#lies on the floor. god almighty this is how it is

[pascaloverx]

DEVIL (+18)

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. So, dear readers, I must say I didn’t expect to write more than one chapter for this fanfic. But here we are now at the third chapter. I’d love to know if you’d like more chapters or if you’re satisfied so far. Depending on how this chapter performs, I’ll bring you more sinful priest content. I’ve also been considering the possibility of writing another fanfic featuring Dr. Charlie Mayhew (those who follow Grotesquerie may already know him). If you’re interested, feel free to comment. Thank you to everyone who reads my fic. See you soon!

Content Warning: This chapter contains adult language as well as adult content.

TWO FOUR

THREE

"Free yourself from Father Mayhew, demon. There is nothing more pathetic than being emotionally involved with a mere sinful mortal. Kill him, soon." The message arrives in a self-destructing letter, signed by the dark master, as if it were meant to intimidate you. You let out a laugh, dismissing the threat with a wave of your hand. You’ll part with your priest when you choose, not even Satan himself will sway your decision. The warm water envelops you, fragrant bubbles rising around you as you sip your wine, savoring the luxurious moment. It’s a reminder of your power, of the pleasures you can indulge in. As the warmth seeps into your bones, you can’t help but think of Father Mayhew, his struggles, and the delicious chaos you’ve woven into his life. This game has only just begun.

Until his voice fills the space, your priest is calling out for you. “Forgive me, Father, but I wish to continue sinning. I miss the demonic essence of the sinful creature that invades my mind every morning and night. I will not deceive you; I want that demon for myself, just as I fear that I no longer belong to my Blessed God, but rather to her. She has infected me, like a disease. She inhabits my skin, as if she seeks to dominate me. If it is your will, quench the thirst I have for her lips. Erase the memory of her skin against mine, but I implore you, Almighty God, bring her back to me.” You’ve avoided him for days since your last encounter, as it should be. Otherwise, it would seem like you are taking his side, sparing him from the consequences of his desires. The game continues, and you revel in the anticipation of his next move. Each prayer, each desperate plea only deepens your resolve, drawing you back into his world. The tension between sin and devotion creates a thrilling dynamic that you can’t ignore.

Suddenly, the taste of alcohol in your wine no longer intoxicates you. You crave the taste of him on your lips. He is not the only one feeling sick; you sense that he is infecting you as well. Resisting temptation is becoming nearly impossible. You step out of the bath, hair still damp, contemplating your next move. A red dress lies on your bed, paired with matching heels on the floor of your room. It is time to go and make a confession.

You slip into the dress, feeling the fabric hug your form perfectly, and the heels elevate your presence, transforming you into a vision of temptation. The mirror reflects a figure that embodies both allure and danger, a demon ready to weave her spell once more. You arrive at the church abruptly, using your powers to teleport to the entrance of the sacred space. The familiar scent of incense and polished wood surrounds you as you step inside, the heavy doors closing silently behind you.

The priest Mayhew stands before the altar, clad in leather pants that leave his butt exposed, as if he has emerged from the depths of the most sinful fantasy. He wears a sheer lace nightgown that accentuates his form, embodying an alluring mix of innocence and decadence. As he extinguishes the flickering candles, there is an air of temptation surrounding him, making the scene both captivating and provocative.

He hears the thunderous sound of the doors closing behind you, turning to look at you as if he’s about to melt under your gaze. A sly smile plays on your lips as you approach him slowly, without uttering a word. With each step you take toward him, he seems to lose his breath, anticipation palpable in the air. "Are you really here?" he whispers as you come to stand before him, his hand gripping the candle snuffer tightly.

You gaze at him from head to toe, using your powers to reignite all the candles once more. "The way you’re speaking, it sounds like you've been hallucinating about me, Father Mayhew," you say, bringing your face closer to his to murmur, "I prefer the flames lit, if you don't mind." Then, you gently take the candle snuffer from his trembling hands.

"I feared you’d never return, that I'd lost the chance to…" Father Mayhew begins, though he trails off, seeming entranced by your scent as he closes his eyes, breathing you in deeply. You toss the candle snuffer into a distant corner of the church, feeling the candlelight’s warmth casting a glow over your skin. "So much fear that you resorted to prayer to bring me closer?" you say, your words nearly brushing his lips. His eyes open, meeting yours, as if filled with something unsaid, struggling to form the words he dares not speak.

"I didn’t know who else to turn to, to have you near again. And talking to God is… well, what I do best, so I thought it was worth a try," Father Mayhew says, a trace of a seductive smile on his lips, unable to hide his excitement.

"Are you aware that your request was never heard by your God, but rather by a far lower realm? That's why I'm here." Your gaze remains serious as he processes this revelation, realization dawning in his eyes. His expression, rich with guilt and desire, compels you to place your hands on his face, your thumbs tracing the edges of his lips, soft against his skin. His eyes drift shut as he leans into your touch, surrendering to the moment.

"I feel as though, to see you again, I’d set this place ablaze until nothing but ashes remained, demon. I wasn’t joking when I said you were infecting me," Father Mayhew’s voice is low, gravelly, as though he desperately wants you to understand his sincerity. When he opens his eyes, it’s as if he’s allowing you to glimpse the turmoil inside him, a fragile resolve on the brink of surrender. You lean towards him, licking between his lips.

"Let me be your faith, your cure; I promise, Father, I’ll show you how serving a darker purpose can be… fulfilling," you murmur, brushing a brief, enticing kiss over his lips. His eyelids flutter weakly, as if each blink is his attempt to convince himself this is real. Suddenly, you feel his strong arm around your waist, drawing you close until you're pressed against him, his breath warm and heavy against your neck. The sweet scent of him fills your senses, leaving no doubt of his surrender as he pulls you into this forbidden embrace.

"Take me as yours, sinner. Possess me, demon. I've wanted to know what it is to belong to you since the moment you set foot in my church," Father Mayhew breathes, closing the distance between you with no hesitation. His lips find yours in a fervent kiss, his tongue tracing over yours as if to claim you entirely, the intensity of his need nearly overwhelming. It’s as if, in this moment, he truly believes you both could merge into one, the heat of it igniting between you in an almost unbearable way. You're almost impatient, you need to feel him. It seems for a moment that he understands this, as he He lifts you up with his arms, you leaning on his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips still against yours as he carries you to one of the church benches. He sits down, positioning you on his lap. His hands make their way inside your dress, and yes, he holds your ass firmly.

"Father, I have sinned. I believe there is a suitable punishment for me so that I may be forgiven." You speak in a sly way as if to provoke him, seeing Father Mayhew's eyes darker, with a slight air of perversion. He grabs your ass tightly, moaning close to your ear as your pussy rubs lightly under his cock. You pull his hand towards you, removing it from your ass, and licking two of his fingers. You taste Father Mayhew's fingers while keeping your gaze fixed on him. You then guide his fingers inside your pussy. As soon as his cold fingers enter you, you let out a moan, still holding his hand to go deeper into your pussy.

"Tell me what punishment you think is appropriate for a nefarious sinner like you. Show repentance and you will be forgiven,"Father Mayhew is sticking his fingers deep inside you, who were slowly losing your sanity. Sometimes you rolled over Father Mayhew's fingers hoping to feel him even deeper inside you. The speed at which his fingers were fucking you was supernatural, you could feel how hard Father Mayhew's cock was getting just from you bouncing under his fingers. His available hand was helping you with the movements, helping you arch your body more while holding your waist. Your hands at that moment were wrapped around his shoulders, almost grabbing his neck. At some point when his fingers entered faster, you almost let out a groan, pulling Father Mayhew's hair back, leaving his neck arched in front of you. You reached down to the exposed area of his neck and took hold of it, biting down hard as Father Mayhew continued to finger fuck you. He let out a low moan that sounded like he was enjoying the feeling of your teeth digging into his skin.

In an erotic way, he murmurs "You can taste my blood and satisfy all my desires, demon." It's like he's giving himself more and more to you, which makes you even more horny for him. Bobbing up and down on his fingers with an animalistic ferocity, you feel Father Mayhew's skin cut into your mouth as you sink your teeth into his neck. The sweet taste of his blood fills your mouth, at times like these, you wish you were a vampire and drank all the warm blood of your sweet Father Mayhew.

"Father Mayhew, if I could explain to you what it feels like to take you in this way, rest assured, all the demons would be lining up to taste it." You say pushing yourself even harder against Father Mayhew's fingers until he begins to gently massage your clit while fingering you. You find yourself moaning out countless curse words as you hold onto Father Mayhew until you cum all over his fingers. Your satisfaction is so great that you immediately capture his lips with yours in a breathtaking kiss. For a moment it seems like you're battling to see who can leave the other breathless. His tongue exploring every part of your mouth while his fingers are still buried in your pussy. The taste of his blood that was in your mouth becoming predominant, making the kiss even wilder. As soon as his lips leave yours, you feel a desperation for more. He removes his fingers from inside you and, keeping his gaze fixed on you, licks his fingers covered in your cum.

"You may be a demonic creature but you taste heavenly, demon." He murmurs close to your ear as he finishes tasting you. You hold his face in your hands and then give him a kiss, more calmly. You pull yourself out of his lap between kisses, heading towards the lit candles. Father Mayhew quickly removes his garment, throwing his clothes on the church floor. You slowly walk towards him with the candle in your hands, feeling the heat of it warming your hand. He is naked, with an erect cock.

"You know, Father Mayhew, one of the best parts about being involved with a demon is the countless ways you can explore new experiences," you whisper, settling into your Father Mayhew's lap. Since you came to church without panties, as soon as you sit on him, his cock enters your wet pussy, almost sliding inside it. You both moan from the delicious sensation of feeling each other.

"Let's see if you like this one..." You say, giving him a long kiss, feeling him completely surrendered to you. Holding the lit candle under his neck, as the candle melts, burning Father Mayhew's skin, you hear him let out a pained grunt. He lifts his face towards you, holding tightly onto your waist as he feels the pain. You're enjoying yourself, but as soon as the candle melts once more, you run your tongue over the parts of his body that the candle hurt. He shivers at the sensation of your tongue moving from his neck to his chest but seems relieved when the pain subsides.

"You will be the death of me, demon." Father Mayhew speaks and then kisses you aggressively, as if he is thirsty for your lips. He bites your lip as he kisses you, as if he wants to return the pain you caused him in such an erotic way. You then grind under his cock, making him throw his head back with the pleasure of feeling his cock entering your pussy even further. It's delicious to see him lost in lust, so you start to move up and down on his cock. He holds his arms around your waist as if he is holding you to him while you ride his cock almost madly. His moans make you almost overflow with pleasure as you ride his cock like you're riding a horse. Father Mayhew at one point removes his hands from your waist and tears your dress with his hands, right at the neckline. Your breasts are on display, which seems to be his goal. He puts his hands around your breasts, pinching the tips of your nipples. You let out a drawn-out moan as you feel his cock filling you and the delicious sensation of his hands stimulating your breasts. His lips begin to bite one of your breasts, sometimes biting the nipple, sometimes sucking. The feeling of his tongue on your skin is devilishly delicious, his soft lips delighting in your breasts, while he starts licking the other breast while stimulating the other with his fingers. The rhythm of your bouncing on his cock increases as you feel yourself coming again and you want to give Father Mayhew the same feeling. Your pussy is taking Father Mayhew's cock so well that it doesn't take long before you both cum, moaning loudly as his cum finally fills you. For a second you both stare at each other, breathless and surrendered to each other. He smirks as he stands up from the church pew, his cock still inside you, carrying you with him.

"Blow out the candles, demon," he whispers close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Using your powers, you blow out the candles, only for Father Mayhew to throw the candles along with other religious items that were under a table onto the floor.

"What are you doing, Father Mayhew?" you ask, genuinely wondering what he wants. He rests your ass on the table, using it as support to then put his cock in you, with more precision. He slowly thrusts his cock into your pussy while holding your legs so you don't fall. His nails scratching all the way from your feet to your thighs. You grip his hair tightly, pulling it back as Father Mayhew begins to pick up speed in his thrusts.

"I'm giving you reasons not to take so long to come back, memorable memories to keep you tied to me." He says, looking at you, while he thrusts his cock into your pussy without mercy. You then hold Father Mayhew's ass as you feel your orgasm come, feeling him fuck you so good. Father Mayhew's cock enters you deep in one swift motion and you cum, squeezing his ass hard. Your legs are already weak even though you are not human, your body behaves like a human body. Still, you wrap your legs around Father Mayhew's waist as if urging him to finish what he started. He captures your lips with his as he thrusts his cock into you two more times before cumming while still kissing you. Then he rests his head on your shoulder, clearly exhausted. And for a moment it's like you're between heaven and hell. He desecrating the sacred environment and breaking celibacy, you ignoring hell's orders to capture his soul.

[tmwcs]

reina, if u aren't busy can u do how heethan and y/n spend their new year🤩🤩

😏

Of course babe. ♥️

“Agora Hills”

Warnings: you already know. 😈 don’t read unless you’re comfortable with. Non-con, dub-con, implied rough smut, oral (fem receiving) etc. heethan is a menace in this one…he kinda gets excited…too excited.

“Babe, what do you want to do for New Years?”

You ask with an inquisitive look displayed on your delicate face as you raise your brows in earnest, yearning to hear Heeseung’s response. “H/n and the other girls mentioned this event and they’re all going with their boyfriends, I was wondering if you-“

“Babydoll…” he pauses after tossing the small towel he used to dry off his wet hair. A larger one is wrapped around his slim waist, the dry fabric is a stark contrast to his glistening wet skin. Like pearls, it shimmered under the glaring light above head, planted at the center of the ceiling. “I was hoping you’d be down to spend the evening with me—alone.”

Your eyes flicker downward. “I do, but can we just go and make an appearance? It’s just that—“

He cuts you off once more. “Are you getting bored, pretty girl?”

You shook your head vigorously, urgently relating that was not the case. God forbid if he ever thought you were bored with him, even if it were true, you would have to hold that piece in within yourself and avoiding the risk of receiving a punishment. “No, not bored.”

“Then what?” His deep voice quakes your legs. Quick on your feet, you quickly answer with the ball-bearing response that creases a permanent smile on his handsome face. You pleased him, so greatly.

“I just like to show you off…my man.”

‘Her man…she just used those words. Oh fuck almighty this girl…’

“You want to show me off…pretty girl?” He raises a brow, eyes wide with amusement, seemingly pleased by your affirmation. “Oh baby….”

You made him the happiest. Because of that, your wish is granted, and he took you out to said event.

‘I too, wanna show you off.’

He helped you pick out an outfit for the occasion, a white satin mini dress with a subtle flare on the hem. Skinny straps that delicately rest on the skin of your shoulders, and your hair remains down—it was the way he liked it. He loved the carefree and natural style of your beauty; little makeup and red glossy lips.

After mingling with the crowd, everyone joined inside the living room. You walked behind them but a sudden pull of your arm halts you. You turn around and see Heeseung’s dark eyes staring down at you. They looked so demeaning, you could feel the manipulation and corruption oozing from the glistening glare as he bites down in his bottom lip. He says nothing, but shifts a quick tilt to the side, hinting for you to migrate to the lone closet in the separate room. You didn’t even get to respond. The moment you tried to beg him and let you stay to participate in the countdown, he had already been snagging you, nearly flinging you across the kitchen floor. “Get over here.” He grits out through a clenched smile, eyes exuding malice and pure evil.

Dragging you away behind turned heads, nobody witnessed the explicit end to your night. “Please, Heeseung wait—“

He opens the door and tosses you in, almost as if you were a ragdoll. You find yourself in pitch black; the closet is a finite area. The light remains off as you feel his strong hands snag you by the waist. Shoving your back against the small built in cabinet that lies narrowly in a nook corner, he levitates your thighs harshly as he raises them up against the sides of his hips. “I’d love…nothing more than to show you off—“

He kisses you, violently mashing his lips against yours. “But you’re all mine. Part of me wants to show the entire world how viciously I can fuck you. But the other side of me just wants to keep the visual model of perfection that you are…all for myself.”

His hand snaps forward with viper speed as he grabs hold on your neck, giving him perfect leverage to push you down flat against the table surface of the shelf. Sighing out an ‘aww’ sound against your ear. “Oh baby…I love it when you smile…” he kisses your neck. “I love it when you frown.” He kisses your breasts as he pulls the straps of your dress down, revealing them. “I love it when you scream my name.” Another kiss finds its way on your inner thigh. Scooting your panties to the side, he dives his nose in, and exaggerating a sniff as he drags it against your clit, from top to bottom.

“But the best of all baby…” he flickers his tongue against the soft and swollen slack of skin in between the overly plush lips that cradle it. Soft kisses accompany the beating of his rhythmic tune as he swirls and twirls the tip in circles, increasing stimulation as the tightness of pressure formulates in your pelvis. “I love it when you cry…”

You gasp at the sudden force of his face jamming in between your legs. Your instinctive reaction was to close your thighs against his head, but his hands remained steady against them, pushing you apart as he continues to devour you of your senses. Pulsating, throbbing, and stinging with a pleasure so intense, it becomes painful. He gives it all to you as he wildly moves his tongue in and out of your most sensitive spot. He didn’t bother using his fingers, no. Enjoying the increase in moisture that was secreting out of you, he slurps up every drop, knowing that it was only going to add on to the state of pleasure you were riding on.

Your hips buck up as you wave them up and down, rolling onto your shoulder blades as you arch your back. Your chest protrudes towards, reaching high for the sky as you gasp out your pleading moans. Hips shaking, chest heaving, stomach churning, and legs quivering, you beg.

“Please! Heeseung please—n-not so much…I-it hurts! I can’t take it!”

The overstimulation pulls you into a state of sting pulses. They were piercing, making you squirm as he kept up with his vigor. “Mmmm” he mumbles with a mouthful of your sensitive skin.

He pulls away and licks his lips, replicating the expressive act of feasting on a meal. His lips taunting you through the display of the sweet scented shine, telling you of how much he savored the taste of you.

“Yummy.”

You shiver upon hearing him, while also watching g him unbuckle his belt in front of you, stationed between your legs as he glares his offensive look from above. “P-please…Heeseung…I-i can’t…”

You barely breathe out your words as you felt the life sucked out of you by the beast before you. “Shut up y/n. Don’t speak unless you plan on screaming out my name, deal?”

He swiped the tip of his phallic muscle up against your overstimulated clit, causing you to yelp out in pain and pleasure. He inserts himself in, but not in the traditional manner he normally displays. He was rough, demeaning, and entirely too offensive as he punched the tip in, dragging it further as he burrows deep into the depths of your cushioned gut. What in the world have you brought out of him? Did your earlier statement cause him to lose himself in the bliss happiness of your desire to show him off? Or did it excite him beyond the limits of satisfaction, causing him to yearn for you even more? So much that it hurts.

Deep into you, he buries his face into the soft spot of your neck, serenading you with soft kisses as you pinch out subtle tears from the mixture of pain and pleasure calling up in your gut. Your womanhood pulses with a beat that was much more steady than your heart. The blood rushes through your veins, heating your body temperature beyond comfort. His hands grip around your wrist as he continues to lavish your neck with his kisses. Your eyes winced shut as you overhear the crowd commit to the countdown of n the next room.

‘10…9…8…7…6…5…’

Snapping open, your eyes widen as he whispers the remaining numbers into your ear. “4…”

Oh no…

“3…”

Please God no…what is he going to do—

“2…”

when he reaches to…

“1…” he grins against your skin. “Happy New Year baby.”

Propping his palms flat by the sides of your head, he remains buried deep into you as he hovers his chest above your breasts, gently grazing against your nipples. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong but—I haven’t seen you cry since last year…think we’re overdue…don’t you?”

You shake your head. “N-no…heeseung please…not too hard…please?”

His thumb reaches up and swipes a teardrop away, gently smearing it across your cheek.

“Let’s see how many times you’ll scream out my name this year….both of them.”

Heeseung…and Ethan…

[lauriegraham01]

the purest expression of grief

pairing: crowley x reader, gn!reader

summary: "darlin' don't you stand there watching, won't you come and save me from it?" or having tempted you into a life a sin, crowley realizes he's gone too far and tries to save you before it's too late

wc: 4.9k

cw: drug abuse, depression, near death experience, power imbalance, complicated relationship dynamics.

a/n: uni has kept me away, terribly sorry. this has been in my drafts for a while, i hope u all enjoy and pls leave feedback. (inspo from hozier + paris paloma)

Your mind is foggy as you lose all control of your body. Ears ringing from the music that's playing too loudly, eyes hazy from the smoke that crowds the dancefloor, and head shaky as the world around you moves in a blur. Has it been merely hours or days since you first started dancing, you couldn't tell. Your mind wouldn't let you think that far back. You stand amidst the crowd occupying the dance floor, losing yourself to the music of the night, and letting yourself only feel the pure bliss that the life of sweet sin seemingly always offered you. Just across the dance floor, with an arm perched on the bar stood Crowley. Dressed sleek in his signature all black look, they nursed a drink in their hand as they watched you from afar. Crowley had always been enamored by your shameless wonder, and even now after millenniums of having been at each others side, they still find you just as wonderous as he did back in the beginning.

Amongst the angels that served as guardians of the gates of Eden, lied you. An angel with strength and beauty that showed the power of the Almighty Herself. When the Garden was no more and the humans you swore to protect were outcast, Crawley, as you knew him before, was there to witness how you had fallen for God's newest creation.

"Here. Take these." With hushed whispers, you shield Eve from the prying eyes of the Garden, unaware of the serpent that remained coiled in the corner, as you reach into your robes to retrieve the several stems of hyssop that you had picked from the garden.

"But I-"

"You mustn't worry about what the Almighty says. Despite her anger, she still will watch over you as will I." Looking up at her, your heart contracts seeing the fear etched on Eve's face as she now prepares to face the world outside the sacred garden.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Eve's voice comes out small, like a child scolded.

"I know," you say softly, "but there is still a way to make things right."

Grabbing her hand, you softly place the stems of the hyssop into her open palm. Inspecting the purple buds that adorn the plant, her eyebrows furrow in curiosity as to what the plant’s purpose is.

"You will soon find out that each passing month, you will undergo painful cycles where you will shed blood. This will only last a couple of days, but the pain that comes with it can be unbearable. This..." you cup the bottom of her hand that held the plant, "will help ease the pain that you will feel. Plant it, multiply it, and when the time comes, make a tea and it shall work."

Eve softly closes her fist, careful not to crush the delicate buds within her grasp.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"Of course." You smile reassuringly and for the last time you see the glimmer of hope that lives in Eve, even if hidden behind her anxieties of what was to come.

You fly over the gates, in your own way saying goodbye to the fortress you have grown to love, wings slowly flapping steadily in place as you watch Adam and Eve venture out into the unknown.

"Well that was awfully kind of you-"

"My Lord!" Gasping loudly, your hand clutches your chest and your wings flare as you're caught off guard by the sudden presence at your side.

After a beat of catching your breath, you look over at the intruder and when you do, you have to do a double take. They look so familiar but...no...it can't be?

"Crawley?"

"I'm sorry do I know you?"

"Ye- oh, well I suppose not." Words dying off as you remember the rumours of Crowley's torment that followed after their fall from grace.

"I'm Y/N!" Your voice comes out more cheerfully this time, as you flash him a smile.

"Pleasure. Right, well like I mentioned, that was awfully kind what you did back there," turning his head to the side to look at you, he's met with your brows furrowed in confusion as to what he's going on about. "With the hyssop? I mean that was bloody brilliant and that's gonna save her a lot more heartache in the long run."

"Oh! Yes! Well I had to help, I can only imagine what she's bound to go through." You look back over to the lone two figures far in the distance within the desert, it'll be nightfall soon and you can only hope that they find shelter sometimes soon.

Crowley studies your profile as your gaze remains forward. You truly are a creature rarely seen and in those wholesome eyes that seem to have the light of the stars within them, he sees the darkness of the lonesomeness that lingered beneath.

"How did you come to grow so fond of them?"

"They had a choice and in the eyes of the Almighty they chose wrong," your face falls, a defeated sigh escaped your lips as you turn to fix your gaze unto Crowley. "Despite the punishments they face, they face them together. They have a companion and they're capable of so much love and so much more than what I believe any of us can imagine."

"You wish to live like them?"

"I'm afraid I can't. My duty is to the Almighty."

"I'm sure they would do good having someone on watch, hm? If you could protect them, then you can do good here at least enough to y'know make sure they don't ruin things all over again."

"Crowley?"

They hum in acknowledgement.

"How'd you know about my gift to Eve?"

Shit.

"I erm..I-I'm sorry, what?"

"Were you watching me?" You grin ear to ear as you tease the demon, face warming at the thought of Crowley having watched your every move from afar.

"I-Well-Ah-What, no. Oh s-please, that's rubbish."

"Crowley, you really are the devil." You laugh as you nudge their side playfully with your elbow.

When they try to do the same, a flap of your wings allows you to just barely miss their aim, and your laugh only grows at the sight of their widened expression.

"Ohhh Angel, you're in for it now." His seemingly threatening words fall short of any true malice, only mischief as they invite you in- making you fall deeper within his trap the longer you looked at the wicked grin on his face. Heart soaring as the two of you flew over the desert sky together, the beginning of something new.

You couldn't have envisioned the life that you would lead forward from that fateful day. Perhaps it had been also been your destiny to fall for temptation back in the Garden, your innocence having died screaming since Crowley slithered from Eden. Lifetimes have passed since then and you've seen everything that humanity had to offer. Yet despite having seen it all, you still fell victim to your own loneliness. Hiding your relationship with Crowley from Heaven's back came with a heavy tax. There would be periods when the shame and guilt you carried would become too much and the light in your eyes would fade. Whenever you felt this way, you would often turn to your vices in order to numb the pain. Crowley knew of this, in fact it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to indulge in illicit substances together, your hunger for more only growing the more you indulged. While they always tempted you to indulge in the sweetness of sin, they wondered if this time they've gone too far.

He's had quite a few already but that doesn't make him slow down. Raising the glass to his lips, his eyes remain fixed on you as even in the darkness, you still illuminated a heavenly glow.

"Some things never change", he thought to himself.

Yet even in your glow, they don’t miss the vacancy behind your eyes. The light that they had spent all of an eternity getting lost in had vanished and instead a storm of emotions were buried just beneath. It was only a matter of time before the storm would grow stronger and Crowley knew it as well as you did. You always were clever, and tried your damnedest to keep them hidden from everyone, especially Crowley, but it was no use. The demon had a tendency to see right through you and it was one of the things you loved most about them, but right now it was the very thing that annoyed you the most.

"Crowley," even telepathically they don't miss the tired and slurred hush of your voice as it echoes within his head, the various substances you've indulged in wiring your system. "Don't you stand there watching, won't you come and save me from it?"

You know that they've heard you, it wasn't uncommon for you and Crowley to communicate like this. So when they finally break their gaze and turn their shoulder to face the bartender again, your heart sinks thinking that they won't come to save you. You feel your face grow hot in embarrassment as you mentally scold yourself for being so vulnerable.

When Crowley turns around from closing his tab, you've vanished from the crowd and have already sought shelter in the bathroom. Clutching onto the sink for dear life, ragged breaths come out of your lips as you feel warm tears fall down your face. As you look at your reflection in the mirror, your torment only grows as your stomach twists in disgust by what you see.

"Oh Angel, how the mighty have fallen." You say self-deprecatingly as you harshly wipe at the tears in your eyes. Despite appearances, you weren't the angel you once were. Yet you knew that if Heaven saw you for what you were, you too would fall from grace.

With shaky hands you reach into your pocket and pull out a small golden vial- a gift from Crowley from the 20s. You unscrew the top as you gently tap the white powder onto the back of your hand. With a sniff, a rush courses through you as you feel the effects of the drug only enhance your already intoxicated state. As you tuck the vial away again and fix your appearance, you brace yourself for the world outside.

As you emerge your way back to the dance floor, your vision becomes hazy as the bright lights bounce around the crowd. In its wake, they illuminate one familiar face. They've never been the best dancer per se, but they always knew how to lose themselves in the moment.

As they come up from behind you, hands planting themselves on your hips as he presses your bodies together. Even as much as you feel yourself wanting to relinquish control to them a part of you holds back-desperately wanting nothing more than to be saved.

"Darlin', don't you join in you're supposed to drag me away from it."

"I'm here, love. I'm here." The breath of his whisper tickles the nape of your ear.

You knew you would be safe with Crowley, but the deep ache for salvation clouded your judgement. The infinite number of substances coursing through your veins only brought about infinite shame.

"Crowley," you sigh, "please."

You turn your head to look at him over the shoulder, and Crowley stills. The buzz and electricity of the nightclub die once he sees the loneliness shining through your pleading eyes, breaking his heart with every second.

"Right, come on then."

He takes your hand as he leads you away from the crowd and back into the streets of London. Despite having been on Earth for millenniums, one thing you never grew to get used to was how unbearably cold it can get. Crowley knows this, so he gives you his jacket and tucks you into his side as he rubs your arms comfortingly, hoping to warm you up.

"I'll get the car," they say facing you as you both stop on the edge of the sidewalk. They see your gaze fixated on the floor and know that your mind is elsewhere, probably worlds away from where they are.

"You gonna be alright?" Hooking a finger underneath your chin, they raise your head to finally look at them again.

"Yeah," your voice comes out shaky as you take a deep breath. "I'll be fine, Crowley." You try to give them a reassuring smile but it never quite reaches your eyes.

Crowley feels guilty for the way you feel, blaming themself for pushing you too far and not having listened to your signs earlier.

"Go." Your voice breaks them out of their thoughts. "Please, Crowley."

"Right. I'll be back yea?"

"Okay."

You watch him walk away further into the crowded streets, disappearing as he turns into the parking garage. Fumbling in your pockets you take out the pack of cigarettes that Crowley keeps in his jacket and you light one up. Thankfully the bentley doesn't come into view until you squash your cigarette bud underneath your boot.

When you get in there's no music playing, and it's like that the entire ride home. The only thing heard is the ambience of the passing city, the unbearable street traffic, and the heavy silence that lingers between the two of you. Every couple of minutes, Crowley's eyes shift over to you as you lean your head against the passenger window, eyes taking in the passing scenery.

"Eyes on the road, please." You mumbled, speaking for the first time in the past twenty minutes.

"They speak." Crowley narrated half amusingly.

"Not now, love. Not tonight please."

Crowley feels a sting at your words, not because they were necessarily hurtful but because they knew that you were hurting inside and at the cause of their hands. They turn their head back to the road in front and grip the steering wheel tighter, dreading the long night that's bound to unravel.

You hadn't realized that you've arrived at your apartment until Crowley placed a hand over your thigh and gently shook your leg.

"Sweetheart, we're here."

As you come back to your senses you see your apartment building right outside the window, the kitchen light glowing faintly from inside.

"Thank you," you don't spare a look at Crowley as you prepare to bid goodbye. As you go to pull onto the car handle, you feel it stiffen as the door locks itself.

"Crowley-"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Finally looking up at them you take in how disheveled their is. No longer in a neat quiff but instead had strands falling all over the place. Right hand still gripped tightly around the steering wheel while their left hand remained free.

You know where this was going, you've played this game many times before with the demon but you had very little patience tonight.

"Crowley, please not tonight. I just want to be alone."

"You know better than I do that I can't let that happen."

"Why not?" You spat out, tilting your head at them albeit daringly. Only to be met by their squinting eyes as you both relieve the same memory of the past.

A momentary shock flashed across both Aziraphale's and Crowley's face as they made each others figure out as the dust of their sudden apparition settled.

"Angel? What are you-"

"The same reason why you are here. I could feel it."

Crowley swallowed thickly, nodding in acknowledgement of the celestial force that had brought both the angel and demon here in the living room of your flat.

Aziraphale had been shelving books when he first felt it. Crowley had been downing a whiskey at the pub when he felt it. At first it had hit them dully, making them stop in their tracks. Moments later, the pain radiated every fiber of the celestials beings, bringing them to their knees. It felt like a burning. Like the heat of a thousand suns had consumed them and they instantly recognized that pain. Having felt it plentiful during the rebellion, with the images of war and bloodshed still vivid in their minds even after all this time. The horror that consumed them as angels they both knew and loved met either their untimely end or their damning descent.

You were slipping from this form, from this world, and both Crowley and Aziraphale could feel every ounce of that pain.

"Right, where are they?!" Crowley seethed as he begin to pace around the living room.

"They must be around here somewhere, shall we split up?" Aziraphale anxiously met Crowley's gaze as he flexed his hand at his side rhythmically. Nervous habit.

"I'll take upstairs." With that the demon bolted upstairs and began his search as Aziraphale remained in the lower level of your flat. Echoes of your name rung out as they both called out to you.

It was the howling of Aziraphale's name that sent the angel running upstairs to Crowley. Dread weighing on his tongue with every step he took. The swung door and bright light emanating from the bathroom drew him in the right direction as he called out to Crowley.

As Aziraphale appeared in the doorway, he froze at the scene that laid in front of him. Crowley sunken on the floor with your limp frame cradled in his arms.

"What in Heaven's name happened?" Aziraphale breathed out, wide eyed in shock.

"I didn't- I don't know-th-they just-", words seem to fail Crowley, even more so than usual. Forming words took to much strength when the only thing he could feel, see, and taste was fear.

Aziraphale's face hardened as a defiance washed over him. Not tonight. Swallowing his fear down, Aziraphale sprung into action and was at your side.

Your skin was scalding and burned Aziraphale when he tried to touch you. Streaks of blood adorned your nose and cupids bow. Your heart was beating too fast and your breathing was too shallow.

Crowley smoothed your hair back as he took note of the sheen of sweat that adorned your forehead.

"Don't you dare give up on me. Do you hear me y/n?" Crowley croaked through how impossibly tight his throat felt. "You're not going anywhere."

"Crowley, look at me." Aziraphale urged, voice steady as he tried hard to be level headed.

Crowley was rocking back and forth, looking down on you as he muttered incoherently beneath his breath. Aziraphale saw the way Crowley had been unraveling and while he understood why, he knew that they needed to join heads in order to save you.

"Crowley," Aziraphale whispered as he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. This seemed to snap Crowley back to reality as his gaze finally tore away from your face and fixated upon Aziraphale's. He couldn't breathe right, not that he needed the air anyways, but he took note of how hard his chest had been heaving. His wide eyes darted frantically between Aziraphale's as he searched for some kind of answer.

"What do we do?"

Aziraphale knew that they couldn't call for help. Who on earth could possibly help revive an angel back to life. This was something that would need divine intervention, and then he realized the only option they had left.

"A miracle?" It came out whispered, as if he himself wasn't sure of it.

"Aziraphale..."

"It's the only way."

The two only stared at each other. Communicating through panicked breaths and wide eyes searching for another answer yet reaching defeat and accepting that there was none.

"On my count. 1...2...3!" Crowley boomed as he and the angel intertwined hands and placed them over your chest.

A warm yellow light engulfed the entire room, blinding both Aziraphale and Crowley from each other as they both drew from their respective forces to perform this act. They lose all sense of time in the light of their miracle and it isn't until Crowley feels you stir within their arms that he opens his eyes.

"Y/N?"

Serpentine eyes meet yours as you fluttered your eyes open, slowly regaining consciousness. Your eyes darting everywhere as the world around you is still out of focus, you gain an inkling of clarity once Aziraphale's cool blue eyes meet yours.

You were dying, you knew that much. You had been toeing the line between life and death and death had nearly had its claim on you. Yet somehow in the space between, it had been Aziraphale and Crowley who saved you. Bringing you back home to them.

"That won't happen again and I've been fine since, Crowley." Venom lacing your every word as you stared at him coldly.

That night had been your rock bottom. The sixties were a time of radical change for everyone and it was in the drug liberation movement that your substance abuse had found its spark.

"Now, if you don't mind I'll just-" and with a wave of your hand you miracled the car to unlock itself.

As you climb out of the car, you have to cling to the door as your legs nearly give out on you. As the cold air nips at your skin, sending a shiver through your spine, you try to stop the world from spinning just long enough to get into your apartment.

As you wade through the grass you hear Crowley call after you. Ignoring them, you slot your key into your front door and relief fills your senses as you finally pry the front door open. Turning around to shut the door, your met with Crowley's chest as they stand in the entryway.

"I don't need a babysitter, Crowley." Your gaze cold as you tilt your head upwards to face them.

"Clearly, you do." Walking around you, Crowley makes his way further into your flat before seeking seeking refuge in the living room.

With a huff, you close the door and make your way further into your flat. Feeling Crowley close by as you entered and exited every room as you got changed. Their gaze never left yours, meanwhile you were doing everything in your power to ignore him. The task had proven itself difficult after 42 minutes. As Crowley watched you place a kettle for tea, his patience finally had worn thin.

"Is this what we're going to do? Keep silent all bloody night," their voice flat in annoyance as their stare bore into the back of your head.

A clatter rang out as you slammed the kettle back down on the burner. The anger from your manic state had been simmering for a while and Crowley's comment was enough to make it erupt.

"What do you want from me, Crowley?!" You bellowed as your eyes grow wide and crazed, meeting his daringly.

"I want us to quit using!!"

The boom in Crowley's voice was strong enough to rattle the flat, causing your wine glass from earlier to slide off the kitchen table and shatter on the floor.

You stare at the shattered glass on the carpeted floor. There it is. The big truth, the one that seemed to be seeping in your brain as fast as the crimson stain setting in your carpet.

"What?" Your voice came out a low murmur as your focus remained on the floor.

Crowley's chest deflates as they let out a heavy sigh. One that they've been holding for decades. You knew you didn't want to, you knew you loved it that much. Crowley also knew that, as much as it pained him. Having seen the destruction he's caused from his own hand, he never thought you were to get burned in his fire. Having swept you away from a paradise and into a world of sin, Crowley can't help but blame themself for the way things have ended up. They should have protected you better from it.

"I think maybe we should quit. All the drugs, all the drinking, at least for a little while." Voice teetering on remaining cool as they bargain with you.

"Go to hell," you sneer as you bump into his shoulder purposefully.

"Oh, I've been and it's actually quite lovely this time of year! The pipes have just gone through cleaning." Crowley barks as you march off.

The shattering of glass echoed throughout the flat as the fuel of you and Crowley's fire burned hotter at each passing second. Insults and accusations hurled at each other as you two miscommunicated.

"Y/N, don't you see what this is doing to us? What this is doing to you? This isn't us!" Hands waving frantically between your bodies, hoping to prove their point.

Coming to a halt from your previous march, you slowly turn to face the demon once more.

"And who exactly are we, Crowley?"

"Not this." A sigh elates from their lips as their shoulders slouch.

A moment of silence falls over the two of you. With the air still thick from all the tension, you can't see reason or rationality from the smoke of you and Crowley's fire.

"Devil," you call him slow and unsteady, hands shaking as they did long ago.

"When you stole my virtue, did you foresee that the fruits of my innocence would come to die far too young? Did you know the path I would take and what I would lose on it?" You close the distance between you as you slowly walk towards him.

"Angel, you know I didn't-"

"Then why did you do this to me?"

Crowley is stunned to silence. Throughout the entirety of your relationship, Crowley has carried a guilt for exposing you to a life of sin. Yet it wasn't until know that their fears would be confirmed as they stood their reeling in the weight out your accusation.

"Angel please-"

"You opened my eyes and you did this to me!"

Your screams rung out, piercing Crowley's ears with each slam of your fists across their chest. Walking backwards, Crowley tried to calm you down from your fury. Grabbing a hold of your wrists before flipping you where your back now was pressed against the wall.

"Let me go, let me go," you seethed through gritted teeth. Body thrashing against them as you fought to escape their hold.

"This is what I'm talkin' about," Crowley hissed. "This isn't you, love. You've lost control of your body, you feel no safety in my arms, we're constantly at each others throats. You don't trust me, y/n."

Your body slacks underneath Crowley's hold as the weight of his words cut through you like a knife.

"I've no language left to say it y/n, but I cannot go on like this any longer."

"Why didn't you stop me?", you mumble beneath your breath.

"I didn't know it would get this out of hand. If I knew, I would take it back in a second. I would have never sought you out in the Garden."

You can't help the soft smile that graces your lips as the warm memories from Eden flash in your mind. The days spent in paradise and time spent in playful innocence with Crowley. You've come a long way since then, and as quickly as it came your smile fell as you take in how far you've fallen from grace.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," your voice cracks as the weight of your shame come hurling towards you again, threatening to throw you overboard.

Your visions begins to blur and without a moments notice, a sob wracks itself out of your body. Crowley cups the sides of your face as he places kisses all over your face, whispering apologies between each kiss.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry love, I promise we'll make it out of this. I promise I will make it up to you."

Your cries become muffled as they pull you into their chest, hands smoothing your back comfortingly.

"What if I can't stop?" Your voice comes out hoarse. You don't know how long you've been in Crowley's arms, but your cries have now died down to sniffles as a drowsiness seeps into your bones. "What if we can't make it out of this one?"

Pulling away slightly to get a clear view of you, Crowley see's the tiredness in your eyes.

"I promise I will do whatever it takes to make sure we survive, that you survive."

"It's hungry work." You didn't feel worthy of Crowley's love or care, feeling guilty of the burden you've placed on them.

"Not for me." Crowley shakes his head defiantly. "Not if it's you."

"I don't deserve this. I've been unkind to you, I can't give you what you want-"

"Y/N, when I met you I swore I had dreamed you. A creature so beautiful, so loving, never having asked me once about the wrong I did. I can only pray I can show you a shred of the light you have given me."

Crowley's devotion remained unwavering. Seeing the light in his eyes as he pledged his loyalty made your heart ache a little less, and the pain less unbearable. Crowley noticed your eyes ever seeking, head reeling a million thoughts but not asking, for in some sad way he already knows.

"I know what it's like to carry the shame and hate of some other man's beliefs, let me carry that with you," he pleaded.

Flickering between his yellow eyes, the love that poured from them made you feel lighter. You knew that the road to recovery would be long and present its own trials, but you didn't have to face them alone. In fact, you never would have to feel alone anymore.

"I'm all in- I need to know you still want this, that you still want me."

Nodding slowly, a smile cracks itself on your face.

"In every lifetime, Crowley."

[theprayerfulword]

December 08

Luke 12:8 I tell you, whoever acknowledges me before men, the Son of Man will also acknowledge him before the angels of God.

1 Samuel 15:22 So Samuel said: “Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, And to heed than the fat of rams.

Matthew 9:13 But go and learn what this means: "I desire mercy, not sacrifice." For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners

Isaiah 55:11 So shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; It shall not return to Me void, But it shall accomplish what I please, And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.

2 Timothy 1:7 God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

John 20:21 Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.”

May you sow for yourself righteousness and reap the fruit of unfailing love, breaking up your unplowed ground, for it is time to seek the Lord until He comes and showers righteousness on you. Hosea 10

May you be able to perceive the cords of kindness and ties of love with which God has always led you. Hosea 11

May you understand how involved God has been in your life from the earliest moments to the present, always there, upholding you in times of weakness, training you in times of learning, strengthening you in time of adversity, healing you in times of illness, feeding you in times of hunger when your soul sought for that which you did not know, never speaking of Himself but always attending to your needs, that you may revere Him and humbly acknowledge His loving Lordship over you. Hosea 11

May you return to the Lord, trembling, from where you have wandered, following Him when He roars like a lion against the spiritual forces that seek to attack you, that He may settle you in the place He has given you to protect and care for you for He cannot give you up or hand you over to the enemy. Hosea 11

May you see how His compassion for you is aroused and His heart toward you is changed within Him so that He will not carry out His fierce anger nor turn and devastate you, since He is God, the Holy One with you, and He will not come against you in wrath. Hosea 11

May you return to your God, maintain love and justice, and wait for your God always, for the Lord God Almighty, the Lord of renown, is the One you have sought throughout your life in every struggle from the womb to adulthood. Hosea 12

May you realize the the Lord is the One your heart has desired all along, and so turn from feeding on the wind which cannot fill and will not satisfy. Hosea 12

May you leave off lies and violence, no longer giving your resources to those who cannot help, and come before God’s throne in humble repentance and full acknowledgment of His majesty and worth, quieting yourself before Him and waiting patiently in His house, learning of Him as you converse with Him. Hosea 12

May you know that the Lord is your God, it is He Who redeemed you, and may you acknowledge no God but Him, no Savior but Him, for He cared for you when you had nothing and fed you when you were hungry. Hosea 13

May you not forget the Lord when you feel safe and full, without needs, and proud, lest you become like the morning mist that disappears with the dew when the sun rises, like chaff swirling away in a light breeze from a threshing floor, like smoke escaping through a window to dissipate and never been seen again. Hosea 13

May you receive the Gift of God which ransoms you from the power of the grave and redeems you from death, removing the plagues and destruction which has been the power that all your life has kept you in the bondage of fear, but now has been broken by Christ Jesus. Hosea 13

May you return to the Lord your God and confess that your sins have been your downfall, asking that He forgive all your sins, for He will receive you graciously as you offer Him the fruit of your lips in praise, acknowledging that your strength, and the strength of others, cannot save you, and the works of your hands are not to be trusted or relied upon. Hosea 14

May you know that in Him the fatherless find compassion. Hosea 14

May you be wise, so you can realize Who He is, and may you be discerning that you may understand what He does, for the ways of the Lord are right and the righteous will walk in them, but the rebellious will stumble. Hosea 14

May God heal your waywardness and love you freely, causing you to blossom like the lily and send down roots like a cedar, making your splendor like that of an olive tree and your fame like fragrant wine from the vine. Hosea 14

May the Lord answer you and care for you, and your fruitfulness come from Him. Hosea 14

The way of a child starts with utter dependency, requiring all needs met, just as you in your sins could not redeem yourself, My dear one. Therefore, I have watched over you, given you constant care, been ever attentive to your needs, loving you, encouraging you, nourishing you. As a child grows by having their needs met, so I have provided for your needs, My precious one. Look back and realize it is so. My joy now is for you to step forth in strength, My loving one; not a strength of your own, but the strength you receive from My love, My Word, My Spirit. Let your child-like dependency develop normally, appropriately, joyfully, into maturing trust and faith, My growing one. Thus, you can stand in the day of trial, knowing I am your rear-guard, and rescue those who are bound and captive, pointing them to Me, the Redeemer of whosoever will.

May mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance. Jude 1

May you contend for the faith that has been once and for all entrusted to God's people, and do not allow the grace of God to be changed into a license for immorality, lest you deny Jesus Christ, your only Sovereign and Lord. Jude 1

May you recall that God first delivered His people from Egypt, but later destroyed those who did not believe, and realize that the angels who did not keep their positions of authority but abandoned their own home have been kept in darkness and chains for judgment, learning from their fate, drawing close to God, casting aside all that hinders and distracts. Jude 1

May you build yourself up in your most holy faith and pray in the Holy Spirit, keeping yourself in God's love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life, being merciful to those who doubt. Jude 1

May you trust and depend on the Lord in all that you do, for unless Lord bless your work, the labor is in vain. Psalm 127

May you mentor and disciple those the Lord brings to you, giving to them the experience and example of your obedient and trusting relationship with God, so that they may grow in the grace and wisdom of the Father, practiced in loving service and trained in spiritual warfare, for in later days they will prove to be a heritage and a reward to you from the Lord. Psalm 127

[middlecross7]

In 1948, 69 percent of Americans identified as Protestant christians, 22% as catholic, and 4% as Jewish.

It's happening.

RIGHT NOW….

It's happening.

They're sitting on the education boards, on their political committees, on the floor of Congress, in the boardrooms of the elite….

Behind closed doors in every political Capitol in the world, Kings and Presidents and Czars and Queens….

They create laws and herd the sheeple through their manipulation of public opinion to specifically evict God from the planet He created, and scrape true believers in Christ who follow Him faithfully out of existence.

They've expelled God from our public schools, His Word is not welcome… but transvestites looking like something out of a circus-themed horror movie from the seventies

can sit your five year old on their lap while they read them softcore, erotic, “gender fluid “ stories.

…and if one of them influences your simple thinking little child, the state will — without your authority and against your will — butcher the child with knives and razors and lasers to imaginarily change their “gender”.

Because that's how insane we have become as a civilization.

That's how FAR we have moved away from God and Holiness, ALL THE WAY in the other direction, to chase after Self and darkness.

…just as in the days of Noah, modern society has gone over a cliff!

It saddens my old heart to see how the precious and tender grace of Almighty God has been pedalled like a cheap trinket in the popular doctrines of Western Churchianity.

How incredibly blasphemous that the deadliest idol of the age has been fashioned from cheap, twisted ideas of grace; and delusional, made up fantasies of our Great and Fierce God's mercy… delusions born in the minds of children of hell who have never met the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Empty clouds filled with vain janglings, seating themselves as Teachers when they yet need instruction themselves, they find no terror in the idea that they might deceive one of Abba Father's little ones….

And too many of you, my dear brothers and sisters in the Faith — if indeed you are truly my brother or sister, too many of you have already bought into the lies of this modern, apostate church age in more ways than you could at this moment even imagine.

I will, first, offer in our discussion a teaching about which I'm hopeful most of us already share the same conclusion:

SOLA GRATIA!!!

GRACE alone, by FAITH alone, in CHRIST alone, and ONLY in Christ, having placed NO CONFIDENCE in our flesh to either begin, uphold, or complete our salvation. We are saved by grace alone, through faith, and that is not of ourselves, it is the GIFT of God- our Faith.

We owe Him praise, the DEEPEST worship for allowing us the PRIVILEGE of believing in His Son, and granting us the Gift of Faith so that we COULD believe.

And if THIS is not the very root of whatever “gospel” you have chosen to hang your eternity upon, you are to this hour lost in your sin— and I don't care HOW MANY “sinner's prayers” you've said.

Any man who ever guaranteed you that you had genuinely been born again the moment you said some prayer is a fool, or a charlatan.

Search the Scriptures all you care to search, dear friends, and you will not find a single Biblical justification for the modern practice of “The Sinner’s Prayer” or the things that are commonly taught to those who repeat some form or another of it.

Dwight L. Moody began using this tactic as a means of tracking numbers at his gospel meetings. But he didn't preach the madness of that the vast majority of modern churches and denominations and their offspring today teach.

There are a few men of God still left, but they are growing more rare as the whole of western society enters into Judgement beneath Almighty God.

God is thinning out the herd. That's how it starts. The people of Israel didn't adopt the religious ideologies of their pagan neighbors overnight. It DID happen explosively over a few generations, however. And suddenly, the only nation on planet Earth to ACTUALLY be getting messages from the One True God, didn't hear a peep from the Lord for 400 years, until Christ was born to us.

The Lord sent faithful men who were called to preach the TRUTH!!!

And how did Israel respond to God's men?!?

“Tell us NO MORE of this God! But (preach) to us SMOOTH THINGS!”

….and 400 years after God had divorced them, they still didn't get it, they still believed God was well pleased with them and their religions. They still thought they were a favored nation.

And no preacher better tell them any different!

They'd ALREADY decided what they were going to believe. If you contradicted that, they didn't CARE if it was in their Bibles!

And when some poor, broken down preacher comes before you— doing nothing more than presenting to you GOD as God has PRESENTED HIMSELF in the Scriptures, how do YOU respond, spiritual Israel…?

You're running out of time, People.

“Awww!!!” most of you are already murmuring in your hearts, “I knew it! He's going to be over of those ‘hell fire and brimstone’ preachers!”

…or, to use the biblical equivalent, “I knew it! He's going to preach to us about THAT God! He's NOT going to preach to us SMOOTH THINGS!”

Because, TODAY, we have recreated God in our own image; made Him more palatable to our new age religious teachings we accuse the Bible of endorsing.

As a result, we have reimagined the Gospel of Jesus Christ from beginning to end. And seldom indeed do I encounter a soul today that wholly understands what the Bible teaches about salvation one way or the other.

2 Timothy 3:1-5

1 But realize this, that in the last days difficult times will come.

2 For men will be lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, arrogant, revilers, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, unholy,

3 unloving, irreconcilable, malicious gossips, without self-control, brutal, haters of good,

4 treacherous, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God,

5 holding to a form of godliness, although they have denied its power; Avoid such men as these.

All of your life you have heard this text unpacked as if it spoke of people of the world, lost people. But I ask you, have not the lost people of the world ALWAYS been these things? What great end times sign to the Church would it be for lost people to just keep on acting like lost people?!?

No, friends! This text refers to the common state of what theologians call “the visible Church”, the public face of Christianity consisting of all those who claim to have faith in Christ Jesus.

Those who have, as chapter four tells us, gathered teachers together to tickle their itching ears. Those who have NO CARE for the preaching of THAT God - they want to feel good about themselves, they want their pastor to tell them SMOOTH THINGS.

BEWARE the spirit of this age, Family!

The very first time we find the words “New Covenant” in the Scripture, it is GOD HIMSELF Who is speaking to His prophet.

Turn with me in God's Word to:

JEREMIAH 31:31

✝️vss. 31&32

*Verse 33.

In this New Covenant which the Lord is unveiling, GOD SAYS that HE will:

Put My Law within them, write it on our very hearts.

Now, what does that MEAN?!?

Have we heard this information from anyone else in the Bible?

Yes, indeed, we have. You see, Jeremiah gave God's message to his fellow countrymen in the northern kingdom of Israel.

God's man in the southern kingdom of Judah, you may have heard talk of him somewhere, was a wild eyed fellow named Ezekiel.

Now, I want you to turn with me if you will to:

EZEKIEL 18:31

THIS is the Old Covenant message, friends. God instructs man to MAKE HIMSELF a new heart and a new spirit.

EZEKIEL 36:16-32

In the Book of Ezekiel, chapter 36, beginning in verse 16, we read as follows; (✝️*READ)

THIS, friends, is the very foundation of the New Covenant which GOD has made, though man has recently idolized himself and imagined different covenant reasons. But THE REASON we are even given the offer of any hope of taking part in the New Covenant promises

Is THE GLORY OF GOD and the integrity of His Great Name.

And what God has specifically stated that HE ALONE can and will do with those whom He calls to Himself is:

TAKE AWAY that heart of stone and PUT within them a heart of flesh.

PUT a new spirit within them.

PUT His Holy Spirit within them and CAUSE THEM to walk in His ways and BE CAREFUL to observe His ways, His statutes, and His Laws.

And before you set your heart against me because “you are not under law but under grace”, turn with me to:

✝️GENESIS 26:5

Born into a Kingdom that, like, any other Kingdom had LAWS.

Result: legal and formal charges against us.

No trial.

Already condemned.

ONE Hope! ONE legal propitiation!

Coming to Christ Jesus on any other grounds, for ANY other reason, will find you cast off in that desperate moment.

[autumn-oceanopromises]

(1000) finally, at last, my heart is full of light

finally, at last, my heart is full of light

(free at last; free at last, Thank God Almighty, i am free at last)

choking on my own breath, hands tingling head down i know it is my responsibility to rise each day for my people, for my team

at last my heart is full of light

succession after succession of people too burned out to care i can literally pinpoint the day the moment the last wick burned out on me still smoking i run on fumes six days in a row, seven, nine, fourteen i'm not good at a marathon - but my sergeant told me start strong, end strong, pick up the overall pace damn, never quitting always wanting always show up even if you're late, i showed up, i shown up

finally, at the last my heart is full of light

bringing them into the light ideas weighted into reality, leaving behind plans they never stay fully-formed on contact with reality hovering waiting desperately hoping for the opportunity to stabilize and make everything better and god, god, god but I got there in the end didn't I cleaning up after someone else's mess cleaning up and cleaning up and cleaning up again i was escaping my prison, but this is now my prison (but now i am free - free at last, free at last, thank God almighty I am free at last--)

finally, at last my heart is full of light

a break a quiet break making plans that never came into existence meeting a programming whiz and making plans with him talking and laughing and doing escaping a sinking ship - i would have quit, i would have died 30 30 30 give me 15 more years to get here and if i don't love myself by the end i'll die trying, fuck, i'll die trying

finally, at last my heart is full of light i live--

somehow i'm the most experienced and the work and screaming entitlement has burnt the love right out from me in london I watch him leave, i sing him pretty songs that die to the long silence and plane engines whirring up to take me back into the sky i fell in love with someone who no longer exists, a beautiful girl who is gone the passion this passion i only want to teach now i only want to pass on what i know the love of connecting with people is burnt right out at the end

finally, at last, my heart is full of light

watching all the people i look up to leave this team functioning smoothly falling apart bit by bit, bad ideas starting to pump the toxic burr begins to cling, weighing us all down the doors close one hour before we close running in to open the gates my own late night i learn to flow, i fall into it, box breathe one-two-three-four i learn how to red-line and force myself into flow, this abject presence the repetition, the goal

finally at last my heart is full of light

lockdown, i climb into the clearing where i was buried, record the songwriting of a lifetime ago i was young then this infinitely long walk two hours ten years each way take pictures of the lonely park bench and the long stretch of path people leave in reverse are hired and i teach them someone calls in laughter cockroach and i teach happily he goes on three leaders before me, darkened days, the podium sinks into the floor why does it have to be so expensive to help people to see more clearly? i ask and i do not receive any answer i like

finally at last my heart is full of light

my first day: a busy weekend and i am floundering i am sinking it is six months counting backwards before i finally feel safe to stand on my feet building sand on sand, sand-bridge on sand, floundering, falling, sinking desperately choking on love and masks and my own failures and all the people who have called me failures and useless (i blow up at my father i am done i am done i am done) (here i am still decorated in lies but built on truth, the lies have become truth) i learn to love to sell, to connect, i learn to flirt and how to be professional even when i can't breathe, no energy, walk out to smoke and unwind

finally at last, my heart is full of light

sitting in a coffee-shop manager tells me i am overqualified for what i have applied for underqualified too but he'll take a chance welcome to being able to see for the first time what lies have become truth what truth has become broader

stretching back this line of coincidences this line of godly grace this line under sand become rock-solid (burnt-out) certainty

lying half-up on a bean-bag, is this a bedroom or a storage room listening to a brother pound on the door and say, leave - leave and don't come back - get a fucking job you're so fucking spoiled fuck off and don't talk to me again

finally - at last - my heart is full of light.

i am settled, at last, finally. built on sandstone. calm like the ocean, and free. the leaves are falling. (it's too hot to sleep) but oh, and oh, and oh -

my heart is full of light.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

Sorrow reached for him in a dark whisper, speaking of tales previously unknown to mortal ears. Its blackness curled around his heart and snuck into his very soul until all Guthwulf could do was helplessly weep.

This was not how it was supposed to be.

He was to stand tall beside his dear friend, his closest friend, hacking down enemies and revelling in the beauty of the fight, a hunt of its own, warring to live another day. And to keep the man he loved on the Dragonbone Chair, his crown resting with ease atop his dark head. To see him sitting unbent on the throne made of the bones of a great dragon.

These were not words he'd dare say out loud, but it seemed as if the darkness knew, haunting and taunting him, showing him images he could only dream of.

And images he never would.

It was the latter that made him weep so terribly.

"Now you understand," a man's voice cut through the wall of sadness that choked him, crossing the gap as if he himself were a part of it. Gaunt hands were on either side of Guthwulf's face, and soon Elias was before him, black locks loose and spilling to his sides. He looked every bit the king he was meant to be, but a sad yet sinister smile was twisting his lips, his dark eyes seemingly blacker than polished jet. He kneeled, leaning in so close that their noses were nearly touching. "Now you understand what is at stake if I lose. If we lose."

"It isn't right, Elias," he groaned. "That sword is—"

"Enough." The word sliced like a knife, but his hands were gentle when he swept away Guthwulf's tears. "I have the sword because I alone have the power to do what must be done. I will have Miriamele back, I will keep my crown, and I will keep the Hayholt, and the very world itself will bend to me."

His words were soft, even if they were painful, cruel.

"And I will rule with an iron fist, with or without you."

Guthwulf couldn't stop his lips from trembling. What did that thrice-damned red rat Pryrates do to him? How could Elias let it get this bad?

Where was his friend when he needed him the most? He moves and speaks as if afflicted with a terrible case of madness, as if he turned against the Lord Usires. Against God the Almighty.

Against, even, his own sense of self.

It was a pitiful, sad sight.

"Though I would prefer if it were with you." Elias sheathed his sword—Jingizu, he called it—in a soft rush of metal in scabbard, and waved a hand as if to dispel the miasma of darkness. "I wanted to make you understand, Guthwulf. Do you?"

No, he thought, and I will never understand you again, my friend. My dearest friend.

"Yes," he instead replied, loyalty pouring from his mouth in fervent waves. He could feel his soul calling out to those damnable swords even still, begging to be whole. Though Guthwulf wished to rise from the stone floor, he was at the mercy of Elias's hands, and his eyes besides. They pulled him in deeper, murky seas of green—shining with moonlight, shadowed with unchecked darkness.

He half looked like the younger man he was once, less distrustful and without Pryrates whispering lies in his ear.

How he missed his bright-eyed king...

Guthwulf continued kneeling, solid as a statue.

"In due time, you truly will, my friend, you will." His fingers graced Guthwulf's shoulders like long spider legs. "But now, I need your loyalty. I need you. I have a task for you. Sharpen your sword. You will have need of it."

He was still a hair's breadth away, lips close to his. Guthwulf listened, disentangled himself from Elias, pushed himself to his feet, and left without a word.

[stylistiquements]

Day 9 : Scronch'love.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : a lovely afternoon and an ancestral question; when are you going to join the dream smp?

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.5k

𐐪𐑂 Warning : swearing

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

“Have you been here for a long time?”

“Have you been here for a long time?”

“Have you been here for a long time?”

Time bends and twists into unknowns shapes when well spent. So, you’re so not sure. Long enough for your fairy garden to start looking like at least a proper garden, long enough for your feet to start fidgeting, brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket ever so slightly and softly.

“Can you share your screen?”

“I’m just picking flowers, there’s nothing much to see,” you warn but it never does the proper job.

“That’s fine, I like watching you play.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yeah. You’ve been playing for years and you’re still dog water. It's almost soothing,” you hear him grin through the silkiness of his voice.

You smile evasively, palm gripping the mouse and executing on memory. Soon, Sapnap’s satisfied noises hovers and everything is just how it’s supposed to be. You spend a while humming the music of days and nights of the game while building your project. Sap helps from time to time, giving advice when his attention is there and leaving trails of compliments on his way. You don’t think the garden is necessarily that good, you don’t mind either.

“Do you think the tree should go on the left or the right of the pond?” You ask, fingers drumming back and forth between the two options. Right he says. "What about the roses, do I plant some or not?"

“It’s just a detail, don’t hurt your brain too much on that,” he says in a light tone, but you disagree.

“Details are what make things important. Like when you remember I prefer warm pillows so you give me yours, it’s just a detail but it makes me happy.”

“Of course I do; you’re a baby,” he murmurs teasingly.

With an arched eyebrow, you retort, “says you,” and silence follows for a second as you plant the tree on the right of the pond.

“Yeah, Dream already made sure I was aware of that.”

“Not sure why the piss baby thinks he’s qualified to have this conversation, buddy,” you note and Sap chuckles are as vivid as contagious. “Why would he call you a baby anyway? What have you done?”

“I-I’m not telling you.” As soon as the mumbles fades, your phone sends loud vibrations on your desk. You abandon your character to the night and the wildness, picking the phone as you murmur a low oh, okay. Whether it’s to your phone or Sapnap, that, isn’t really clear. Still, Sapnap’s words sound more distant, more of what wonders are made of. On the screen, a twitter notification of a certain Karl Jacobs.

“You’re not even listening to me anymore,” Sapnap whines.

“I don’t listen to whiny babies, sorry.”

“We’re on the verge of divorce, yn and it’s your fault.”

A scoff skitters out through teasing lips, “But you still talk about me all the time, don’t you?” Your voice drags through different lands, unknown and musky.

“So what?” He splutters all awkward like it’s some kind of confidence that shouldn’t have left his thoughts and, somehow, you’re surprised the almighty confidence has left the game. “Who said that?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re obsessed with me, admit it,” you demand and though you don’t notice it, too tangled with the moment, the atmosphere is tinted with a different nuance like it’s suddenly dawn at the end of a summer party.

“So are you.”

Now, your heart drums a strange yet familiar rhythm. Something made of secrets and uncertainty, something you decided to leave unnamed a long time ago. Sapnap, you reason, can’t be lied to. He knows better than words half meant, half made up and it’s annoying, really, but he just does somehow. If you dare to lie, he would know and then it would be even more annoying.

“Yeah, you’re living in my head rent free but at least I’m not trying to hide it.” No answer. You peek at the game, you’ve been slain by a spider. “Karl said that,” you resign yourself. “He said he was about to join the vc by the way.”

Before the conversation can carry on, the sound of Karl joining the call resonates. Being in this Discord server is like living in a house with 10 siblings, that’s what you understand from the way Sap exhales heavily.

“Oh, I am interrupting something?” Karl says, struck by a peculiar energy.

“Besties time Karl, besties time,” Sapnap mumbles beneath his breath and it chimes a little like disappointment.

“Well, too bad I guess,” Karl exclaims. “It's about time I meet miss Bunnyshow.”

Karl is like that gif of a cat sitting in a tiny box with the caption “if it fits, I sit”.

“Does that mean our passive aggressive subweet arc is over?” You ask, faking the dejection when your smile grows wide.

“Oh god, I hope not. That’s my favorite part of the day.”

"It means a lot to me. Especially coming from my comfort streamer Karl Jacobs," you confess.

Satisfied, your attention gets back on the game; flowers rooting gracefully into the dirt and hives ready to host the beloved honey bugs as Karl and Sap catch up on time being apart. Everything is quiet and peaceful like the end of an afternoon well spent.

“I like your garden,” Karl points out and you hum a thank you beneath your breath.

“So you can take Karl’s compliments but not mine.”

“We’re besties you’re honor. Sapnap you can leave now, thank you,” Karl giggles and you follow along.

“Sorry Karl, there’s only room for one man in my heart and that has to be Sapnap.”

He fakes a cry to keep the theatrics before adding without transitions, “You know if you asked Dream he’d probably let you on the SMP.”

“No thanks,” you grin.

“Sapnap, your girl doesn’t want to play with us.”

“She’s already been whitelisted for months now,” Sapnap informs but fails to comment on the first part of the complaint.

He’s not lying, but you feel like it says more about Dream’s stubbornness than it says about you. As for your best friend, he understands better than anyone that wish for privacy and it’s something made of respect like yours for his career. You’d rather see him shaped by all the light than being touched by a glimpse of it. He does, after all, deserves it all. So, that’s the contract you made with yourself because it made sense; being a supportive shadow. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that you’ve never considered streaming before. It’s that it’s his world more than yours.

Karl, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to think the same way, “This is unacceptable, I gotta send a few texts.”

“Lost cause, dude, lost cause,” you grin but stubbornness seems to be a pre required trait for those mcyts.

Before you have time to find a suitable comment about the newborn group chat, a new person joins the call and Sapnap's annoyance is even more palpable, "No fucking way dude. We can't even have a second of peace on this server."

"Why would you be in a discord call if you want peace. You're just dumb," Quackity retorts with an energy he and he only can ever own.

Then George joins and Dream follows on his heels and soon your ears are filled with conversations that are as loud as scattered. Your shoulders sink in the back of your chair as soft fingers try to brush the upcoming migraine away. This is why you can't join the SMP; -not really but still- too much energy that has to be processed at all time. And you should know better, being friend with a very chaotic boy for the last 15 years, but you're not somehow.

"No, fuck that," Sapnap mutters. "I'm out."

"You can't leave now we have things to discuss," George exclaims. "Bunny, explain to me how Sapnap's proposition is more appealing than mine."

"Because I know her more than you do," he defends, and he's right. Money isn't of you interest. Love, on the other hand...

"Because she's like scronch'love," Karl giggles mindlessly.

"The fuck does scronch'love mean?" You ask, amused.

"It's very simple," Quackity intervenes. "If I offered you the same thing, would you even consider it?"

"Of course I would. What kind of question is that?"

"Fine. So, if Sapnap keeps his offer, here is mine; you become the president of Las Nevadas in addition to what he said."

"What?" Sapnap takes offense.

The call brims with an agitated confusion as you smile deviously, heels rooted into the floor to make your chair spin lightly and your fingers drum on your desk.

"I don't think you wanna do that," George corrects.

"Yeah, you absolutely don't," you confirm.

"Fine," he retorts. "So Sapnap's offer plus a Las Nevadas citizenship. How does that sound?"

"Like an offer I'll confider," you sigh. "So who's scronch'love now?"

"Still you," Dream answers. "Except you're also a big dummy."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

A/N : helloooo,, how are you??? this part very self indulgent and I think this fic will be in general but I hope you liked it anyway. I love the idea of c!quackity always being too much and always having something to add to be even more over the top. I'm having more trouble than I thought about Bunny's and Sap's friendship because I want them to have a very special friendship but I hope it appears as such. idk. lmk what you think and thank you for reading it it makes me very happy <3 Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge ; @tinyegg ; @qnfdnf​ ; @paintingpetalsforyou ; @notjennaleigh ; @victoria-a567 ; @washy-washy ; @moneybagmarvel ;

[literaila]

If you’re still doing requests, what about a loki x reader where he plans a date around asgard? Pure fluff as he tries to impress reader

a perfect sort of different 

loki x gn!reader 

a/n: went with more of a “loki moments” type thing but. it was very fun to daydream..sooo.

*

the pure rush of colors was magnificent.

it felt like so many things, so many bright lights flying past you at once, so many seconds condensed into not even one, and so many smiles lived through the blur of everything.

you’d been worried about the Bifrost— loki spoke of it with a brilliant smile on his face, mischievous glint in his eyes. but now, seeing it for yourself, you understood that look.

and you felt a little dizzy.

loki is holding onto your arm when you regain composure and look around, you’re barely aware that he’s the only thing holding you up.

it’s different here, strange. your eyes are squinted, tired from all the colors but you still manage to look around.

strange.

“—darling?”

your head tilts to look at loki, whos staring at you with all the confusion of a mighty god. he must not even realize how disorienting the bifrost could be.

“yes?” you whisper, surprised by how your voice sounds. it’s different, strange, but feels smooth. you smile as you breathe out, enjoying this sensation.

loki looks amused when you meet his eyes again, and finally, he lets go of your arm, turning around.

your eyes drift past him, to the walls, the floor, the weird thing in the middle of the room, and finally, someone else.

you hadn’t even noticed the person standing there, proper-like, sword in hand. he’s staring at you, eyes a strong, strange type of gold. he doesn’t look unkind, but still, your smile is hesitant.

you wish there was a directory for this sort of thing.

“thank you, heimdall,” loki quips, not bothering to look over to the man, and walking past without a breath.

his strange tone of voice doesn’t escape your ears. you stare after him, his long immortal strides, noting the tension in his back.

“shall i let your father know that you’re here with— ahem —your guest?” the man, heimdall, calls after him even though he’s not that far away yet.

he’s not looking at you anymore, so he can’t see your confused face. you sense some tension.

loki spins around with a smile, too big to be real.

“better not,”

and then he’s walking again, leaving you behind, standing there looking all too small. accidentally— you hope.

you turn to the man with his beautiful gold eyes. he’s already looking at you, waiting for whatever he knows you’re about to say. your eyes dart to loki for a moment, meters ahead of you already, and you look at heimdall again with an apologetic face.

“thank you,” you say quickly with your strange chilled voice, and then, before he can respond, you’re running after loki.

he walks far faster than you do— curse his long legs — and it takes a moment to catch up. luckily, he stops when he notices you approaching.

his face is void of anything.

“bad blood?”

loki, stood in front of you, gives an unamused look at your words, then looks forward to the-

oh, wow.

if you’d thought the bifrost and the man were strange— this would be miles away. the sight in front of you has your jaw-dropping, your breath wavering off as you stare.

it’s bright, so bright, and gold gold gold. it looks like a place from a story, a fictional thing that people on earth could never dream of seeing. it’s so-

wow.

it would be embarrassing to burst into tears right here, wouldnt it?

loki seems to be thinking the same thing because he leans down to grab your hand, distracting you from your thoughts of sobbing.

“do you like it?” he wonders, nodding toward the castle, the gold, the colors. it’s all very overwhelming. beautiful.

“it’s very…” you cant stop staring, cant think long enough to finish.

your eyes are glued in front of you.

“very what?”

and to him.

his blue eyes are awaiting your response, and his hand soft and cold in yours.

“just very,” you whisper.

he rolls his eyes, breaking your lovestruck thoughts. bastard.

“that doesn’t make any sense, dear,” he chides, taking a few steps forward and pulling you with him. he ignores the scoff that follows his response.

you observe the sky, clearer than you’ve seen before, the mountains which you hadn’t expected, the buildings and the still-movement all of them are making.

it’s only takes a few more seconds for you to finally look down—

—and jump away from loki.

he’s looking over at you with curious eyes, wondering where you’ve gone, but you’re staring at the ground.

eyes wide, face shocked, wondering how in the nine realms you didn’t notice this earlier.

it’s a rainbow, yes, so how are you walking on it?

“am i going to die?” you blurt out, moving backward, not really looking where you’re going. all you know is that you need to get off this rainbow.

you cant believe loki wouldn’t have warned you before, cant believe that you’re still alive even now.

“darling-“ loki is calling, you don’t listen. “darling, darling—“ his voice gets louder, nearing you. “hey-“

he’s grabs your arm, pulling you to him, his breath against your face. his grip is stronger, but his voice is stronger “you’re only going to die if you fall off,”

it’s then you notice how close you were to the edge of the bridge.

oops.

you look up to loki, now rational enough to be still, and wince at his scowl. embarrassing mortal, you are.

“sorry,” you say and take a step back. the ground is firm beneath your feet. you probably should’ve noticed that before.

another eye roll.

okay, so maybe you definitely should’ve noticed that before. and— yup, loki is still glaring at you.

“i’m okay now,” you promise, smiling and taking a step closer to him. loki doesn’t relent, turning his head away.

you kiss his jaw anyway, loving the quirk of his lip you can just barely see out of the corner of your eye. he’s not a very sly god.

you peck up, until you can just barely meet the corner of his lips, and then he’s turning his head, meeting you halfway.

forgiven, then.

“you are absurd,” he says, his eyes so very kind, the antonym to his words. he runs two finger tips under your jaw and then looks away.

“sorry,” you repeat.

loki just laughs, moves the two of you closer to the middle of the ‘bridge’, giving you a pointed look. he’s never going to let that go.

then the two of you are walking, towards the castle, towards the gold, towards the beautiful place in front of you. you’re not sure how loki is so calm, how he can keep his eyes off of any of this for even a moment.

when you’ve almost reached the end, loki starts telling you about the bridge, about its prosperities, it’s history. he whispers things about the skyline in your ear and guides you toward the beautiful place.

it’s all very wonderful. peaceful, somehow, something you’d never thought you’d get to experience. especially not with him.

you’re almost there though, the buildings, the people, when you feel a cold blur cover you.

your clothes are gone, in their place, a blob of leather and cloth.

“loki,”

he doesn’t stop, moving ahead with your hand still in his. you notice his clothes, once a shirt and some jeans, now transformed into leather and more leather.

and… horns? gold horns?

appealing, yes. ridiculous, yes.

“your highness, almighty god, care to explain?”you call, after removing your hand from his, and crossing your arms. he’s not supposed to magic you without warning.

he doesn’t even attempt to look innocent, instead fiddling with the clothing at your waist— admiring it almost.

you huff.

“darling, you can’t except us to wear… that here, honestly. you’d be executed at the gate,” he waved a hand, completely ignoring your face.

dumb, cute, bastard god.

he tries to pull you again but you snap back. “nuh-uh, junior, you don’t make any sense,”

“i don’t make sense?” his amused eyebrow is not helping.

“explain,” you say, instead of elbowing him.

he sighs, throws his head back, rolls his eyes and looks up. all within two seconds. you might’ve appreciated it if he wasn’t being so convoluted.

he sighs again. “we’re trying not to draw any unwanted attention, darling, hence the clothes,”

you stare at him for a few moments, his impatient, ridiculous face.

and then “you’re literally wearing horns,”

“they’re comfortable,” he says, as if that’s any explanation at all.

“they’re horns,”

“custom fit” he says with a stupid prideful face. again, any other time it might’ve been endearing.

you look behind him, to the palace you cant wait to see, to the noises you can hear.

“…aren’t you like a prince here?”

“well, technically, darling-“

but you don’t let him finish, instead you take one step past him and interrupt. “also, you like— bask in attention all of the time. you practically live for it,” you continue to walk, expecting him to follow.

“i do not ba-“

“don’t try and deny it, loki, lying doesn’t look good on you.”

“i’m the god of lies,” loki huffs, and doesn’t utter another word. you’re sure he’s crossing his arms and pouting.

after a few moments of silence, you’re beginning to worry that you’ve actually hurt his feelings, but then he sighs again.

“shall i take them off?”

you roll your eyes at that, watching his hand go up to his head, stopping him with the gentle tap of yours

“no, love, then people won’t notice them,”

you walk forward, laughing to yourself when loki doesn’t follow. a part of you wants to look back to see the look on his face, but the other part doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

it doesn’t matter though because loki only pauses for a moment, and then he’s running to catch up to you and looking down upon you with a smirk.

“does that mean you like them, then?”

*

loki’s room is… unexpected.

you’d guessed about the rows of books, the dark colors, the large expanse of space. it wasn’t that hard to guess after you knew about his decorating skills.

but this… something about this is warm.

maybe it’s the large glass windows you hadn’t thought of, maybe it’s the light they bring in. maybe it’s the view of the bifrost, maybe it’s just some magic asgardian thing,

but still, you loved it from the moment you’d walked in.

it was him, you supposed, there wasnt much that could keep you from loving it. 

still, loki’s tour of the room (big, yet smaller than you’d thought it would be) was your favorite part. 

“this was my favorite dagger, before my mother gave me the one at home,” and “yes that is a trophy— no, darling, we dont need to talk about it-” and “you think thats funny but i spent most nights away from bed,” (you’d hit him for that one (( “sneaking!” he’d promised))  

it was wonderful to hear about his childhood, no matter the grey-tinted glasses he looked at it through. 

and now, standing at his library while he sits in the chair next to you, you cant stop smiling at the books you cant read. 

“whats this one?” 

“that one is illusion-casting,” he answers, and he has a book in his hand— another title you cant read —but the two of you both know that he hasnt looked away from you once. 

“i should burn it,” you mutter, familiar with the name and the magic. 

loki smirks, you refuse to look and see but he is, and sings out a quiet “ ‘fraid you’re a bit too late,” 

“this one?” you demand, voice louder now. you ignore the snake slithering over your finger tips. he won’t win that fast.  

“that one is a work of fiction,” he says, standing up to grab it from you. the snakes disappear in an instant. he flips it from the front to the back, studying it carefully. you’re sure you see him gulp before he says “its about frost giants.” 

you’re familiar with that name too. and you know, you would’ve been able to see it even if you didnt, that its a bad reminder for loki. something about it is causing that dullness in his eyes. 

“it is?” you whisper, moving closer to him to observe. you still cant read it, but something about the feel of his skin is comforting. 

“its asgardian, obviously,” he looks up, closed off face. “not very pleasant,” he whispers to you. 

his words send pricks down your heart. 

you’d known this would happen when he’d invited you, stuttered out his invitation with his silk voice. you had guessed that too— that asgard held bad memories for him. that there was a reason, before maybe, he hadn’t wanted to come back. 

until now, of course. he was excited to show you around. 

still, there must be something to get that look off of his face. 

you grab the book from his hands, placing it back on the shelf as carefully as possible. you move back, smile— slightly sad —on your face. loki is watching, but you’re not sure if hes really there. 

so, you move closer, grab his hands before stepping into his chest. 

you’re looking into his eyes when you ask “should i burn that one too?” 

and he doesn’t move. he doesn’t breathe in or out. he just stands for a moment.

but you can see it— the twitch of his nose, the subtle change in his eyes. you can see the life return to his brows, the colors flooding his cheek.

you don’t mention the blue, the tint, the composure he’d lost. you won’t speak of it until he does.

and then, within another moment, with one sharp inhale of breath, loki’s smiling.

and it’s wonderful, it’s amazing, and you’re quick to return it. you hope it’s your words, hope that loki can already hear the unspoken ‘i accept you’ you’re sending to him.

you hope just this once that he’s reading your mind, that he knows how highly you think of him.

it takes one more second for loki to grab at your waist, to stare at your lips until he cant take it anymore and he— gently —claws at your face.

his lips are yours and his hands are running across your skin, across the clothes he’s made for you, all over until you’re breathing once again.

you want to pull back and look at the color of his eyes, but you don’t want to move. you cant move away from him now.

with gasps of breath, warming hands, loving eyes you can see when loki finally does pull back, the two of you are smiling.

at least, right now, you’re enough to shove away the memories.

“yes, darling,” he whispers with his lips centimeters from yours. “you should burn them all,”

you laugh and loki groans into the next kiss. he’s fast and slow and hard and soft and pulling away…

“we should burn them all,” he corrects, eyes attached to yours.

you scoff though, instead of returning his lovely look, and move away. “i quite like the look of some of these,”

“you cant even read them,” loki complains, reminds you with a smirk.

you glare at him, pulling out another book. he’s right next to you, leaning against the shelf and watching you with observant eyes.

“doesn’t mean i’m going to burn them all just to feed your pyromaniac tendencies,”

loki laughs, maybe at you, maybe at your words.

but still, when you look over to him again, you can’t help but laugh back.

*

“…if i married you, would we share the title of ‘the god of mischief’?”

it was a serious question.

loki’s reaction was not helpful in the slightest.

he’s sitting next to you, laughing— cackling at your words.

the two of you have been leaning against the bookshelf for a while now, not noticing the time that’s passed while you discuss, talk and read.

well, loki reads, you listen.

you been enjoying the stories he tells you, both his and others, enjoying the way his mouth moves when he reads, the way his eyes flick up to yours every couple of moments. the smile that lights up his face after those few seconds of eye contact.

you enjoyed his bursts of energy, the moments when he’s reminded of something and so he pauses the story and tells you something else instead.

you’ve enjoyed all of these hours on the floor.

and no, you’re not exactly sure how the subject has come up, but still.

the scowl on your face is not playful.

“that’s not really how it works, darling,” loki says in between the laughs he still can’t seem to keep in.

he’s got a hold of your hand, and so, with the maturity of the adult you are, you snatch it back.

it’s only then that he looks up with betrayal in his eyes. his lips quirk at the look on your face moments after.

bastard.

“fine,” you say with practiced ease. “i didn’t want to marry you anyway,”

without another look at his face, you stand up, sore from sitting on the floor for so long and stretch.

loki is quick to follow, turning your head to make you look him in the eyes.

“pardon, darling?”

your smile is malicious. “you didn’t hear me?”

loki quirks an eyebrow at you and moves your head down only slightly. he moves his hand against your forehead.

“are you sick, my dear?” he asks with all the fake curiosity he can muster.

hey wait— where did he even learn that?

he laughs again when you force his hand away.

“you’re infuriating,” you say, glaring at him.

loki smiles, charming once again, and leans down. “i am the god of mischief-“

“heard that one before-“

“-and i will share that title with you, if you’d like.”

and then, he’s across the room before you even get the chance to make another comment.

god— he’s so beautiful when he’s laughing at you.

*

“what do you think?” he asks, playing with your wrist in his delicate hands, moving your hand to his liking.

it’s been a long day, you think.

“about what?” you whisper back, teasing that smooth sensation on your tongue, feeling the weight of your eyelids.

his bed is wonderful. soft, silky. and even if the scent is slightly different— you can still tell it’s him.

“me,” loki murmurs. “here, this place, my home.”

he’s giving you options, you know, and still. there’s only one real answer.

it’s all been very disorienting. from the very moment, you stepped foot here, from the moment loki asked you to come. it’s been fast, and slow, and a blur of everything.

every moment has been scattered with confusion, and while happiness, excitement, and curiosity lay beneath that— it’s still the biggest thing.

it’s so different here, so strange, so sweet. loki is different here too— someone you don’t know, but recognize so well.

there’s so much to mention and just not enough words.

so, you don’t know what to say when he asks.

loki seems to notice, he’s looking in your eyes which are cast off to the side, and he can see the hesitation.

“if it’s bad, i’m sure we can find a memory loss spell,” he says.

you laugh and he delights in the sound. he keeps going.

“or we can go back down to midgard, and you can tell everyone i kidnapped you, and then you’ll never have to see me again.”

“technically, you did,” you say, looking at him, watching his facial expressions.

he laughs. “i did,”

theres a moment after hes done speaking, pure silence.

loki gives you a minute to think, traces the skin under your eyes while he waits. hes been paitent-- uncharacteristic -- and you still dont know what to say. 

“i feel like i’m dreaming,” you blurt out, carefully watching for his reaction. 

he doesnt answer, doesnt meet your eyes, only hums. 

hes waiting for more you know. 

you sigh. “i’ve been worried that i havent woken up all day- that you’re upset because i stood you up, and missed out on all of this.” 

loki looks then, looks at you, looks closer. 

“this is all so surreal, loki, so different.” 

he smiles, and you’re not sure if its good or not. you’re both tired, you can tell, you’re both exhausted, you’re both drained from all the laughing, and you’re both so happy. 

or, you hope he is. you know you are. how could you not be? 

maybe you should tell him that, too. 

“a bad sort of different?” loki asks before you can speak again. hes moving up, lifting his head from your stomach and moving to meet you, to hold you. 

you’re smiling once again, a tired sort of smile. 

“nothing different about you is bad,” you tell him, you whisper into his mouth when you move up to kiss him. you wrap your hands in his hair, pull him as close as possible. 

its such a lazy kiss, but you cant help but think that its your favorite one of the day. you feel loki’s hand on your neck, feel him pull you in too. 

you match each other, in breath, in movements, in whispers between kisses, in softness and warmth. 

when you move back, when you look at him again, when your eyelids are falling but hes holding you up-- 

when you move back, you cant stop yourself from speaking again. “you dont think my different is bad, do you?” 

its sort of a rhetorical question, but maybe its not. loki is going to answer, either way, you know. 

“your different is perfect,” he confirms and pulls you in deeper once again. hes pulling you under the water, holding you up in the sky, making you feel so different here, so different in his bed, in his home, in his arms. 

a perfect sort of different, you know. now, and then and forever, maybe. 

“are you still dreaming?” loki asks when he pulls back. he says it like hes trying to prove to you that you arent. like hes trying to prove to you that this is real, that he is real. 

“maybe,” you answer back, close-lipped smile on your face. “but, you know.” 

loki stares, his head lifts up as he waits. 

...and then you dont say anything. you’re just breathing, matching his stare. 

“i don’t” he protests, a demand in its own way. softly, he kisses between your brows. 

you smile, softer at his touch. 

“i dont mind dreaming, as long as you’re here,” 

maybe its not the answer he was expecting, or maybe its shocking, because the look he gives you is not what you were expecting. 

you laugh and lay back against the pillows, knowing that he’ll follow, knowing that you’re both going to fall asleep like this and it’ll be perfectly okay. 

you’re supposed to stay here for a while anyway, today was just a start. 

loki, kisses you again, once more for now, desperate and hard and unlike the kisses from before. 

its a blur of colors before he lets you go again, a blur of hope and excitement and wonder and every emotion he lends you. 

you’re so tired, you know. 

he whispers something in your ear, says your name again, calls you ‘darling’ for the last time that day. 

it's a different kind of sleep. strange, shallow. in his arms, surrounded by these sheets that you’ve never felt before. surrounded by this place that you’ve never been. cuddled in the arms of someone you’ve always known. 

perfect. 

*

my masterlist here. 

[plantpirating]

Why do you think some people are so invested in faith as if it is a virtue? Believing in something you cannot see? Surely one could trick oneself into believing in anything. Hoping, trusting in a force that no one has proof for, is this good personal policy? Does this not just lead you down the road to falsehood?

In times past, I think faith was understandable, but today, the known is pressing the unknown into the corners. We know how lightning works, we know why a cut gets infected, we know how the sun "moves" from horizon to horizon. That isn't to say that we know everything, but just that we see how easily the unknowable can become and has become known.

For some people, faith communities provide comfort. For others, faith practices provide a framework in which to steady oneself in an unsteady world. But I think that community and rituals can exist outside the framework of a belief in some being or force that has not been observed.

Faith can lead one to horrible things like lies, war, fear, hatred, and cruelty. I've experienced so many difficulties in my life because of other people's faith in an unseen being that they claim lives in their heart. And I don't think it's such a good thing.

Here's one tiny example: as a teenager, living on the edge of homelessness, a man of faith invited me to live with him. His faith in an unseen being led him to turn off the electricity and the gas while he was away for the weekend. His faith, this feeling in his heart, had told him that I would burn down the house. It was late November. It was snowing. I was freezing. He intended to leave me in the dark, in sub-zero temperatures for three days. This was not the first such incident. Before that, I had not been permitted to use any part of the floor that did not lead to my room. I was not permitted to use the phone, the fridge, or the front door. I wasn't allowed to walk through the garden. I wasn't permitted to sit on the sofa with his wife and children or sit at the table to do my homework. Again, all because of this faith in some being that he had that was relaying messages to him.

This is a small situation, nothing like the Crusades or genocide or any other atrocities commited in the name of faith, but it was personal to me and affected me deeply, so on the edge of nonexistence, I felt. I wasn't a bad teenager. I wasn't drinking or cursing or wanted by the police. I wasn't doing drugs or hurting people, in case you think that was the reason for this situation. I was a good kid, just trying to get through school. The driving force of this situation was his faith. He had learned that he had to follow those messages acquired in prayer without questioning them. This faith was his bedrock. And in my opinion, it led him astray.

And some might say that it was just this man being a wretched sort of person, and that God would never have told him to do that. But, that is not my point. My point is not about the existence or non-existence of God, but about the faith. The man had faith that he was doing the right thing. He had faith that the voice in his head was telling him to do that, rather than questioning whether this was a good thing to do. He believed in something that cannot be proved. I would suggest it was faith that led him down the road to harming someone vulnerable. It is faith that is the problem. Faith is the opposite of a virtue. Encouraging and fetishizing faith only leads to a dark and dangerous road.

Encourage proof. Encourage knowledge. Encourage thinking. Encourage your neighbour to leave the heat on for the bleak-faced teenager who lives there. Don't believe that the feeling in your heart is some almighty being who created the universe and is divining the future and delivering it to you personally. Question this shit.

Faith is not a virtue, and we should stop saying that it is.

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - RED

Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

WORDS: 7791 WARNINGS: Sexual Content, Mentions of Trauma

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | BLUE | YELLOW

-----

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

-          Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

You:

“Y/N?”

On peaceful days should there be chaos to be expected. With peace does not come promise. A flower with blooming red petals would eventually wilt, despite all else telling it not to. That same blooming flower would die the same from other natural, unnatural causes, like a wind too strong for it to hold onto its stem or a butterfly that came too late for its pollen.

But when peace was current, something you could see right before you knowing it wasn’t to last, it wasn’t much because of the artist you were why you’d resort to capturing that peace onto your canvas and make it last forever.

Two artists, that was. Someone joined you in your endeavor that day. Not so much of a student as he were a companion. An equal, perhaps.

Damian didn’t let his squinting eyes from where he placed the tiniest round brush on, the fabric that turned blue at his touch. You merely hummed at his call of your name and didn’t look to him as well.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Two easels set up at the manor’s back porch angled just right for most of the city skyline to be seen. It was far too small to be the focus, but everything else, the valleys that surrounded it, the actual forests going against the concrete ones, if you managed to get it right, you might want to keep this one for yourself.

Your thoughts complete left all that matter, however, when Damian asked you, “It’s a question about sex. More than one actually.”

“Oh.”

Not what you thought.

You might have had a lymph node in your neck, but still you nodded.

“Alright then. What do you want to know?”

He was painting the clouds. Didn’t even look the slightest bit uncomfortable. Good, you guessed.

“How old am I supposed to be before having it?”

Some wordless mutter rolled out your tongue at that. Eventually, the answer just came right out of you.

“Other than being of age, it really depends if you’re emotionally ready for it, Damian. If you know you’re not ready, nothing should push you to do it.”

“How do I know when I’m ready?”

That same calmness, the one that steadied your often shaking hands, allowed you to create the perfect cone for one of the hilltops at the horizon. You marveled over it for a while.

“When your doubts are encompassed with everything else,” you said. “When you know about what comes after.”

A dimming yellow sun, over at the far end. It was that sun, you told yourself, that was making those words fall of your lips. And not at all this series of resurfacing memories.

“When you meet the right person,” you told him.

You saw from your side eye how that remark made Damian stop with his brush. He set it onto its holder, placed his hands on his knees. “Other people don’t wait for that last one,” he said. “Do they?”

“It’s always different for a lot of people. Sometimes, they could only ever do it with people they love. Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter.”

“When I have sex with someo-“

You gave him a dirty look.

“When I’m a lot older,” he scoffed. “And I want to engage in the act of coitus.”

“Coitus?”

“How do I know they’re right? They’re the right person at that moment, then suddenly the next, they’re not.”

You reached over his easel to grab his brush, handing it back as you pointed at a raven that landed on one of the trees. It urged him to continue.

“You ask yourself then. If things won’t go the way you’d have wanted with that someone, would you regret ever doing it with them at all?”

“Obviously,” he snorted. “I wouldn’t want to waste my time.”

A bright smile, just as you settled the green of the wilting grass. Not so much was it green as it were this brownish orange, with it still cold enough for you to wear a sweater this uncomfortable when you’d have wanted your hands free.

“Is it really this…” he did some kind of motion with his hands. “…milestone in your life that’s supposed to be so important?”

“Wow, you’re really asking the right questions here, kid.”

That nickname made him snarl, back to his canvas. It took you a while, having to look to the sky for some kind of answer that wasn’t going to mess his head for the rest of his life.

“I used to think it wasn’t,” you said. “Sometimes, it’s only as important as you make it. It’s all up to what you believe.”

You turned your brush over just the right circle, which made of the red petals of a rose on one of the bushes that first greeted the day after months of a long winter.

Then there was this sinking. Something within.

“But your first time, at least. It should be with someone you love,” you said. “You’ll find that a lot of things will be easier for you.”

He seemed satisfied with that. Thankfully. He didn’t look so traumatized just yet.

Then he asked you one that no longer was so easy to think about.

“Was your first time with someone you loved?”

And you thought, with how everything suddenly weighed, not just your head or your hands but the whirring air, the leaves that danced along to it, the flowers still so young into their bloom, the misty clouds, the light, the brush on your hand and the paint on its tip.

What wasn’t so heavy, that is, was your voice.

Because if anything surprised you that day, more than the questions and the apparent peace, was how easily the answer came out of you.

Easy, because it was true.

And it was true, because when you lied, your clammy hands would be stuck to your back, shaking just as much as your eyes would be frantic and searching for something that wasn’t there.  

But your voice was as light as your hands were calm and dry, your eyes fixated on the beautiful sight of the city and nothing else.

“Yes,” you said. And with it, came a smile that lasted for days.

.

Jason:

Two thousand dollars sounded a lot more inviting after a failed drug raid, not so much after the seeing all the evening gowns and diamonds and Bruce using his almighty charm with investors in sharp-needled stilettoes.

He did not, for his own sanity’s sake, want to sit through any of it, not even for a whole inheritance from the enterprise. Nope. Not even ten million dollars was worth putting on this god-awful suit poking through his neck like a knife, a jacket supposed to fit but had popped off one of the buttons, and of course, his hair. Swept back. Ruled over by mounds of gel and whatever it was the rest of his brothers had on. They all looked like elves in a Christmas workshop assembly line with the red tie over his chest.

Whatever trouble would happen, they’d call him. Now that they’ve blocked off his room, however, he came to not much resort.

The manor’s pool, to his luck, was unguarded. Unused for the last few months, but still clean.

Whatever silence was, and whatever silence could be, it was just that when he shut the door behind him, not bothering to latch on the lock, and turned on one of the lights, the purple and blue ones that shone from underneath the pool’s floor, like some magical lake that would speak to him in rhymes, maybe hand him a sword floating on a lily pad, but not even that was enough to impress him. As if anything impresses him still.

He stood by the poolside, hands in his suit pockets. Audibly he cursed that he forgot to bring a cigarette pack, but even that thought didn’t last long enough to bother him too much.

Jason stood there, right by the water, and watched the lights change like they told much of a story.

Something. Anything, to intrigue him.

Anything to make him feel again, to interest him, to cry out to him and actually hold his attention long enough for it to not be whisked away from his mind by his own hands because thinking or feeling was too much work.

But even those very lights, that didn’t seem so bright at all, were silent. The same silence for so many months.

He wanted noise. He wanted to hear again. But nothing, nothing was loud enough for him anymore. Someone could be screaming into his head and so much of it would disperse before it even reaches his ears at all, much less his brain. It wasn’t that he was being dumb, though that would be quite the reason.

But it was that nothing was bright enough anymore.

No one was attractive, or intriguing, or entertaining. Not by a mile.

Nothing. He cared about nothing.

Everything, all except her.

And it had to be just that, no room so bright, no smile so true, then when it was with her.

He hated the truth, perhaps just as much as he hated the rest of the world. The only thing he didn’t hate was someone he couldn’t even be with, much less love. But here he was.

Some noise from the door he came in from. He should have locked it. Now someone else was here.

More so did he wish that when he turned and saw who it was.

“Here?” Y/N’s shoes against the empty ground. That, he heard. Fuck him. “Really?”

“They closed off my room.”

She looked really pretty, lipstick on her already red lips, jumpsuit dragging along the tiles and her hair down her back. And she didn’t stop walking until she was right by his side, much to his dismay. Still, he didn’t move. Though god forbid he allow himself another look after the first one.

“You’re just gonna stand here and stare at the water?”

“Better than that shitshow outside.”

“Every party’s a shitshow for you.”

“Finally, one of you caught on.” He shifted his arms as if he had a drink he was holding, which he didn’t. He needed one badly.

“Then why accept the job?” she shrugged. “You could have just said no.”

He didn’t expect her to look at the water like it were at all interesting.

But suddenly, the lights from underneath didn’t seem so dull anymore.

Because even having to swim through the lavas of literal hell, I’d leave the comforts of isolation if it means you’d be anywhere within the room.

“Two thousand dollars,” he said.

“Ah.”

Everything did get easier to understand, once he stopped with the moping and the denial and actually allowed that stupid little voice he hated to speak up loud enough so he’d listen to it.

“Maybe you’re right,” she laughed. “The water actually is a lot more interesting.”

Right then, he allowed himself a second, subtle look. At her face. The thin straps over her shoulders that laid so well against her skin. Her hair she’d purposely made unruly but still styled enough to be classy.

The next thing to notice were her hands. They weren’t shaking, though they weren’t unmoving either. Her thumbs were rubbing over the backs of her palms, much like fidgeting her fingers would as if she were nervous. But there shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about. Nothing he could see, at that.

But after a look at her hands, it was her eyes that told him the whole story of her trailing thoughts, thoughts that maybe she didn’t know about as well.

Three years since she’s last stepped into a pool, since she’s felt that much water around her, dance along every bit of her skin when she’d push through the waves and move about as if she were floating, or flying, suspended from the ground and not have a string to hold her up.

She wanted to. He could see that. But it was doubtful that she’d admit to that. She’d never admit to that, not when it would only cause so much disappointment when she’ll ultimately cower away.

But her wanting to swim made him want to swim.

Some first step. To have someone to help her. He could be that someone.

Not even thinking for himself anymore. Jason was off to the benches at the side, and had taken off his tie and slid it off his neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, just as he took off his suit jacket.

“I’m going in.”

She looked at him like she would to a troll that had climbed out of the sewers, though it wasn’t much out of disgust as it would be of disbelief. At least, he hoped it was. That wasn’t even to matter. He’d taken off his dress shirt before he even realized what he was doing at all.

Not something he’d do so suddenly, but then again, some of the most stupid things he’s ever done the past year were all for her sake. This didn’t surprise him at the least, not even the fact that the more rational part of him was watching him move like some hamster in a wheel stupidly trying to run away.

“You’re gonna swim?”

He unbuckled his belt. “Mind turning around?”

Her eyes flashed wide open, and she did as told.

Jason took off his pants, his shoes, everything save for his boxers. This wasn’t so stupid. It shouldn’t be.

He stepped into the pool, one foot first, then he slid in. He wanted to feel the cold. He wanted it to go against his heat and make him feel something and actually overwhelm him. And it was just that, that very feeling he’d long craved, when he spread his arms and let the water seep into his flesh.

Then he found himself smiling, just as he looked up and caught Y/N watching him do all that, lips between her teeth and beaming back so wonderfully bright, every part of him ached for that sight to last so much longer.

He sat back, waved through the water, inviting her even when he wasn’t asking her, telling her that this is all okay, that she was ready.

A million voices were screaming at him that none of this added up to just about every thought he could muster, that it wasn’t in him to just jump into the water, half naked and alone with the woman he loved. So many asking him what the hell he was doing, that all this was going to scare her away.

But it was, in fact, in him to know what went on in her head, as she longingly looked at the pool like it were so much more than that. It was in him to know that there’s so many more steps in this staircase of healing, to being that very person she’d sought out to be, away from the incident, who she no longer was, and never has been.

Jason swam over to the side of the pool, at the side where she stood.

And with that, a smile so beautiful, she crouched over and set her legs to the side so she could sit on the ground. Her hand was too near from where he laid his arms, but he didn’t reach for it. He just watched as the droplets that fell from his skin onto the ground nipped at her fingers.

“Is it cold?”

His voice was low and husky. “Yeah…”

“Is it nice?”

Jason looked to the wall behind her and laughed. “The water’s great.”

She hummed.

Her hands. Something about them. He couldn’t look away. Like they were so much more than her soft fingers and her gentle touch. With his chin buried onto his folded arms, he kept looking.

Not from her hands that were reluctantly reaching for the water’s surface, shy, bashful even, like it would sting her if she inched too close. Y/N stretched out her fingers and touched it, enough to drench just the tip of it, then she twirled it about to create wonderful ripples that waved to his body.

Jason reached over to hold her wrist, stopped just in case she were to pull away, but she didn’t pull away.

Y/N’s eyes were on him, just as silent and curious, and he felt her relax.

He led her hand further into the water, deeper, colder. He felt the hair on her skin stand, bumps over her pores. She was breathless, over something so small. He pulled gently enough until the water reached up to her elbow.

Then the smile he earned out of her, the love he so wanted to earn as well, it was all he could see, with her toying with the water and swerving it about. Right then, he could hear everything. The droplets that danced, the splashes against their skin, her subtle laughter, her teeth over her lips. He heard it all, and it was beautiful, so much more than songs or tunes played by the most skilled hands over piano keys.

If he could just let himself watch her, for longer than he hoped, he’d fall deeper in love than the depths he’d already fallen into, and had tried, relentlessly, to escape from, but couldn’t. Denial didn’t help much, but neither did admittance. He was stuck. And if only things weren’t so hard, he wouldn’t dare complain. Not when that very woman he loved was this beautiful.

She drew her hand away, her other one soothing the damp skin and ruining her jumpsuit with the water, which she didn’t even care about.

He wasn’t even thinking anymore. His heart open and his mind shut off. From how she sat, her ankle was exposed, and it was close enough to the water to feel the splatters but not enough to get wet.

Still, without a word, Jason cupped his hand, drew a bit of water up to the surface.

Then he played those drops right onto her skin, close to her feet where her shoes were strapped around. She clenched her toes at the cold, but she seemed to have liked it. He did it again, the droplets falling from his fingers, until her skin was stiff from the air so cold with it drenched.

That’s when she sighed, went on to stare at the little waves he’d created.

“I want to go in.”

He backed away from the pool side, waved his arms about to show her further that it was safe, and wonderful. Then he nodded at her. “If you think you’re ready…”

He saw her throat hitch, but it wasn’t out of doubt.

“I’m ready.”

He didn’t even have to try so hard to show her that everything she was going through, right then, he knew every second of what it was like. His face was soft, his look on her was soft, every bit of him had to be soft for this to be easy on her.

Then things weren’t so soft anymore when she started pulling down her straps from her shoulders. He gulped.

“Could you uh,” she twirled her finger around, motioning that he turn the other way. He did.

It was, both to his fortune and of not, that the wall in front of him was a mirror, reflecting all that went on behind his back. Everything in him stopped, even the blood down his every vein, and with that he watched as she exposed her temple of a body, one he’d worshipped and cherished and made feel every ounce of a sensation there could be, and continue to dream about even with her no longer being there.

But she was here now.

.

You:

The hardest to take off weren’t the straps on your shoes.

But all you ever had to know, was that the one you were with, the one you were hopelessly in love with, was there to help you through all of this.

“Do you, uh,” Jason coughed. “Need some help with that?”

You knew he was watching. If you actually didn’t want him to watch, you would have gone to the other side of the pool and took off your clothes where there wasn’t a mirror in front.

“Yeah,” you said.

As his eyes laid on you, relaxed, calm, just as you remembered he once watched your body so bare, with just a strapless bra over your chest and seamless panties, what contrasted the very cold that stemmed from the water was the burn underneath your flesh, the burn in your chest, the burn on your face and every nerve ending there was. Every nerve ending.

Suddenly you were limbless when he swam over to you, right in front from where you sat at the poolside, and his fingers were on the skin of your thighs, both of them. The water from his skin, falling and absorbing into your own. A sensation in itself.

You unlatched your leg, and he pulled it off and set it to your side.

Now, you were bare.

Jason was looking up at your eyes, however, and not at anything else. Not at the parts so incomplete. Not on places so ugly. As if you were so beautiful. And from that look alone, you started to believe that you were.

One at a time.

With his hands held out, you let him take your right leg, the one covered in burns and healed stitches, but still with toes and skin at all, and carefully, laid it into the water.

It was cold. Colder than even ice. But god, was it so heavenly.

Now, the other.

Jason, from what you could tell, tried not to look nervous just as you were, but you both smiled, and that was all there is to it to make you step into that very threshold once so frightening.

Your left leg, ending just three inches below your knee, dipped into the water’s surface.

You were here.

You were free.

You could feel the cold, the water, the waves, and the rush up to your head.

“Take your time,” Jason breathed, and his voice was all the more wonderful with everything else you could feel.

Any more, and the tears might start to defy your efforts.

He was as gentle as you knew him to be, and with that, it urged you on. You wanted to be the freest version of yourself. You wanted to be in the water with him, and hold him.

“Jason-“

“I’m here.”

You slid off the poolside, and he was there to hold you up before you could even think to move. His warm hands were so different from how cold the water was, but as equally burning as the heat that spurred everywhere else. They held your waist, and you did not want them to move away at all.

“It’s okay,” he said, with his grip still strong. “I’ll let go only if you tell me to.”

So you didn’t tell him to.

Your hands, already they found their ways resting on top of his shoulders, holding onto him a lot firmer than you actually needed to. Your right leg touched the floor. Your left one waved about in the water. You looked down. They were there. They were alright. They didn’t sting, nor hurt, nor did you feel so exposed that you’d never want to step into any light again.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you frantically nodded, still looking down at the prettiest lights that shone beneath you and Jason’s feet.

You were laughing. “This is so great…”

“It is…”

With you so distracted marveling over the water, he thought you wouldn’t notice if his hands rubbed over your waist, circled them tighter, enough for his fingers to rest delicately on your spine. He was holding you so tenderly, yet you could feel how much he was holding back. And you just went on pretending not to notice.

“I want to go there.”

You pointed at the middle of the pool, where the lights were centered on, littered about to form this spiral that stretched out like a firework that burst into the sky.

“Alright,” said Jason. “Hold on, okay?”

You nodded, and again that wonderful sensory outburst that were supposed to overwhelm you, but didn’t, when Jason led you both to the center of the pool, the waves flowing against your flesh and skin. Oh, was it so beautiful. The water, touching your every bit, it was so much more than you remembered, and so much better than you’d have imagined.

As you reached that very center, and with you having to take in both the feel of this flight, the breath that had escaped you, the lights, ones you had to watch from afar, were now beneath and around you, like you stood right in the core of a star that exploded, a supernova, right at the flares and the burst of light and sound, just as it was on your flesh.

You were swimming on stars, on clouds, on a bed of petals so sweet. You were afloat in this wonderous space, the sun so close but not burning you with its light. There were tears. Wonderous tears. Ones you couldn’t hold back with your heart in full and your chest in this tug that pulled it in all directions. You splayed your arms out, and tilted your head back, enough for your hair to be dipped into the water. And you closed your eyes. Everything. Everything. This was everything.

You looked back up, and no one, not even the moon itself in the midst of a dark sky, had ever looked at you the way Jason did.

Oh god, how you loved him.

Then that music, one that was playing so sweetly the moment you stepped in, it blurred out when you circled your arms around his strong neck.

He kept with his promise and went on to keep holding you so close, closer, until your chest met his so solid, all the cold from the once freezing water was whisked away.

Fingers tangled onto his hair, breaths battling as they met in the space in between, a space that shouldn’t have been there at all. His own hands trailed down to your hips, further down until it made you jolt.

Then your legs were around him. You were flying, so high up in the sky not even the clouds would reach you.

He pushed back your hair.

You didn’t know at what point your lips had met, your warmth uniting into one, single flame, but everything was so much of the speed of a moving picture, that none of time, nothing of the sort that wasn’t him and him alone, ever even mattered anymore.

.

Jason:

What was it called, when something unfolded before you, and everything happened so fast even when you’d try to make it slow, flashed into this bright, white light, and suddenly you couldn’t move, nor say anything to protest?

That wasn’t even much to think about anymore.

Everything was paced, so slow, slow enough that he could feel every movement she made, every flick of her fingers, every sound that escaped her lips. It heightened to so much more than it actually was. Those months, where he no longer felt even just a splinter, now all those feelings collapsed into the now.

He was kissing the world, his world, and so much of her beauty manifested into this glorious flow. He was hungry, digging into her skin as if there were more to be undone. His lips were no different. Over her lips, her jaw, her neck, licking over her shoulder and back over to her lips where she tasted the sweetest.

She did not hold back either, and he didn’t want her to. She pulled on his hair enough to make it hurt and so perfect was that pain, the growl that came out of him so animalistic, even more so did he starve. Starve for her. He wanted to taste every bit of her.

And so he did, pushing her to the edge of the pool and turning her around so no longer could anything restrict his shaking touch, on every part of her that would spark a fire engulf larger than the one within his chest. He pushed himself inside her, over and over until it hurt.

He couldn’t hold back, couldn’t hide behind this mask of gentleness any longer. For that same gentleness and touches so soft, only could be when his efforts to conceal what his desires truly manifested into, and it comes with deep want, so much lust, fire that burns, skin being drawn in red by the hungriest nails and teeth that dug into flesh. His hips started to hurt, so did his hands. It was starting to hurt her, too, with there being marks on just about every sweet spot there was. But it was just those marks that pushed them both further into fulfillment.

His name, Jason, the most beautiful thing to ever escape her lips, his hands holding her still, holding her neck and squeezing just enough to let her know that only he could ever give her that perfect mix of pain and gratification so immense, that only he could touch her and make it last, and for the whole of the night, his name was the only thing she could ever cry out.

.

You:

Oh.

Oh, was it all so wonderful.

The strain, the pull of every muscle, the purple marks on your neck, the bruises on your hips, the aches down your cunt, and every bit inside you, still with the many releases, bursts of avalanches and numbs that faltered into lingering buzzes, and eventually this humming that continued like some song you couldn’t remember. Wonderful. Magical. Even if you could think straight, which you couldn’t do much with what happened, you couldn’t describe it with enough justice.

You’ve never slept so well in so long, your head up far beyond the clouds, into space and the stars above, the gas giants that make you even lighter. With not even gravity to pull you down, you were soaring up above.

In some idealistic perfection, a world without the cruelties you knew all too well, it would be that you’d wake up, satisfied at that, to a bed that wasn’t empty, next to a man you loved whose body was filled with the deepest scars, and that would have been the end to the story and all else, the chaos most especially, would cease.

But as it were as cruel as it were kind enough to grant you that moment of bliss, you woke up, still with the sky so dark, and your arm outstretched for a naked body no longer there, but instead you found that very body already with his clothes on, moving as quiet as he possibly could outside the bed.

“Jason?” you sighed, then you sat up holding the thin sheet up to your chest.

Jason was startled. Wasn’t expecting to wake you. Or that, he was trying not to.

“Why are you up?” he asked. He was in a hurry.

And his face, from what you could read, it told you everything you needed to know.

“Are you leaving?”

Again? You wanted to say.

But even if you did, his response wouldn’t have changed. For the better, that is. Because he didn’t have much a response at all.

“Go back to bed.”

“What’s going on-“

“I’m sorry.”

He zipped up his pants, put on his jacket and just like that he was headed for the door.

His face was too grim and blank for him to leave with intention to come back. His hands were too fast reaching for the door. His voice, too low as if he were hiding something from eventually spilling. No. He was leaving. And he wouldn’t want to be found. Not after that look he just gave you before he opened the door.

You took all the sheets and reached for his shoulder. Already, you were shattered. Already, the weight had befallen, on your arms and your chest. He was so stiff that even to just turn, it was hard for him to do.

But you held his face, really held him so he wouldn’t dare pull away. The air had been sucked out of that very room and so much of your body would have broken apart, fallen to the ground and no one would be there to pick them up.

“You don’t have to leave,” you whispered, pushing your forehead against his so your breaths would meet again. “Please, be with me-“

“Y/N -“

“What did I do?” You met his eyes.

“Nothing. Please. We’ll talk about this later-“

“When?”

He sounded so solid, so unaccepting of anything to be hurled at him.

“I have to go-“

“You’re not coming back, are you?“

“I said we’ll talk about this.”

“Don’t walk away from me-“

He didn’t even let you finish.

He was strong, and he never used that against you. But that time, he did. He grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you off him. In less time than you would have hoped, he was gone.

The man you wanted. The one you loved. The one you chose.

Wouldn’t choose you.

Another of the hurt, that descent, when you’ve slipped into this hole so familiar yet the pain wasn’t something to get used to. Tears on the sheets, broken, so many of them spilling out of you and onto the floor, your skin, the bed.

You can’t shatter again. You can’t break any more.

This was the choice you made. No one told you it was all going to be easy. That all this would be handed over just as you called the moment you wanted it. No. Not with him.

Go after him.

Tell him everything.

Go after him.

You grabbed everything you got, put on your clothes and rushed out that door before you were even fully awake enough for your eyes to adjust to the light. Straight down the stairs, out into the garage where you knew Jason parked his bike. He wasn’t there. He already left.

So you took one of the keys that were hung on the wall, started up one of Bruce’s many cars and drove out of that manor.

You weren’t going to let go. You’d chase him if you had to.

You knew this would happen, the moment you realized you loved this asshole. You saw this coming. And you were prepared.

You were as fast as if you flew, if you were no heavier than a speck, a particle that would let even the flap of a butterfly’s wings change its course and move so fast, no one would have seen it.

You called him. As you drove and reached the city, you did not stop calling. Five. Six. Ten times. He didn’t answer.

Once you reached his apartment, seeing that his bike wasn’t where he’d parked it, you called again.

At the fifteenth call, he picked up.

“Jason, for the love of god-“

Your hands were shaking as it held the wheel, and nothing, not even the rain pattering onto the windshield would have calmed you. Everything happened just as fast as the rest of the night went on. And here you were, at the end, and you tripped just as you saw that very end of the dark tunnel.

“Y/N…” he said. And his voice a lot softer than it had been just then.

“Please, just talk to me.”

“We’ll talk. I promise you, we will-“

“I want to talk to you now-“

“You think you know what you want,” he said. “But you don’t. Give it time. You’ll change your mind.”

You slammed your fists against the wheel and the horn blew under the impact.

“You said you’d never make decisions for me-“

“If this is your decision, you need me to make it for you.”

So close. So close to driving away and leave him for the rest of forever.

But it wasn’t close enough.

You turned to the screen right by the car’s dashboard, pressed onto the button to turn on Bruce’s many trackers. There was a red dot.

‘No,’ you whispered. ‘No, you won’t.’

.

Jason:

“I’m sorry…” he pleaded. “I’m so sorry… but I promise you. Everything will get better.”

Up a rooftop, where he thought she’d never find him. It was hard to ignore the quake in his voice, his hands, how every word he spoke was like driving a knife down his throat, neck, and chest.

“No,” she screamed, and her cries hurt more than that very knife ever would. “It won’t. You’re a coward. What are you gonna do? Leave for another four months?”

“That’s not true.”

“Tell me it is!”

“Y/N.”

He let the skyline distract him, the buildings that soared up, higher than he could ever stand, then locked his eyes onto one of them so they wouldn’t defy him and break apart.

“Whatever it is you think is going on, it isn’t. I already told you how I felt. Why didn’t you just lis-“

Of course, she’d find him.

To be frank, even if it were one of the other safe houses he’s picked that wasn’t on any map of the city, she was bound to find him. He left her at Wayne Manor, for fuck’s sake.

The minute he heard her footsteps, coming in from entryway, he stopped talking, breathing even, and put his phone down. Trackers. Of course. Bruce had five of them on him at least.

He turned around.

“You actually fucking followed me-“

“Why?”

She wore the same thing from that night, the same suit he’d lustfully watched her take off, straps down those very shoulders, baring herself. Her hair, up in this beautiful mess, makeup no longer there and her face beautifully bare. Still a sight, she was, a sight he no longer wanted to get lost in.

“Why is this so hard for you-“

“Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?“

“Because, I-“

Every word out of him, a fire that couldn’t be put out. Flames uncontrollable, and his breath nothing but encouraging winds.

“Because you’re gonna wake up one day and realize I’m not any of my brothers… I was the one who never stood a chance,” he said. “No one would think you’d want me, out of the many other things you could have had. One day, you’re gonna realize that I’m not what you wanted-“

“I love you-“

God, it was everything he ever wanted to hear.

“You had Dick and Tim. They’ve loved you for so long… And you’re actually choosing the one guy who doesn’t?“

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

Another step forward from her. Another step back from him. He can’t stand too close or all this would be as close to the world’s slowest, most painful death.

“Nothing could have pointed you to me. Everything was telling you to-“

“For fuck’s sake, stop listening to everything else and just listen to me.”

A struggle at that.

But he’s never been so cold.

It wasn’t even from the wind from such a height, if there were any at all. But he was shivering, his teeth were gritting. Everything he said, he didn’t even mean. And all the more was it excruciating to hear himself say it all.

But he could listen. Even if it’d hurt. He’ll listen.

She was crying. To just reach over and hold her hand. He couldn’t even do that.

“Three years ago,” she whispered into the cold night air. “I was at the manor. Two weeks out of the hospital. I was just learning how to walk again but that day was hard on me. I couldn’t make a step. I was on my bed, and I was just staring at the ceiling because I couldn’t get out of it.”

It pained him all the more, when he knew nothing of what was to come to him, that all this was going to catch him before he’d even realize what it was.

“You never visit me at the manor but that day, you were there. I don’t even remember what for, but you stopped by and you caught me reading A Christmas Carol because it was the one book in my room that I actually liked. Because I couldn’t go down to the library and get more, and I didn’t want to ask from anyone.

“We ended up talking about Dickens. I didn’t know shit, but I remember you talking about him like he was your uncle and I just listened to you. I told you I liked reading his books. You said you’d bring me more when you’d come back. Three days later, you did. You got me Great Expectations.”

Great Expectations.

Why can’t he remember this?

“You left, and I read it that same night. That’s when I found a quote that you highlighted.”

Jason took a step back, away from her.

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

Everything. Everything that devastated, all suddenly came to place.

“The book was new. Store bought. The tag was still there. You bought it for me a day after you visited. Then you read it yourself and highlighted that quote.”

“How did you-“

“Remember that?”

She ignored the streaks down her skin, the droplets that fell down her neck.

“It was just a quote,” she shrugged. “It easily could have been nothing… but if I think of it differently now, it all makes so much sense.”

If he took another step back, he’d fall over the ledge.

He should have done that, now that she had walked close enough for him to get so lost into her face.

“If you loved me then,” you whispered. “Did you even know about it?”

This. This was worse than a fall.

He closed his eyes and everything fell through. The tears. The sobs. Everything. Because he did love her then. He’s always loved her since. But to admit it was close to writing his own death sentence.

This. This was death. And he’d happily jump back into that abyss.

“I didn’t want to believe it…”

.

You:

You reached for his face and for once, he welcomed it.

“If you tell me to leave right now,” you swallowed. “I’ll leave. I’ll never look for you again.”

Even if it hurts, even if I’ll have to live without you. If it’s what you want, I’ll let you go.

His hands found your wrists but it was to hold you, not to pry you away.

“Do you love me?”

It wasn’t in his words.

It was how he said yes that made you soar past the birds and the thin air from above.

It was when he finally took a step forward, to hold you in place, to keep you from falling apart and keep you so close, that acceptance of what truly went on, the love you’ve long known about and continued to believe in, even when he didn’t believe in it himself. It was there. It was what moved you. You could have fallen in from one of the many spaces above and still, you would end up in his arms.

“Of course, I do…“

Just as the sun rose, to greet you both into this morning anew. So new a life, waiting for you to come welcome it. And you welcomed it with the widest arms. He kissed you, so tender and real. Up where the city could see you, where you wanted to be seen, only to be with him.

.

Epilogue

Jason:

One box would have been enough for his clothes. He didn’t have much anyway. But as it turns out, leather jackets aren’t exactly as compact as he’d liked.

“Where do you want me to put these?!”

She was in the bathroom. He saw her peak her head out from the door to look at the jacket he was holding up.

“I set up a new closet for you!” she cried out, then she went back to brushing her teeth. “It’s beside mine!”

“Got it!”

He took the boxes of clothes, set it just outside the closet which he’ll definitely get into after he deals with everything else. Moving wasn’t something he liked doing, even when he’s moved around a single city so much before his lease would have allowed him to.

But, this new apartment, her apartment, covered in paint and canvases and rags all over the place that nipped at his neat freakiness he’d soon have to overcome, he might actually stick around.

“What about this!?”

He held up his box of books.

“I emptied a shelf for you, too! It’s next to my sketchbooks.”

“Sketchbooks, sketchbooks…”

Her sketchbooks were all over the fucking place.

He found that shelf, at least. Just enough for all his books. That is, if the paint cans above wouldn’t collapse.

“Do you clean up even just a little?”

“Shut up. It’s organized mess.”

“It’s always organized mess with you artists…”

“What?!”

“Nothing!”

She stepped out the bathroom, in nothing more than just a thin shirt and pajama shorts, then she watched him fumble with the last of his boxes.

“And, uh,” he coughed. “Can I put these somewhere?”

The look on her face, playfully annoyed as it was pleasantly unsurprised, she wanted to laugh that he’d resorted to storing his whole arsenal of weapons in a single cardboard box.

“That floorboard over there,” she pointed. “I loosened it up for you.”

“You’re a doll, pretty bird.” Jason put the box on the floor, ran up to her and grabbed her by her thighs, hoisting her whole thrashing body up his shoulder.

Her screams turned to laughter, then he spun her around, slammed her into her own bed like it was a wrestling ring and held her down with a headlock.

Everything he’s ever thought how this would have ended wasn’t so much of a fraction of how it went. Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

This was how it ended.

And he never wanted it to end.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | BLUE | YELLOW

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

@idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @lucy-roo,  @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies​ @jaybirdbooty​ @writing2sirvive​

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation​​​​​​​, @thedeadlythoughts​​​​​​​​, @vanessafabricius​​​​​​​, @pinkforest05​​

[inkbyajm]

Something Brewing

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: fluff

warnings: anxiety attack

word count: 1.5k

notes: felt like angst, felt like sobbing uncontrollably, but my body wouldn’t cooperate, so imagining it will do for now. this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i didn’t realise how much i had written. now i’m splitting it into two parts. next part will definitely be more angst than fluff, so stay tuned for the terrifying sight that is angry corpse :) (p.s. don’t mind the occasional use of british english, it’s my default lmao)

next >

A peculiar thing it was, the concept of love. It was very personal and feelings about it varied from person to person. For some, it had existed since the beginning of time, when Adam and Eve first walked the Earth, when the Almighty willed his beloved humans to lead their own lives with him in their hearts. For others, it is a feeling to long for, to crave, a feeling they found themselves daydreaming about often. And for the rest, love is a tool of ruin, potentially driving people who cared for one another away from each other, instilling at least a smidge of repulsion in each one of them. However, humans are social creatures after all, and sometimes, attraction was unavoidable no matter how much one tried. And try he did.

━

Living in California could get hard and stressful at times, but at least Corpse didn’t live at the heart of the city of anxiety-inducing social interactions and constant chaos that was Los Angeles. Sure, it meant that he didn’t live close to his friends, but he wasn’t far away from her, and that was enough for him.

A few soft grunts and sounds of slippers landing on the hardwood floor echoed from the kitchen of (Y/N)’s apartment. He got up from the couch in her living room and decided to investigate the source of the noise. Coming into the room, he saw her jumping to reach the highest shelf in one of the cupboards. Looking at it, he noticed her favourite mug sitting at the edge of said shelf and, afraid she would knock it over whilst attempting to grab it, he effortlessly got it for her. “Thank you. God, I was about to grow a foot taller trying to reach for this thing.” she sighed, eliciting a deep chuckle from him, “See, this is exactly why you’re my favourite friend.” Friend? Well, yes, of course a friend, what else would he be? Corpse felt an uncomfortable tug at his heart, and he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why he was feeling that way, so he brushed it aside. “Why was it that high up if you can’t even reach it?” (Y/N) wasn’t a short person, she was perfectly average, and he himself wasn’t that tall of a guy either. But when it came to situations of this kind, he couldn’t help but feel good about his being taller. “It usually isn’t, but I let (F/N) use it once the other day because she refused to drink out of any of the other mugs, that stubborn bitch.” she replied, pouring her homemade Italian hot chocolate into the acquired cup. (F/N) was also taller than (Y/N), so it was only natural for her to be putting things in higher places. It was done out of habit.

(Y/N) and Corpse walked back to the living room to once again settle into the couch. He glanced at her as she sat with her legs crossed, concentrated on blowing on her moderately hot beverage, while the light from the moon peeked through the curtains of the balcony door, illuminating her face ever so slightly. Since when did he start noticing these things? Looking away to set his eyes on the TV in front of them, he sensed his heart beating at an usual rhythm, palpitating, and along with it came slight lightheadedness. Was he having a heart attack? Were these signs of atrial fibrillation? Or was this simply the start of an anxiety attack? Surely any of these would be more...recognisable, to say the least. The only situation he could think of with similar reactions was when one would develop a crush. A fucking crush? At his age? How old was he, ten? “Earth to Corpse? Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sleep with their eyes open, that’s fucking creepy.” Her finger snaps pulled him out of whatever trance he was in. “Sorry, were you saying something?” “I asked you if you had watched Bly Manor like three times. You were very far away.” she answered, emitting a few giggles. “Sorry, I uh- I was thinking of something, but it’s stupid. And no, I haven’t, I’ve been meaning to, though.” And just like that, they settled on the show they were going to watch for the next couple of weeks.

━

“NOOOOOOO,” (Y/N) yelled, voicing her defeat “WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF LUCK IS THIS.” Corpse lay on the floor, slamming his palm down onto it out of hysterical laughter. They had been playing Unmatched for the past hour, this being their third round, and after many cards and a level of tension that could only be cut through with a saw, his Robin Hood had finally defeated her Alice. It was Corpse’s first time playing, so to say that his winning of all three games was a crushing moment for her was an understatement. “This is not normal, you lied saying you’ve never played before!” she pouted, putting everything back into the box, “I’m usually really good at this game.”

He wiped the tears from his eyes, struggling to keep a good composure. “I’m sorry, I guess I’ve found my talent,” he joked, but he did feel bad for stealing her thunder, “Would it make you feel better if I said that my Robin Hood is, like, extremely hurt right now? You have a fucking gigantic knife as a weapon, I only have, like, a bow and arrow. That’s kind of unfair.” (Y/N) bit her lip in hesitation, then picked up her figurine and lightly tapped it along the table to approach his. Putting Alice at a slight angle, she made a kissing sound as to imitate her character smooching his. “There, a kiss to make it better. I promise not to hurt you too much if you let me win next time.” 

The same strange feeling he had experienced for the first time two months ago, when they were sitting on the couch of her living room, and many more times after that, had come back. He would’ve blamed it on heartburn, except it was nothing like it. It wasn’t anything he was used to. “Hey, you alright?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows in concern “You’ve been doing that a lot lately, rubbing your chest like that.” Fuck. He had never noticed the habit he had developed. “I’m fine, just me and my heart problems, nothing unusual.” Filthy liar. Brows still furrowed, she moved closer to him and, with her legs tucked under her, she put her hand above his heart to check. “Jesus, Corpse, your heart is going a million miles per hour! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Looking up at him, she noticed how red he had suddenly become, and this worried her even more. “Bubs, you’re literally changing colours.” How did she expect him not to when she was doing this? (Y/N) further inspected his condition and put the back of her hand on his forehead, then his cheeks, to check his temperature. Expectedly, he was getting warmer. She stopped for a second and listened intently, only to hear his shallow breathing fill the silence. She then glanced down at his left hand resting on his thigh, and surely enough, found it trembling. “Alright, Corpse? Hey, can you hear me?”

His breathing only picked up its pace as the seconds went by. On the spur of the moment, (Y/N) placed herself in front of him, her legs on either side, and gently cradled his head. “Corpse, darling, I’m gonna need you to look at me, okay? Focus on me, focus on my breathing, mm?” He forced himself to tear his gaze away from the ground and did as he was told, eyes darting around, analysing her expression. He’s never found himself having an attack in her presence, it was surprising how well she was handling it.

Wait- darling? Bubs? “Now, can you name four things that you see? Can you do that for me?” He briefly scanned the room for answers, his mind still cluttered. “The fridge, the couch, the light and-” Did she mean to call him that? It was probably nothing, she could be using it with any of her friends for all he knew. He wasn’t special. “and the game, the board game. On the table.” “Good, now can you name three things you hear?” This one took a lot of concentration, there weren’t many obvious sounds for him to point out. “The motorcycle outside, your hands rubbing against my skin, uh-” What the fuck else? Was he losing his mind? The task was simple enough, why was he having so much trouble with it? “I’m sorry, I- I don’t hear anything else.” “No, it’s okay. You’re doing splendid, see? Your breathing is much more stable.” she reassured him, squeezing his upper arms.

“Lastly, can you give me two things you can smell?” Nodding, he closed his eyes. “The coffee you drank earlier.” It took him a moment to come up with something else, and just as she was about to get off of his lap, figuring he had done a good enough job, she heard him mumble “your perfume”. Scared he’d get another attack, Corpse avoided looking into her eyes, which he could feel the gaze of. He only picked up on the scent from her shifting closer in the last second. “That’s funny, I had forgotten to put perfume on this morning.” 

[hs-devote]

iii. láthi: the lie

Moodboard * Content * Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

chapter ii. láthi: the touch

iii. the lie 

The sex was addictive. The pair of different realm creatures loved each other's touch on their warm skin, the thirst of having sex, and the lust over each other's taste, making them unable to put their sexual needs aside. If they have the opportunity, Harry didn't hesitate to give a signal to Y/N, who of course, was accepted shyly by her. 

And it's been almost a few weeks. 

“Does it hurt?” Harry murmurs while gasping for breath after he came, rubbing the bruises mark on her hips, “I'm sorry if I was too rough.” 

“It's okay, H. You're just too carried away.” Y/N shakes her head, tracing a little of his chest hair with her fingertips. “I'm a bit sore but nothing to worry about." 

“Good then, I just wanna make you feel good.” he sighs, then dropping his body next to her. His muscular arm pulling her to him, providing warmth through their naked bodies. Y/N breathe in content after he pulled the duvet over them. 

“I have one nagging question in my mind.” 

"What's that?" she snuggles deeper to his neck, kissing the sweaty skin with full adoration. 

“Why did you let me be your first?" he curiously asks, "I mean, you're beautiful and kind. "There must be a lot of males who are attracted to you. And, why me?" 

“Because I trust you, H.” she answers softly, “I haven't dated yet because I don't have a good sense of trust. I saw my friends who got dumped with men easily, leaving them heartbroken. And.. I haven't  brave yet to suffer such pain.” 

“I know you're a good man and I trust you." she adds later. 

Harry exhales while rubbing her temples, looking at her straight in the eye. Both of them just stare at each other, let the time perpetuate their togetherness. The man only gives her a soft smile before locking their lips together. Unfortunately, Harry's desire to continue their second session is thwarted by the open door of Y/N's house. 

“Mia cara?”��

The pair hurriedly move away from each other when they heard Ilitia's voice. Harry's picking up his clothes on the floor in rush and gets dressed while Y/N looking annoyed trying to find her clothes. 

“I'll go out first before your grandmother gets suspicious.” he chuckles, ruffing her unruly hair and leaving her alone in the bedroom.

  “Harry?” 

The man startled when Ilitia standing in front of him with her signature smile while he nervously scratches his neck trying to calm him down. They almost got caught, and Harry couldn't imagine her face if she caught her beloved granddaughter being fucked with a man. 

“Uh, hi. I just came from the bathroom.” he speaks then averting his gaze to the bathroom next to his lover’s bedroom, “I think Y/N is in her room if you’re looking for her.” then looking back at the old woman. 

“Granny, hi!” Y/N appears from behind him not long after and smiling awkwardly. Her eyes occasionally glance at her grandmother who looks at Harry sceptically and him, who's standing next to her uncomfortably. 

"I think I should go now." he breaks the silence, eyeing her with the corner of his eyes, "Thank you for the.. Yorkshire Pudding, Y/N.” 

The girl just stares at him dumbfounded while the only thing he does is winking at her. As if she understands what Harry meant, Y/N just blinks and nods quickly like a doll. 

“Later, love.”   Harry smiles at her, and of course not forgetting Ilitia, “See you next time, ma'am.” 

“You don't want to stay any longer, Harry?” Ilitia asks. 

"I want to but I still have other work," he refuses politely, "Goodbye, ladies." 

With that, Harry walts out from their sight leaving both the woman in the middle of the dining room. Not wanting Ilitia to ask odd questions, Y/N immediately excuses herself to do the laundry. 

Meanwhile, Harry has returned to his cottage because he will return to Centauri for a few days tonight. He doesn't forget to text Y/N that he's going out of town for a few days for work so she's not confused about his whereabouts. Of course, she was asking about this suddenness and he lied that he had just been informed by his boss. He felt a little guilty about lying to her, but he couldn’t possibly tell the truth, could he? 

  Later that night, Harry arrives at Centauri with no difficulties. All the servant, guards, and his people welcoming his arrival with such respect. It feels so great to be able to return to his realm, back to being the ruler of his almighty realm and sitting on his throne. He feels so strong and powerful when he's back to Centauri. 

When he steps into the throne room, Selene quickly approaches him with a jog, crashing her petite body into the man she had missed so much. 

“Oh, my dear. I miss you so much.” Selene mumbles in his chest, her fingers crumple his shirt fabric. She's so happy to be back in her husband's arms. 

"Darling. Why are you still up in this such ungodly hour? Why don't you rest?” Harry smiles into her hair. 

“I heard from the guard they opened the gate because you're home. I don't want to miss my husband's return.”

He sighs softly as he breaks their hug, both his hand gripping her shoulder delicately. Selene just smiles, before tugging his hand to follow her to their bed-chamber. The Goddess doesn't want to lose this opportunity. Being her husband back at home, she wants to spend time alone with Harry intimately. 

“How's your mission, my dear? Any luck?” Selene hums, rubbing his arms innocently. 

“I know it's been weeks on Earth time and only days on Centauri time, but I haven't found the Goddess yet.” he shook his head, “But, I've talked to the Ocean. They said we'll have children one day and definitely find that Goddess.” 

“But, it's been too long, my dear. I can't let you linger on Earth.” 

“I know, darling. And I'm sorry. We have to be patient, Selene. You know it would take longer if our common guard who did it. They didn't have the ability to sense the sacred Goddess.” 

“And why the ocean? She's hiding on the land, not in the water, right?” 

“Yes, because the Ocean is the second soul of the Goddess of Birth.” Harry pats her shoulder, “I couldn't just ask them where the Goddess is. They'll keep me apart from the Goddess if I did that.” 

Selene hums softly when they reach the front of their bed-chamber, her hand pushes gently the massive double oak door and pulls her husband inside. 

“How's your day on Earth?” 

“Tired and.. fun. Worth with what we'll get.” 

"I'm curious. You seem so at home there until it took you today to come home only for a moment."  Selene stands in front of him, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“The people are very nice and kind." 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm..” 

“Very well,” Selene bites her lip, “Is there something you didn't tell me, my dear?” 

His wife's questions catching him off guard. What does she mean? He didn't lie to her about anything. Why did Selene say that? 

"I don't understand? I told you what you asked." Harry looks at her with concern, "Is there anything I haven't answered?" 

“Don't lie to me, Harry.” Selene finally opens her mouth, “You're not honest with me.” 

“Selene, I– ” 

"You're seeing someone behind my back!" her voice roars all over their bed-chamber, even he swears he felt the room shaking even if only a little. What got into Selene to scream at him? If normally his God head thinking quickly, this time it seems like he's having a little trouble digesting the sentence that Selene had just said. 

Then it clicks. 

Y/N. 

How could his wife know if he's indeed seeing someone behind her back? 

“I'm not, Selene. If you're talking about the ladies who talked to me, they're nothing more than friends. They only talked to me, nothing more.” he denies, “I’m yours, Selene. There's no way I betrayed you.” 

"Don't lie to me, Harry." she grits her shiny teeth, "If you keep lying to me, I swear–" 

“My darling, Selene.” he clears his throat, “No matter how hard you argued, my answer is still the same. I wasn't, I'm not seeing someone or dating someone behind your back. Why would I do that? I have you, my wife, all my life.” 

“Fine then if you keep in denial. I swear Harry, if you're proven to do that, you'll regret lying to me.” 

With that, Selene walks out from their grand bed-chamber, leaving her husband alone with a loud thud of the closing door. Throughout the night, Harry keeps thinking how the hell his wife knows he’s seeing another woman. Did she know when she visited him on Earth, or she sent the Centaurian people to stalked him at the Town Hall at that time? Well, just thinking about that makes his head hurt, and choose to rest since it took so much energy for him into getting here. . . . .

Selene doesn't speak a word to Harry for almost two days. Her temper is still bad so her husband has to think about how to make her not prejudice. Albeit she's a jealous person and quite reckless, it isn't hard for him to soften her. His Selene loves nice cuddles and good fuck.. and that's his way to swoon and win her heart. 

"Darling," Harry approaches his wife who had just finished her bath, with a few maids helping her to get dressed. Seeing their Gods seems to want privacy together with the Goddess, they excuse themselves, leaving their majesties alone. 

Selene ignores him, busy applying olive oil to her body with her back facing him. Seeing his wife still looks annoyed, Harry doesn't give up and taking a step closer. He slowly put his hands on her shoulder, giving her a gentle massage. 

“How long do you want to keep annoyed with me?” he whispers, bringing his hot mouth to kissing  her bare shoulder, “I've told you I wasn't seeing someone.” 

“I miss you,” he adds, “Don't you miss me?” then he lands wet kisses along her neck while his finger running along her arms. 

He smirks instantly when Selene squirms under his touch, feeling something stir inside her. There's no way she denies the longing for her husband that was eating her away. She let out a sharp breath when Harry sucks her throat, letting the bruises forming for everyone to know. 

“It seems you do miss me.” he hums on her ears, squeezing her hips to make her choke on her breath. He quickly turns her body to face him, and hungrily kissing her lips. With her defences have collapsed, Selene gladly kisses him back with so much passion. She runs her finger through his curls, tugging them a little when her husband licks her lower lip. It doesn't take long for Harry to push her body slowly to lie down on their bed with their lips still locking to each other. He eagerly caressing Selene's body under him, feeling the sensitive skin reacts with his touch. 

“How long haven't we been like this?” his voice barely whisper when he breaks the kiss, his breath is gasping for oxygen as much as possible. 

Selene just shakes her head, not answering his question. Instead, she cradles his face closer to kiss him again. While their lips savouring each other, her hands begin to take off her husband’s clothes. Selene slowly takes Harry's face away from her, taking a moment to admire her husband in his naked glory. She never gets bored and always craves his body even though they had been together for years. 

“I miss this,” she mumbles, touching his abs and running her finger from his chest to his stomach. She hums while her index finger feelings his happy trails, “And I miss.. him.” 

Harry choked on his breath when Selene groping his stiffened length, giving him a firm squeeze. The woman just smirks, letting her hand giving her husband a few good pump before releasing him. Yet, things turn around when he spread her legs wide open and buries his head between her thighs. She cries as Harry sucking her clit before leaving wet licks. Her legs tremble when he blows a deep breath into her entrance, then putting a single finger inside her. 

“Harry..” 

He pumps into her slowly, then faster his move while adding the second finger. Selene's moan gets louder when his fingers work on her, so fast until it makes her grasping his head reflexively. While his fingers work his way in and out of her, his mouth working magically – giving small bites to her inner thighs. 

"I'm close, I'm close." Selene feels it, her eyes squint tightly when the wave is coming. She curses out when his pumping fingers sliding in and out of her with no mercy. She almost screams in annoyance when Harry suddenly pulls his finger from her, yet she immediately whines in pleasure when he pushes his length inside her. 

The Goddess rolls her eyes when her husband roll in and out her hard – making their bed shaking violently. She mewls as Harry picking up his speed, rocking their hips together. The couple sighs in relief when they ride their high together, moaning into each other mouth and feeling the adrenaline running through their veins. 

Without having to pull himself out, Harry collapse next to her while bringing her body close to him, feeling their body heat and sweat sticking on their skin. Both of them keeping their mouth shut, too much enjoying each other presence. While Harry closes his eyes to regain his breath, Selene enjoys the silence by stroking his warm skin. She giggles when she realises her nails leaving scratches around his back. She doesn't even aware when her hands were creeping up his back. 

"We'll have a lot of sex after we find the Goddess and she helps me to conceive, you know? After she blesses me, we're going to make lots of babies." Selene speaks while she kisses his sweaty neck, “But for now, enjoy our time together before we make babies.” 

Harry let out a breathy laugh as he opens his eyes, looking at Selene who's now on top and ready for the second round. Cockily, he raises his eyebrow while griping her hips, “Looks now who's smitten after the sex?” 

Selene snorts before kissing her husband and lifts her hip as he guides her to make her way into his length. And it isn't secret for anyone in the castle that their God and Goddess are sex-crazed. . . . .

Harry has returned to Earth a few days ago. When he was in Centauri, a lot of task as the ruler he has done. From the meeting with his advisor and council to small tasks like monitoring the border guards practising. He realised, the longer he left Centauri, the more tasks he had to face later. He could have entrusted them to his advisor or even Selene, but he's a perfectionist and doesn't easily entrust them to other people. 

Like he always does, he will buy new flowers to replace the old one that has withered since he left. Of course, he's planning to buy them at Y/N's, but he thinks to bring her something for making up her day without him. 

Yet, when he's about to change his clothes, someone's knocking his door. He doesn't remember inviting anyone to come to his cottage, he doesn't even know his neighbour anyway. And it cannot be Selene, they just met a few days ago! 

Nevertheless, he opens the door and very surprised when he finds Y/N standing on his porch with two bouquets of roses in both hands, smiling broadly at him. 

“Hi, Harry. Am I bothering you?” 

“No,” he stunned, “Why didn't you tell me you would come? I just wanted to see you.” 

She shrugs, “I think you're still quite tired from travelling so I think it doesn't hurt if I brought some flowers for you. I believe your old ones were withered, weren't they?” 

“Very thoughtful of you,” he smiles and opening the door wider for her to come, “Come in, love.” 

“Thanks, H.” she giggles, waiting for Harry to close the door and escort her in. Y/N is comfortable enough on her own to replace the old flowers with the fresh roses she brought with her. Of course this isn't her first time being here, she has been trusted by him to move around freely. She often spends time together with him here after all. 

“Why roses?” Harry chimes in while watching the girl putting the vase in the corner, “And why, white?” 

“Honestly? I don't know..” she laughs, “But, every time I see roses, I remember you. Roses are generally defined as compassion, care, passion.. which is it's you. And the white one adds the thoughtful, innocence, and purity – which reminds me of you, too.” 

“So, you consider me as roses?” he teases her. 

“I.. guess?” she giggles, “And roses are beautiful. And you're beautiful.” 

“Thank you for the compliment, love.” he snickers while walking closer to her, “I enjoy all the compliments.” 

“Get used to that.” Y/N sticks out her tongue before leaving him to the kitchen. Harry just chuckles and shaking his head before following her behind. He smiles softly before slipping his arms around her waist from behind, putting his chin on her shoulder making her flinched in surprised. 

“I miss you,” he whispers, his nose sniffs her neck which smells like the flowers she brought earlier. Closing his eyes, Harry takes a long breath letting the smell filling his nose. He grins while tightening his arms around her, “You smell good.” 

“I'm working with tons of flowers, of course I am.” Y/N jokes while rubbing his knuckles. Then, she sighs as Harry kissing down her throat. 

She misses this. 

She misses his touch, his skin. 

She misses him. 

Wasting no time, she yanks him and grabbing his head down. She kisses him with her hands cupping his sharp jaw while letting his hands wandering all over her warm skin. She's smiling into the kiss when their tongues dancing with each other. As for Harry, he never gets tired to always give her the best kiss. Even though Y/N had tapped his shoulder as a signal of her running out of breath, Harry was always never enough. 

“Harry.." Y/N whines as she pushes him away a little, her chest is up and down – panting heavily. "I miss you, too. But, let me breathe first..” 

The man himself breaks a smile, sweeping her hair strands away before pulling back her hips and giving her smooch. Despite Y/N is only able to breathe for a moment, she doesn't deny that his kisses are addicting. The two of them cannot stay long without feeling each other's lips. 

Harry makes the move first, taking her hand to follow him to his bedroom. As soon as they get to his room, he immediately gives her a quick peck on her lips before bringing his hand to unbutton the front of her dress. While he's working on her dress, Y/N starting to take off his white crisp shirt and getting help from the man when she unzipping his trouser. 

Now, the two of them only in their underwear, still with the awe look on their face when adoring each other's body. If usually Harry is the aggressive one in the bed, this time Y/N who's the one who gently takes his hand and brings him to the bed with her. She misses him so much, and she doesn't want to waste the time. She hungrily kisses his lips once Harry hovering her, her hands running down from his chest to where his boxer hanging low on his hips. With one swift move, she manages to remove the fabric and make his already stiff length spring free between his thighs. Her hands snarkily creeping to his pride and squeeze him softly, only to make him choked on his breath. 

“Such a tease,” he scoffs while pulling her bra strap, “Baby loves to tease, does she?” 

She yelps when Harry releases the pull of the strap giving her skin hard slap. She mewls when he grinds his length to her clothed centre, giving her a taste of his shaft before his hands go under her back to unclasp her lacy maroon bra. The woman sighs in relief when the bra loosened and fall of her body with his help. Yet, a second later she rolls her head and arching her back when Harry sucks her nipple as his hand stroking her other breast. She reflexively wraps her legs around his body to keep him still, not wanting to let him go. 

“Harry..” she cries out at the same time he tugs her nipple with his teeth, giving wet licks before sucks it again. 

“Oh my.. Oh my...” she throws her head to the side as he running down his wet lips from her breast to her belly button, and peppering a few kitten licks before he tugs down her knicker. The cold air instantly hit her exposed centre making her squirm, but the squirming becomes even more intense when Harry spreading her legs wide open and dug his head down to taste her down there. 

"You're so wet." he hums as he breathed into her, then he lifts his head to peek at her. Watching his girl squinting her eyes hard as he works his finger on her. He licks his bottom lips for the satisfaction of Y/N bucking her hips into his finger. 

“Harry please, I need you.” she whimpers, “Please.. please.” 

“What? My fingers working on you as we speak now.” he teases her even more by adding the second and third finger into her at the same time making her moan even more. 

“Ah!” she screams as Harry pumping her in and out faster, he smirks as her wall tightening and squeezing his fingers deliciously. Not long after, she cum on his fingers along with long moan coming out from her mouth. He instantly pulls his fingers and cleaning his coated digits with his mouth while keeping the eye contact with her. 

“We're not done yet, baby.” 

“Want you.” she begs him while puckering her swollen lips. 

“Mhm?” he wiggles his eyebrow, crawling on top her and landing a soft kiss on her forehead. Y/N smiles meekly and wrapping her arms around his shoulder. Both of them moan in pleasure while Harry pushes his length into her until he buries deeply on her. 

He let him still, buried deep into her, letting Y/N adjust before he moves. He starts with slow and careful movements and begins to move faster when she gives him an okay. 

“Harry.. Harry...” Y/N moans on his neck while Harry rocking his hips fastly on her, rolling in and out harder until their movement shaking his bed. His bedpost squeaked, making the headboard also jerking to the wall every time he thrusting into her with full force. 

“Harry!” she cries louder as she arches her back making her breast up into the air, feeling him full and loaded inside her. She tilts her head back and forth because of the pleasure, not aware that the sheets come off of the mattress. 

“I'm close... I'm.. I'm gonna-” 

“Cum on me baby, cum for me.” Harry grits his teeth as he keep thrusting into her, gripping her hips hard, and he's sure it will leave some bruises later but he doesn't care. 

“Oh my god!” 

Y/N whimpers loudly when she reaches her high the second time, her sore breast rising up and down – gasping for the breath. She shuts her eyes for a moment, feeling the pleasure drains her energy. But, Harry doesn't give her pause, he pulls himself out and with a single beat, pushing his cock all the way inside her making Y/N chokes on her breath. 

“Yes, yes..” 

She gasps, digging her nails to his back – feeling the fullness of him on her. She moans, whimpers, and cries out every time his tips nudges her with their sweaty skin slapping each other. He's full inside her and she never feels this good. 

Then, it hits her. 

She feels him twitch inside her, ready to spill his seed into her. 

“Y/N, oh.. fuck. I'm gonna cum..” he moans in her mouth, his hand sliding under her back and holding her close. And when he spurts his thick cum into her, both of them moaning each other name together as the waves hit them. Harry shut his eyes closes as he let his fluid spilling warmly inside her. When he opens his eyes, the girl underneath him is looking straightly at his green eyes, her flushed face signifies how great their sex is. Her messy hair, lips were swollen and sweat running down her beautiful face. 

Yet, Harry hasn't satisfied. 

After letting her grab her losing breath, he pulls out from her and slowly takes the tip of the curtain dangling from the canopy bed, tied it to the bedpost before tying it to her legs and arms, making the woman spread out like a starfish. 

"What are you doing?" she asks in bewilderment, feeling a little helpless with her hands and feet tied up. Nevertheless, she trusts him enough. She believes he won't hurt her. 

“Ha – oh!” she gasps when he buries his face down her thighs, running his nose behind her inner thighs, smelling his cum that too much for her cunt to handle until it flowed. She tastes just like her usual state, sweet and wet, with a bit of him. 

Harry loves it. 

He loves it when his girl tastes like the mix of him and her. 

Sweet as honey, yet strong like him. 

“Harry!” 

He flicks his lips in her core, teasing her bundle of nerves with his tongue before sucking the fluid. He doesn't forget to leave marks by small biting her delicate skin, sucking them harsh. He holds her still when she's bucking her hips to her, but Harry cannot give her what she wants that easy. 

“Easy, tiger.” he hums, rubbing her clit softly. He chuckles before squeezing her boobs together while his mouth does a wonder on her down there. He feels so strong and powerful, while his girls feeling helpless – not being able to touch him. 

“Oh.. Oh!” 

The only thing they hear is their moans, their scream of pleasure. Unaware that someone had just opened the front door. While Harry is fucking the helpless Y/N underneath him, rocking himself in and out with the utmost lust, the Goddess of Centauri. His wife. Selene, standing behind the half-closed door watching her husband having a kind of passionate sex with another woman. Not just a woman, yet a mortal creature. 

Selene knows it. 

She was suspicious from the start. 

Her husband is having affair with someone. 

Her husband is cheating on her. 

A mortal human is seducing her husband. 

How come Harry be seduced by the despicable, mortal, and lowly creature. A human? 

She cannot allow this. 

No.  

Without making any sound, Selene disappeared in the blink of an eye – letting the pair fulfil their desires. *

hweelloo... ;)

[theprayerfulword]

September 15

1 John 4:16 NIV We know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.

Song of Solomon 8:7 NLT Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers drown it. If a man tried to buy love with all his wealth, his offer would be utterly scorned.

1 John 1:7 NKJV But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.

Romans 13:11 NKJV And do this, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed.

John 14:26 NKJV But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you.

John 15:13 Greater love has no one than this; that one lay down his life for his friends.

May you seek for the sound and stable wisdom of God which comes from above and is given generously from the Father without reproach, not depending upon, but turning from and renouncing, the wisdom of man and the counsel of the world which the Lord will turn to foolishness, causing the leaders to be deceived and making the land to stagger as the cornerstones of culture go astray. Isaiah 19, James 1

May you always walk in trust toward the Lord and exercise faith in God, for that which you see as impossible to have happen is already accomplished in the eyes of the Lord. Isaiah 19

May you walk humbly before those God is drawing, as He makes Himself known to them, so they may know how to turn to the Lord and be healed, for in that day the Lord Almighty will bless them saying, “Blessed be Egypt my people, Assyria my handiwork, and Israel my inheritance.” Isaiah 19

May you follow the guidance of the Lord in obedient reverence, though you do not understand all that He is doing or how He is working, for He will support you and sustain you in your vulnerability and suffering, Isaiah 20

May you ever recall that on the threshing floor, the harvest is trodden underfoot and dealt blow after blow, after the stalk that gave life and nourishment is cut off and dried up, to separate the chaff and straw, without harm to the grain, and even so, the afflictions and persecutions, the tribulations and troubles which come in your life will cause separation and removal of that which is useless, but cannot harm that which the Lord has grown and developed in your life and finds so very valuable and worthwhile. Isaiah 21

My child, sin shall not be a master over you, for in Me you have died, and through Me, you have a new life. Live in the freedom you have been given by grace through the law of the Spirit of life that you have received from Me. Keep standing firm in My Name and on My Word, and do not allow the lies of the enemy to trigger conditioned reflexes in you to repeat old habits, lest you put on again the yoke of slavery that you were once subject to. Be renewed in your mind through the study of My Word, allowing My Spirit of revelation to make the truth of the scripture real to you. He will show you how to apply it to yourself, giving you the means to put on the mind of Christ; you will then be able to discern between that which brings life, and that which brings death. Let the peace that passes understanding dwell richly within you and around you in all ways and at all times, even as I am with you. As you grow in understanding that you are justified before the Father through Me, and are no longer subject to the judgment of wrath, there will be no more fearful expectation of evil befalling you. Daily growing in grace and wisdom in the Father, you will be able to walk in peace within and without, at home and outside of home, with fellow workers, with fellow Christians, and with those in the marketplace. My peace withstands the attacks of the enemy when you stand up and when you lie down, when your thoughts are preoccupied and when you wait for sleep to arrive. It is the confident assurance of victory in My name and through My power rather than yours. You have no need to dread bad news, for your faith is in Me, and you know that I will never leave you nor forsake you. Though terror fills the hearts of those who do not yet know Me, you are not of them and you are not subject to their master any longer. I place you in their midst, and let you live through the same experiences so that I can make a distinction in their eyes between you and them, that I may provoke some, by jealousy, to seek Me as well. Though some will hate you for My sake, others will come to Me through the witness you give as you remain confidently faithful and humbly secure in your assurance in Me without wavering. Be strong and of good courage, My love, for I will bring all things to pass as they need to. Simply draw close to Me and let Me love others through you.

May you always be ready to give to others a full account of your ministry and service in the gospel, depending on God for success even as you exercise all proper caution to remove mistakes and avoid misunderstanding, never giving place to conduct by any which would reflect poorly on, or distort the truth and beauty of, the gospel of God. Galatians 2

May you know that a man is not justified by observing the law but by faith in Jesus Christ. Galatians 2

May you continue to remember the poor as you live the Gospel you preach. Galatians 2

May you turn to God for deliverance from your enemies and protection from those who rise up against you as you seek to walk in God's will. Psalm 59

May you depend on the Lord God Almighty to rouse Himself and punish all the spiritual principalities who lie in wait for you and conspire against you without cause or offense, ready to attack you, for He will look upon your plight and show no mercy to wicked traitors. Psalm 59

May you watch for God, your Strength, your Fortress, Who lovingly goes before you, scoffing and laughing at the powers of the air who snarl like dogs and spew swords from their lips, rejecting the will and the love of God. Psalm 59

May you sing of His strength in the evening, and sing of His love in the morning, for because the wicked sin in their heart and curse with their mouth, they will be caught in their pride and consumed by His wrath until it is known to the ends of the earth that God rules over Jacob, and He is your strong refuge in times of trouble. Psalm 59

[hufflepirate]

Bioshock headcanons/ficlets:

- Jack’s sweater is always damp. It’s too thick and it won’t dry and he keeps having to splash through water and he’s always wet. Until he wakes up in the safe house and knows he’s been out of commission for too long because he’s somehow become dry. Strangely, having once, for a few precious minutes, been dry makes him feel weirder about huddling as close as he can safely get to a burning corpse the next time he’s half-soaked and shivering. But he can’t go back. Something might follow him. He huddles closer to the body and tries not to think about it.

- Jack’s bleeding profusely, keeping pressure on the wound and shoveling chips into his mouth with dead eyes as he hides behind some boxes in a corner. He didn’t want this. Nobody would want this. He keeps dripping seawater into the chip bag. He hopes it’s seawater. He’s also been in a sewer today. His chips seem extra salty, so it’s probably seawater. He really, really hopes it’s seawater. They don’t crunch properly because they’re soggy from the drips, but that is the absolute least of his problems. He finishes up his chips and checks to find his wound is at least not actively bleeding anymore. He checks the boxes one more time. He checks the chip bag one more time. Empty. He allows himself one moment of sagging forward, leaning his head against the crate that hid him, then cocks his gun and steps back into the room itself, body electric with attention as he watches for anything that might see

- Fighting Big Daddies is no joke. He knows he should rescue the Little Sister crying next to him, but he’s already flat on his back, laid out by that last hit, and he’s almost unconscious and it’s blessedly quiet other than the sobbing, and maybe he’ll just stay here. Maybe he’ll just stay here. Maybe he’ll just - No. He sits up, his breath catching as he feels every inch of his body throb with pain, and his fingers itch to open up a first aid kit and try to convince himself he’s not dying. Instead, he drags himself up farther, onto his knees, because his feet seem a step too far, and drags the girl close to him, exorcising the creature that makes her other than human and then slumping down to sit on his heels, exhausted by the struggle. She peers curiously at him and he waits for her to run away, but instead they stare into each other’s eyes. He’s so tired. He hurts so bad. He’s sure his eyes look dead, or at best haunted. Hers look - look - God Almighty, there aren’t words for what hers look, but he thinks he understands, thinks he would know how to feel that feeling too, if he had the strength left to feel anything at all. She undoes her sash and ties it tightly around the worst of his wounds and he just stares, still spent, as she finishes up and runs off, clambering into a hidey-hole and out of sight. He gets his first aid kit out instead of just falling over and letting himself lie there. He has work to do.

- He doesn’t want to leave the safe house. He doesn’t want to do anything, and he especially doesn’t want to face a man whose words can sink all the way into his bones, pull on his muscles like puppet strings, and he doesn’t want to and he doesn’t want to, and the woman’s eyes looking at him have no mercy and something inside him, deep, fears her, too. “He’s the one that saved me,” a little voice says. And “He’s here to help us,” and “I like him!” but then their voices are piling up on top of each other, and his head spins with whatever’s been done to him and as it’s spinning the voices pile up more and pile up more and he hears things they aren’t saying at all, now, “Get up, Mr. Bubbles! Get up! Mr. B! Mr. B! Please, Mr. Bubbles, please get up!” He crouches down next to the little girl who’s meant to be taking him out of here, his tongue frozen in his mouth as he fights through all the sounds, and then he can’t stop looking at her face. She’s not afraid of him and her chin is up, stubborn, and she looks impatient, tells him again to follow, and he’s so tired. So tired. He wants to sink down onto his knees, wants to tell this tiny, stubborn thing he can’t do it, that it’s beyond him, that he’s not enough, will never be enough, has never been enough, that he doesn’t even know who he is, anymore, but she says it again, “Come with me!” and her eyes - her eyes - he straightens his protesting knees and as she runs off with a satisfied nod, he follows.

- Jack leans his forehead against the inside of the Vita-Chamber and closes his eyes. The glass is surprisingly cool, given the energy of the whatever-it-is around him that pulls him to itself from the jaws of death. He is tired of the jaws of death. He is tired of being scraped through the teeth and coming out of the chamber raw and aching. He is tired of trying not to wonder if it’s really still him every time, or if every time this happens he has died for real and been re-made. He thinks if he’d been re-made, his joints wouldn’t ache. He thinks if he’d been re-made, he’d be whole instead of half-healed and pulsing with pain. He thinks he’d like to stay here, instead, this time, just save everyone and everything the trouble of sending him to his living grave one more time. He hears a little voice, a woman screeching, a deep, animal growl. He steels himself, reloads his gun, shoves open the doors, steps out hearing the whoosh behind him and prays his feet never have to step here again. Then he’s running.

- At the end of it all, Jack lies on his back, feeling the ground, solid under his battered body. Lord Almighty, he hurts. He thinks one of his ribs is cracked. He thinks he might be out of ammunition. He thinks he might be out of EVE. He thinks he might be out of bandages. He thinks the girls look tall from this angle. Dangerous. Strong. Their eyes look down at him and soften, and then they’re only little girls again, after all. He lifts up one hand, too weak to work out what for, and a set of little hands takes it, cupping it between them, and the little girl whose hands they are tells him it’s ok now. Clear as rainbows. He wonders if she’s ever seen a rainbow. He wonders if he has, or if he only imagined it. “Ok,” he says, hoarse, “Just give me a minute.” She cocks her head to the side, confused. “Angels don’t wait, Mr. B.” He raises his other hand, lays it over hers, where she was already holding onto him, and says, “Today, they do.” Another little sister tries to hand him something and he doesn’t take it. He meets the girl’s eyes, and sees a shift in them as it sinks in. She smiles, and it’s beautiful. “Today, they do,” she repeats, slowly, as if the words feel unfamiliar. “Where do you wanna wait?”

- Jack runs out of EVE for good on the surface. He snaps his fingers and all that happens is a snap. He does it again. Again. A little hint of fear runs down his spine, but then one of the girls snaps back again, one, two, three times. He snaps twice. She snaps twice. She’s grinning. A smile spreads slowly across his face. He switches from hand to hand, left, right, left, right. She gets a devilish glint in her eyes, snaps back at him, left, left, right, left. He snaps right, right, left, right, and she laughs out loud, and the fear is gone, as if it were never there. “Help me find some matches,” he says, “It’s going to be cold tonight and we ought to have a fire.”

- The upper floors of the lighthouse are inaccessible, as if it’s never been manned, as if it’s never been a real lighthouse at all. He doesn’t want to be where it looks like Rapture. He wants to be where it looks like somewhere else, like he’s got all the space he needs, like anything is possible. The girls help him drag the seat cushions out of the bathysphere and they curl up in a pile under the stars, huddling together to stay warm and fidgeting with childish energy without moving away into the cold first. He gets elbowed in the half-healed, still-bruised rib and can hardly breathe. He gets kneed in the crotch and grunts in pain. He gets head-butted under the chin and bites his tongue. Little voices apologize. Apologize. Apologize again. His voice is deep, broken, not fully his own, but he’s starting to get the hang of making it gentle in spite of the growl. “It’s alright. I’ll heal. But try to be more careful - the stars will still be there when you look up again.” He feels the surprise, the remembering, the pleasant shock. He smiles, in spite of everything. “The stars will be there every night. Every night there’s not clouds. I promise.” “Did you ever count them?” Before he can answer no, one of the other girls is counting out loud, pointing at one star and then another, another, another, and can’t tell them no, can’t tell them there’s no point to trying, can’t tell them not to keep looking, and looking, and looking at something they’ve never seen before. They’re still counting when he falls asleep, a pleasant, easy rhythm of numbers, like counting sheep.

[mlovesstories]

Their Promise

Summary: YN runs into a royal, the royal runs into YN. 

AN: I am so excited for this.  I hope you like it as much as I do! Brad means Charlie BRADbury. Thanks to my love @cherryblossomflowers​ and also to @supernatural-jackles​ for the inspiration and advice. 

Words: 6800

Warnings: cussing. Injuries, death

Tag List

Ask Box

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Please welcome Prince Dean Winchester!” He walked out onto the stage at the gala, raising money for those who had been burned by fires that ravaged their country in the previous weeks.  

“Thank you for joining me tonight.  We all know why we are here.  Please, let’s do what we can to help the families that need it the most right now.  Enjoy your evening, and let’s see those checkbooks!” Dean laughed.  “Good evening.” He raised his glass of apple cider and so did the crowd below him.  

“Cheers,” they all said.  

Prince Dean interacted with the crowd to gain their attention for the cause.  Being a professional at conversation, he made everyone comfortable and relaxed. In a way, it was a façade.  Dean was those things, but he had to work hard to maintain them consistently.  

“Your Highness, the king wants to see you.  Please say good night to your guests,” his main security guard prompted him. 

“Okay.  One second.” Dean stepped back on stage and announced his departure.  The security team guided him from the event back to his family’s palace. 

“Hi, Dad.” Dean saw a distraught look on his father’s face.  King John Winchester hugged his son at the bottom of the stairs as his son came in. “What’s wrong?” He was baffled by his dad’s gesture.  

“Your mom. She was in-” 

“DAD!” Prince Samuel ran into the room, disheveled and breathing hard. “Security said there was an emergency.  What happened?” 

“Your mom, she was in a car accident…. She didn’t make it. They won’t let me go see her.” John started crying.  Sam and Dean looked to each other before trying to catch their father as he fell to the marble floor in the foyer on the home.  His boys were overcome with emotion as well, tears falling onto each other and their clothes.  Dean held his dad and his brother, fulfilling his natural role in the family.  What were they going to do without her?  As John straightened, he explained, “Security hasn’t let all of the leaders know yet.  The crash was just outside the gates, so hopefully that will stop the news from spreading before it needs to.” The three leaders wiped their eyes.  

John went on to describe what had happened in more detail.  

“Your mom’s driver wasn’t paying attention and crashed into a wall.  Mom was impacted immediately. I can’t go to her.  I want to see her.” 

“I know, but we can’t.  When things like this happen leaders can’t be in the same location.” Dean reasoned, relying on his royal duty handbook.  

“She’s my wife,” the king responded, trying to justify going to see his love.  

“Sir, can we escort you to your room?” One of the butlers looked to the oldest Winchester.  The three royal family members stood from the ground.  

“No, thank you, Rupert.  I need to be with my boys.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.  You will be needed in about an hour to meet with authorities for next steps.” He bowed. 

“Thank you, Rupert.  You are excused.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.” The butler bowed again and left the room.

Dean changed from his tuxedo into jeans and a tshirt. The tuxedo represented so many things that he hated about being part of the royal family.  He was angry and very emotional.  Taking it off was shredding a skin he used only when needed. 

Before the three realized how much time had gone by, security came to address the family.  

“Your Highness, Princes Winchester?”

The family looked up from the couches they were quietly sitting on, staring at nothing. 

“Yes?” Dean looked to Benny, his favorite of the security team. 

“King Winchester, we would like to take you to her. The appropriate people have been notified.  She is at the hospital.” 

“We’re going too.” Sam interjected, almost defensive.

“Sam, at ease.” John put a hand up to calm him. “Thank you, Lafitte.  We will be right there. Please let the team know we need to put ourselves together.  We’ll be ready in five minutes.”

Hurriedly, the three men grabbed jackets and shoes before being taken to a private hospital room.  Mary lied on the bed, motionless.  The color was gone from her body.  

Sam gasped looking at her. 

A doctor walked in behind them and gave them an update.  He explained how the accident rattled her body and killed her.  He asked if they would like a moment with her. 

“Please,” the husband whispered. 

“Yes, sir.” The doctor left the hospital room.  Security provided three chairs for them to sit with her.  

“Oh, Mary,” John sighed sadly.  

After a few moments with the queen, Benny stepped in the room.  

“It’s time to say goodbye, we need to move you so that the news is not aware of her death yet.”

“Benny…” Dean groaned.

“I’m sorry, Prince Winchester.” 

“Give us one more minute,” Sam stated.  Benny left the room and guarded the door. The youngest walked from his chair, squeezed her hand, and said goodbye. As the royal family left, a sheet was pulled over Mary’s body.  John, Dean, and Sam were escorted out of the building and back to the palace. 

The next morning, the queen’s death was announced to the world. The family grieved as they had to remain professional and well… royal. Exhibiting their somber faces but no tears, they made their statement to the news outlets. 

“She was a great leader, mom, and wife.  We will miss her greatly.  Please pray for our family as we process the loss of our great Queen Mary.” John ended his announcement on the palace balcony. The security team guided them back inside.  

A few days later, the environment was very stiff. 

“Sir, we need to make some arrangements for her funeral,” their most respected assistant talked with John.  “Everything is picked out, we just need to go over everything one more time.  While we do that, why don’t you rest? Have you eaten anything in the past two days?” Charlie rubbed his arm. 

“No, I haven’t, Brad.  Can you send up some crackers and water to my room? I’m not very hungry.”

“Yes, of course. RUPERT!” Charlie yelled for the butler over the noise of the staff.  “Get some crackers and water for the king, please, and maybe some fruit too. Bring it up to the master suite, please.  Check on the princes as well.  They haven’t eaten either.” Charlie walked with King John as he got closer to his room.

“I’m sleeping in guest bedroom one.” He abruptly stated, a glossy expression covering his face.

“Of course, sir.  I’ll send Rupert here then.  He will be with you momentarily.” 

He turned to look at his assistant. 

“Will you miss her, Charlie?” John dropped the formalities, as she was more than an assistant to him. 

“Oh, yes sir.” She weakly smiled.  “But it isn’t my job to be sad.  My job is to help you with this and fulfill my duties.” Charlie took a deep breath. 

“She loved you.”

“And I loved her too.” She almost broke down, but she felt she needed to keep herself together for professional reasons.  “Go rest, King Winchester.  Rupert will be here in a moment with your snack.  And for the love of Chuck, please eat it,” she winked. 

“You’re bringing Chuck into this?” He laughed. “Just because he beat me at the writing competition once does not mean he is an almighty god or something.” 

“Sure, Your Highness.” Charlie grinned wryly.  “Rest,” she pushed him toward the door of the guest bedroom.  “Sleep if you can, okay?” 

“I Chuck swear,” he smiled.  John entered the room, happy to be alone and in a room that didn’t remind him of his love.  After he ate a few bites of his food, he fell asleep. 

The Winchester Family put on brave faces as they went through the royal duties and attending events because of their mother’s death. Being in their twenties, Dean and Sam tried their best to act as grown up as they could, but they knew all of the procedures and politics of Mary’s death was a lot to handle. 

“Let’s go,” John stood behind his boys, motioning for them to walk to their back door. 

“Why do we have to go? We said goodbye to her in front of everyone already.” Sam groaned. 

“They want to see us at her grave site. It’s on the property and will take five minutes. One last thing, Sammy.” John felt bad for his sons. Yes, they were adults, but he didn’t want them to face this at such a young age. 

They did as they were expected, having news outlets taking photos of them standing and looking at her headstone. 

“I’m going to take a nap,” Sam led the way back to the palace.Tired from having to put on a brave face, he wanted to have his own space. 

A few hours later, the king told his sons they would be flying to Lawrence, Kansas.

“Why?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Haven’t we been putting on a face long enough? Why do we have to travel the world and pretend mom didn’t just DIE?” He started to stomp away. 

“”I AM THE KING, AND YOU WILL TREAT ME AS SUCH!” John growled. Dean stopped, forgetting formalities. He turned back to his dad. “You know I don’t expect you to bow at my every whim, but I am your father and the king of Genovia.” 

“Sorry,” he looked away from the king.

“We are going because we are having a private memorial with just your mom’s family. Grandpa Samuel is too old to travel, so we are going to him.” 

“Don’t we hate him?” Sam looked at his dad. 

“No,” John laughed. “He’s just rough around the edges. He doesn’t like me because he thinks I made your mom become a royal,” he put a finger up, “but I didn’t. It was completely her choice to enter this family. We leave tomorrow. Pack your things tonight so that Rupert can put them in the car.”

The boys stood in their places taking in what was happening. When John saw they were not doing as told, he glared at them. 

“You’ll have plenty of time by yourselves on this trip. Go get your things in order,” he turned and left the room.

The next day, they flew to Kansas. Both princes were quiet, but John didn’t ask why. He knew they were tired and frustrated. 

“Why don’t you both go take a nap?”

“Fine.” Dean moved through the plane with ease. The other two Winchester men heard a crash and his body hit the bed. 

“Sam?” 

“No, thanks.” Sam turned to look out the window. 

After they landed and arrived at Samuel’s home, the three Winchesters were surrounded by security. 

“Benny, some space, please.” King Winchester stated flatly. Benny heard the tone in his voice. 

“Boys, cars only.” He watched as the team walked toward the vehicles that they had arrived in. “Two around back and two in the front.”

“Thank you,” John smiled. 

“I get to come in and sit on this guy’s couch.” 

“Benny-“

“No. I stay or the whole security team surrounds the house.” 

John chuckled. 

“Okay.” 

“Boys.” Samuel nodded from his recliner. “Just so we are clear, you are not royalty in this house. You are my son-in-law and grandsons. When is the memorial service for my daughter?” He looked at John. Charlie stepped in. 

“Tomorrow at noon.” 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m… a friend trying to help the family keep their calendars going through this difficult time. My name is Charlie, and I think you raised a wonderful woman. Excuse me while I take a moment.” She stepped outside to take a walk in the backyard.

“Is she one of your little minions that makes everything perfect for you?” Samuel said passively. 

“Hey!” Dean growled. “She is our friend and mom’s assistant. Leave her out of this.”

“Dean, it’s fine. Samuel, we need three guest bedrooms. Is that okay or would you like us to go to a hotel? The boys can take one room, the security team and staff needs one, and I need the third.”

“Fine, Winchester,” Samuel groaned. 

“If you don’t want us here, let’s go home.” Dean stared at him. 

“Get your ass out of my house if you talk to me like that. Or I’ll send you to one of the rooms like a little boy!” 

“Samuel,” John calmed him. “Boys, take the room with the two beds. Please pull out the air mattresses from the closet for Benny, Charlie, and whoever else needs one.” 

“Charlie can be with us. Not that she doesn’t love you, Benny. She loves us more though,” Dean grinned. 

“I will be on the couch by the entrance, but thank you, King Winchester. The extra room can be for the guys outside. I’m Benny Lafitte, Mr. Campbell. Head of security. It’s very nice to meet you. Don’t mind me. Please continue as you would.” 

“Right…” Samuel huffed. 

The princes walked up the stairs and did as told. Not wanting Charlie with a bunch of guys in the same room, Sam put a small air mattress between the two beds. They were very protective of her. 

“Dean Winchester, why am I sharing a room with two princes instead of the staff?” Charlie raised a brow. She loved them like brothers, but it still surprised her. 

“You want to be in a room full of dudes who we don’t even know the names of or do you want to be with us?” 

She hadn’t really thought about it. Charlie saw the caring nature in both of them, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. 

“Fine, but keep your hands to yourself, Winchester,” she smiled knowing he would never do any such thing.

“Hands off, promise,” he smirked. “Let’s go. Time for bed. Even you, Missy.”

Charlie started, “I have to finish up the-“

“We will carry you up the stairs if we have to, Brad,” Sam grinned. 

She grabbed her backpack and went up the stairs. As they followed her, she said, “Fine, but don’t complain when I have to pee every two hours from drinking so much water to keep up with you guys.” She could hear Dean’s eyes roll. 

“Bed, now,” he responded. 

“Yes, your majesty.” 

The boys did NOT have a lot of alone time in Kansas.  Dean needed out. 

“Dad, I’m going to New York!” Dean yelled obstinately at his father. 

“No, you are not! You are the prince! You cannot galavant across the United States!” 

“Watch me!” Dean pounded down the steps of Samuel’s house, Benny following. “You better stay here Benny, or I swear-“

“FINE- be back at the palace in two weeks. AND BRING BENNY WITH YOU!” John shouted out the front door. “That’s an order from the King!” He gritted his teeth. 

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, come on, Benny.” 

The two drove to New York with hats, sunglasses, and winter clothes as to not be recognized. 

“You’re a real asshole sometimes, you know that?” Benny glared at his friend and prince. 

“Leave it alone, Benny.” 

“I’m not driving you to New York with an attitude like that!” Benny punched the gas of the town car. “And where in the world are we going to park this thing?” 

“We’ll figure it out! And don’t tell me how to talk to my father!” 

“You’re running away, and you know it!” 

“I need a second to breathe, man! I’m tired of being somber! I’m tired of the cameras and people asking me about my mom’s death! It’s been two weeks, how do they think I’m doing?” Dean pounded the dashboard. 

“Fine, but don’t be an ass!” Benny shouted. “I am not going to die protecting you just because you want to do something erratic!” 

Dean hadn’t thought about it that way. He was putting others’ lives in danger. He sighed, calming himself. 

“I’m sorry, Benny.”  

“Now, shut up and let me drive.” 

When they arrived in New York, they gave the car to the valet and checked in under a fake name. 

“I’m going to go hit the bar-“ Dean started. 

“No, you’re not. I’m in charge. King’s orders, remember?” 

“Benny, don’t.”

They dropped off they’re few belongings in a two bedroom suite. 

“Yes. I’m ordering drinks for the room.” 

“Benny, come on!” 

“Just for tonight. Get settled, and tomorrow we’ll go out.” His bodyguard tried to reason with him. 

“Fine, but I l’m getting hammered then.” The prince stated his argument defiantly.

“Whatever, Winchester.” 

Benny ordered food and drink for them both, a soda for him and some brandy for Dean. 

The next morning, Benny woke up to the prince groaning. 

Hung over.

Benny rolled over and sighed. He stood and got dressed before checking on Prince Dean. 

“Lafitte! I hate you.” Dean stayed as he saw his security enter his room. “You let me get drunk, and now I feel like crap.” 

“You’ll live.” He grinned. “Drink some water.” 

Dean slowly felt better throughout the day. 

“I’m not getting drunk tonight. Remind me what happened today when I want to get drunk again.”

“Yes, Prince Dean.”

“There is a matinee I want to see at 4. Can we go, bodyguard?” He laughed. 

“Hat, sunglasses, and hair messed up. But yes.” 

“YES!” Dean became excited like a small child. 

A few hours later, Benny looked Dean over before they left for the show. 

“Be good,” his bodyguard groaned. 

“You know I’ll be on my best behavior,” the prince grinned. 

“Go,” Benny turned him toward the door. “I will bring you back right here if you don’t keep a low profile, you hear me?” 

“It’s going to be fine, ya grump.” 

“Let’s go before I change my mind.” 

Dean enjoyed the show, but Benny scanned through crowd over and over. The prince put his hand on the arm rest and felt a hand already there. 

“Oh, sorry, miss,” Dean smiled when he saw a beautiful woman. “I didn’t know-“ he stopped. 

“It’s okay.” She grinned. 

For the rest of the movie, Dean was a statue. He tried to catch up to her after the movie ended. He tapped her shoulder, she turned around. 

“Are you from a vending machine? Because you are a snack.”

Oh, you idiot. Dean cringed at his own words.

“Wow, smooth.” YN smiled. 

“That was dumb, I’m sorry,” Dean ran a hand over his face. “You’re- youre YN LN,” the prince jumbled his words. 

“Yeah…” she rolled her eyes internally. 

Another chump. 

“I love your show. Your character is strong, and independent. And beautiful.” Dean’s cheeks went red. 

“Well, thank you.” 

“Do you want to get a drink? I’m free and it’s early. No leading on, I promise,” he said seriously. 

“Oh my-“ she realized who he was. Dean knew it too. 

“Never mind.” He tried to pass her. 

“We met once,” YN stated. He turned around. “There was a gala a few weeks ago-“ 

“You were in Genovia?” His eyes widened. 

Benny stood off to the side, frustrated that YN recognized the prince. 

“Yeah. I guess I made the rich list or something. You were a great host.” 

“Obviously not good enough since I wasn’t paying attention to you,” Dean sighed, angry at himself. 

“What are you doing here? Isn’t this a little… normal for a prince?” 

“Can we move this along? For everyone’s safety?” Benny looked between the two of them.

“Would you mind coming to my suite, I don’t want to be recognized. I promise I will keep off.” 

“Sure. As long as your dog stays down too,” she turned to Benny and laughed. “Come on,” she took his hand. YN let him lead the way back to his hotel room.. 

YN was nervous as she had never met any world leaders before. What she didn’t know was that Dean was even more nervous. They both wrung their hands together and Dean’s knee didn’t stop bobbing up and down. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Prince Dea-“

“Please,” he put a hand up, “just call me Dean.” 

“Okay… Dean.” YN smiled. “Why are you in the city?” 

“I needed to get away, honestly. With what happened with my mom, I just…” he stopped. 

“Needed to breathe.” 

“Right.” He nodded. 

“I get that. You’ve probably been surrounded by everyone asking about it. Being anonymous is probably a dream for you.” 

“Eh, sometimes. I don’t mind being in front of people. Everyone knowing my business isn’t fun.” 

“I understand.”

“You mean you don’t want other people to know you wore a purple scarf at a dinner with a friend who you used to be frenemies with?” Dean chuckled. 

“Exactly,” she eased. 

“Wine?” Dean asked. “Benny can get room service.” 

“Benny is not your butler, I’m sure.” YN grinned. “But yes, that would be lovely. Rosé if you don’t mind.”

Sticks up for herself and lets me know what she likes. Yes, please.

“I will order it then,” he smiled. Dean got on the phone and ordered the wine.

“Wow, you did something so normal!” YN cackled. Dean took a moment and then laughed with her. 

“People don’t know that I do normal stuff all the time.” 

“I’m sure you do, I’m just giving you a hard time.” 

Over the next few hours, both of them laughed and realized they had a lot in common. 

“Prince Winchester, you have an early morning tomorrow,” Benny interrupted. 

“Right,” YN excused herself. “So do I. Thank you, Dean. Sleep well.” 

“You too, sweetheart.” 

After she left, Dean turned to Benny. 

“You ruined my date!” 

“Go to bed.” Benny crossed his arms. “It’s late.” 

“Are you my father?!” Dean squared up to his bodyguard. 

“You’re halfway drunk and you were about to make a fool of yourself.” 

“Whatever,” the prince rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bed.” 

Dean only slept because of the wine. He woke up remembering his evening with YN LN. 

“Did I get her number?” He ran into Benny’s room. 

“You ass.” His bodyguard groaned and rolled over. “No,” Benny growled. 

“DAMMIT!” Dean retrieved the paper and saw himself on the front page. “BENNY!” 

His bodyguard jumped out of bed. He saw the photo. 

“We need to go home. Now.”  

“But I met a girl, and-“ 

“No. Get your crap. We need to go.” 

Dean heard his phone ring. 

“Dad.” He sighed. Dean answered the phone. “I know, I know, Benny and I are on our way home.” 

“Good. We’ll see you in a few hours.” 

They hung up. 

“I hate you.” Dean stated to his bodyguard. 

“Come on, time to go home. Be thankful she isn’t in the photo too.” 

“Good point.” 

YN saw the photo in the New York Times. 

“He got spotted.” 

She tossed the paper on the table. 

“Poor guy,” YN’s mom said at breakfast. “The prince needed time away and then he was recognized.” 

“Yeah.” YN hid the fact that she had seen him the night before. 

She wondered if she would hear from him, especially since he was probably trying to hide.

He tried to find her and contact her, but she didn’t have any personal social media. He knew her publicist ran the pages, not her, and he had reached out but no response. Dean became discouraged. 

YN felt dismayed that she hadn’t heard from him, and she didn’t want to seem desperate. 

“I have to go, Mom.” She grabbed her things. “I’ll be home in a few weeks.” 

YN took her passport and put it in her bag. 

“Be safe.” 

YN landed and saw a friend waiting for her. 

“Hi,” she said quietly. “How are you?”

“Good!”

At the palace, Prince Dean stared out the dance hall window.

“Your Highness?” Charlie stepped into the room. 

Dean turned toward the family’s assistant. 

“Hey, Charlie.” 

“Your Majesty, can I be frank?” 

“You know you can.” He grinned. 

“You need a hug.” Charlie looked at him sincerely. 

Dean laughed, not expecting that to come out of her mouth. 

“That obvious, huh?” 

“The last few months haven’t exactly been easy.” Charlie walked toward him. “Come here,” they sat down on a couch off to the side. He slouched until he was comfortable. She wrapped her arms around him. 

They sat there quietly. A few minutes later, she looked down to see him asleep on her lap. She smiled. 

“Dean?” Sam rounded the doorway when he saw Charlie and Dean in the dark. 

“Shh… he finally relaxed.” Charlie looked at the younger prince. 

“Oh. Okay.” Sam stopped. 

“Come here, you lug.” 

 Sam started to walk toward her. She motioned for him to sit.

“Lie on the other side.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. Since he was so big, she leaned into him. 

After some time, they all fell asleep. 

“DEAN! SAM!” The king’s voice bellowed throughout the halls. He checked the dance hall and found three of his favorite people asleep. John stopped, taking in the scene. He saw Dean snuggled into Charlie and Sam against her. Benny arrived next to the king.

“We need to go in an hour.” The bodyguard started toward the three of them. 

“No, leave them. We can be late. They haven’t relaxed like that for months.” 

“Charlie is on duty, sir.” 

“Leave them, Lafitte. That’s an order. That is evidence that she does her job right there. Don’t disturb them.” King Winchester said lowly. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Benny bowed slightly and left the room. 

“Boys, Brad,” the king walked into the dance hall a half hour later to wake Charlie and his sons. 

“Huh?” Charlie’s eyes opened. “Oh, sir! I’m so sorry! I-” 

“Got my boys to sleep? First time in two months.” He smiled.  “You’re fine.” 

“Boys, wake up.” Charlie tried to move but was squished between the two.  

“Dean, Sam.” John said deeply.  “Come on.” He tapped them both to wake up.  

Dean moved first.  

“Oh, hey, Dad. Sam. Get up.” 

Once all three were awake, they got ready for guests to fill the hall.

Charlie ran her fingers through her hair, straightened her outfit, and made sure the boys were ready.  

“You’re bossy.” Dean smiled. 

“It’s part of the job description.  Come on, hurry up!” She left his room and knocked on Sam’s door. “Sam, time to go!” She heard a low “Be right there!” 

The ball was their annual get-together.  Known throughout the country as the best party of the year, Dean and Sam knew to be on their best behavior and smile while others felt bad for them losing their mother.  No one knew, but Dean was aware that he would probably cry later from the facade he had to put on.  

“Thank you all for joining us this evening.  Please partake in food and drink to celebrate the new year!” King Winchester shouted to his guests.  Raising his glass, he cheered with the crowd and drank the entire glass within a few seconds.  

The Winchester Family greeted and interacted with what felt like a thousand people. They were all becoming tired when a young lady walked confidently to Dean. 

“Hello, Prince Winchester. May I have this dance?” 

Dean didn’t care at this point. He didn’t realize how cunning she looked… but Charlie and Benny did. They looked to each other as to say that they would be watching her closely. Charlie saw the lady’s hand go lower and lower on Dean’s back. The assistant could tell he was tensing. She stepped in. 

“Prince, can I have a few minutes? A dignitary donated a large amount of money to your organization and would love a photo with you.” Charlie carried her clipboard and smiled to his dance partner. 

“Of course. Excuse me, miss.” As he walked away, he thanked Charlie. “Brad, she was driving me crazy! She was so... handsy!”

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.” 

YN landed on her friend’s guest bed. 

“Thanks for letting me stay here. I’d much rather stay here than a hotel. The production people are lovely about where they were going to have me stay, but I’m so glad to see you.” 

“Of course.” Eileen signed, her hearing getting worse. 

Dean went to bed after the party. His schedule was cleared for the next day by Charlie so that he could recover from the party. 

“Thank you, Brad,” he hugged her before going to bed. “You always look out for me.” 

“You know it. Go to bed,” she turned him toward the door and lightly pushed him to enter his room. “Good night, Prince Dean.” 

”You suck.” 

“Go!” Charlie laughed. 

“‘’Night, Brad.” 

“And cut!” The director yelled to the cast. 

“Ugh,” YN sighed. She wiped her tears from the hard scene. 

“Again, please! Great job, YN!” 

“Winchester!” Benny ran up to the oldest prince as he was about to exit the back entrance of the palace to a car waiting.  “Where in the hell are you going without me?” 

“Stop following me around!” Dean turned to face Benny. “Just leave me alone!” 

“Dean,” Charlie said quietly as she walked up to the two.  “Just take a breath.” She put her hand up. Dean dismissively turned back toward the door.  She cut in front of him. “Just stop for one second.  I know that the last few days have been hard.  Why don’t I go with you? Benny can stay here.” Dean looked at her.  He saw her seriousness and sweetness. 

“Okay.  Lafitte, stay here.” The prince looped his arm through Charlie’s and then walked out of the door.  

“I gotta ask you something, Winchester Numero Uno.” Before they entered the vehicle, he huffed at her. “Where were you thinking of going?” 

“Anywhere.  I’m pent up, and I need to get out.” 

Charlie asked the driver to take them somewhere Dean didn’t hear. He didn’t care.  

The prince stared out the window of the town car as they went to the unknown destination.  

“Dean,” Charlie whispered. 

“What, Brad? What? How can I help you? Along with the thousands of others who have been asking me questions lately.” 

She smiled.  Charlie knew he was frustrated. 

“I was going to ask if you wanted some sour candy.” She chuckled. “But I can keep them for myself…” she took out the bag and reached into it.  He snatched it out of her hand and ate a piece before she knew what happened. “HEY!” His assistant punched him in the arm.  

“Best question I’ve been asked since you asked if I wanted a hug.” 

“‘Cuz I’m awesome.” Charlie grinned. 

“Where are we going?” 

“My old stomping grounds.  No one will recognize you here, and it’s late so no one will see me either.  Let’s go.” After the driver parked, the two exited the car.  She took his arm and huddled against him because she was chilled.  

“Why are you always cold?” 

“You didn’t exactly give me a second to get ready to go out, dumbass. You were throwing your little tantrum.” 

“I’m sorry, Charlie-”

“I’ll live.  Come on.” She practically dragged him into a restaurant with no one in it. The shop owner smiled and Charlie asked for her regular order. “I’ll order for you, Winnie.  I know what you like.” 

Taking a seat, he looked around.  Dean smiled at the nickname she used to make sure they weren’t found out. 

“Winnie, really?” He laughed as Charlie sat down to wait for their order. 

“I can’t call you Dean, you know that.  Will you relax?” 

“Oh, crap.” Dean saw a group of people walking toward the door of the restaurant.  

“Switch me.” Charlie stood up and had Dean sit to face away from everyone.  She handed him her hat, and he put it on. 

Everyone ordered and slowly left the room.  Charlie encouraged Dean to eat, but he was nervous about being recognized. While trying to remain calm, someone bumped him with her hip. He turned out of instinct. 

“Sorry,” she quickly stated. 

“It’s okay,” he responded. “It’s-” he froze. “You.” 

“Dean?” YN whispered. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean looked at her confusedly. 

“Guys, move it along.” Charlie stated urgently. 

“Here,” YN scribbled her number on a napkin. “Facetime me later,” she smiled. “Good to see you. Nice to meet you…?” 

“Charlie, assistant extraordinaire.” She shook her hand. 

“Goodnight, Dean.” YN whispered again, trying to respect his anonymity for the moment. 

Dean raced through the palace to find his brother.  He knocked on his brother’s door. 

“GO AWAY!” 

“It’s Dean, open up!” The older one pounded on the door again. When Sam opened the door in his pajamas and messy hair, Dean took a breath. “I found her!” 

“It’s 3am and we have to fly tomorrow for… whatever it is.  What in the hell are you talking about?”

“YN LN.  The actress! She’s in Genovia!” 

“Huh?” 

Dean walked into Sam’s room and shut the door.  He sat in one of the chairs close to the bed. 

“She didn’t say.  Charlie took me to this place and we were eating.  She was with a group of people.  YN accidentally hit me with her hip, and she recognized me when I turned around.  I got her number.” He beamed. 

“This couldn’t wait til morning?” Sam sighed. 

“You know how much I wished I could’ve gotten her number the first time, come on, man! Be excited for me!”

“I’m excited for you, now get out,” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“You two better be in bed!” They could hear Charlie say on the other side of the door.  

“The ruler of the roost has spoken,” Dean smiled. “‘Night, Sammy.” He left the room to find Charlie with her arms crossed.  “I’m going, I’m going…” She pinched his ear and dragged him toward his own room. “OW!” 

“You promised me that you would go to bed after we got home, mister.  GO.” 

The prince chuckled.  

“Good night, Brad.” 

“Sweet dreams, Prince Dean.” 

The next evening, Charlie stomped into Dean’s hotel room.

 “Have you called her yet?” 

“Huh?” He stared at the TV. 

“YN!” She kicked his feet off the ottoman. 

“What is wrong with you? You manhandle me like I am a child!” Dean stood and walked into the restroom, shutting the door. 

“Oh, don’t be a baby.” Charlie smiled. “You’re grumpy because you’re tired.” 

When Dean was finished, he walked out to wash his hands.

“I haven’t called her yet. I’ll do it tomorrow when I have more time.” 

“You never have any time, you’re a prince,” Charlie plopped herself down on a chair.  

“Will you go away? I’m tired. You’re always telling me to go to bed.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She stood up and walked past him.  

“Brad,” he grabbed her wrist. She stopped and eyed him curiously.  “Thanks, little one,” he kissed her hand.  She rolled her eyes.

“Lights out, five minutes.” Charlie grinned. “‘Night, Prince Dean.” 

After arriving home, Dean paced back and forth in the living room. 

“Call her.” Charlie said seriously. 

“You aren’t helping.”

“I saw her number.  I can call her for you if you like?” Charlie grinned wryly. “You have five minutes or I will do it for you.” 

“You are such a dick.” He huffed at her.  

“Hurry, we have that leader dinner thing in an hour and you need to be changed.” 

Dean walked into his room and sat down.  He pressed the facetime button and called YN. 

“Oh- my-” YN stuttered. “Hi, Dean.”

“Hi, beautiful.” 

She blushed. 

“I don’t have a lot of time because… royal stuff, but I wanted to say you looked amazing the other night.”

YN laughed. 

“I was in sweats and a t-shirt, Prince Dean.” 

“I know,” he raised a brow.  “So what are you doing in Genovia?” 

“A movie.” YN shrugged. 

“So your wonderful face will be on a screen near me sometime soon?” He giggled at his joke. 

“Lame…” she rolled her eyes sarcastically.  

They talked for a bit about little things.  Dean liked her even more. He heard a knock at the door. 

“I need to go, it’s time for me to get ready.  Sweet dreams, YN.” 

“Prince Dean, please get ready, you need to be there soon.” Benny stepped inside. 

“I’ll be ready, thanks.” 

Dean and Sam hiked themselves up the stairs and away from their guests, loosening their ties. 

“I’m exhausted, good night bro.” Sam passed Dean to go to his room. 

Dean didn’t hear Charlie walk up behind him. 

“Dean,” she started.  When he didn’t turn around, she faced him to read his expression.  Charlie saw tears about to fall. She took his hand and walked him into his room and shut the door.  “What happened?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Sure.  That’s why you could barely get in here without crying,” she looked at him kindly. 

“It’s nothing.  I think I’m just overwhelmed.” 

“You know you can talk to me.” Charlie rubbed his back. 

“Thanks, Brad.” 

“We need to talk about YN, but you should relax.”

“Nosey,” he chuckled. 

YN and Dean talked more consistently and she visited the palace on one of her days off. 

Sam was walking through the living room when he saw her. He raised a brow, confused. 

“You must be YN,” he walked to her and shook her hand. 

“Prince Winchester, nice to meet you.” 

“Move along, Sasquatch. YN and I are going to watch a movie,” Dean walked in with popcorn. 

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you,” Sam smiled and left. 

“Your country is beautiful,” YN sighed, happy.  

“It’s not mine, but I understand what you mean.  It’s gorgeous.  Like someone I know.” 

“Scruffy?” YN laughed, pointing to the dog. 

“Close, but no. You ready to watch this movie? Get comfy.  It’s kind of long, but totally worth it.” 

YN ended up falling asleep against Dean.  They woke up the next morning to King John’s bellowing through the palace. 

“DEAN! I need you!” He saw Dean and YN on the couch and touched his shoulder.  “Son, wake up,” he said gently. 

“Huh? Oh. What’s wrong?” Dean tried to sit up without disturbing YN. 

“It’s Sam, he was hurt. He’s fine, but he stepped outside and was hit with a stun gun.  Security caught the guy, but-” 

Dean raced to the in-palace infirmary. He threw the door open to find Sam with his shirt off and two marks on his chest. 

“I’m fine, Dee.” Sam huffed. 

“Where is this person, and can I pummel him?” 

Sam started to laugh but stopped when he realized how much it hurt. 

“No,” their dad walked in.  “He’s a jerk, but he’s looney.  He didn’t understand what he was doing.”

Dean dismissed his father’s remarks. 

“Sammy, are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” 

“Good,” Dean knocked his hand against Sam’s and left.  

“Is Sam okay?” YN rose from the couch.

“He’ll be okay.”

“Maybe I should go,” she weakly smiled.

“No, you’re fine.  My dad is taking care of everything. Sit down,” he collapsed on the couch and motioned for her to sit down. 

“Okay,” YN sat down.  

They continued to date in secret so that they wouldn’t be in the public eye.  Once they had become serious, they were ready to be seen in public.  

“You ready to do this?” Dean changed his shirt from a button up to a polo.  

YN took a deep breath. 

“Yeah.”

They went to a tennis match. In front of people. Together.

The couple could feel everyone’s stares and glances.  

“Are you still happy we did this?” Dean looked down at his girlfriend. 

“I think so. People would have found out about us anyway, I guess. I’m ready to go, can we?” She looked to their bodyguard. 

“Of course, ma’am,” Benny motioned for her to walk toward him and up the stadium steps.  

“I’m tired, that’s fine with me.” The prince moved so that she could step in front of him and walk to Benny.  

“Thank you, Benny,” YN took Dean’s hand to lead him up the stairs behind Benny.  The crowd murmured.  “I don’t know if I will ever get used to that.” 

“Eh, part of the life now, princess.” Dean grinned. 

“Shut up, Dean!” YN whacked him with her purse. The crowd giggled. 

After they went back to the palace, they turned on YN’s movie that she had shot in Genovia over one year previous. 

She looked over at Dean to see him wiping away a few tears that he barely let out. 

“Honey,” she took his hand. “What’s wrong?” 

“You died, sweetheart.  I don’t ever want that.” 

“I died in the story, not in real life. Come here.” YN opened her arms to him.  He snuggled in next to her.  “I’ll be with you until the end.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

Forever Friends (Everything):

@katymacsupernatural  @unicornblood4ever  @supernatural-crazed-girl

@fangirl-moment-x  @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl  @super100012  

 @percywinchester27  @waywardsuns  @supernatural-jackles  

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09  @kingandrear  @bellero @skylarraker

@seality​​​​​ @jaycc7983​​​ @luci-in-trenchcoats​​​ 

@cherryblossomflowers​​ @because-you-never-know-when​ 

@sleepylunarwolf​ @choosemyname​ 

@internationalmusicteacher​ @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ 

@encounterthepast​  @torn-and-frayed​ 

@giggles1026​ @xiumin-girl99​ 

@mangueweaschester

@idksupernatural​  @silverstripe101A

@thevelvetseries​ @jennawinchester152a​ * @samsgirl93​ *    @supernatural3002​ *

@tmiships4life * @breereadsthings​ * @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ *

@a-magey​ @vicmc624​ @hookedinto-fictionalworlds​   @beatifuldisaster018​

@miraclesoflove​ @myopiamystical​ @fallen-wolf22​

@waywardnewcomer​  

@marvelouslysherlockedhunter