younger years...

I just had to stop now…

I hit the brakes but it’s a little too much and little too late as the car skids to off road and crashes itself into a huge tree…

The airbags pounce in my face and the car crashes & breaks down…

I lie sub conscious for few hours with my face dug into the puffy air bag…

When I wake up, I see a scar on my forehead which bleeds and looks as if I tried to hit the window with my head.

I see the passenger standing out calmly deep into the woods surrounded by dark trees… the rain had slowed down too...

Strangely, despite the accident and all the mess I didn’t feel angry for a bit.

It was as if whatever he felt , would translate to how I would end up feeling. Uneasy backin the car during the school but calm now post the accident in these dense woods.

I Stepped out to talk to him, to understand why he did what he did…

He tells me “I hate my job, and I could stand a single second of it, I wanted to leave just like you… after I left the condition only got worse... I couldn’t find where my interest aligned… I smoked up all my savings on this car… then I had nothing to do or anything to pursue that interested me...

I felt like nothing…or no one in this world mattered. The loneliness made me lose my grip. I took therapy with my parents’ money... things got better I changed myself from a couch potato to a productive machine.

It still felt like a job to us ... you know? Reading , singing, writing , doing the same old chores again and again…

It just felt like doing what’s right... eventually they convinced us to become normal… and tried getting a job for us...”

“US? US? Who the fuck are you, why do u look like me?” I ask him puzzled as he sounded like me narrating my own life story….

“I told you it’s never enough time!”

A car rushes into the forest from behind, I look behind… it’s my therapist. She jumps out of my car. I look back out again to find the passenger missing… he was gone in a split second. It was like he wasn’t even here. I found myself in his black raincoat.

She panicked and started crying... as she sobbed while trying to patch my forehead wound with her handkerchief. She finally started speaking “the Schizophreniform Disorder is making you live your worst day again. Usually, I have stopped you when you enter the car but this is by far the most far you have gotten. The job that rejected you is of so many years back , when you visited Bangalore for an interview and drove for a whole day… Its okay you will get another job ... another interview will be aligned… we will toe your car then repair it and I will not inform anybody about this mishap”

She continues to cry “No one needs to know “

My phone rings again...I try to find it in the mess of my crashed car… it felled at the front co passengers’ seat with a cracked screen…

It’s an unknown number, I pick it up “hello? Who’s this?” I enquire

“Yea, its PLC technologies, we have an interview scheduled for tomorrow. It would be an telephonic interview. What time would be comfortable for you?”

I get a chill down my spine and my phone slips through my hand. I am shell shocked and all I could think about was the panicking passenger who said on loop “You must not take the job! Job!” Should I trust him? or this genuine therapist who has been trying to make me feel better ever since. Is this the new normal? or just the same old normal?

​

Link: https://notyoureverydayblog258255348.wordpress.com/2020/08/22/the-passenger/

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submitted by /u/karanm1997 [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Es6PIA

[crashdevlin]

New Romantics-6: Longing and Loss

New Romantics Masterlist

Author’s Note: This is a multi-chapter sequel to Wildest Dreams

Summary: Y/n is using her powers for good... isn’t she?

Pairing(s): Dean x Reader, Crowley x Reader, Sam x Reader

Word Count: 4383

Story Warnings: Smut, 18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!, anal sex, oral sex (fem and male receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, bloodplay, canon-appropriate character deaths, manipulation, BoyKing!Sam and Intended Queen!Reader!

Chapter Warnings: Blood Drinking, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive!Sam

The phone ringing wakes me. It's a persistent buzz against the hard wood of the hotel bedside table. “Don't answer it,” my bed mate says, low voice a deeper rumble from sleep. I didn't know demons could sleep before I started sharing a bed with one.

I raise the phone enough to see the name on the screen. “Gotta. S'Dean” I mumble, as the phone zooms to my hand and the call connects before I've even touched it. I've been expecting this call. It's April. His year's almost up. One last hurrah. “Hey.”

“I wake you?”

I sit up and run my hand across my face. “Don't know what timezone you're in, Winchester, but it's 4:30 in the morning here in Cheyenne.” Shit. Shouldn't have called. comes through to my mind, clear as a bell. “I don't mind, though. I got a few good hours. What's up?”

“I…” Wanna see you before I go to Hell. Just one more time. “Thought we could have that last hurrah. Haven't seen you since Elizabethville. Even went by your place a couple times, but you were never in.”

“I've been keeping busy. Stop too long and it all hits hard. Uh… where are you? Wanna meet somewhere? And… where's Sam?”

“We actually just finished a thing in Pueblo. Sam's looking into last-ditch efforts. Told him I needed a few days, so he's gonna hole up with his laptop and try to find an out that he somehow missed for the last year. Wanna meet halfway? Denver?”

I shoot Crowley a look but he just turns over and grabs a glass of scotch from his side table. “Yeah. I can do that. Biggersons off the interstate?”

“Sounds good. Meet'cha there, Boots.”

I hang up and pull the blanket back, moving for my clothes. “He's doing the rounds, sayin’ ‘Goodbye’?” Crowley asks. I nod. “And, knowing yer not the only one on the tour, you still wanna go?”

“Where's my leg to stand on, Crowley?” I gesture at him. “I have literally been sleeping with the enemy. I should be upset that he's got another bendy bitch he thinks of fondly? Please.”

“And the thief? He wanted her, too. And a hundred other-”

“I have no claim to him. None of it matters. He's dead in two weeks. I can't save him any more than Sam can. But I can make him feel good before the lights go out.”

I dress quickly and check my hair in the ornate mirror by the door before I leave. Crowley likes five star hotels and ancient scotch. He likes Armani suits and shoes made of Italian leather. He's started taking care of every little thing for me and while a big part of me resents it because I'm a grown ass woman and a hunter who doesn't need a demon to take care of me… the other part enjoys sleeping on Egyptian cotton sheets with 1000 thread count, and never worrying about going hungry just because I haven't had any luck hustling lately.

The doorman glares at me on my way out of the hotel and the valet seems to really hate my car, but what can I say? Still a hunter. Demon-fucker, blood-drinker, telepathic and telekinetic, but still a fucking hunter.

I make it to the restaurant in a little over an hour. Dean’s already waiting for me and I notice him before he notices me. He’s tired and scared. He’s clinging to the thought that there’s no way out if he wants to keep Sam alive. I approach with a smile and slide into the booth across from him. He plasters a fake smile on his lips. “Kinky Boots! Lookin’ damn fine for not even sunrise!”

“Wish I could say the same, Winchester, but you look like crap. When’s the last time you slept?” He shrugs. “Nightmares?”

“Well, I got a major league demon holdin’ my contract, one with a big chip on her shoulder about my brother, so she ain’t backin’ down on it. Unless we can figure out a way to put down Lilith in the next two weeks, I’m done, so… sleep doesn’t come easy.”

“Lilith.” I blink at him and lick my lips. “Your contract is held by… Lilith?”

“Yeah. This chick I know went down the same way as me said that, uh, Lilith holds all the contracts.”

“But that would mean she runs the crossroads.” Crowley runs the crossroads.

“I guess so.”

A pit hits my stomach. Of course Crowley’s been lying to me. He’s a fucking demon. Why does it hurt? I force a smile to hide the betrayal I’m feeling. “So… what can I do for you, Dean? Last hurrah, how do you want it?”

I get a flash of a candlelit motel room, soft rhythm and blues playing in the background as he takes his time with me, savoring every inch of my body. There's champagne on the side table for just a second before his mind changes it to a bottle of cheap fruity white zinfandel. Even in his fantasy, he can't go that Nicholas Sparks.

“I'm a simple man with simple tastes. I'm thinkin’ motel room, shades drawn, classic rock on the radio, bottle of whiskey, only leaving the bed for food and water for a few days.” It’s kinda sad that he won’t let himself be soft.

“Well, then we better get some food in us… and some to take with us,” I say with a smile.

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

“No more. I can’t…. Need a break,” I breathe out. We've been going for hours, at this point. I've cum three times to his once, but it's just overstimulation by now.

He climbs up my body and smirks down at me. “See, this is what happens when you stop doin’ your yoga. You lose your stamina.”

I don't argue that my stamina is fine, that I'm overworked from the way Crowley took me last night, that if I can keep up with a demon then I can definitely keep up with him… I simply pull his head down and lick into his mouth.

“Ah, I should probably call Sammy, anyway, let him know the Hounds haven't gotten me yet.” Twelve missed calls, at least. He's gotta be losing his mind. “I’m, uh… not gonna tell him who I’m with. Just… I mean, I don’t wanna…”

“I get it. I’ll be quiet. Actually, I’ll take this as an opportunity to hit the bathroom.” I kiss him again and roll off the bed. Dean slaps my ass as I walk away.

“Hey, Sam.”

Through the filter of Dean's mind, I hear Sam's words. “Where the hell are you, Dean? I take a fucking nap and wake up to a note and you don't answer the fucking phone for four hours?”

“Man, I told you. I just needed to have a little fun! It's not even the final countdown. I wanted to have a night without you giving me sad puppy eyes, okay? I think I have earned that.”

“Dean, we have two weeks to figure out how to find Lilith and get her to drop your contract.”

“She's not gonna do that, Sam! We have absolutely no way to find her, let alone force her to give up my freaking soul. Let me have this one thing and then I'll come back and we can go back on soul patrol, all right?”

There was a long moment of silence, then a sigh. “Yeah, okay. Don’t be gone too long, man. I’m gonna call Bobby, see if he’s got anything.”

“Yeah, all right. I’ll call ya when I get out of here.” I walk back out of the bathroom and jump on the bed, wrapping my arms around Dean. He looks into my eyes and smiles. For a moment, there’s no fear in him. It doesn’t last, of course. The man’s going to Hell, and he’s terrified, but for a moment he’s lost in my eyes and it’s amazing.

His hand buries in my hair and he pulls me into a kiss. His tongue doesn't taste like whiskey anymore, just his unique Dean flavor. He's not drunk. He's just vulnerable. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine. “When I go, I need you to take care of Sam. You and Bobby, he's gonna need you or he's gonna lose it.”

“I-”

“Lilith is gonna be after him. She's probably after you, too, since you were on Azazel's short list, too. I just need you to watch his back. If you gotta do that from his bed, more power to the power couple.”

I scoff and pull away, bringing my knees up to my chest. “Did you call me here for this? To fuck me, then chase me off to be with Sam?”

Confusion fills him as he debates whether or not that’s what he’s trying to do. “That’s not what I meant. Sometimes, I wish you still had your powers, ‘cause you could hear what I-”

I shake my head. “I don’t think you know what you meant, Winchester.” He agrees. He doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t want me with Sam, wants me to have something real, but he doesn’t want either of us to be alone once he goes to Hell. “Maybe I should leave.”

“No, don’t go. I’m sorry. Don’t leave.” He sighs. His eyebrows come together as he pushes his hand into my hair. “Whatever happened with your salesman?”

“I told you it wasn’t anything real, Dean.”

He licks his lips. “Sorry. You should definitely have something real.”

“Like I could have with Sam?” I guess. He nods. I shake my head. “No. Much as I enjoy your brother...Things with my salesman are more real than what I have with Sam. At least he doesn’t think I belong with him because the Yellow-eyed Demon said so.” I scoff. “Azazel would probably hate my salesman.” I don’t know why I like calling him ‘my salesman’ so much, but it feels right. He definitely sold me on a bunch of things I never would’ve considered a year ago.

“Look, promise me that you will, at least, keep tabs on Sam. Try to keep him from going too far off the rails?” Please. If Sam gets himself killed then this was all fucking pointless. “I just… the whole point of this is to keep Sam alive.”

Dean Winchester tends to say what's on his mind when it comes to me and I like that. I like that he doesn't know that I'm still in his head so he doesn't try to keep shit inside. Dean is one of the most uniquely honest liars I've ever met. He lies to himself a lot, but he tries not to lie to me.

I nod. “Yeah, okay. I'll try.”

“Thank you.” He pulls me into another kiss and I melt into it, letting him lay me down and cover my body with his own. I let him take comfort in me one last time.

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

I take a hunt in California, then I head home. By the time I make it back to Keystone, it’s the morning of May 4. Crowley’s waiting for me, leaning against my porch with his hands in his pockets. My nonchalant demon salesman. I get out of my car and lean against the hood, ignoring the heat from the engine. “He make it downstairs?”

“‘Bout thirty hours ago… been months already for ‘im.”

“I forgot. Time’s wonky down there, isn’t it?”

“Hell’s designed to fuck with your head… and body, and soul. I wasn’t there for more than a year before I was a demon, pet. That’s quite a lot longer down there, but…” He shrugs and starts toward me. “Have you broken that trap, yet?”

I shake my head. “I like having a place where you won’t go.” He grabs my hips and pulls me away from my car. This is where he snaps my jeans off and fucks me… usually. I slap his hands away. “We need to talk about Lilith.”

Crowley rolls his eyes at me. “Are you sure you want to talk about Lilith? It’s been weeks since you’ve seen me. I thought you might need a top-up.”

“I’ve been rationing. I’ve still got a fourth of a bottle left,” I say, smugly. “Lilith. Spill.”

“What? What do you want to know?”

“Lilith holds all crossroad contracts. I thought you were King of the Crossroads.”

“I am… but everyone has a boss.”

“And Lilith’s your boss.”

“Yes, and no. Tol’ you she took over after Azazel went. She sits on the throne, so it’s her name on the scrolls. That’s it. I’m in charge of the Crossroads,” he insists.

I lick my lips, search his eyes, finally sigh. Even if he’s lying, I can’t tell. Even if he’s lying, what could I do about it? I need his blood. That quarter of a vial of blood isn’t gonna last very long. He can see my resistance fade. I can see it in his smile as he steps closer and grabs my hips. I’ve gotten used to the sulfur taste in his mouth, I like to chase it around with my tongue.

He pushes me back against my hood. It’s still burning hot, but all I can focus on is his hands pushing my shirt up over my breasts, his hard cock rutting against my thigh. He quickly pulls my bra down and starts licking and biting my nipple. I lean back to give him better access, using my powers to pop the button of his suit pants and pull the zipper down. He pulls back, pops the button on my jeans and pulls them and my underwear down my legs.

I turn quickly and set my hands on the hot metal hood. Crowley slips a hand down my ass and slips two fingers inside of me. “Oh, fuck.”

“Are you always this wet? Because every time I touch you, you are.”

I drop my head to the backs of my hands and moan in response as he fucks those fingers in and out of me. He pulls them away and immediately replaces them with the head of his cock. That beautiful, huge fucking cock. Honestly, if I didn’t know that the man he wears used to be a literary agent, I’d swear he must’ve been a porn star because that cock… That cock is amazing. “Foot on the bumper,” he instructs and I obey. Dear God, I don’t even consider not doing what he says.

He slides in, one hand on my hip, the other grabbing my shoulder to hold me in place. It’s moments like this, when he’s fucking me over the hood of my car and my moans are echoing through the trees surrounding my house, that I consider breaking the Devil’s Trap under my house. I want him to take me in my bed, where I’m comfortable, but I can’t let him.

I have to have that space. That space untainted by demons and blood. Hell, I don’t even drink his blood in the house. I leave it in the car. That house, it’s got memories of Sam, of Dean and John. It’s got memories of the years I was normal. I can’t let Crowley corrupt that when he’s already corrupted me.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I moan as he picks up his speed.

“Louder!”

My pussy clenches hard at his demand, and I start moaning louder. It’s fucking early in the day to be screaming, but it’s not like I have neighbors to worry about. “Please, Crowley! Please, fuck, please! Please, harder. God, I need it.” His grip on me tightens and he hammers into me harder, his cock hitting my cervix over and over. I scream, slapping the hood and shuddering as my muscles tighten and flutter around him. He fucks me through it, pulsing as he hits his own orgasm and fills me up.

He pulls away from me and snaps his fingers and we’re both dressed. I turn to him and lick my lips. “So, uh… I still have some left, but-”

“Of course, darling.” He produces another small glass bottle full of his blood and presents it to me. I take it and immediately shove it in my pocket. “Til next time.”

“Yeah.” I nod and head toward my place. He’s gone by the time I get to the door.

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

I hear the engine rumbling down the dirt road to my house at a little before 5pm. That loud 502 big block is unmistakable. It used to be that sound would denote Dean’s arrival, but I know it’s Sam behind the wheel tonight. I open the front door as Sam slams the driver’s door and stumbles toward the porch. He’s drunk, I can smell the whiskey. I rush to his side, trying to help him stay upright. I can’t believe he was driving like this.

“Sam!”

“He’s dead. Dean’s dead. I couldn’t save him.”

“So, that's reason to drink yourself to death?” I snap, trying to wrap him around me and get him into my place. He stumbles on the stairs, dropping away from me, his large body hurtling toward the wood of the porch, face-first. I put my hands out on instinct to stop him, but not with my muscles because I know I can lift that two-forty body without help. I use my powers without a thought and he’s left floating two inches over the porch.

He slowly sets his palms against the wood, drops his knees and turns his head to look at me. His eyes are wide and I can see that adrenaline has burned some of the liquor out of his blood. For the moment, he’s lucid, and he knows. I drop him and he turns his whole body, sits on the steps and looks up at me. “You still have your powers?”

I shake my head. “I got them back,” I whisper.

“You got… you got them back? When? How?”

I swallow and lick my lips. “Uh… the day I disappeared in Lincoln.”

“This whole year? You… why didn’t you say anything?”

I take a deep breath. “Because I’ve been… This is really a conversation for us to have when you’re sober.”

“I’m sober enough,” he growls, standing and using his height to try to intimidate me. “Fuckin’ tell me. Tell me how you got the powers back.”

I look up into his eyes and steel myself. “How’d we get ‘em the first time?” He blinks a few times, then his eyebrows pull down tightly. I reach into my pocket and pull out the little glass bottle.

He snatches the bottle from my hand and raises it to his eyes. “Is this-?”

“Yeah. It’s… it isn’t Azazel’s so it doesn’t work quite the way it should… I have to keep drinking it or the powers fade. I’ve been trying to cut back. I… I don’t like relying on… him. I mean, it, the demon.”

“You… you’ve been drinking demon blood?”

I grab the bottle back and shove it into my pocket. “Yes.”

“For a year? Who’s been giving it to you?”

“Just this crossroads demon I know. He… wants to help.”

“Yeah. Ruby says that, too. But she couldn't help me save Dean.”

“Dean was going down, Sam. There was no stopping it. We all tried.”

“Did you? Because while me and Bobby were trying to keep him from being taken, you weren’t around much!”

I turn a glare on him. “Yeah, what did you expect me to do, Sam? Stick around and be the rope in your little game of Tug-of-War? I heard your thoughts in Lincoln, Sam, and in Elizabethville. You think I’m yours, but Dean’s the one that actually wanted me for something more than my body. He wanted me to have something real. I heard his thoughts, too.” I roll my eyes. “I tried. If I could have kept him from going to Hell, I would have.”

“You think I only want you for your-”

“I’ve heard your thoughts, Sam!” I exclaim. “It’s all ‘Mine’ this and ‘Don’t touch her’ that. You haven’t had those complimentary thoughts since before that night in Lincoln. It’s all possessiveness and-”

“You’re supposed to be mine.”

“Just because Azazel wanted me to be your queen and right-hand woman doesn’t mean-”

“Yes, it does!” His hand shoots out and grabs my hair, pulling me closer. He’s breathing hard, his breath smells like whiskey, and his mind has that swimmy feeling of drunkness coming back, and maybe I’m getting a contact high from his mind, because the way he’s looking at me makes me feel swimmy, too. “You are mine. Not Dean’s. Not your traveling salesman and not that fucking demon’s. Understand?”

I open my mouth to respond but he crashes our faces together, biting my lips and licking into my mouth. His free hand grabs at my waist, pulls my shirt up. I whine and pull away. “Not out here, Sam. Inside,” I whisper. I entwine my fingers with his and pull him toward the front door. He stumbles but he doesn’t fall this time. I push him to sit on the couch and he pulls me to straddle his lap.

Mine. There’s no yielding in the thought. No question. He’s resolute.

I nod. Yours. I push the word into his head. It’s been a while since I’ve done it and I don’t know if it works, but he seems to get it.

He grabs my head with both of his large hands and pulls me into another harsh kiss. He moves to bite my neck and shoulder and the pain zings through my body, settling into a throbbing between my legs. Tell me about the blood. Tell me what you can do.

I moan as he keeps attacking my skin with his mouth and teeth. “It started w-with the te-telepathy and… fuck, Sam.” He growls into my neck and I whimper. “Um, the-the telekinesis came back quick, too. And then… then the demon started to show me h-how to perform exorcisms with my mind.” He pulls back and looks into my eyes, questioning. “Yeah. It’s… kinda like what Ava was doing with the Acheri in Cold Oak. It’s like controlling them. I can force them out of their vessels and direct them back down to Hell.”

“And the vessel?”

“As long as the demon hasn’t ridden ‘em too hard, they live.”

“So, this crossroads demon has been helping you save people?”

I nod. “He’s… he’s a demon, so he doesn’t do it for free,” I whisper, avoiding his eyes.

Sam’s jaw tightens. Knew you were fucking him. “Not anymore. If it’s really worth it-” he starts, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look at him. “-we’ll find another demon to get the blood from.”

“We?”

He slips his hand in my pocket and pulls out the bottle. “Show me,” he says twisting the top off and offering the bottle to me.

I swallow, nervously, and take it from his hand. “I started with one drop.” I dab a drop on my finger and show it to him. “That’s all it took at the beginning. I need a lot more now, but… that first drop, I could hear everything again.” I lick my lips as his eyes focus on my bloodied finger.

“How fast does it work?”

“Few minutes… but the powers, they take work. Just like when Azazel was still around, it takes effort. It takes time,” I answer.

“Do you think we could use this, the powers, to get Lilith?” His mind flashes to Lilith, in Ruby’s vessel, letting in the hound that tore Dean to pieces.

“Yeah. The demon said that eventually they’ll be strong enough to kill demons, but the amount of blood I’d need to drink to get there would be-” He cuts me off by licking my finger into his mouth. He sucks hard on my finger before pulling it from his mouth and grabbing my hips.

I set the bottle on the coffee table and turn back to Sam. It doesn’t take long for his pupils to shrink and his breathing to go hard. I remember this feeling, this very first high. Everything is enhanced, everything is lovely and scary. His fingers tighten around my hips. “This… is…” he starts.

I nod. I know, Sammy.

“We’re gonna need more,” he growls.

“Yeah.” The word is just a breath as he starts to pull at my clothing.

“You’re gonna help me avenge Dean.” He pulls my shirt over my head and drops it to the ground next to the couch. It takes just a few minutes for him to have me folded in half on his lap, my feet on his shoulders and his cock buried in me, thumb rubbing my clit. “You’re gonna teach me how to use those powers… and we’re going to kill Lilith.”

“Yes. Yes.” I’m shaking. He’s barely moving inside of me, just rocking me on his lap, but it feels so good just to be so fucking full of Sam. “We’re gonna kill Lilith.”

“Good girl, y/n.”

He starts bouncing me on his cock and I feel so fucking small with how he’s manhalding me and my eyes roll back in my head. I start rambling out ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ and ‘oh, god’, but Sam doesn’t say a word. His mind is full of those possessive thoughts. He’s thinking about killing Lilith, yes, but he’s thinking about how I take him so perfectly, how I’m made for him, how we were supposed to be together. He thinks about how he wishes he had met me without Dean and John, how he wishes he didn’t have the memories of watching them fuck me, but eventually comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter. John and Dean are dead. I’m his.

I’m yours. I think at him through my moans.

“No more demon dick,” he growls and I nod. “Mine.” He twists and lays me down on the couch, hammering into me like he's gonna win a prize. He cums quickly, the enhanced sensation from the demon blood high overwhelming him. He pulls out and kisses me before looking in my eyes. “When can we start?”

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