#vessel's face on the bottom right really tickles me

[catboy-cabin]

sleeptober day 7 - antlers

vessel's not quite sure about his new antlers. iii thinks they're cute <3

i don't like this one too much but oh well. no time to do something else now :/

also gold antlers. yippee

bonus doodles ft. ii & iv (this one's definitely gay):

[pastlivesxpastlie]

Short, self indulgent sexy tenderness with boyfriend!vessel

vessel x f!reader

Vessel sucked in his bottom lip and bit it with a soft whimper. There you were, his new girlfriend, standing in the doorway of his bedroom in what you said was “something special.” An emerald satin-y bralette with matching cheeky panties. He feels practically glued to the bed as you approach. The way you gingerly walk over is a stark contrast to how sexy you look. Vessel likes that about you. He loves that about you. How you toe the line between precious and devastatingly sexy. His eyes rake up and down your body as reaches out, beckoning you to sit in his lap. He helps you to straddle him as he bends his legs to support your plush butt. He holds your hands out a little to look at you…take you in.

“Oooh. Let me look at you. My new…little…toy.”

Your little giggle and blush…the way you try to hide your face…god he just loves you. He wouldn’t say that just yet. No. It’s too soon. But when he feels your warmth and looks into your eyes…shit. He’s so whipped. He’d do anything for you. In fact, even if you changed your mind about being intimate tonight, he’d still relish in what you did get to do. But the way your hips instinctively rolled against his lap when his fingers trailed up your arms told him that you were up for…mm…who knows. He lets his fingers trail over your collarbones but stops before trailing down your breasts.

“I wonder…if my new toy….makes noise.” His fingers down to your back before squeezing your love handles playfully and tickling you. Oh your laugh is angelic. Even if you think it’s too loud. Too weird. Finally he stops his assault and composes himself. “Can I keep touching you?”

You nod and bite your lip as his hands smooth down your chest. You’re impossibly soft. How could such a precious girl want to be with a tortured guy like him? He pushes that thought aside quickly when your back arches and you sigh as he uses his fingertips to trace the hem of your bralette. He’s in heaven. His face lights up as the pads of his fingers move across your nipples.

“Look at that…” he sighs as your nipples harden under his touch and rub against the fabric. “Just from me touching you. Hm? Happy in lap? Being touched…appraised?”

“Hehehe…Veeessss,” you giggle and moan a little when lightly pinches your buds.

He chuckles right back and takes advantage of your giddiness by pulling one of your straps down, but he also makes sure to watch your body language. Your reactions. When your bralette is pulled all the way down, your breath catches.

“They’re not really…”

Oh he has no time for this. He won’t listen to you say anything bad about your body…not when he strains against his jeans at the mere sight of your neck when your hair is up. Or when you hold a glass just so. He shuts you up with a kiss…which turns into slow wet kisses down your neck and chest.

Vessel sits up more to bring you closer, pressing his face into your cleavage. He groans softly as his hands knead and massage you. He’s done asking…done asking for permission to make you feel good. Vessel lets his tongue ghost over your nipple until he can’t stand it and takes it in his mouth. He almost purrs when your hand goes into his hair…keeping him there as switches between licks and gentle sucks. He needs you impossibly close.

[itadorisgf]

— my beautiful boy.

note: ah yes, i am indeed itadorisgf <3

ft. itadori yuuji

warning: gn!reader, fluff, kissing

⤷ main page

“You’re beautiful.”

Itadori blinks. And then blinks again. The silence that proceeds after your statement doesn’t bother you; you know it takes him some time to process things. You closely observe his expression and envision the wheels in his head turning as you wait for your words to sink in.

“Huh?” You don’t bother to stifle your laughter at the response that greets you after waiting for a minute or so. His head is tilted at an angle, face fixed into an adorably confused expression: brows knitted together as his mouth hangs slightly agape.

“I said you’re beautiful, Yuuji.” It takes you a few moments to compose yourself, loud laughter quieting down to soft giggles so you can be heard clearly. Your amusement seeps into your words, and Itadori can hear the smile that crosses your face.

So, he did hear you correctly the first time. Your words bounce around Itadori’s head once again. Itadori wouldn’t consider himself particularly unattractive. In all honesty, he’s pretty content with his appearance, but then again he’s never really paid all that much attention to his looks. Although, he’s confident that he’s never been called beautiful before.

“Really? I don’t think anybody’s ever told me I was beautiful before,” he thinks aloud, shifting his weight back onto his palms and staring up at the sky. It’s a nice day, today; the sun hangs high in the sky shrouded by only a smattering of loose wispy clouds. The heat isn’t sweltering, which Itadori is grateful for. He loathes the way the suffocating heat of Summer makes his clothes stick to him with sweat.

He much prefers the subdued heat of a day like today in which there's a subtle breeze that brushes across his skin and causes the leaves to whistle in delight.

“Well, you are.” You beam with confidence and resolution as if the words you speak are fact and not a matter of opinion. You mindlessly tug at the strands of grass that lie beside you. “It sounds cheesy, but you’re beautiful inside and out.”

You feel no shame expressing the way you feel because Itadori really is that beautiful to you.

He is light despite the burden he carries and the tragedies he’s witnessed. He’s the kindest person you know, always putting others before himself, always with an easy grin on his face. Itadori cares so much for others, which you deeply admire, but you worry that it will one day lead to his ruin. He cares so much for others, but not nearly enough for himself.

He regards his life so flippantly and you wish he would get it through his thick skull that his life is as valuable as others. That his life cannot be easily discarded, that his life matters. That there is more to him than simply being Sukuna’s vessel.

No matter how hard he attempts to brush past things, you can see the toll it’s taking on him. You only hope that Itadori trusts you enough to ease the weight etched into his bones.

You let your head fall against your shoulder in order to properly admire the male sitting beside you.

The full leaves that hang overhead scatter the rays of sunlight with every rustle they make. Soft shadows flicker across Itadori’s face before he glows once more under the warm beams of light. Whoever said brown eyes were boring must have been mad because you’re certain that they’ve never had the pleasure of seeing something as wonderful as Itadori’s warm brown eyes glinting underneath the diffused sunlight. Your eyes linger over the thin scars underneath Itadori’s eyes for a brief moment; you’re mildly surprised that Sukuna hasn’t popped out and said anything yet, but you won’t question it.

Your eyes trail the slope of his nose before falling down to his lips, pink and faintly chapped, and you wonder if they would taste sweet like the dessert you just shared. You lean closer to Itadori, lessening the little space there is in between you with ease. Itadori doesn’t move, just watches, as you slowly bring your hand up towards his face. The pad of your thumb ghosts over his bottom lip before you move it to his lower cheek and brush off a cake crumb.

You tilt your head up and meet Itadori’s waiting gaze. His brown eyes are bright, and you find yourself easily entranced by their warmth, not that you mind in the slightest. You allow your hand to rest against his cheek as your heart is overcome with fondness for the male whose face you’re cradling.

“I love you.”

It’s a whisper, barely louder than the gentle breeze that envelopes you both. Itadori’s face nearly splits into a wide grin upon hearing your words.

“I love you most.” He tilts his head to press a chaste kiss to the inside of your wrist before tugging you even closer to him. You fall against his chest with a sharp exhale and the two of you dissolve into laughter. Once you quiet down and all that is left is you and him and the sunlight bathing you both in warmth, Itadori gently pulls your head down, and his lips meet your own in a kiss.

Your hands rest against his chest, loosely gripping the material of his shirt, as your lips slot over Itadori’s lips. He readjusts his grip and moves his hand down to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. You smile against his lips when you realize you were correct in guessing that he would taste like the cake you had eaten together.

When the need to breathe proves to be too much, you separate from one another with a content sigh. A flush has crept up Itadori’s neck, flooding his cheeks with color, while his lips are swollen a pretty shade of pink.

“You’re beautiful,” Itadori murmurs against the crook of your neck. His words are softer than usual but no less genuine. The way he says it leaves no room for argument so you simply press a kiss to the crown of his head in response before running your fingers through tufts of pink hair. He buries his face further into your neck, peppering your skin with kisses until you squirm in his firm grasp.

“Yuuji, that tickles,” you whine, squealing when he nips at the area right below your jaw. You attempt to push him back, but Itadori’s grip on your waist doesn’t allow you to do so. He migrates his kisses from your neck to your face, littering quick pecks over every inch of your skin that he can reach.

“Mhm, it’s your fault for being so cute. How am I not supposed to kiss you?” Itadori pauses, leaning back slightly to pout at you. You playfully roll your eyes before leaning down to press a kiss of your own in the space in between his brows.

“You’re an idiot,” you mutter.

A large dopey grin quickly stretches across Itadori’s face.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

You rake your fingers through strands of pink before resting your hand against his cheek, gently running your thumb over one of the scars right below his eyes.

“Yeah, you are,” you fondly agree.

There truly aren’t enough words to describe how utterly enamored you are with Itadori Yuuji.

[gojology]

Lovebirds.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 |  omg this is my first request. ilysm anon, im now feelin super cool. also, i just realized i put recc (as in recommended) instead of requests. i’m super stupid LOL. anyways, im touch starved too dw bby, i’m servin u up a long one since i rlly like this request and after all u r my first! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Wife! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2307 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Coming home from a long mission in America, precisely 1 year, you’re excited to catch up on Gojo’s students, Nanami, and just Gojo in general.   Leaning out of the car window, resting your arm against your purse, you sighed. A humid wind brushed against your skin, tickling you. It had been quite a while since you had been in Japan, spending almost a year on a huge mission in America. You had killed a battalion worthy amount of special grades.   You spent most of your time in America in mostly horribly rundown places, equally as infested with curses. Although you found yourself enjoying America’s natural beauty, further away from the city life that many of the Americans found themselves enjoying, you much preferred Japan. after all, it was your home, and where you met Gojo Satoru. It would be another day until you could return, and you had gone through hundreds of scenarios of finally being in his arms again, but nonetheless, you were ecstatic at the thought of your husband’s touch.   Your phone’s notification chimed loudly, you threw your phone onto the other seat, heart jumping up to a high rate. It was a recording of Satoru loudly yelling, “OPEN YOUR FUCKING PHONE!” with a flurry of giggles afterwards.    Ijichi jumped, turning left and right. Whispering under his breath, he let out an exasperated sigh, switching the music channel.    The recording was mostly because of the time you had to ghost him due to work. Gojo had snuck on and recorded it, doing some magical tech stuff and giving you the custom notification sound. You had kept it that way ever since, since secretly, you enjoyed that you were so badly wanted by Gojo, that, and you had no idea how to change it back.    But the custom notification was sweet as well.   You smiled to yourself every time you heard it, a familiar twinge of pain flashing inside of you whenever you realized you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while.   Well, today, and the days after that would be different. You’d be able to finally see Gojo again, and his new students that he always frantically texted you about. Nanami, an old friend of Gojo, and also an old friend of yours, would also be there to welcome you back, you found yourself reminiscing about them.   You had heard so much about them, one of the kids being Sukuna’s vessel, you wondered how Gojo could contain such a fear, being around the kid at all times, he always told you about how the kid was actually energetic and happy and an overall great kid, you had heard about Nanami, finally coming back into the jujutsu sorcerer field of work, even though you always found that he still had a thing for finances.   You shook your head, “Save that shit for later, (Y/N).” muttering to yourself, you didn’t want to think of anything but Gojo, after all, it had been one fucking year of being deprived of the man you loved most. You were practically starving for the guy, in more ways than one.   Ijichi gulped, facing towards you, one hand on his steering wheel, “Forgive me Mrs. Satoru, but um.. Forgive me if I misheard, but I think I heard your phones notification go off.. Due to the ah- incredibly loud profanity.”   Now just realizing that you had completely forgotten about the phone notification, you nodded your thanks to Ijichi, a warmth rushing to your cheeks before opening up your phone.    In the small, rounded box containing Gojo’s message, he wrote in all caps, “SUGAR, MY BELOVED, MY QUEEN, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT I’M LITERALLY BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN OUR BED.”   Smiling to yourself, you furiously texted back, “Calm down honeybun, I’ll be there in like, 24 hours, I’m not even fucking close.”   You almost instantly got a DM back, making you jump a bit in your seat. Even with the 5 years of friendship, and the 3 years of relationship, and the 2 years of marriage, he still almost always texted you back as quickly as possible.   “God I can’t fucking wait for you to meet the kids! We’ll keep it a surprise, yeah? We have a bunch of treats, and we also got the kids to get some gifts for you! How thoughtful aren’t they? They’re MY offspring by the way, so like, you know, whenever you want a kid, it’s your call ;)”   You snorted to yourself, smiling. He genuinely seemed so excited, and it was all shining through even though it was from a screen.    “Maybe in a few years, I don’t even wanna imagine a little you.”   Despite the excited, bubbling feeling brewing bigger and bigger in your stomach, you figured it’d be best to sleep before the chaos. Happily sighing, you laid down, using your purse as a pillow, drifting into a blissful sleep.  ‧₊˚✩彡.   You awoke to a sudden halt, Looking around your surroundings, you figured you were home. Ijichi looked like he was damn near about to fall asleep on the steering wheel.   Well, maybe that’s what 24 hours of constant driving did to you. You fished around in your purse, silently cursing looking for a water bottle.   “Here, Ijichi, looks like you ran a marathon.” you grinned, handing the slightly crumped water bottle to him.   He beamed as if a guardian angel had descended down and gave him a trillion dollars.   “Mrs. Satoru! You really mean it? The ride was nothing, I was merely instructed to do so and I would’ve done it happily regardless.”   You waved your hand, as a dismissal of the conversation. “You overwork yourself Ijichi, go catch a break, on me. If Gojo tears you apart, tell him he won’t be getting any pussy from me for another year.”   Ichiji nodded vigorously, before dashing off, probably towards a massage center, God that guy needed it. ‧₊˚✩彡.    Gojo frantically hopped up and down, it had been a day, now he was just waiting for you to bust through the door in your wild hair, his legs sprawled onto the whole of a couch, he stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile spread across his face.     “Satoru. (Y/N) will not even want to be associated with you, looking at your current state.” he remarked, staring at the sorcerer with his strikingly dead eyes.     “Nanami, how the fuck am I supposed to act calm?! I’ve waited for this moment for ONE YEAR! Does my hair look normal?!”    “Your hair looks just like an albino porcupine, just as usual.” Flipping the page of his newspaper, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I will never understand how someone like (Y/N) would be.. Interested in you, Satoru.”     Gojo paid no attention to the insult Nanami had so clearly made, his ears were perked up, eavesdropping on a distant conversation coming closer and closer.     “Gojo-Senpai was telling me about this movie while training my cursed energy! He basically spoiled the whole thing but he told me that the main character was super annoying but apparently she dies in the end in the most gruesome way possible! It’s worth the watch, your soul will feel cleansed as soon as you see her lifeless body!”     “Yuuji, you literally spoiled the whole thing to me just now.” Fushiguro calmly stated, looking bored out of his mind.     “Oh, oops.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled coyly, tightly hugging his present.    “What’s with the decorations, Gojo-Sensei?” inquired Nobara, stroking her warm toned brown hair. She had figured it was something about the presents that Gojo had forced the trio to get, but he never told them who it was for.    The room had been decorated with various balloons and confetti, scattered about, on the table and the ground. A cake box wrapped with a gigantic bow limply guarded whoever was brave enough to get their hands on something that Gojo seemed to be protecting with his life.    A pink table cover with a crudely drawn Gojo and what would seem to be a girl, a heart in the middle of the pair. In a horrible font with an even awfuller text, the text on top and at the bottom of the drawing proudly stated:    “WELCOME BACK QT”    “-YOU’RE HUSBAND AND THE CREW”    Nobara stood in distaste, trying to disguise the face she made. The drawing, the misused you’re, and the overall poor design choice was enough to almost make her vomit.     Nobara, about to make her distasteful statements about the whole mess, was suddenly shut up as Gojo started hopping up and down, looking directly at his phone.   “SHE’S COMING! SHE’S COMING! EVERYONE IN YOUR PLACES!”    Now, seeing Gojo freak out wasn’t outside of the ordinary, but it was to see him freak out to this extent. He was hopping up and down, blabbering about a certain woman named (Y/N). Nobara was pretty sure that if a curse attacked right now, even a special grade comparable to the one with the uncomplete domain could completely crush Gojo, the guy seemed completely unaware of the example he was setting to the kids. Even Yuuji stood in disbelief, and he had seen multiple tantrums by Gojo.   Nanami, however, licked his finger and flipped the newspaper page. A face of boredom obviously displayed.     Nobara, preparing herself to chew Gojo out about how utterly stupid and embarrassing he made the whole class of jujutsu sorcerers look like, stopped wide eyed as she looked at the doors slide wide open. ‧₊˚✩彡.    You stood, shyly, looking at the ground. Gojo dove headfirst into your arms, laughing like a maniac and digging his face into your shoulder. You breathed in his scent, scanning the room.     Three teens, sat wide-eyed, backs straight as they looked at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. All three of them held presents.     The one with eyelids underneath his eyes (which you assumed was Yuuji, the vessel of Sukuna) eyed you curiously, his eye twitched.     The other boy, one with wild black-blue hair, sat mouth agape, before closing it. He looked like he was about to say something, before stopping entirely and hugging his present closer to his chest.    The warm haired girl darted her eyes between you two, seemingly trying to put the puzzle together.     Nanami put the newspaper down, glancing over to you two.    “This is obviously Gojo-Senpai’s wife. He hasn’t seen her in many months, and as you can see, really really misses her.” he paused, a small smile spreading on his face, a rare sight.     “I don’t even know why myself, but what can you do with lovebirds?” he thought aloud, his attention now focused to the two of you furiously making out, hands in places Yuuji and the crew didn’t need to see.    “Satoru, (Y/N), leave the kissing for later. Don’t you see the kids?”     You detached yourself from his mouth, panting for breath. The air being exhaled out of his nose fanned over your face, you had just now realized the kids again.     “Satoru, lets sit down. I bet the kids are surprised. “ you motioned to the couch. Gojo whined.     “What? They’re not that dumb, they can tell you’re my wife or at least, you’re my girlfriend, just by the way we kiss right? Isn’t this telling enough?”     “You didn’t tell them about me, ever did you?”     He sighed in defeat, holding tightly onto your arm as you dragged him over and sat down on the comfortable couch, opposite of Yuuji and the crew. Nanami scooched over, before finally getting up to pull another chair from somewhere else. Grunting, he excused himself from the room.     “YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND, GOJO-SENPAI? AND DIDN’T TELL US?” Yuuji questioned, looking like he was about to faint.    Gojo laughed, snuggling deeper onto you, almost like a koala.     “She’s my wife, aren’t you, sugar? Did you even pay attention to anything Nanami said? He literally said she was my wife.”     Megumi made an obvious gagging sound, but even he didn’t seem as bored as he was usually. He actually looked intrigued.     “Why didn’t you tell us, Gojo-Senpai?” the girl nagged, slamming her fist down on the table.     Gojo smiled, “Uh, well, I wanted it to be a surprise when she came back.”     “Couldn’t you have told us that you had a wife or something?” Megumi butt in.    The door slid open, Nanami coming in with a wooden stool.     “Knowing Gojo-Senpai, that probably went over his head.” grunting as he placed the wooden stool down and sat, he opened his newspaper again.     “Where do you guys know eachother?”    “Was Gojo-Senpai handsome back in highschool too?”    “Do you know what lipgloss Gojo-Senpai wears?”    “Gojo-Senpai, how did you know you loved her?”     “Gojo-Senpai, can we eat now?”     “Do you know why Gojo has such a horrible sweet tooth?”      Before you could even respond, Nanami put his hand up.     “Now, now, lets let the happy couple settle down.” he cleard his throat, not even making eye contact with anyone but the newspaper.     An audible chorus of groans sounded, “What do you expect us to do? We literally just met her!” moaned Yuuji.    “Weren’t you the one that literally asked if we could eat yet?”    Yuuji immediately shut up afterwards.     “Yuuji, she just came back from a 1 day trip. She should be laying down comfortably with Gojo-Senpai and they should be catching up. You’ll have the opportunity to talk to her and learn about her later. Right now she needs space.”    “But-” Nobara whined, clasping her hands together.    Nanami turned to Fushiguro, but even he had his mind set. “I didn’t even begin to think that Gojo had a wife. I really want to know more about her, if you think about it, this is all Gojo-Sensei’s fault.”    Nanami rubbed his temples, staring at the two of you for backup, realizing that you two were making out again.    Nanami sighed, 10 years later and you two were still the same.    

[johnkrrasinski]

dwindling, mercurial high

full masterlist

Pairings: Andy Barber x female!reader 

Word count: 2,733

Warning: SMUT!!! infidelity/cheating, age gap, unprotected sex, dirty talk, angst, lots of angst. (MUST BE 18+) 

Summary: based on the song ‘illicit affairs’ by taylor swift. things changed between you and andy, the man you’d been crushing on for the longest time, after you returned home from college. what was born from a single glance & stolen stares turned into a secret addiction, something neither of you could get sober from. 

a/n: the idea piqued my imagination after watching taylor’s folklore long pond studio session and i wondered what it’d be like to be the third person instead of the cheated one, thus this angsty fic was born. reblog & feedback are always appreciated. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You closed your eyes as your back hit the wall repeatedly, you held onto him as tight as possible as you moaned in his ear. The bristle of his beard tickled your neck as he nipped your sensitive spot, causing your head to spin. The coil in your abdomen tightened, so did your legs around his waist, and you clenched around him, pushing him to thrust harder into you, chasing your orgasms. Your wailings grew louder and you cried out his name like prayer as his pace become sloppier.

Time became hazy as you plummeted into bliss while he continued to impale you, prolonging your release as well. You wanted the moment to last as long as possible as you presented your body as a vessel for him to obtain pleasure, the kind that he couldn’t get at home from his lovely wife. You didn’t mind that it took him longer to reach his peak, the comforting feeling of him being inside you was like cozying up to your favourite knit sweater and a cup of hot chocolate whilst it was raining outside.

But rains don’t last forever, and the sun was always around the corner, lurking to appear and scorch the planet once more, waking everyone up out of their comfortable place. And that’s what it was like being with Andy.

He groaned as he released deep inside you, resting his face on your shoulder while trying to catch his breath. He kissed you on the lips, claiming your mouth as you ran your fingers through his hair until he needed air. But you didn’t, because he was the air that you needed. Then he set you on your feet gently and he began putting on his clothes. “It’s stopped coming down, I should head back now, Laurie’s going to come home soon and I told her that I’d be working from home today. It’d be suspicious if I left the house without telling her.”

You nodded, “…okay.” But it wasn’t okay, how much longer were you going to have these clandestine meetings? How could you tell him that you wanted him to stay and hold you close just for once?

He slipped his feet into his shoes and untied the lace. You leaned on your hands against your study desk and watched his flushed state longingly as if you were trying to speak with your gaze and you wanted him to get the message because words would hurt both of you. He put on his coat and swung the hood over his head then stood before you, “are you okay, kid?”

No, how could you even ask me that? “Yeah.” He always asked the same question after every time you both made love but never once did you tell him the truth and he believed you. He kissed you on the forehead and there he goes, leaving you with your tears and fury once more without a single weight in his heart.

How did you end up here? It began last summer after you came back home from college. You were going to work in your father’s law firm once you finished law school and obtained your degree. Your father was a lawyer and had a good friendship with the Barbers since you were little. You even watched Jacob being born when Laurie went into labour. Besides living across from each other and worked in the same field, you were like a big sister to Jacob too. He was always a shy, introverted kid who didn’t make friends easily so Andy truly cherished your companion for his son.

You were always happy being a big sister figure to Jacob, you were both the only children so it was easy to bond over that. But what you’d never admit out loud, was also the fact that yous secretly had a crush on Jacob’s dad. What’s not to swoon over? Andy was extremely good looking, a good father and a loving husband. He was a top lawyer, courteous, soft-spoken and always treated you kindly whenever you came over.

It affected your dating life in high school because, despite all the boys asking you out, you never said yes to them. Because there was only one man that you wanted and you couldn’t have him. Even in college, you tried to forget him and seek for someone else, but even college boys couldn’t live up to Andy.

Three years went by and you finally returned home and were ready to start your career as a lawyer. Law and crimes always fascinated you because you believed that justice wasn’t as simple as black or white, or the good guy versus the bad guy so it came naturally for you to follow your father’s footsteps.

Your father invited the Barbers over for dinner to celebrate your homecoming. Laurie asked you about the college life and teased if you might’ve had dated a few boys and you nervously refuted the question by telling her that you were too busy with studying. Andy sat across you and you tried so hard not to make eye contact with him but you couldn’t fight the urge and you swore you saw him glance at you once or twice and he’d quickly look away once you caught him.

One afternoon, a couple of days after the dinner, when your father was at the court, and your mother was at her boutique, you decided to come over to the Barbers’ house. Jacob texted you earlier about his Physics homework and asked for your help on doing it. You were going to start working at the firm on Monday so you had plenty of spare time at home, doing whatever you wished for. You were bored, you had been reading books and watching Netflix all day so you decided to spend time helping Jacob with his homework.

You knocked on the door and texted him, “I’m outside.” You were a little early than the agreed time so Andy opened the door instead of the person you expected.

“Mr. Barber, hi! Is Jacob home yet?” You tried your best to keep your composure.

“No, he said he was staying for Math. He didn’t tell you?”

“Uh, he must’ve forgotten. He asked me earlier to help him with his homework and I thought I could come by early to hang out, but it’s fine, I’ll just come back later. Thanks, Mr. Barber.”

“You could come inside and wait for Jacob here if you want?” He offered.

“Um, are you sure, Mr. Barber? I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“No, please, Laurie hasn’t come home yet, and I’d appreciate the company. And just call me Andy.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. I’ve got no one to talk to at home yet, anyway. Except for my cat who only comes to me when she’s hungry.”

He chuckled at the joke as he closed the door behind you. “You want anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you Mr. Barber.”

He gave you a look at the nickname. “Sorry, I meant, Andy.”

“You’ve really grown since the last time I saw you, ____. You’ve even gotten good-looking.” He nonchalantly said whilst he was making your coffee. “Milk?”

“Huh?” your heart was beating fast at his flattering words. “Do you want some milk in your coffee?”

“Yes, please.” You gulped, mentally screaming at yourself to keep it together. “Are you saying that I was an ugly duckling, Andy?”

He chuckled, “no, what I meant was, your appearance definitely changed and I like it.” He served the coffee on the dining table where he laid a bunch of papers and a laptop and you tried to maintain your distance despite every cell in your body was begging for you to sit closer to him.

You hoped he couldn’t hear the way your breath hitched so you drank your coffee with shaky hands. He asked you about college or shared some advice in becoming a young lawyer. He also caught you up with stories that you missed while you were away. How he found out Jacob was bullied by this kid in his school and how he and Laurie had been arguing a lot lately.

“I’m sorry about that, Andy. But you two will work it out, what marriage doesn’t have its disputes, right? If you both had made it this far, I’m sure you can make it for many more years.”

“Thanks, ____. Be sure to keep that in mind if a guy starts a quarrel with you, okay?” He sipped his own coffee.

“I’ll have to find a guy first, I guess.”

“Are you not seeing anyone?” He gave you a quizzical look.

“No, just haven’t found the time, I guess.”

“Oh, c’mon. You’re an intelligent and attractive young woman. You should go out and explore.”

“And what if I couldn’t find one that I want, Andy?” You stirred your coffee, unable to look him in the eye.

“What do you want, ____?” He inched his face closer to you, making it hard to breathe. His ocean blue eyes bored into yours, with the kind of look that you never saw before. In this proximity, you could see how his pupils had dilated, filling the rim with darkness lust. And you didn’t question his intentions or what he was thinking but at that moment, you had never wanted him more. And you needed him. You needed him to grant your heart’s greatest desire. Him.

“You,” you voice was barely a whisper. “I want… You.”

“Say it, say it louder.”

“I want you, Andy. I’ve wanted you forever.”

Then as if the time had frozen, he slammed his lips onto yours, nearly causing your chair to fall back if only he didn’t catch you. Andy grabbed your face and kissed you with a burning passion. You shut your eyes, reeling from the swirling emotions in your stomach. It wasn’t butterflies but the whole damn zoo. Andy licked your bottom lip and you parted your mouth for him, allowing his tongue to enter and tangle itself with yours.

You whimpered and you felt Andy smirked at the way your body reacted to him. Andy then stood up and lifted you onto the table, and he slightly pulled your hair back, exposing your neck to him. He began trailing kisses there and his right hand roamed around your body until it reached the hem of your off-the-shoulder top and it travelled to your breast and he toyed with it, pinching the nipple and fondle with the globe.

“Andy…” taking your whimpers as a green light, he moved his hand down to the zipper of your jeans, fumbled with the buttons and he pulled them down just enough for his hand to caress your womanhood. Blood rushed to your cheeks when he felt your arousal. He shoved the G-string aside, allowing his fingers to stroke you.

“If I knew how much you wanted me, I would’ve made a move sooner, baby.”

The coalescence of his voice, his plump lips and his hands touching you all over nearly made you forgot where you were until the act was interrupted by Jacob’s voice from the door, “Dad, I’m home!” Andy quickly stopped his assault on you and let you go. You stood on shaky legs as you tried to smooth over your rumpled top and zip up your jeans.

Luckily, when Jacob found you both in the kitchen, he didn’t suspect anything and you followed him to his room, walking away from Andy as if nothing even happened. And that was the beginning of your doomed affair.

His infidelity carried on for months and none of you had found the strength to break it off. You knew it was wrong in so many ways. You always considered The Barbers as your second family despite your latent feelings for Andy. You’d be letting down so many people if they found out about this affair. Each time you both ran off to find escapism in a secluded place, you were consumed by guilt. Every time you told yourself that you can always stop, that he can always stop, you were choked with words. The desire has rooted itself way too deep and none of you could go back now.

It started in your room and once he’d grown weary of the atmosphere, he’d take you to a motel a little outside of town where nobody really knew who you were and it has now taken you to an empty parking lot. Andy laid on the reclined shotgun seat with his clothes off and his pants around his ankles. You leaned your hand on the window as his cock stretched you open from under.

He loved the way your breasts jiggled with each thrust. You had your shirt lifted just enough to display your breasts for him while your shorts and underwear were thrown off to the backseat. His cock was hitting your G-spot repeatedly, creating tantalizing friction. You writhed above him, screaming his name as loud as you possibly could with your mind disarrayed from his thrusts. He had both of his hands gripping your hips solidly, controlling your move as you rode him.

“After all the time I’ve fucked you, you’re still so tight,” He groaned. He moved one of his hands to breast, pinching the nipple and you mewled from the pleasurable sting. He slid his hand up to your throat, cutting off your airway, suffocating you. Your whimpers your muted but it didn’t stop you from moving up and down on him. His other hand slid under your body, he toyed with your wetness and rubbed your clit, causing you to clench around him. “You gonna cum all over my fat cock, baby?”

His filthy words never failed to arouse you. If anyone had told fifteen years old you that the man you had such admired and respect, though from afar, had a foul mouth during sex, you would’ve told them to piss off because they had no idea what the hell were they talking about, but now you had an explicit, front-row seat view of it, you couldn’t look at him any other way.

The way his cock rutted into you and the way his digits worked you over and over again, while his massive hand made you struggle for air, sent your body into overdrive and you cried out his name as if it was your salvation. Your brain was clouded with ecstasy as he continued to ram into you, chasing his own release.

You lost the power to straddle him and collapsed on top of him. Andy’s hands travelled back into your hips, locking you in place as you were pliable with your prolonged orgasm. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, baby.”

Then Andy emptied his seed into you, filling you up with his load, and he groaned out loud in your ear. You both tried to abate your breathing while he was still sheathed inside you. The closeness felt intimate and comforting and somehow it felt like you were committing treachery. Your limbs were intertwined and you didn’t wanna untangle yourself from him because you knew if you did, he’d drive you home and take the less travelled by road and that would be it.

There was no post-sex cuddling or aftercare. There was no murmuring soft words under a duvet and exchanging tender kisses while basking in the afterglow with him. Because that’s all this was, an illicit affair. All there was after a steamy rendezvous were quick showers to wash off traces of each other as if you didn’t even exist and a spontaneously fabricated tale so the other person wouldn’t know where the other one had truly been.

You wanted to throw things at him and scream, don’t you fucking call me kid or baby, I’m neither of those things. You wanted to hate him for the godforsaken mess he’d turned you into, but you couldn’t. Because he had shown you colours you couldn’t see with anyone else and you couldn’t erase the secret language he taught you from your mind despite the idiotic fool that he made you.

And no matter how many times you witnessed him kissing his wife like a loving spouse would and how long he made you wait for a call, you knew damn well that you’d do it all over again for him in a heartbeat.

[sams-sass]

It’s All Coming Back To Me Now

Hello! I hope you guys like this one! Thanks for all the love and support!

Summary: You are falling for Sam until Swan Song happens, but there is something you don't know.

Pairings: Sam x Reader

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The grass was soft under your knees. There was nothing inside you left to give. You were completely and utterly hollow. Dean was next to you, also on his knees. His face was bloody and swollen, cracked and beaten flesh. You reached down and touched the grass, letting the blades run between your fingertips. An angry and broken sob left your mouth. Your body collapsed upon itself until your head touched the grass that just swallowed him whole. Your fingers clenched into the earth, dirt and grass digging under your fingernails. You felt a hand on your back as heavy and loud sobs wrecked your body. You looked up to Dean’s face, unbeaten and normal again. Cas stood in front of you, his body whole again.  

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He said, his eyes holding so much sorrow and grief. You didn’t trust your voice so you just nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself. He walked over to Bobby and touched his forehead, bringing him back to life. You let out a small breath of relief. Dean’s hand was on you again, you could hardly feel it. You turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. His arms circled you and pulled you tightly against him, his body shaking just as much as yours. Normally, hugging Dean brought you a feeling of happiness, but not now. Not after you had just watched the love of your life get swallowed up by the earth itself. Not after you knew the fate of him. Rotting in the pits of hell for all eternity. Your sweet, loving, and selfless Sam. Gone. Forever gone. Now, Dean’s embrace felt cold and crushing. His familiar scent made your nose scrunch. The tickle of his spiked hair only reminded you of Sam’s soft locks. You shut your eyes and pushed it all down. Everything you couldn’t handle. Everything you never got the chance to say. You buried deep within your gut, letting it fester and ferment into something else.  

You and Dean climbed into the impala, driving without a destination. The sound of the engine was making your skin crawl. The smooth leather seat was uncomfortable against your bones. The drive was quiet, too quiet. Neither one of you had spoken a word. There was nothing left to say. He was gone and so were you. Dean pulled into a motel and left you in the parking lot. You could feel his broken heart. See his cracked and mangled spirit hanging on by a thread. You paid for a room and threw your bag onto the floor. Your body sank into the lumpy mattress. You have no idea how long you stayed there, it felt like days, but you finally got up to shower. You couldn’t feel the warm water on your cold and aching flesh. The shampoo had no scent to you. Your body was caving into itself and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You laid down on the bed and stared into the abyss with unseeing eyes. Your chest was empty, you couldn’t hear your heartbeat. Couldn’t feel the warmth of the blanket. Couldn’t recognize the softness of your favorite socks. You felt yourself sinking deeper into the darkness. Your body was just a vessel now, there was nothing left inside you. You were a shell of the person you once were.  

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Two years earlier

The rotting wood was pliable and loud under your boots. Your hands were wrapped around your gun as you stepped through the house. You rounded a corner and held out your gun, aiming with precision. The witch was fast, but you were faster. She screamed when you shot her, her body falling against the wall. You stepped on her chest and took aim straight at her heart. The shot was loud in your ears, ringing against your skull. You slipped the gun into the waistband of your jeans and dragged her body out into the field to be buried. You were halfway through the dig when you heard it. A loud and throaty engine approaching the house. You swore under your breath and squatted in the half-dug hole you had made.  Two men stepped out of the car and went to the trunk, the shorter one looked around before opening it. You could see the display of weapons, rosery beads, and other items in the trunk. Your brow furrowed; no way, were these two hunters? You poked your head up higher and watched as they both took off, signaling to each other. You smiled to yourself and climbed out of the hole.  

“Excuse me!” You called to them. The shorter one spun around, his leather jacket moving with him. His pistol pointed directly at you. The taller one turned and immediately raised both his hands in surrender. You stifled a chuckle and crossed your arms over your chest.  

“Who the hell are you?” The shorter one said.  

“I’m the one who shot the witch.” You said, moving your weight to one hip. “Can a girl get some help digging the grave?” You asked before walking away and picking up your shovel again. You ran your forearm across your sweaty forehead and continued to dig.  

“What the hell man?” Dean asked his brother.  

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged his shoulders, walking over towards you. He checked the body and saw that it was indeed the witch they had been hunting. He turned back to Dean and gave him a thumbs up, the corners of his mouth turning down in a “yup, she got it” expression. Dean rolled his eyes and walked over towards you and Sam.  

“I’m Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam.” Dean introduced to you. You planted the shovel in the ground and looked up at them, a smile coming across your face.  

“Y/N. Nice to meet you guys.” You said, licking your lips.  

“Yeah, you too.” Sam smiled at you, his dimples giving a boyish charm to his massive figure.  

Two Months Later

“Hey.” His voice spoke behind you. You jumped slightly and turned around to face him, smiling softly.  

“Hi, Sam.” You spoke around your coffee cup.  

“Sleep well?” He asked, coming to sit on the table in front of you. When he was in front of you like this, his eyes level with yours and faces so close. It took everything you had not to wrap yourself around him and crash your lips against his. You swallowed and looked away, gathering your thoughts.  

“Eh, I’ve had better. You?” You bit your bottom lip.  

“Same.” He looked down at the floor, the left side of his mouth turning up into a smirk.  

“The life of a hunter, huh?” You said with a chuckle. You ran your ring finger over the rim of your coffee cup.  

“All glitz and glamour.” Sam joked back, his eyes meeting yours again.  

“It’s better as a team.” You said, watching him for a reaction.  

“I can honestly say, our lives have gotten significantly better since you came around.” Sam smiled at you. It wasn’t a flirty or joking smile, it was a genuine smile that lit up his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to remind yourself to take a breath.  

“Mine too.” You said and watched Sam’s smile grow even wider.  

Four Months Later

You shoved the rest of the burrito into your mouth and leaned back against the leather. The windows were open in the impala and guns and roses was coming out of the speakers. You closed your eyes and relished in the moment. Sam’s hair blew softly in the wind and you found yourself staring more than once. His green and golden eyes were glowing with the sunlight and you couldn’t stop from falling deeply into them. Sam had been acting different lately, he seemed strung out. Like when you don’t take enough butter for your bread. There were days when he was the old Sam, sweet and caring, but then he would change again. Dean was noticing too. The two of you saw him whispering on the phone, sneaking out into the dark. You watched his body acting like a drain upon itself. The dark circles under his eyes. The secrets he was clearly keeping. You tried to push down your growing feelings for him. Told yourself it would never happen, but then your eyes would connect and the hope would flood your soul again. You craved him. Your bruised and scarred skin itched for his. You licked your lips and leaned back against the backseat, the sunlight warming you.  

Three Months Later

You closed the book and leaned back against the uncomfortable chair. You rubbed your shoulders and moved your head around to stretch your neck.  

“Nothing?” Sam asked. His eyes connecting with yours.  

“Nope.” You mumbled and bent your legs under you.  

“It doesn’t make any sense.” He whispered to himself.  

“I know.” You leaned forward, your muscles relaxing finally.  

“It's like a vampire and a werewolf.” Sam said, his brow furrowed as he rummaged through the books again.  

“It’s a warepire!” Dean yelled from the bathroom, the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head at his brother. Your eyes moved in thought. Suddenly you sat up and slapped the book in front of you. Sam jumped at the loud noise, looking at you with wide eyes.  

“It’s a nachzehrer!” You yelled. “I remember reading about them one time, they eat flesh of the dead and also eat the hearts of the living. You kill them by beheading them.” You spoke with your hands as you put the pieces of the case together.  

“Y/N, you’re a genius!” Sam grabbed you by the shoulders and kissed your cheek. You stumbled back slightly, not able to contain your smile. “Really, great work.” He smiled down at you; his eyes were so gold in this light. He was beautiful.  

“Thanks, Sam.” You felt your whole-body melt at his touch.  

Two Months Later

Sam had chosen her. He chose Ruby. You understood that he felt like he was doing the right thing, but that didn’t stop the hurt from spreading through your veins. Dean was upstairs, pacing in anger and the bitter feeling of betrayal. You knew that this wasn’t Sam. Not your Sam. This was a man who had been taken at his most vulnerable state only to be beaten down even further. Until all he could do was listen to the only voice telling him he could fix this, but Dean couldn’t see that right now. You placed your elbows on your knees and ran your fingers through your hair, holding your head in your hands. You were so heavy and tired. You felt the tears sting your eyes. Your throat clenched. Your chest felt tight and your lungs burned from lack of oxygen. The tears came and they didn’t stop. You knew it wasn’t love, whatever Sam was doing with her, but the jealousy was still there. The penetrating envy that was burning deep in your heart, building and burning, hot and thick.  

The old and broken-down convent was dark in the night. You and Dean raced through the halls, Dean screaming Sam’s name the entire time. Your hands shook and your eyes moved frantically around the decaying building. That’s when you saw him. His back was to you. He was with her. Your heart was racing in your chest. The doors slammed shut. Dean was ramming his body into the doors. Your chest hurt from how heavy and fast you were breathing. You realized you were crying, choking on thick sobs that racked your lungs. The door finally opened and you saw him. He looked defeated. His face was twisted by confusion and it took everything in you not to run to him. Dean rammed the knife through her stomach, her face lighting as she died. Sam grabbed his brothers' jacket and your arm.  

“It’s him.” He whispered before the floor lit up as he rose.  

One Week Later

You were standing in the motel room, Dean at the table and Sam on one of the beds. Your heart felt heavy. None of you had spoken much since the apocalypse started and you were beginning to wonder if you should just leave. Pack it all up behind you and never look back. Then you looked at him. His green and golden eyes holding so much pain in them. His body was still the same, but he looked so broken and small. You could feel the ache in his heart as if it was your own. Dean didn’t trust him to even go out to get a soda. There was a part of you that understood, but you knew he was trying to do the right thing. He was always trying to do the right thing. Dean stood and grabbed his jacket, leaving the room with a nod in your direction. The silence was thick as it spread throughout the room. Your jaw tightened and you wanted to wrap him in your arms.  

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” He sounded so broken.  

“Sam, I don’t blame you. Please know that.” You walked over to him and knelt in front of him, not caring anymore.  

“I deserve the blame, Y/N. I did it. I let lucifer out of his cage.” Sam was angry now, his voice rising in volume.  

“Yeah, you did. I still don’t blame you, at least not only you.” You placed your hands on his arms, feeling his muscles clench under your touch.  

“What is that supposed to mean?” He turned towards you; his face hard.  

“It means it wasn’t just you! Dean is the one who broke the first seal, Cas let you out of the panic room, Ruby is the one who got you hooked on demon blood! Of course, some blame is put on you, Sammy, but you don’t have to hold this weight on your shoulders alone.” You placed one hand on his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You are a good man and I don’t think any less of you because of this.” By the time you were done talking, your voice was just above a whisper. His face was so close to yours. His hand touched your cheek, fingers twisting around the nape of your neck. His skin was so warm.  

“Thank you.” His voice was shaky and rough, holding in his emotions.  

Four Months Later

You closed the door behind you and stepped into the darkness of night. The cold air spread goosebumps across your skin and you wrapped your arms around yourself. At Bobby's house you could always see so many stars, the sky was so clear. The moon was bright and heavy in the sky, illuminating all around you.  

“Y/N?” You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice saying your name. You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder.  

“Hey, Sam.” You smiled as he came to stand next to you.  

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked you, placing his hands in his pockets.  

“No, too much going on.” You said, your breath showing.  

“Are you cold?” He asked, already knowing the answer. You turned your head, looking into his dancing eyes and nodded. “Here. Take my shirt.” He said already taking it off his body and stepping behind you. His hands placed it on your shoulders as you put your arms through the holes. He slid his hands down the sleeves before stepping back to your side.  

“Thank you.” You curled into the soft fabric; his scent strong in your nose. He looked even bigger now, arms bulging in his t-shirt.  

“No problem.” He smiled down at you, his hair falling into his eyes slightly. You were suddenly on fire, it had nothing to do with his shirt and everything to do with him. The way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. The way he listened to everything you said, hanging on every word. How he seemed to always know your feelings and never pushed you too far. You didn’t know the exact moment, but somewhere along the way you had fallen in love. Somewhere in the moldy motel rooms, the cheap diner food, the late nights and early mornings you had fallen hard.  

Three Months Later

“No, Sam. You can’t!” You practically screamed, tears running freely down your face.  

“I have to fix this, Y/N!” He yelled back, pointing at his chest.  

“You can’t let him in! He’s the devil, Sammy!” You grabbed his jacket, pulling him to you. At your touch, Sam melted completely. His muscles lost all the tension they were holding. All the air left his lungs and he folded against you. His arms wrapping tightly around you. You cried into his chest; he rested his head on yours as his hands rubbed your back.  

“I’m the only one who can.” His chest rumbled when he spoke.  

“Don’t leave me.” You pleaded. You felt his lips against the top of your head before he pushed you away slightly to kiss your forehead.  

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Just know that you helped me a lot this year, you’re so strong. You can do this.” The tears were forming around his eyes as he spoke.  

“Sam, I-” You tried to express yourself, tell him everything you had been feeling.

“I know, me too.” He cut you off, his fingers digging into your arms, holding your even tighter.  

Two Days Later

You were standing next to Bobby’s body in the graveyard. Tears fell down your face. Your body crumpling against the agony that spread throughout your veins. Lucifer landed punch after punch to Dean, his bones cracking under the force. You shook and jumped at each one. Then in one moment everything changed. His hand loosened and his eyes changed. He was back. Sam was back.  

“It’s ok, Dean. I've got him.” He said. You covered your mouth and shook your head, knowing what was coming. Sam looked over at you and your eyes connected across the field. His shoulders fell and a deep sadness crossed his face. He mouthed “I love you” to you, his eyes holding so much in them. You grabbed your chest and broke down completely. He closed his eyes and spread his arms out wide, the winds of hell blowing his jacket and hair back. Michael jumped on him and he and Sam fell into the pit together. The earth swallowed them whole. Then, there was stillness once again. As if nothing ever happened. Your body crawled over to the grass that had just taken him.  

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Present Day  

You moved around your apartment, tiding up and such. You touched the picture of you, Sam, and Dean. Your smiles were wide and happy. Simpler times when the world wasn’t cruel. When you were whole and there wasn’t an ache in your chest. The days were long without him, the nights even longer. It had been a year and half. A year and a half since he jumped into the pit. Bobby called you from time to time, but you never answered. You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t look back at that life anymore. You had died that day too, not able to feel since. Food did nothing for you. Wine tasted like water in your mouth. The warmth of the sun never seemed to be enough to thaw your cold skin. No matter how much you slept, you still felt tired. You went through the motions of your day, work, relax, eat, sleep. None of it mattered. You had been dead for a year and a half, just like Sam. A knock on your door made you jump. Your brow furrowed and you walked hesitantly toward the door. You opened it to see a familiar face. Dean stood in front of you.  

“Hey, kid.” He smiled, his green eyes holding yours.  

“Dean?” You couldn’t believe he was here.  

“Mind if I come in?” He stepped around you, making his way inside and sitting down at your dining room table.  

“What's going on? Why are you here?” You sat down at your table across from him.  

“Sam’s alive.” Dean said matter of factly. You felt dizzy, like you had just been punched in the gut. You couldn’t understand what Dean was saying. You shook your head and swallowed tickly.  

“What?” Your voice barley above a whisper.  

“He’s been alive for about a year and a half now.” Dean said, his face twisting. He knew you were going to flip out.  

“What! Why didn’t anyone tell me?! Dean! What the hell! Take me to him. Take me to him right now.” You screamed, grabbing your jacket and moving toward the door.  

“Alright, hold on. Look, there is a lot you don’t know. I promise to take you to Sam, but I need you to listen to me first.” His hand was on your arm, keeping you from bolting out the door.  

“Fine, tell me in the car.” You ripped your arm out of his grasp and practically ran down the stairs and into the impala.  

Bobby’s house

“So, he didn’t have a soul?” You asked, leaning against the door frame and staring at him on the bed. Dean shook his head, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. You couldn’t stop staring at him. His face peaceful in his deep slumber. You had missed him so much. Missed the small moments with him. He was your entire world and you were so happy he was back. This was going to work. You knew it. He would wake up.  

“He hardly cared about seeing me.” Dean said, running a hand over his face. He looked exhausted. You touched his shoulder, sending him a reassuring look.  

“How was your year with Lisa?” You smiled at the blush that ran across his cheeks.  

“Shut up.” He mumbled. You giggled and the two of you made your way upstairs.

About an hour later you walked down into the living room from upstairs.  

“Hey, Dean is he aw-” Your voice caught in your throat when you saw him. He was standing in the middle of the living room, alive and well. Your heart dropped and all the air left your body. Your stomach flipped in your gut and your eyes watered at the sight of him. “Sam.” You whispered his name.  

“Y/N.” He whispered back. You couldn’t control the sob that ripped its way out of you at the sound of his voice. His feet took him to you in two strides. He placed his hands on either side of your face and pulled you to him, his lips crashing against yours. You made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a wail. For the first time in a year and a half you felt something. You felt him. His warm and soft lips on yours. His hands on your skin. Your mouth opened to him and the first thing you tasted was him. You had dreamed of this moment for months before he fell into the cage. It was better than you could have ever imagined. Dean cleared his throat behind you, breaking you and Sam apart.  

The rest of the day passed with food, drink, and laughs. You told Sam about your apartment and Dean told some stories of his year.  

“So, you settled down and got a normal job?” Sam asked you.  

“I tried to keep hunting, I really did, but I couldn’t. Even though I was all on my own before I met you guys, I just couldn’t do it anymore. After you....ya know, I felt like I had nothing left to give. I couldn’t go out there and kill monsters when I felt so broken and helpless. So, I made myself comfortable. Lived a boring life for a while.” You took a swig from your beer and shrugged your shoulders.  

“How was it?” Sam leaned forward on his elbows, interest in his face.  

“I just told you, it was boring as hell.” You smiled and for the first time in a long time you actually felt it on your face. Sam and Dean both laughed and you closed your eyes, hearing your favorite sound once again.  

That night you couldn’t sleep and you made your way outside, knowing you would find him out there too. His back was to you when you stepped outside. You touched his shoulder and your lips parted at the feeling of his skin against yours. His arms wrapped around you tightly. Your face tilted up to look into his face.  

“I love you.” He said, his breath mingling with yours in the pitch black of night.  

“I love you so much, Sam.” You whispered, looking deep into his eyes. His head leaned down and his lips captured yours once again. Unlike before, this kiss was full of passion and heat. You grabbed a fistful of his hair in your fingers and arched your back into him. He wrapped one arm around your waist and bent his knees, lifting you to him. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you moaned into his mouth. His tongue tasted every inch of you. His fingers twisted into your hair. It wasn’t until he pulled away slightly that you noticed you were crying. You sniffled, chucking slightly.  

“You ok, baby?” He put you down on the ground, his fingers wiping your tears away.  

“I’m just so happy. Sam, you have no idea how much I missed you.” You intertwined your fingers into his and stepped even closer to him.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was calm and light. You bit your lip and swallowed, nodding your head slightly.  

“After I watched you fall into the pit, I had nothing left. I felt empty and broken, there was this aching hole inside of me that I could never fill. I couldn’t taste food, my favorite song just sounded like noise in my ears. No matter how hot I made the water or no matter how long I sat in the sun, my skin was always cold. You are what keeps me going, Sam. When I lost you, I was overwhelmed with grief and sorrow. I was just a shell of the person I once was. I was gone too. Now though, your back. Here you are in front of me. Telling me you love me. I have waited to tell you that you are the love of my life for so long. Long before Lucifer and that damn pit. Sam, you are the love of my life. There is nothing else when you are by my side.” Your hands were running up and down his arms, your eyes looking directly into his. “I’m warm again, Sammy. I’m full again, and it's all because you are here.” You reached up onto your tippy toes and pressed your lips against his once again.  

“Y/N, you are everything to me. Do you want to know why Lucifer didn’t kill you that day? Because I wouldn’t let him. He tried and I fought with all my strength to stop him, because I couldn’t watch you die. You are the love of my life too, baby. Your mine and I'm yours. Forever. I'm never letting you go again.” His hands came around your face, holding you so close. His breath fanning across your skin. “It’s you and me for the rest of our lives. I promise. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but you’re my whole world now.” He wrapped you into him, holding you tightly against him. You listened to his beating heart and closed your eyes. Finally, the world was right again.  

[libraryscarf]

once like this (t) 4.5k words

Galo did not expect to meet an angel at the bus stop.

But then, not many people expect to meet an angel anywhere, bus stop or otherwise. Most people go entire lifetimes without meeting angels.

All of them, in fact.

Until now.

1.

“‘S’cuse me?” Galo said, because he couldn’t very well say anything else.

The young man standing in front of Galo repeated himself obligingly.

“I am an angel.”

Galo gave him what he hoped was a flattering once-over.

“Well…you do look…um.”

The young man who called himself an angel did not seem either flattered or offended by Galo’s stuttering. In fact, he looked a bit bored with the whole conversation.

He was quite a bit shorter than Galo, and he seemed…translucent, somehow. As though he were more an echo of a person than the real thing. He was remarkably pale. He had a pale, angular face, and pale, silky-looking hair.

The only part of him that wasn’t pale were his eyes, which were a fierce, bloody pink. That couldn’t be healthy, Galo thought. Conjunctivitis, perhaps?

“You do not believe me,” said the young man who called himself an angel.

Galo’s eyes went very wide.

“Oh. You’re serious?”

“Of course I am serious.”

“Like, an actual angel?” Galo prodded “With wings and shit?”

The young man nodded. Galo needed a moment to process this. He needed several moments.

He could call Aina. She would probably know what to do.

“She would tell you to call the police.”

Galo reeled backward. “Can you read my mind?” he demanded.

“No,” said the angel. “But I know what you usually do in unprecedented situations. Right now, all of your friends would tell you I am delusional, and that you should call the authorities and get away from me as quickly as possible.”

Galo hesitated, then asked:

“Should I…do that?”

The angel looked him square in the face with those ferocious, beautiful eyes.

“That is your choice.”

Galo felt hot, from the tips of his toes to the very top of his scalp. He suspected that had more to do with this stranger’s devastating attractiveness than with his alleged divinity.

He cleared his throat.

“Can you prove you’re an angel?”

“I could, but it would destroy this body.”

Galo inhaled sharply.

“You would die?”

“No,” said the angel. “I cannot die. This vessel, however, can.”

An expression flickered across his face; if Galo trusted his eyes, it was almost a smile.

“As a general rule,” the angel said, “the human body does not enjoy housing a pillar of divine fire.”

Galo wasn’t sure if he should laugh or not. He tried to do both at once, which resulted in a sort of choked snort.

“We can start somewhere else,” he suggested. “Do you…have a name?”

The angel considered this for a moment.

“I did not give myself a human name,” he admitted. “It seemed unimportant.”

“Unimportant!” Galo repeated incredulously. “But it’s—it’s you! It’s the first gift you get in your life! You should give yourself a name. I can help you.”

The angel’s lips twitched again. Galo wondered, if under the right circumstances, he might hear him laugh.

“I do have a name,” the angel said. “A celestial one. It’s not exactly…friendly to human ears.”

Galo puffed his chest up.

“My ears are up to the challenge.”

The angel raised one pale eyebrow. Then he opened his mouth, and Galo’s vision went blurry. His head began to ring; it felt like all the air in his chest was being pressed out of him.

Then, everything went white.

When Galo woke up, he was lying prone on the bus stop bench. Something hot and metallic ran sickeningly down the back of his throat. He coughed, wetly, and realized his nose was bleeding.

The angel knelt next to him, and the expression on his face was no longer hard to read. He looked absolutely horrified.

“Are you all right?” he asked, as soon as Galo opened his eyes.

Galo sat up, wiping his nose off on his shirt. His head still seemed to echo with that otherworldly bell.

“Yeah!” he said. “That was cool as fuck! That’s your real name?”

The angel regarded him with narrow eyes.

“Something like that,” he said.

“I’m not sure I can pronounce that,” Galo admitted. “So I’m gonna think of something else to call you. Hey, our bus is here!”

: : :

Keeping an angel in his apartment proved to be more of an ordeal than Galo anticipated. This was complicated by the fact that, despite claiming to be a near-omniscient heavenly entity, Lio had no idea how to use a sink, or a toilet, or a stovetop.

(The name was Galo’s suggestion. “I think it sounds kickass,” was his argument. Lio had agreed.)

“For an angel, you sure seem hellbent on hurting yourself,” Galo muttered, snatching Lio’s hand away from the gas range for the third time that evening.

“I am merely researching.”

“Yeah?” Galo stirred the marinara sauce with unnecessary aggression.

“Can you go research on the couch, or somewhere else where you won’t burn your fingerprints off?”

“I don’t have fingerprints,” Lio said. He waggled his hands in front of Galo’s face to demonstrate that he did not, in fact, have fingerprints. The pads of his fingers were as smooth as glass.

“Damn,” Galo said. “You could really confuse some detectives.”

Lio blinked. “Are you suggesting I carry out a crime?”

To Galo’s horror, he actually seemed to be considering it.

“It would be a very new experience,” Lio murmured. “I would, of course, have to take precautions.”

Lio did this sometimes. He seemed to forget that the things he said inside his head and the things he said outside of it were not one and the same. It worked the other way too. He would occasionally wait for Galo to answer a question that had not been asked aloud.

Galo wondered if telepathy was a thing angels had. He swallowed hard, and looked deliberately away from Lio’s soft hair and pretty shoulders. He really hoped it wasn’t.

“We’re not going to commit crime,” he stated firmly.

“Of course you aren’t,” Lio corrected. “I was referring to myself.”

Galo pointed him sternly out of the kitchen.

“Go sit on the couch and watch TV until you stop thinking about setting your hands on fire or breaking the law. We’re going to have a nice dinner.”

Lio’s forehead wrinkled, cutely. Most of the things he did were cute, which made Galo miserable.

“You know, of course, that I do not need to eat,” he pointed out.

“And I still don’t care,” Galo retorted. “You can’t just sit around my apartment not eating.”

“Why not?”

“My conscience won’t allow it.”

“As an angel, I overrule your conscience,” Lio said. “By quite a lot, I might add.”

Galo dropped the spoon back into the saucepan.

“And there’s that.”

He spun to square off against Lio, hands on hips.

“I want answers.”

Galo tried to sound mad. He really, really did. But Lio was hard to be angry at. Negative emotions seemed to slide right out of Galo’s brain when he looked at him. It was like Lio emanated a calming, gentle aura that hung about him like a golden curtain. When Galo tried to look through it, he felt like he was on the verge of seeing something too good: too relentlessly beautiful to exist.

The whole situation really was a pain in the ass.

Galo fixed his eyes a little to the left of Lio’s face, trying to evade direct confrontation with the pleasant, tempting warmth that tickled the edges of his psyche.

“So if you’re an angel,” he said, slowly. “Why did you show up to me, specifically? Is this some It’s a Wonderful Life shit?”

Lio didn’t have a ready reply to that, which fueled Galo’s suspicions.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” Lio said stubbornly.

They had been dancing around this ever since the beginning: days and days of simply not talking about it.

Now, it suddenly seemed to Galo that this wasn’t something he would normally do. He wasn’t often the type to look at his feelings sideways.

On the heels of this thought, he realized: it must have been Lio’s influence. That sweet, irresistible halo of warmth depositing a steady stream of pleasant chemicals into his brain. Galo hadn’t wanted to talk about anything uncomfortable—not with the way Lio’s presence made him feel.

Now that he knew that, Galo was pissed.

“Not cool of you to dope me up with your weird angel pheromones, dude,” he said tightly.

Lio looked a bit alarmed, and the cloud of seductive warmth around him dropped instantly to a dull fizzle. Galo winced as the comforting glow in his head faded, replaced with awkward reality.

“I…I apologize,” Lio said. “I wasn’t…strict enough with myself. I too am learning how this works.”

“I want you to start explaining shit,” Galo said bluntly, before his own, entirely human reactions to Lio surfaced and caused any problems.

“What kind of shit would you like explained?” Lio asked meekly, his mouth pursed in a charming pout.

Galo narrowed his eyes. So the angel could play dirty.

“What are you really doing here?” he demanded. “And if I think you’re lying I’m gonna send a prayer direct to God himself and narc on you.”

Lio’s nostrils flared in what Galo chose to believe was amusement.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he pointed out.

“No, you just distracted and misdirected me. You started glowing all nice and everything just…slid out of my head.”

Lio maintained his staring contest with Galo’s chin, even as his own eyebrows drew together. It was the first time he had really displayed worry, and despite Galo’s demand for honesty, he wanted desperately to smooth those furrows away.

“I was hoping to curb your curiosity for your own safety,” Lio admitted. “I intended to tell you—afterward.”

The way he said the last word made the bottom of Galo’s stomach drop away.

“After…what?”

Lio pressed his lips together and looked up—straight into Galo’s eyes.

Galo saw it then. A wrong fold in the fabric of his life.

He remembered another himself: a Galo identical to him, but at a different time. He remembered fire. He remembered the door behind him locked. He remembered suffocation. He remembered pain.

For a moment, Galo remembered dying, as clearly as if it were happening that very moment.

When he opened his eyes, his cheeks felt warm and wet. Lio raised a hand to his face, wiping off the tears and mucus with his own sleeve. The intimacy of the gesture sank into Galo’s heart like a bullet.

“I’m going to die,” he said.

And he knew, as he said it aloud, how true it was.

: : :

Despite knowing the fact of his future death, Galo was more concerned with who was responsible for it. Someone had trapped him there on purpose. Someone wanted him dead.

“That’s not important for you to know,” was Lio’s only response. Galo saw red.

“There’s someone out there who wants to—who succeeds in—killing me!”

“You aren’t going to die like that, Galo Thymos,” Lio said.

“Well, how about some other way?” Galo retorted. “How am I supposed to relax, knowing that someone wants me dead? How can you say that’s not important?”

Lio’s face closed off like a trap, which meant Galo had struck a nerve.

“I’m not going to look for revenge or anything like that, Lio,” he pleaded. “I just want to be prepared. Please.”

The muscles in Lio’s jaw worked as he fought with himself. Finally, he ground out:

“I have broken so many rules just to get this far,”

“Great!” Galo said happily. “What’s one more?”

The wave of aggravation rolling off Lio curled the hairs on the back of Galo’s neck.

“Never mind,” he amended quickly.

“Galo Thymos,” Lio said, in a somewhat strained voice. “This is the end of your involvement. I ask you—I beg you, to let me take care of the rest.”

Galo went silent for a few moments. When he spoke again, it was quiet. Hurt.

“Who would hate me that much, Lio?” he asked. “Are you really not going to tell me?”

Galo felt sick at the very thought of it—that he had offended someone badly enough to warrant that hatred. That just wasn’t his style.

He was the guy everyone liked. Even if he was ignored, even if he wasn’t respected, he could be liked. He’d done his best at this, and after all that—had he really failed?

Lio said nothing, but he cupped Galo’s cheeks in his hands and lifted his face. It felt lovely.

Until today, Lio had so rarely touched him, and his skin was feather-soft. That alone was almost enough to make Galo forget how miserable he was.

Almost.

“Maybe that was the way it should have happened,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Lio’s fingers against his face twitched.

“What?”

“Maybe…” Galo’s voice trailed off. His throat felt like a clogged pipe.

“Maybe if I did hurt someone that badly…then maybe that way was right.”

“No!”

The light touch on his face vanished, just as Galo jumped at the force in Lio’s tone. He looked up and gasped.

Thin, bat-like wings unfurled from Lio’s shoulder-blades. They were huge and black: a hungry, hot black that made Galo feel slightly dizzy. Simultaneously, two horns erupted high on Lio’s forehead: wickedly sharp, their color bright, fearsome white that cast the rest of the well-lit apartment into shadow.

“You will not die before your time, Galo Thymos,” Lio said. Except… it didn’t sound very much like Lio anymore. His voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room, and the floor trembled.

“I will not let you.”

Galo could only stare, awestruck. When he found his voice again, the wings and the horns were gone. It was just Lio again, sitting there innocently like nothing had happened.

“Is that why you’re here?” Galo asked, promptly shoving the impossible vision aside to be dealt with later. “To prevent my death?”

Lio avoided eye contact. He hadn’t yet mastered the human art of lying. Despite the telltale silence, Galo had to believe there was another reason. Angels didn’t simply fall to earth to save one life.

“Let me guess,” he said, adopting a melodramatic attitude. “You’re here on a special mission to prevent global conflict! You have been assigned the critical task of protecting Galo Thymos, whose tragic and early death sparked riots all over the world!”

Lio didn’t laugh; he gave Galo a hard look.

“You do not seem to understand the value of your own life,” he said.

Galo shrugged.

“In my line of work, dying is part of the contract,” he said lightly. “But…I did kind of hope I’d be able to put out a few more fires before it was over.”

Galo’s rueful smile slid off when he looked at Lio again. For the first time since they had met, the angel looked furious. His eyes were pools of molten heat.

“How dare you,” Lio hissed. “How dare you, Galo Thymos?”

Galo’s mouth flopped open, uselessly.

“Huh?”

Lio stood, and for a moment Galo worried he was about to sprout wings and horns again. But the only thing he did was keep glaring down at Galo, rage peeling off him in terrifying, invisible waves.

“You would die alone,” Lio said cruelly. “You would be mourned by the few who know you, and then you would be forgotten. This does not bother you?”

“It sure doesn’t, now that I know heaven exists!” Galo shot back.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew it was foolish to escalate the argument, but he was tired of being scolded, even if it was Lio—beautiful, wise, immortal Lio—doing the scolding.

He stood, and was pleased to note that despite the angel’s formidable aura, Galo was still significantly taller.

“Typical Galo Thymos,” Lio said. His eyes were narrow slits of fire.

“Arrogant, irresponsible, and reckless.”

He turned, stalking out of the room, and Galo was left with a heaviness tugging on his heart that he had never felt before.

: : :

Despite his swagger and his bravado, Galo was afraid of many things.

He was afraid of hesitating during a crisis. He was afraid of losing the small group of people he considered friends. He was afraid of taking any action, making any decision that might dishonor the great man who had saved his life. The great man who stood before him now.

Kray Foresight grinned down at Galo like a lunatic, his eyes blazing red through a haze of smoke. The pungent scent of melting metal hung around them like a poisonous shroud, stripping away the inside of Galo’s lungs.

“I certainly didn’t expect you to make this so easy,” said Kray. “But you are, if nothing else, predictable.”

Galo was without gear, without matoi, without backup. He had already been inside the building when the fire started, just two floors down from the governor’s office. When smoke began pouring into the room, Galo realized that it was here.

This was the place he died. This was the man who killed him.

He thought he knew now what Lio meant, when he said dying alone was something to fear.

Kray looked down at him, the smoky shadow of his immense form filling the doorway. His eyes burned with insane, festering hatred as he looked at Galo choking on the floor. Then, wordlessly, he shut the door, and the lock clicked into place.

Galo tried to cry out, but his throat was on fire, his lungs withering. He shut his eyes against the smoke, and felt the dark coming to meet him.

Then he was lifted, cradled gently against a strong, warm body. Galo was confused at this. Had he already died? Could this be the beginning of an afterlife?

“I am sorry for cutting it so close.”

Lio’s voice came from nearby, the tone of it jagged with distress. To Galo, it sounded like every beautiful noise in the world.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “I ain’t dead?”

He hadn’t opened his eyes, but he knew from the lightness of his own heart that Lio was smiling at him.

“No, Galo Thymos,” Lio said. “You are not dead.”

Galo laughed aloud at that, even though it hurt. He was giddy from the adrenaline, the pain, the endorphins.

“What’s with that?” he muttered. “Why is it always ‘Galo Thymos’ this, and ‘Galo Thymos’ that?”

Lio seemed to relax as soon as Galo began complaining. “Is that not your name?” he asked innocently.

“It is! It totally is. But my friends just call me ‘Galo’.”

“Is that what we are?” Lio asked very quietly, almost to himself. “Friends?”

Before he could answer, Galo realized they were no longer moving. He peeled his smoke-crusted eyelids open. That was when he started to yell.

“Lio!”

“Yes?” said Lio, bewildered.

“We’re a million miles in the air!” Galo hollered.

“Two point eight, actually.”

Galo clung to Lio’s torso, his mind in ruins from trying to make sense of what was, quite obviously, a view of Promepolis from cumulonimbus height.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die,” he muttered. “Oh my god, we’re totally, definitely, absolutely going to die. Holy shit.”

Lio’s laugh was a gorgeous sound, but Galo was too busy panicking to appreciate it.

“You really think I rescued you from a burning building just to send both of us plummeting to our deaths?” he asked, still chuckling.

“Yeah, actually, I do think that!”

Lio gently began untangling Galo from the protective pretzel he had tied himself into around Lio’s body.

“You can stand, you know,” he said, but Galo just gripped more tightly.

“I really gotta remind you that you’re the angel here?!”

Lio dropped him.

Galo gasped; he expected to feel the air rushing out of his lungs as he shot toward earth. But instead, he was standing up. It was as simple as it was impossible. There he was, standing on nothing at all.

Galo stared between his feet, every muscle screaming in panic. He squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Please don’t tell me this is some ‘believe in it and it’s real’ shit,” he groaned. “Because I am not good at controlling my thoughts.”

Laughing again, Lio said: “I know this about you, Galo Thymos. Do I have to remind you that I am the angel here?”

Galo forced himself to open his eyes. He looked from the distant ground back to Lio, then from Lio to the ground. He looked back at Lio, and his brain point blank refused to acknowledge what he was seeing.

In all the ways one might expect, Lio looked exactly the same. But he was another creature entirely. Galo saw, flickering at the edges of his vision, a massive, winged shape that seemed to be made entirely of fire.

He blinked a few times, but despite its size, the flaming, winged form managed to escape his direct gaze, and searching for it strained his eyes. But Galo knew without a shred of doubt that Lio was, somehow, both beings at once.

“I cannot let you see my true nature,” Lio said in answer to Galo’s wordless confusion. “I do not believe you would survive.”

Galo bristled.

“But I’m—”

Lio held up a hand to stop him. “Yes, despite being the great Galo Thymos. You need to comprehend at least nine more dimensions before you can behold my full glory.”

“I bet I could do it.”

Galo couldn’t believe the look on the angel’s face at his challenge. Lio was smirking.

“Do you really?” he asked dangerously. “I couldn’t even tell you my real name without half of your pitiful little organs exploding.”

But that smirk had Galo fired up. This, he wouldn’t lose.

“Try me.”

A few seconds later, Galo woke up, feeling the warm, salty trickle of blood out of his nose. Lio was crouching over him, his face torn between amusement and concern.

“Are you convinced now?”

“Okay,” Galo said sheepishly. “Maybe nine dimensions is still above my pay grade.”

He wiped his face, but then realized the blood was already gone. Moreover, his desiccated lungs now felt full and healthy. His scorched clothes were whole and clean.

“You’re, uh, burning a lot of that angel fuel on me right now,” he said. “Where was all this generosity when you first showed up?”

An odd expression flickered across Lio’s face.

“I had to be cautious,” he said. “I could not cause too much of a disturbance as long as your death was a variable. But now it doesn’t matter.”

A chill rippled through Galo’s stomach.

“What does that mean?”

Lio smiled and shook his head. He helped Galo sit upright, then lowered himself beside him. It was just the two of them, perched on nothingness.

At the periphery of his senses, Galo felt the presence of the “real” Lio. His head hurt at the idea of that enormous, incomprehensible entity manifesting as the beautiful young man next to him, feet dangling into emptiness. But Galo, above anything, wanted to perceive that true, divine shape. He wanted to show Lio how capable he was of understanding him—how willing he was to learn.

“I want you to look at the sunset now, Galo Thymos,” Lio said quietly.

“I wanted you to see it once like this.”

: : :

“I can’t come back with you.”

Galo frowned. The words didn’t immediately make sense to him. Of course Lio was coming back with him. Where else would he go?

“Why not?”

Lio gestured to the city beneath them, dappled with the shadows of clouds.

“This is as close as I can get.”

“But…you’ve been living in my apartment!”

Lio nodded, and the peaceful, resigned look on his face made Galo feel sick.

“Why can’t you come back with me?” he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Lio turned his head to look at Galo. The warm, dying colors of sunset made him look more human than ever.

“Remember what I said about the fragility of this body?”

Galo stared at him numbly as the pieces fell together. The Lio he had known—the Lio he had come to love in the fierce, desperate way a person can only love something temporary—was gone.

“You sacrificed it to save me,” he said. “Didn’t you?”

“It is good this way,” Lio replied. “I couldn’t have stayed forever.”

“Why not?!” Galo blurted out. He was so angry, it was so desperately unfair. “Why couldn’t you?”

“Because…I’m in trouble.”

Lio’s tone remained light, but Galo knew it was terribly serious.

“I ran into some friends earlier, at the Foresight Foundation building.”

The way Lio said “friends” led Galo to believe they were quite the opposite.

“They made it very clear that if I saved you, I would suffer for it later,” he said with a sigh. But rather than looking at all concerned for himself, he glanced guiltily at Galo.

“That’s why I took so long. I am sorry. Again.”

Galo could only stare. Lio looked so young and golden, it nearly broke his heart.

After a few moments of unbearable silence, Galo asked in a quiet voice:

“Are you going to tell me now? Why you saved me?”

The angel smiled at him, warmer than light itself.

“You still have to ask?”

2.

Galo goes grocery shopping on a Thursday night.

He buys six frozen pizzas and twelve cans of dog food. He slings the bags over his arms and jogs out into the brisk night air. Ever since he moved deeper into the city, the sidewalks have never been empty. He weaves in and out between slower walkers, calling pleasant greetings to those he recognizes. Despite his better judgment, his eyes follow a head of pale blonde hair until it is out of sight. Another stranger, he thinks.

Galo takes the subway to a stop near his apartment and disembarks. The station is much less busy than usual, and although he doesn’t mind a crowd, it’s nice to hear just his own footsteps echoing against the tile.

Six years have passed since Kray Foresight was charged with first-degree arson. To Galo, each of those six years is a gift.

He almost doesn’t notice the slender silhouette leaning at the top of the stairs. His arm bumps their shoulder, and he utters an automatic apology.

Galo takes another two steps. He stops. The bags of groceries fall out of his arms, cans clattering across the concrete. He doesn’t want to turn around. If he doesn’t ruin this illusion, maybe it will last a bit longer.

From behind him, he hears a voice: achingly lovely, and as familiar to him as his own.

“Are you always this rude, Galo Thymos?”

: : :

Most people go their whole lives without kissing an angel. But for Galo Thymos, on a warm Thursday night at an unusually quiet train station, things were very different.

: : :

fin

(author’s note: this piece was written for the “parallels” galolio au zine, which raised over $800 to donate to the National Black Justice Coalition. it was fantastic to be involved in the project and work with some amazing people!!)

[triscribe]

The Difference Between Scavenging and Stealing

The ship came down in a hail of smoke and burning parts.

All motion in Niima Outpost froze, scavengers and dealers alike staring at the Star Destroyer falling to pieces through Jakku’s atmosphere. The massive vessel finally landed with a distant WHOOM, creating a mushrooming cloud from the impact point. It took a few moments, after the sand began to settle, before someone moved and set off a frenzy. Every scavenger raced for their vehicles, grabbing extra ropes and nets as they went.

Having already finished her business for the day and been walking back to her rusty old speeder, ten year old Rey was one of the first to roar out of the outpost. The girl didn’t even stop to think - if she could get to the new wreck before anyone else, she’d be able to gather up the kinds of parts and materials that went for big money, the kinds other ships had already been picked clean of.

Unfortunately, better-maintained speeders managed to over-take her little craft, and the girl grit her teeth as they barreled onwards. Adjusting her course, she aimed to pull in alongside the Destroyer’s stern, rather than heading for the undercarriage docking bays where entry would be easiest.

As soon as she arrived, the kid powered down and hid her speeder, then ran to start climbing the crunched and distorted bulwarks. Sure enough, about halfway up, Rey found a tear in the ship’s plating, just big enough for her to squeeze through.

The inside... was a mess.

Flames still burned up and down certain corridors, and the girl readjusted her face mask, glad that the thick cloth could block more debris than just sand. Working her way inward, she paused occasionally to snatch bits of wiring and electronic components to stuff in her belt pouches, the sorts of things she could use to fix up the big red dune-skimmer half-buried next to her house.

Finally, Rey found a vertical shaft clear of smoke, and started heading downwards, towards the engines. She had to keep pausing to listen to distant taps and pings, checking for the inevitable arrival of other scavengers. Being the first to the most valuable pieces of equipment wouldn’t matter if she couldn’t get out with them before someone bigger got there, looking for the same items.

(Most scavengers didn’t share.)

Rey carried a pipe-staff for the exclusive reason of beating off bullies who thought they could take her stuff, but then she’d be distracted, and someone else could grab the parts and take off.

(It wouldn’t be the first time.)

Eventually, she reached a spot where the shaft wall was warped, blocking it off, and the girl had to climb back up to an exit in order to go find another route to the engines. The corridor she emerged into, though, looked like nothing she’d ever seen in another Star Destroyer.

Piles of tools and welding materials were stacked up alongside one wall, a collection of old stormtrooper armor against the other. A whole bunch of cloth and padding material formed a sleep pallet in one corner, next to a box of parts and a half-assembled holotable. Opposite of those were crates nearly as tall as Rey herself, and she drifted closer to peek inside one.

Ration packs. Old, stamped with the insignia of the Empire, but still sealed - and there were dozens of them.

Breath caught in her throat, it took distant shouting to startle Rey into moving. She dropped her biggest bag to the floor, clambered up to perch on the edge of the crate, and started grabbing up armfuls of ration packs to drop into the canvas. So distracted with the need to gather as much food as possible, it took the girl a minute to notice the shouts were getting closer... and to realize they’d turned into screams.

Gulping, she threw the last pack into her bag before jumping down, tying it closed, and dragging the lot back to the shaft entrance.

Climbing back up was a lot harder with the extra weight, but Rey grit her teeth and kept at it, determined to get her prize out safely before returning to look for more. Screams and cries of pain or anger kept reverberating around the cracked decks of the ship, echoing to the point that she couldn’t tell where they were originating from. But one thing was absolutely clear to the girl: someone had still been living on the Destroyer when it crashed.

And that someone didn’t like scavengers coming for their stuff.

-Star Wars-

When he felt the last of the intruders retreat, the blue-haired man deactivated his weapon with a sigh. “Fantastic way to make a first impression, Bridger, really stupendous.” After a moment, he clapped a hand across his face. “Force, now I’m even starting to sound like that bastard.”

Continuing to grumble complaints, the man strode through the once-again empty corridors, absent gestures here and there dropping loose panels on top of fires to smother them. Soon enough he arrived at the particular stretch he’d turned into his own private hideaway, only to pause. Something felt... off. Like a lingering presence in the air, but even less tangible.

Fingers tightening around his lightsaber, the man moved more cautiously, all senses extended to search for any intruders he might have missed. No one sprung out at him from the shadows, and the turbolift shaft at the far end was empty when he poked his head through the opening to check. It wasn’t until he began to inspect his supplies that the man found definite proof someone had been there.

The bare bottom of one of his ration crates seemed to echo with derisive laughter. He stared for a long while, before finally shutting his eyes... and reaching out through the Force.

In one direction, the intruders he’d scared away gathered nearby, fear and resentment and greed marking their faint signatures. Off to the other side, though, towards the ship’s stern, was a single lifeform, burning so brightly in the Force it was astounding he hadn’t sensed them earlier. It was this lifeform, filled by a hesitant joy overshadowed by the steady need to get to safety, that he’d bet had stolen a quarter of his food supply.

Well. If he’d managed to swipe that many meals in one go as a kid, his emotions would likely be much the same.

Warning whispers prickled at the edge of his mind. The intruders were absorbing reinforcements into their ranks.

He sighed.

Chasing them all off again would, theoretically, be doable, but the same cycle was bound to repeat again and again. There was the option of killing them all instead, as a dark little voice in the back of his mind pointed out, but...

But.

This wasn’t war. This was people trying to scavenge enough to survive.

Another sigh. And then he started to pack up his supplies, still keeping tabs on the brightly shining Force signature in the back of his mind.

Maybe they wouldn’t mind trading some more ration packs in exchange for local intel, and possibly a new place to sleep.

-Star Wars-

For the first time that she could remember, Rey had enough food to feast.

Each pack came with a square of protein and carbohydrate blend, a few sticks of vegetable nutrient, and a water bulb. She scarfed her first meal down to quiet the grumbles of her belly, and then ate a second, more slowly, in order to savor the new tastes and textures.

It was while she sat on top of her hut, gradually draining the second water bulb, that Rey felt one of her warning tickles - like someone not really there had tapped on her shoulder. The girl turned, squinting in the sunset light, to look in the direction of Niima Outpost, and beyond it the new wreck.

A figure approaching her home lifted a hand to wave.

Instantly, Rey rolled off the top of her hut and in through the opening, sliding shut the meager door she’d made out of scrap metal. Then she grabbed up her staff, slammed her back against the barrier, and waited, heart pounding.

Two... five... ten minutes went by, and she didn’t hear anything.

Biting her lip, Rey pushed up onto her toes, straining to peek over the top of her makeshift door, which didn’t quite reach the top of the hut’s opening. A glimpse of dark blue hair made her duck right back down again, but apparently the stranger still managed to spot her.

“You know,” a voice called out, “If you wanted some of my rations, all you had to do was ask.”

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no oh no.

The person who lived on the new wreck had followed her.

Shoving down her sudden terror, Rey responded in the only way she knew how: “Go away!”

“Not until I have a chance to talk to you,” the stranger replied.

“I’m not giving them back!”

Chuckling. “‘Course not, you’ve probably already split them between at least three different hiding places. Or at least, that’s what I would’ve done, if I’d ever managed to steal that much food when I was your age.”

Scowling, Rey got up on tip-toe again, high enough her brown eyes could meet an amused blue gaze. “I didn’t steal ‘em! I’m a scavenger, not a thief!”

“Uhh, hate to break it to you kid, but the only difference between scavenging and stealing is whether the previous owner of the stuff you take is still alive.” The man gestured to himself. “And since I’m not dead yet, well...”

Rey dropped back down with a huff. “I’m still not giving any of them back! If you didn’t want your stuff taken, you should’ve protected it better!”

“Yeah, I know. I was a little more worried about those friends of yours at the time, though.”

The girl snorted. “I don’t have friends.”

A thoughtful hum reached her ears. “What about family, then?”

Unexpected tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, and Rey held them back by sheer willpower. “They’re coming back for me. Someday. They will.”

The stranger stayed quiet for a while. “I dunno if my family will come for me,” he finally said. “I’ve been lost for so long, I don’t even know if any of them are still alive.”

Something in his voice made Rey pause. Tentatively, she shoved her scrap door over a bit, to be better able to peer outside at the guy sitting in front of her home. His hair was kind of long, with roughly cut bangs, and the longer bits pulled back into a ponytail. Two narrow scars marked one side of his face, and his clothes were grease- and soot-stained and covered in patches. A bunch of work pouches hung from his belt with different odds and ends sticking out, including a weird looking rod that held Rey’s attention for a long moment.

When she glanced back up, the man’s head was tilted to one side, as he stared back. Something nudged her. Like the warnings that tickled at the edge of her mind, but more insistent, encouraging. Taking a deep breath, Rey pushed the door over enough for her to step outside.

One side of the man’s mouth quirked up. “You’re not one to stay scared for long, huh?”

“‘M not scared,” she sniffed. “I’m careful.”

“Hi Careful, I’m Ezra.”

Rey blinked. “What?”

“Heh, sorry, I’ve always wanted to use that joke,” the man apologized with a grin. “But my name is Ezra, Ezra Bridger. What’s yours?”

“...Rey.”

“It’s nice to meet you Rey,” Ezra said, not commenting on her lack of a last name. “So, if we want to move on from the whole scavenging/stealing debate, how about this: you keep all of the rations you swiped and I won’t try to take them back, in exchange for you letting me camp here and sharing some information.”

Face scrunching up, Rey thought about it for a minute. She liked her house because it was hers, far enough away from Niima and the other campsites that no one bothered her. On the other hand, she did feel kinda bad about swiping so much of Ezra’s food when he didn’t even act a little mad about it.

“...what sort of information?”

“Well, for starters, how about telling me what planet this is?”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up. “Jakku - you didn’t know that?”

“Nope.” Moving slowly, Ezra reached into one of his belt pouches, and pulled out a pretty gold and blue cube. “Like I said, I’ve been lost for a long time.”

The girl didn’t have much time to think about that, because her attention focused completely on the cube when Ezra let go of it mid-air - and it didn’t fall down. She watched, stunned, as the cube’s components shifted, opened, and started to project a holographic star map. “Whoa.”

Again, one corner of the man’s mouth lifted into a half-grin. “Cool trick, right?”

“How are you doing that?”

“With the Force, all things are possible,” Ezra murmured. He focused on the map as it slowly spun, before pausing on a certain sector. “There we are, Jakku - middle of nowhere and clear across the galaxy from Lothal, greaaat.” Scrubbing a hand across his face, the man sighed.

“Is that where you’re from? Lothal?”

“Mm-hm. Born there, survived there, fought there.” He glanced up at the darkening sky, suddenly looking a lot older and more tired than before. “Fields of grass as far as you can see, lakes as big as oceans, smooth mountains scattered around...”

Rey tried to picture it, despite only vaguely knowing what the words meant. For a moment, something hummed at the forefront of her mind, and she thought she saw some blurs of bright colors, green and blue and brown. But then the moment passed. Rey blinked her eyes clear, and saw Ezra staring at her, one side of his mouth partially turned up in a thoughtful expression. “Have you ever heard of the Force, Rey?”

She frowned. “No. What’s that?”

“It’s- well, it’s a force,” Ezra chuckled, “Something that binds everything in the galaxy together, connecting, flowing, transferring energy. And some people are more deeply connected to it than others, which lets them do things like, well, like this.” He gestured to the cube, still floating in place. “If I’m right, you’ve got a really strong connection.”

Rey blinked at him, then at the cube, then back at Ezra. “I can’t do that.”

“It takes practice, and someone teaching you the basics. But once you take even just one step in learning out how to open yourself up to the Force, a lot of it works on the same principles, the same patterns.”

Her gaze dropped back to the cube, and felt another nudge on her mind. “...can you show me?”

“Sure. Come sit like this - you don’t have to get too close if you don’t want to, but less distance helps.” Chewing at her lower lip, Rey took a few hesitant steps forward, before dropping down to sit on her knees like Ezra, just out of arm’s reach. He grinned. “Okay. Close your eyes, and listen to the sound of my breathing... in, hold, and out, hold... match it with me, alright?”

Rey hummed, eyes shut, focusing on the steady inhales and exhales and copying them.

“That’s good. Now feel, not with your body, but with your mind.”

And Rey... felt.

The same brief warmth she got from the nudges that warned her, guided her, completely surrounded the floating cube. Opposite it, Ezra felt hotter, sharper, with bits of cold around the edges that just made his center seem even brighter. And beyond him, Jakku was lukewarm, with faint light and cold spots and currents of something that moved between it all-

“Not bad, not bad at all.”

Ezra’s sudden words brought Rey back to herself, and she sucked in a startled breath, eyes snapping open. Around them, full night reigned, although there’d still been a bit of light from the sunset left when she had sat down. The man across from her smiled.

“What- was that the Force?” Rey asked.

“Yep. The connection that binds everything together,” he said. “And what makes it possible to be a Jedi.”

Surprised, Rey sat up a little straighter, because that was a word she knew. “Like Luke Skywalker?”

“Uh, who?”

“The last Jedi! The Hero of the Rebellion - he was the one who beat Darth Vader and the Emperor and helped bring back the Republic!”

Ezra stared at her, completely stunned. The hologram cube dropped to the ground. “He- what?”

She nodded rapidly. “Mo’junga tells stories about Skywalker and the Rebellion whenever he’s drunk, which is a lot - the Battle of Yavin, the Battle of Endor, Han Solo and Princess Leia and- and-” Rey trailed off. “...and you don’t know any of those names.”

Ezra’s jaw worked silently for a moment, and he tried to smooth his expression out, but Rey could still feel him, could feel how shaken he was. “I- no. I know Yavin, that was our base, but- I don’t recognize the others. The- the Empire’s really gone? We beat them?”

“Mm-hm. Years ago. Before I was born, anyway.”

After a long minute, something twitched. “Wait,” Ezra mumbled. “Skywalker.” He lifted a hand, and the cube floated back up, lights flashing until a new projection emerged. “-asked me to record some helpful tips for those of you going into battle against the Separatists, or any group of well-armed opponents. Now, keeping your saber moving is key to deflecting the fire of multiple adversaries. Flowing motion, one into the next, into the next and so on. I’ve, made some adjustments to the Form Four techniques that work well against droids and other ranged attackers. Here, I’ll show you-”

“That’s a Jedi,” Rey breathed in awe, as the little blue-tinted figure pulled out an actual lightsaber and started using it to swipe blaster bolts away from his body.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Ezra said, gaze narrowed. “He was a Jedi General in the Clone Wars, before the old Republic became the Empire. He taught a friend of mine - do you know the name Ahsoka Tano?”

Rey shook her head, and Ezra’s frown deepened. “Well. She was a Jedi too. My Master may have died and I might have disappeared, but this ‘Luke’ Skywalker was definitely not the last Jedi with the Rebellion-”

“Wait!” Rey shot to her feet. “You’re a Jedi?!”

The man blinked at her, before grinning. “Well, yeah. Wasn’t that obvious by now?”

“Prove it!” She demanded, pointing at the paused hologram recording. “If you’re really a Jedi, then you’ll have a lightsaber like him, right?”

Ezra’s grin widened. His hand went to the odd cylinder Rey had noticed earlier on his belt, held it up, and pressed a button. A blade of bright green plasma leapt out, humming and sizzling in the night air. Rey stared at it, eyes wide with awe.

“Yes, Rey. I’m a Jedi. And you can be one too.”

---

(Posted to my AO3 account, also under the username Triscribe, but of course my internet’s acting wonky and won’t connect so I can copy the link. Bah.)

[gyllen-haall]

Request: Shance, with space dad Shiro and space mom Lance helping pidge out with advice on Allura.

Another request! To be honest, I didn't like the beginning of this fic but I really liked writing the ending. I seriously need to stop writing requests at 3 am, but please enjoy it!

______________________________________________________________________________

Lance gently applied more pressure to his lover's shoulders, slowly kneading out the knots in tense muscles there. Slowly rolling his hands in soothing motions as his lover hummed in approval underneath him.

The door to the lounge opened, and Pidge walked in, looking so on edge and emotional that Lance's heart clenched at the sight. He tapped the side of his lover's neck twice and Shiro immediately sat up, following Lance's gaze to the girl.

The couple had a mental list of certain gestures that had come naturally to the pair when they needed to tell the other something quickly and discreetly. Two taps anywhere on the body, meant that something was wrong and needed the others full attention.

Both older men had a soft spot for Pidge, she was the youngest out of all of them, only being 16 after a year in space. She was wicked smart, but her temper and inability to always think things through reflected on how young she actually was, but sometimes the pair could swear that she handled things better than the rest of them.

Pidge stood there awkwardly, not wanting to ask for comfort or affection in case she seemed needy. Yet Lance just smiled softly, understanding what she wanted as he pulled the young girl into his arms, before Shiro quickly brought the duo into his lap.

"Guys...I need help."

Her voice came out exhausted, the type of tone that shouldn't belong to someone of her age. The brunette just tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and rubbed gentle circles into the young girl's lower back as she fidgeted with her sleeves.

"Anything Kate," the eldest said, using her real name became a comforting or silent supportive action that let her know they were listening and cared. She perked up immediately and huddled closer into both men's arms.

"Recently, Allura has been very distant…and almost hesitant? I guess. I just...can't get her to do anything with me. Like, she barely talks to me anymore...and I don't know what happened or what I did to make her act like that."

The eldest sighed, Allura was a complicated and very particular person. She is very caring but can also get so obsessed with something, that it blocks her ability to empathize or understand where the others are coming from.

"She's probably just scared," Lance blurted out, deep in thought while two sets of eyes locked onto him. He shook his head and looked at the pidge, almost completely forgetting that Shiro was literally right next to him.

"When I first started my relationship with Shiro," he started, seemingly a lot more shy and vulnerable than the Lance they knew, "I was almost in this state of constant euphoria. It was great and he was perfect, I couldn't ask for anything more."

He failed to notice Shiro's slowly darkening cheeks as he continued, "But I thought things were almost too good to be true. Like maybe I'd been overlooking something or I'd eventually mess it up, like I do all things…."

A small hand intertwined with the brunettes as the youngest stared up at him with sad eyes. He just smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to her head as Shiro continued staring at him, so attentive and focused that he'd probably break a blood vessel.

"So I started pushing him away. I was so worried that I'd mess things up, that I stopped thinking about how happy we were. I forced myself to distance myself from him so that when he did break up with me, it wouldn't hurt so much."

"Or maybe she just doesn't want you to get hurt," a deep voice beside Lance said, "maybe she's just worried that something will happen to her, and she wants to protect you as much as she can."

Blue eyes trained on his lover, they'd worked through their insecurities and made up for their faults. Yet that didn't make it any easier when actually talking about the fears that still nagged at the back of their heads.

"I know I do," Shiro said just above a whisper.

"But that's not her decision!"

Pidge stared up at the gray eyed male with determination clear in her eyes. Her hands were tightening within lances own and he could see her getting increasingly emotional.

"She can't protect me, I'll do what I want to and she needs to accept that risk. We all do, because any day now we could be gone and I want to savor the most of it."

Lance nodded against Shiro's shoulder and saw those gorgeous stormy eyes clouding in thought. Pidge had tears in her eyes but there was a fire burning behind them, "I need to tell her this, because I don't want to waste anymore time on something like this. I want my last memories of her to be happy and warm."

"You two really are the space mom and dad," pidge said underneath her breath as Lance and Shiro both reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes. Lance getting the left with Shiro got the right, before they both leaned in to press a kiss to her cheeks.

Pidge just giggled before she made her way toward the door before she looked back, "I'll tell you how it goes." Lance sat with a small smile as pidge raced off to go tell her lover her new found revaluation.

The brunette sat against the older man's chest and sighed, something heavy and sad resting over him that he couldn't shake.

"You can't protect me from everything you know," Lance said as he pressed gentle kisses to each of Shiro's knuckles. A deep sigh came from behind him, accompanied by arms tightening around his waist as a kiss was planted on his head.

"I know," came the quiet reply, "but you can't keep questioning your place in my life. I love you and only you, so stop thinking that you're not good enough for me. I'm not going anywhere Lance," he said as he pressed his hand against the engagement ring that Lance wore around his neck.

It wasn't that they didn't want their team to know about their engagement, but it was nice to keep some privacy about their relationship. Lance turned around softly to press a chaste kiss to his lovers lips, which the other quickly deepened. Shiro nipped at Lance's bottom lip as the brunette's soft hands traveled underneath his shirt to enclose on the similar ring that Shiro also wore around his neck.

"You'd make a wonderful father you know," Lance said as he pulled away, still staying in the sweet embrace of his lover. Shiro seemed to ponder the thought before he smiled and trailed kisses down Lances neck, "and you'd make a wonderful mother."

The blue eyed male rolled his eyes at his fiance's teasing tone but didn't object, he knew the minute he started dating Shiro that he'd play the wife in their relationship. "Damn right I would, but I'm not going to stay home all day and cook you dinner when you get home like a housewife." Shiro pulled Lance in for another kiss which soon failed because they couldn't stop smiling.

"But my love," shiro cooed into the crook of Lances neck before he lowered his voice, "I could totally come home to you in nothing but an apron and push you up against the counter-"

Lances hand enclosed over his mouth as the brunettes cheeks turned a pretty shade of red. As much as Lance flirted, he was more shy when it came to being flirted back at or anything sexual which Shiro found absolutely adorable.

Shiro licked Lance's hand and the brunette quickly squeaked as he pulled his now saliva covered palm away with a weak glare before he was being barraged with wet kisses and roaming fingers which were more teasing than anything sexual.

"Takashi, bad!" The brunette cried out as Shiro's hands roamed up from his hips to tickle his side's. The older man finally let go when Lance was getting teary eyed from laughing so hard, sitting up as he straddled the brunettes thighs.

"You used my real name," shiro said with a bright smile, he had been urging Lance to call him his real name everywhere instead of just in private. Lance has been hesitant because he didn't want the others to get jealous because Shiro only allowed Lance to call him that.

The younger male drummed his fingers against Shiro's hips, flushing gently at being called out. "I'm sorry! Wait, you want me to call you that! That's good, uh, I'm rambling aren't I? If something could just swallow me up and kill me right now, that'd be great." The brunette said as he covered his beet red face with his hands from embarrassment while Shiro laughed above him.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lovers cheek after he pried Lances hands away. "You're too cute," shiro said lovingly as Lance's ears quickly matched the rest of his face. "I am not," said Lance, which came out weak to even his ears.

Shiro hummed as he pulled Lance up into his lap, he was the luckiest man in the world he thought as he looked at Lance to see pure affection and love swirling in those gorgeous blue eyes. "I love you more than anything," he said as he leaned their foreheads together and pressed lance closer to him.

"My love for you is immeasurable, Takashi."

The couple stayed there contentedly, basking in the silence and intimacy of the moment. It was that moment, that they knew that as long as they had each other, everything would be okay.

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

Too Weak to Fly (chapter 5)

Back to chapter 1

Well... that took forever, sorry about that. I hit a really bad writer’s block and it took a while to get past it. (this chapter might feel a bit rusty because of that, but, hopefully, still palatable)

@cosmic-malarky Thank you again for prodding me! 💖

@swanheart69 @boysinperil @agentlokii

___________

Chapter 5

 “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” William Congreve it was who’d coined the phrase back in 1697, the adage that had since been paraphrased and entrenched firmly in the public conscience.

 Mr. Congreve had never met Aziraphale.

 ***

Two days.

 Two days he sits on that cursed bloodstained mattress, cradling the pale, lifeless vessel that used to contain his best friend, his sole companion for the millennia he spent here on this Earth, his love, his life.  

 Two days he grieves, keening in anguish and despair until his voice gives out and his throat burns, shredded raw from his screams.  And he welcomes that physical pain, insignificant though it is. Clings to it with the fervor of one caught in a tempest of pain emotional that rages within him, clawing at his very essence, leaving wide, bleeding furrows in its wake, reminding him again and again of what he’d lost and how utterly powerless he was to stop that loss from happening.  Anathema, bless her soul, tried to console him, pointing out that Crowley isn’t truly dead.  He knows that.  He knows that, of course, but it doesn’t really matter.  Hell had Crowley back in its clutches now, weakened and defenseless without his powers.  And, best case scenario, they were going to torture him, horribly, sadistically, until they brought about his complete destruction. Worst case – that torment would last forever, no intermissions, no reprieve of death.  Either way they were never going to let him out again.  Aziraphale was never again going to see him.  

Two days he pleads and bargains and begs of the God that wouldn’t listen to turn back the clock, to give him time, to give them time.  Because they had so little time to be truly together, just the two of them, on their own side, free of the restraints of Heaven and Hell that had kept them apart all those years.  Because he was just beginning to learn how to let go of the millennia of indoctrination and fear; how to relax into the reality of their new relationship, how to convey to his beloved demon the true depth of the feelings he has repressed for so long… and how to atone to him for all the years of cruel rejections and faint-hearted lies.  Because they deserved so much more than these ten short years, and it just wasn’t fair!

 And then he gets angry. 

It is the kind of anger he’s never felt before.  A terrible, blinding fury to match the equally terrible pain that’s ripping him from the inside.   It’s powerful, it’s dangerous, and it’s begging to be let out.

 It doesn’t matter that it’s already too late and Crowley’s gone.  Doesn’t matter that there’s no point in swinging one’s fists (“or brandishing your sword, Angel”, as Crowley himself liked to say) after the fighting’s done.  It doesn’t matter, because all he can think about is that little white-walled cottage in South Downs and an enormous pair of black iridescent wings intertwining intimately with his own and the most beautiful golden eyes gleaming warmly at him in the desire-seeped darkness of their bedroom….  

That was supposed to be his future, their future. Hell had no right to take it from them.  And now? Now they were going to pay for it.

 The punishment lifts, as it was supposed to, two days later, when the first hint of the sunrise brushes the night-blackened skies.  And he feels like crying as the dizzying, heady rush of power comes flooding back into his essence, because it’s two days too late.  He soaks it in nevertheless, welcoming it like an old and dearly missed friend, as it sweeps through him, reclaiming lost ground.  He feels almost complete now, the missing part of him slotting perfectly back into its rightful place, filling in the gaping void left by its absence…. Almost.  

 Almost.  Because there’s a Crowley-shaped hole at the very heart of his being, ripped out with a brutal, damaging force that left behind torn, bleeding edges.  And it burns. It burns despite the soothing presence of his powers. Burns with all the ferocity of Hellfire.  

 He clings to that pain.  Harnesses it. Lets it further fuel the towering blaze of fury that rages within him, roaring for vengeance. And that dark wrath, that terrifying need for retribution that no proper, God-abiding angel would ever even tolerate in their presence – for the first time in his long, long life Aziraphale is neither scared nor repulsed by it.  He welcomes it with open arms.

 He hugs Crowley’s body closer, gentle, deliberately, achingly gentle despite the violent storm within him.  Presses one final, reverent kiss to the ice-cold brow.  Lets himself linger another moment, face buried in the matted flame-red locks, breathing in the fading remnants of his demon’s scent.  He should have been faster that day, should have listened to Crowley.  Should have protected his demon as Crowley had always protected him.  Some Guardian he was…. But then he’d always gone too slow, hadn’t he.  Well, no more.  

 “Forgive me, my love,” he murmurs, voice wrecked with the grit of guilt and tears. “I won’t tarry here much longer.”  

 And he won’t. There’s nothing for him here.  Not anymore. His other half, his only true companion on this Earth was gone, and Aziraphale isn’t planning on spending the rest of eternity here alone. No, his continued existence without Crowley seems to him like a punishment on par with Falling, as blasphemous as that comparison may be.  A memory of him finding Crowley in that bar 10 years ago after his unfortunate discorporation at the hands of Mr. Shadwell floats unbidden across his mind: a row of empty wine bottles, the uncharacteristically disheveled, hunched over figure, the broken, devastated look in the dull red-rimmed eyes – the look of a man with nothing left to lose.  

He understands it now, he thinks.  Because he, too, lost everything that mattered. And now he is going to lose himself, too.  But he will take that loss willingly.  Along with as many of Hell’s denizens as he can.

 He places the body onto the mattress with the same doting, breathless care; runs his fingers down the beloved face, pausing when he reaches his lips, letting his fingertips rest there a moment, trembling lightly against the chapped, ashen skin.

 “Goodbye, dear.”

 He stands then.  Takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders as he unfurls his wings, feeling his power crackle in the air around him like lightning in the gathering storm.  

He spares a quick thought to Anathema and the others, all still asleep in the wee hours of the morning. He won’t be seeing them again, he realizes with a small twinge of regret, and he sends one final blessing their way – a parting gift on his and Crowley’s behalf for everything they’ve done.  Their lives will run smooth, their course untroubled.

 He extends his right hand, and a familiar sword flames into existence, the handle fitting perfectly into his waiting palm.  He wraps his fingers around it, his expression darkening into grim determination, and winks out, leaving a single white feather to float slowly down to the floor.

 ***

 He kills the first demon the moment he steps off the escalator.  It was some squatty foul-looking thing with a lumpy face and sharp blackened teeth, and it made the mistake of being nearby when Aziraphale in his Avenging Angel mode descended into Hell.  He is now a smoldering puddle of goo on spit and filth covered floor.

Aziraphale steps calmly over the demonic remains, spreads his wings out until they almost touch the grimy walls, his Grace flaring out in a wide, blinding circle around him, and walks on, the Flaming Sword held at the ready.

“What in Heaven izzz going on here?” an angry shout buzzes loud over the cacophony of shrieks and the sizzle of destruction that mark his forward progress, and Aziraphale turns toward it like a hound that’s zeroed in on its game.

 “Lord Beelzebub,” Aziraphale acknowledges, blue eyes flashing with cold, blazing fury as he thinks back to the messily scrawled signature at the bottom of Crowley’s mildew-mottled missive.  “How perfectly fortuitous! I’ve been looking for you.”

 He stalks toward them, noting with grim satisfaction the way the Prince of Hell recoils from his advance, scrambling awkwardly to get out of the way until a wall blocks their path.  They freeze there, squinting against the blinding light of Aziraphale’s Grace, and the angel can’t resist leaning in closer, lifting the Flaming Sword to press its edge against their scrawny pale neck with deadly, unequivocal intent.

 “Whatzzz wrong wizzzz you?” Beelzebub screeches, panic flashing clear in the washed out blue of the demon’s eyes.  “Are you mad?”

 “I assure you, Lord Beelzebub, I am in perfect control of my faculties.” The sword presses harder, a thin trickle of inky black ichor staining the blade where it bites slightly into the demon’s skin.  “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

 A snarl twists the normally impassive features, fear tainting the angrily spat out threat, “You will zzzuffer for thizzz, you fool! You won’t leave here alive!”

 Aziraphale’s answering smile is a cold, empty thing that has the Prince of Hell shrinking further into the wall, unsettled.  “I don’t intend to,” he responds simply, as the pale eyes before him widen in distress. “The one being I cared for in this world is gone, and I mean to follow him.  But I would be loath to leave this world…” He leans in further, the stench of smoking skin tickling his nose as the demon before him hisses in genuine alarm, struggling to maintain their crumbling composure in the face of certain destruction.  Adds in a low, dangerously calm whisper, “without first smiting those who took him from me.”

 “We didn’t take him!” Beelzebub screeches, all pretense of composure gone as Aziraphale swings the sword for the killing blow.

 “What?” The sword stops a mere inch away from the demon’s neck, the flames roaring in cheated hunger.

 “We were never suppozzzzed to,” the demon hurries on, voice strained with the urgency of panic.  “It wazzzz Gabriel’zzzzz idea – to punish you two zzzze same way you tried to trick uzzzz.”

 Aziraphale blinks, his mind stuttering numbly on the Prince’s words as a new kind of horror blooms in his chest.  “You mean, I would have been dragged down here, and Crowley…”

 “To Heaven, yezzz!” Beelzebub buzzes impatiently, trying to twist away from the flames that lick at their skin.

 Aziraphale’s hands tremble ever so lightly and he clenches them tighter around the handle of his sword. “I don’t believe you.”

 “I can prove it!” An expression of contented sadistic glee flashes briefly in the faded blues.  “Zzzey sent uzzz tapezzzz.”

________________________________

A/N: Ruh-roh

[miscellaneous-miraculous]

My Heart is Bleeding on the Ground

AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24650806

Adrien woke up to a flash of pink light. Oh, bug. Her whole body was shaking, arms and legs thrashing out in the tangled sheets. Her mask and cheeks were streaked with tears. She never spoke during her nightmares, but Adrien knew well enough what she was seeing. What she saw every time.

Not wanting to wake her unless he had to, Adrien slid closer. Sometimes just holding him was enough to lull her back into a more peaceful sleep. Sometimes it wasn’t. He reached for her, his fingertips barely brushing her shoulder before she immediately clamped her arms around him. “It’s okay, you saved me. I’m right here. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

                                       --------------------------------------

It hurt to breathe. Broken ribs. His head was pounding. Concussion. Something felt like it was twisting his insides, a warm liquid pooling around his body. Stab wound. He held a hand over his side, trying to staunch the blood. Plagg was saying something but none of the words made sense. Ladybug was kneeling next to him – but why did she look so sad? He reached up and tried to wipe away her tears but only succeeded in creating a smear of red across her cheek. “Please, don’t cry, my lady,” he said. That only seemed to make her cry more.

“What do you want me to do then?” she asked. “My heart is bleeding on the floor.”

That confused him, she didn’t look wounded. The whole point was to keep her safe. She wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He moved his hand down to her chest, but there was no injury. “You’re not cut.”

She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, rubbing her hand across her eyes. “Come on, love, let’s get you somewhere safe, yeah?” She scooped him up, gently cradling his head as she carried him bridal style.

Safe. He knew somewhere safe. “We should go to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. They have the best food in Paris – probably the whole world.” Marinette’s parents were kind, they would help. Maybe they could figure out what was hurting Ladybug.

“Later, mon chou,” Ladybug said, swinging them out the window. “I’ll make you a whole box of passionfruit macrons if you just stay with me.”

“I like passionfruit, it’s my favorite flavor. They make really good muffins too, and quiche, and cake, and almond cookies, and egg tarts, and baozi, and croissants, and –” he trailed off, letting the memory of the bakery overtake his mind. It was warm and it always smelled so good and M. Dupain liked puns and Mme. Cheng always offered him snacks and Marinette was there. Ladybug would like it there too. He should introduce them sometime.

The wind felt funny as Ladybug carried him across the city. It was – colder than usual, and the movement made his side hurt more. Why did his side hurt? Ladybug would know. “Why does my side hurt?” It felt like someone had taken out his organs and put them back in the wrong order.

 “You got stabbed.” Oh, right. How had he forgotten that?

“That was dumb,” he said, trying to remember the incident. Why had he let himself get stabbed? He’d promised Ladybug he would be careful.

“It was,” she agreed. “Please don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try,” he mumbled, his eyes slipping closed.

He heard Ladybug shouting, telling him he needed to open his eyes, but it was like someone had glued them shut. Her voice was becoming farther and farther away as he plunged into the dark.

                                            ----------------------------

Ladybug buried her face in his shoulder, clinging to him even more now that she was awake. For a while they just stayed like that, limbs entangled as they clung to each other – each one taking comfort in the other’s steady heartbeat. Adrien kept whispering to her, promising he was okay, reminding her they were safe, telling her that he loved her.

Eventually her hand found its way to his side, near the bottom of his ribcage, tracing over the scar. The blade had punctured his liver and barely cut into the vein there. The doctors had told him he was incredibly lucky it hadn’t been any deeper and that Ladybug was able to get him the hospital so fast. Adrien had told them it was all Ladybug’s luck rubbing off. His luck was what led to actually getting stabbed in an area that had some major organs and blood vessels. It was Ladybug’s luck again that he hadn’t broken his ribs, only cracked two of them. “I wish I could erase your memories of that day,” Adrien said, putting his hand over hers.

“I wish you hadn’t taken that knife for me.”

“I don’t.”

“Adrien –” they’d had this debate a million times before. They’d probably have it a million more times.

“Buginette, you know as well as I do there was magic in the blade. It would have gone through your suit the same way it went through his.” He was thankful he hadn’t seen that. Plagg had told him later, when Ladybug was asleep in the chair beside him at the hospital. “We’re partners, we protect each other.”

“Then let me protect you for once.”

"You already have,” he brought her hand to his lips. “You gave me a place to stay,” he kissed her fingertips. “You gave me someone I could trust with anything, someone I knew would have my back no matter what,” he kissed her palm. “You gave me courage,” he kissed the back of her hand.

“It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears. “We’ve been down this road a hundred times, love, we both know each other’s lines.”

She frowned, “I hate you.”

He grinned. “Oh no, my lady has been hit by Dark Cupid’s arrow! I must save her with true love’s kiss!” She giggled as he began peppering her face with kisses and he thought his heart would leap from his chest. She began tickling his sides, causing him to curl up in laughter.

“Mwahahaha, now your miraculous will be mine!”

“Not a chance,” he cupped her face in his hands, pulling her down for a kiss. He could feel her smiling against his lips. He pulled back a little, “Did it work?”

“Maybe you should try again,” she said. “Just in case.”

“Good idea,” he kissed her again, a sigh escaping his lips. When she pulled back, the look in her eyes was enough to make him melt. How could she look at him like he personally put up the sun, moon, and stars everyday when that was all her? His lady. His love.

“You know,” he breathed. “You can never be too careful.” The last words had barely left his mouth before her lips were on his again.

And again

And again.

[memeingovermemes]

sock opera -- gravity falls starters:

Feel free to edit pronouns/names/titles where appropriate!

❝  today is the big day .  ❞ ❝  you ready ?  ❞ ❝  this is it .  ❞ ❝  with your brains and my laser focus ,  there is literally nothing that can distract us from - did you hear that ? ❞ ❝  all my life i've been dreaming - of a love that's right for me, and now i finally know her name and it's - literacy ~  ❞ ❝  just when i was getting over ___  ,  of course ,  you show up at my doorstep .  ❞  /  ❝  oh ,  yeah ,  i forgot about ___ .  did not care for ___ .  ❞ ❝  i'll type ,  you read .  ❞ ❝  you were late on your cue .  ❞ ❝  hey ,  hey .  be good to each other .  ❞ ❝  hey !  guess who's ___ ?  i am !  care to learn more ?  i bet you do .  you like to learn .  ❞ ❝  a lot of people think puppets are dumb or just for kids or something .  ❞ ❝  so when's your next puppet show ?  ❞ ❝  i mean ,  you can't really love puppets if you're not throwing puppet shows ,  right ?  ❞ ❝  oh ,  what are the details ?  ❞  /  ❝  there are so many details .  ❞ ❝  ___ , how hard do you think it would be to write and compose a sock puppet rock opera and live pyrotechnics by friday ?  ❞ ❝  i don't know what happened .  i got lost in his eyes and his ponytail and  -  ❞ ❝  if you help me with this for just a couple of days ,  i promise i'll help you .  ❞ ❝  please .  pretty please .  ❞ ❝  it's for love ,  ___ .  ❞ ❝  we're close to something big here .  i can feel it .  ❞ ❝  just a warning ,  people's eyes will get wet ,  'cause they'll be crying from laughing ,  from how tragic it is !  ❞ ❝  it's what makes life worth living .  ❞ ❝  not even gonna ask .  ❞ ❝  last time you got this sleep deprived you tried to eat your own shirt .  ❞ ❝  just a few more tries .  ❞ ❝  i can't take that sound anymore .  i hate !  you !  sound !  ❞ ❝  there has to be some shortcut or clue .  ❞ ❝  i think i know a guy .  ❞ ❝  well ,  well ,  well ,  you're awfully persistent ,  ___ .  ❞ ❝  hats off to you !  ❞ ❝  did you miss me ?  admit it ,  you missed me .  ❞ ❝  it was just a job ,  kid .  no hard feelings .  ❞ ❝  i've been keeping an eye on you since then and i must say ,  i'm impressed .  ❞ ❝  you deserve a prize .  here ,  have a head that's always screaming !  ❞ ❝  the point is ,  i like you .  ❞ ❝  i only ask for a small favor in return .  ❞  /  ❝  i'd never do a favor for you .  ❞ ❝  don't forget who defeated you last time !  ❞ ❝  hey ,  wanna' hear my impression of you in about 3 seconds ?  ❞ ❝  still ignoring this .  ❞ ❝  whoa ,  bag check for ___'s eyes !  ❞ ❝  ___ ,  i told you to get some sleep last night .  ❞ ❝  it's like if coffee and nightmares had a baby .  ❞ ❝  last night i had a dream with ___ in it .  ❞ ❝  like i'd actually trust ___ ,  right ?  ❞ ❝  today is the day that the mystery twins are back in action .  ❞ ❝  i'll help you crack that code .  ❞ ❝  i cried ,  like ,  eight times .  ❞ ❝  it's so great to see you ! ❞ ❝  your passion is so refreshing ,  ___ ,  unlike the girl from last night's puppet show .  single-stitch on one puppet and cross-stitch on the other ?  i was like ,  uh-uh .  ❞ ❝  naturally i deleted her off my cell phone contacts list .  ❞ ❝  i know you won't let me down though .  ❞ ❝  you know ,  ___ ,  you look pretty sweaty .  you should really take your shirt off . ❞  /  ❝  ... right ?  aren't we all thinking that ?  ❞ ❝  how many eyes does a face have again ?  ❞ ❝  i'm not okay .  ❞ ❝  hey !  you just said you were going to help me !  ❞ ❝  ___ ,  do you seriously think that your random crush of the week is more important than uncovering the mysteries of this town ?  ❞ ❝  you're obsessed .  ❞  /  ❝  i'm obsessed ?  look at you .  ❞ ❝  you look like a vampire .  and not the hot kind .  ❞ ❝  well ,  i can help you with tickles !  ❞ ❝  you know what ?  i'll do it on my own .  ❞ ❝  i'm gonna lose everything ?  i only have one more try ?  ❞ ❝  well ,  well ,  well .  someone's looking desperate .  ❞ ❝  i thought i told you to leave me alone .  ❞ ❝  i can help you ,  kid !  you just need to hear out my demands .  ❞ ❝  what crazy thing do you want ,  anyway ?  to eat my soul ?  to rip out my teeth ?  are you gonna replace my eyes with baby heads or something ?  ❞ ❝  all i want is a puppet .  ❞ ❝  what are you playing at ?  ❞ ❝  i don't know ,  man . ___ worked really hard on these .  ❞ ❝  seems to me one little puppet is a small price to pay to learn all the secrets of the universe .  ❞ ❝  how many times have you sacrificed for her ,  huh ?  and when has she ever returned the favor ?  ❞ ❝  tick tock ,  kid !  ❞ ❝  so what puppet are you gonna pick anyway ?  ❞ ❝  eenie meenie mynee... YOU !  ❞ ❝  what did you do to my body ?!  ❞ ❝  sorry ,  kid ,  but you're my puppet now !  ❞ ❝  this can't be happening .  this can't be happening !  ❞ ❝  man ,  it's been so long since i've inhabited a body !  ❞ ❝  pain is hilarious !  ❞ ❝  why are you doing this ?  i thought we had a deal !  ❞ ❝  i've got big plans coming and i don't need you getting in my way .  ❞ ❝  race you to the bottom of the stairs !  ❞ ❝  hey !  human soda. i'm gonna' drink it like a person !  ❞ ❝  it's got to be around here somewhere .  ❞ ❝  i've hidden it !  somewhere you'll never find it in a million years .  ❞ ❝  i hope you don't mind .  i'm gonna go before you process this sentence . okay, bye !  ❞ ❝  no ,  ___ ,  don't listen to him !  ❞ ❝  that's not me !  ❞ ❝  without a vessel to possess ,  you're basically a ghost .  ❞ ❝  HELP ME !  ❞ ❝  i'm gonna stop you ,  ___ . i'm gonna find that journal before you do and i'm gonna stop you !  ❞ ❝  but how can you stop me ...  if you don't EXIST ?  ❞ ❝  got to get my body back before he does something crazy with it !  ❞ ❝  ah ,  nothing like the theater ,  huh ?  ❞ ❝  hey ,  ___ ,  want to hear the exact time and date of your death ?  ❞ ❝  are you kidding me?  i would never miss...! ... whatever this is .  ❞ ❝  so hold your horses !  ❞  /  ❝ oh ,  i'll hold my horses .  i'll hold them .  ❞ ❝  you monster .  ❞ ❝  i'm sorry ,  ___ ,  but i have to go fight in the war .  ❞ ❝  i'll wait for you ,  ___ !  i'll wait for you .  ❞ ❝  it's come to life !  the puppet books didn't warn me about this !  ❞ ❝  you need to help me .  ❞ ❝  ___ tricked me .  ❞ ❝  it's the only hope to get me back in my body !  ❞ ❝  i'm sorry .  it looks funny when you're mad .  ❞ ❝  want to kiss and sing at the same time ?  ❞ ❝  oh-oh ,  but why would you want to do that ?  ❞ ❝  shh .  you wouldn't want to ruin the show  ~  ❞ ❝  whoops !  it's slipping .  ❞ ❝  no way .  this is ___'s .  i'd never give it away .  ❞ ❝  hmm .  you didn't seem to have a problem taking it for your own play .  ❞  /  ❝  or ditching him when he needed you .  ❞ ❝  so come to your senses !  ❞ ❝  i mean ,  who would sacrifice everything they've worked for just for their dumb sibling ?  ❞  /  ❝  ___ would .  ❞ ❝  get out of my brother's body ,  you evil triangle !  ❞ ❝  whoa !  children fighting .  i can sell this !  ❞ ❝  i'm a being of pure energy with no weakness !  ❞  /  ❝  true ,  but you're in ___'s body .  and i know all HIS weaknesses !  ❞ ❝  AAH !  body spasms !  what are these ?!  ❞ ❝  what is this feeling ?  ❞ ❝  my body is burning !  ❞ ❝  i can't move these stupid noodle legs !  ❞ ❝  curse you ,  useless flesh sticks !  ❞ ❝  body shutting down ...  ❞ ❝  YES !  i'm in my own body and - it's just as underwhelming as i remember .  ❞ ❝  everything hurts .  ❞ ❝  this isn't the last you'll hear of me !  ❞ ❝  big things are coming .  you can't stop me !  ❞ ❝  don't worry .  ❞ ❝  i've seen enough movies to know this is the part where the audience thinks it was all part of the show and loves it !  ❞ ❝  don't speak to me ,  ___ .  ❞ ❝  you've made a mockery of my art form .  ❞ ❝  i might have dodged a bullet there .  ❞ ❝  i'm sorry about all this .  it's my fault .  ❞ ❝  i spent all week obsessing over a dumb guy .  but the dumb guy i should have cared about was you .  ❞ ❝  what did ___ do to my hand ?!  ❞ ❝  nothing a little sleep can't fix !  ❞ ❝  seriously ,  i need to go to the hospital .  ❞ ❝  what did one sock puppet say to the other sock puppet ?  ❞ ❝  you look like you could use a hand !  ❞ ❝  that joke was really something .  ❞  /  ❝  yeah ,  something terrible !  ❞

[poignantpulchritude]

Silly Pleasures-Chapter 7

*I TOLD YOU IT WOULD COME TODAY!!!!* Love the feedback folks, keep coming with it. This one is slightly shorter because the next chapter is following behind relatively quickly. Also, tell me how I already have smut scenes written before the chapters have even come to fruition:)

I had a cold. 

Of all the days to start having mucus fall from my nose, of course it was the day I asked Harry to come with me to the museum. I started to feel odd the night before, so when I woke in the morning barely able to breathe, it was not too much of a surprise. Even though I felt terribly icky, cancelling on Harry was not an option. It was not an option for two reasons; one being that he called me out about it and I could not back down and two, I really did want to hang out with him again. Our interactions were often so limited to parties and within large groups of people, I wanted to see what would happen when all of that went away. It was a test to see if we would have that much in common when the alcohol was out of reach. 

When Harry arrived outside of my flat at 1pm sharp, he took one look at my glossy eyes and rubbed raw nose and cringed. 

“Oh no! Are you poorly?” Harry asked in his hypnotizing accent. I shook my head defiantly, willing myself to ignore the discomfort even though it was present. 

“No, no, no,” I croaked, albeit comically as I was so not well. “I’ve got my vitamin C tablets and tissues at the ready,” I said all while holding both up proudly. With a wet sniffle, I said confidently, “Let’s go see a replica of the statue of David!” My last few words came out in a rasp like I had binged on cigarettes all morning. Harry gave me a skeptical glance. 

“If you want to do this another day, it’s okay. I don’t want you to be in pain the entire time.”


“No Harry, I’m fine,” I drawled out. “I invited you anyways because I wanted to do this.”

“Ooh, so you wanted this?” he asks with a small smirk, wiggling his thin hips in the process. I rolled my eyes and gently shoved his shoulder. 

“C’mon you twat, let’s see what school groups we disrupt today.” I closed my front door behind me and walked down the front steps onto the pavement, forcing a bounce in my step. I started to make my way towards the Tube station when Harry grabbed my arm gently. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he questioned slyly. I quirked my left eyebrow up, confused. “My car is this way,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction. 

“Ah, certainly. I guess the Tube may be pushing it, I can tell you’re delicate.”

“Ah fuck off.” 

I felt a pleasant blush rise to my cheeks that I could tell he noticed, but did not speak on. 

*

Harry and I looked quite the pair in the elegant museum. We stood amongst sculptures and the paintings of Raphael while both cloaked in oversized black hoodies. Harry’s outfit was purely for disguise, while mine was used to further wallow in my grime. Snot residue would not be too obvious on the black material. 

The museum was sparsely populated, thankfully. I did not want Harry to be hounded, but I too had yet to feel the effects of being near him. As far as I knew it, there were no pictures of us on the Internet. I cannot deny that I liked the anonymity.

Most of our visit was silent, enjoying the art and design peacefully. Sometimes things do not need to be said. I realized after thirty minutes that I enjoyed being with him in our silence. I felt like I was sat in my favorite bookstore, enjoying the stillness. Our conversation slowly picked up around the costume collection. 

“I would have this right at my front door,” I told Harry in awe. 

“Hm, I guess I haven’t caught up on my home design skills. Didn’t know severed heads were the new garden gnome.”

“Psh, this is hardly a severed head, Harry. Honestly, Frankenstein’s monster was pieced together limb by limb. He’s just misplaced the bottom half.” Harry hums in amused acknowledgement. I was enamored with the bust of Frankenstein’s monster from the Bride of Frankenstein. Having permanent Halloween decorations was always something I desired, even though it could be quite off-putting to guests. 

“Now, this is what I want!” Harry spoke loudly, gesturing to a bright and feathered costume in the corner, formerly worn by Rocketman himself. His tone startled me. 

“Harry keep your voice down,” I whisper-scolded, attempting to hold back the giggle tickling my throat. 

“Jeanie, no one is around us.” I chose to ignore the nickname.

“Well…still,” I pouted nonsensically, even stomping my right foot down slightly. There really was no one around us, we had not seen another group or couple for at least 15 minutes. However, it went against every fiber of my being to be loud in a place that was typically reserved for quiet introspection. Lost in my worries that a museum attendant would pop down from the ceiling and scold us, I did not notice for a few long beats that Harry was staring intently at my face. When I recognized what he was doing, my first reaction was to feel self-conscious. “What? Do I have something on my face?” I asked, alarmed and nervous that some dried booger on my face was terrifying Harry.

“No, no. Just staring.”

“Well,” I paused and then cleared my throat. It was then that I remembered that I had a heartbeat. To disengage from the interaction, I walked towards Sir Elton’s costume, leaving him quickly in my wake. I heard Harry mutter an ‘alright’ behind me. “You would look good in this,” I told him in an attempt to move the conversation swiftly along, picturing Harry in all his feathered wonder.

“I think I would too.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved Harry jokingly, calling out his playful arrogance. It seemed that was all that I was doing these days, shoving and touching Harry as if I failed to age past 5. He usually did not respond to my spirited jabs, but this time must have been the exception. In retaliation, Harry decided to poke me firmly in the ribs. I could tell it was meant to make me laugh, but I don’t Harry was expecting the squeal that passed my lips to be in that particular octave. It went against my entire being to be that loud in this space.

“Oh shit! Did I hurt you?” Harry asked frantically. The look in his eyes told me that he instantly regretted touching my stomach. My immediate shock wore off and my cheeks began to redden. 

“No, but I’m extremely ticklish,” I responded to put him at ease. His look of concern transformed into a devilish smirk. I knew what he was thinking. “Don’t you fucking dare!” 

Harry started to stalk towards me with a mischievous smirk on his face. I gave a warning look in response, raising my eyebrows to appear stern. The space between us closed slowly, but eventually Harry was close enough for his fingers to brush across my ribs again. I decided, at that point, to shriek and run away-all decorum forgotten on my part. I heard Harry’s loud laugh behind me as he began to chase me around the room. My choked laughter and his heavy breathing echoed off the white walls in the empty space. 

Our chase concluded with a stand-off. I was left facing Harry, only a Les Paul guitar from the 1960s separated us. With nowhere left to go and my breath coming out in heavy pants due to my clogged nostrils, I held up my palms in surrender and squeezed my eyes shut. Not seeing the tickle attack would surely lessen its intensity in my eyes. I heard Harry’s footsteps round the guitar and felt his presence in front of me. The seconds ticked by and he still did not touch me. I cracked open my eyes to find him just staring again. 

“What now?” I asked softly. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again before any words could come out. He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a squished tissue. Then, he leaned forward and planted his lips on my cheek. His lips were soft on my freckled skin and I could feel the residue of his watermelon lip balm. I held my breath during the entire interaction. I said a prayer at that moment and thanked Zeus that the skin on faces did not form goosebumps. 

“Your nose started to bleed,” he told me as he pulled back. I mumbled a ‘shit’ and grabbed the tissue quickly from his hand. 

“I have weak blood vessels in my nose, especially when I’m all sick and worked up,” I replied, to explain my condition. His cheeks started to turn a rosy shade of pink. I cocked my head slightly to the side, confused at his reaction to my words. I realized only after we were walking out of the museum, while the hand not blotting my nose brushed lightly against his, that I told him he made me worked up. When I initially said it, I was convinced it was in reference to being tired from running around the room. I guess Harry knew me better than I thought he did. 

* “Could you take a picture of me?” I asked Harry as we sat inside a tiny, but bright ramen restaurant. He nodded and took my phone out of my hand. My face was free of nostril blood and the lighting in the restaurant was low enough to hide the dry patches around my nose. I made sure to collect the noodles perfectly on the chopsticks and exaggerate my face in amazement at the food. I’m sure Harry thought I was going to smile cutely for the camera. He chuckled at my attempt at food porn, simply saying ‘fabulous’ as he handed my phone back to me. 

“This is one of my favorite places, but I don’t think I’ve posted a picture here yet,” I told him. 

“You have an Instagram?” he questioned. I nodded and gave it to him, too distracted by my delicious food to preface that my Instagram came with a warning. I heard a deep and slightly uncomfortable “Whoa,” from Harry, which caused me to look up perplexed. He was silent for a few moments before he said, “Your hair is different here.” He flipped his phone around to show me the photo in question. My eyes widen considerably at the image. The ramen on my chopsticks fell unceremoniously down to my bowl with a plop. I cleared my throat awkwardly. 

“I totally forgot I posted that,” I mumbled. The photo was a bit brutal to look at in front of the boy I realized, only hours ago, that I had a crush on. In the photo, I was showing off my straightened hair, deicing on a different look that day than my usual dark waves. However, I showed off my straight hair only in a hot pink lace thong. To make it even more unsafe for work, I was on all fours, taking the photo in the obnoxious mirror propped up in my bedroom. The long dark strands of my hair perfectly covered my breasts in the photo. Harry still stared at me instead of the half-nude image on his phone, no doubt finding my reaction amusing. I decided it was best to own it, I was the one that posted it proudly after all. “Welp, my ass looks great too.”

“That it does.” I forced my eyes to remain unblinking.  

“I don’t think it was very gentlemanly of you to agree with me.”

“I completely disagree. You are complimenting yourself and I am simply agreeing with you. We support the same thing here.”

“Support what? Showing my ass off to random people?”

“If that’s what you want to do, then yea.” 

I did not say anything for a few moments, letting Harry’s words sink in. 

“Not too many people say things like that, it’s very kind of you,” I told him. My voice was my softer sounding than I really wanted it to be. My lips curled into a soft smile and I took as deep a breath as I could in my current state. “That’s what I do for a living.” I forced a light chuckle at the end of my sentence to appear blasé.  

Harry nodded gently, leaning his chin on top of his right arm balancing on the table. I could see a dimple begin to indent his skin. He thought for a moment before speaking. 

“So, would I be correct in saying that this photo is on brand for you?” he asked. 

I nodded, matching Harry’s posture across the table. He made a big show of his next action. Turning his phone around to me once again, he dramatically pressed the follow button on my profile. “Ta-da!” he said loudly, “I look forward to more nudes!” 

I choked on the phlegm in my throat and my nose started to bleed again.

[a-stone-world-saga]

“Senkuu-kun? Senkuu-kun!”

Senkuu grunts and doesn’t look up from the frothing beaker in front of him, carefully stirring it as his other hand pours the transparent contents of a second beaker into the mixture. He checks the temperature, then cranks it up five degrees more, noting the colour change as the previous dull blue gradually lightens to a brilliant pink.

“Senkuu-kun!” Yuzu says once more, voice just shy of a shout as she slaps her hands down on the opposite side of the table.

It’s only due to years of having Taiju and Yuzu barging in on his experiments at the most inopportune times that prevents Senkuu from startling as he very calmly tips the rest of the highly volatile acid into the boiling contents of his first beaker before shutting off the hot plate that it’s balanced on.

The beaker bubbles, and the pink looks almost ominously bright at this point, but - miracle of miracles - it doesn’t explode.

He finally looks up, right eye twitching. “Yuzuriha. What.”

Yuzu of course just gives him a look, not at all cowed by their near-miss with death. Senkuu feels like maybe all the experiments he’s dragged her and Taiju into over the years probably weren’t the best for developing their self-preservation instincts.

“Don’t you what me, Senkuu-kun,” Yuzu crosses her arms, and it earns her a little more of Senkuu’s attention. Yuzu doesn’t normally get so worked up.

He frowns. “What’s wrong then?” He recalls the date. Ah. “Did something happen with your art fair? That’s today, right?”

Yuzu huffs. “Yes it is, and it’s being held in the front courtyard. A lot of us are using the chance to show off for the journalists and university scouts that came today, you know.”

Senkuu blinks at her. “Yeah...? You told me, I remember.”

Yuzu smiles, all lethal sweetness, and Senkuu has to double-check that there’s actually a table separating them.

“Yes I did,” She agrees. “But did you tell your boyfriend?”

Senkuu stares, and an inkling of understanding begins trickling into him. “Well, no, why would I? He’s on that business trip overseas.”

There’s a moment of silence. Yuzu arches an eyebrow. Senkuu is juggling what amounts to a very colourful bomb so he can’t slap a hand to his face the way he really, really wants to.

“Let me guess - he’s not on that business trip overseas, is he?”

“He must’ve returned early,” Yuzu confirms, finally relenting with a reluctant smile. “He’s out front right now, and it’s cute I suppose, that he wants to see you first thing after coming back.” She giggles at the face Senkuu makes. “But maybe you could get him off the campus so he isn’t clogging up the entrance with his fans.”

Senkuu heaves a sigh and contemplates ignoring the whole problem and just hoping it’ll go away, but today is a big opportunity for Yuzu, and he’s pretty sure that even if he stays in his lab, his stupid significant other will just come get him once he loses his patience with simply waiting.

Senkuu looks down one more time at his ongoing experiment, and then heaves a mournful sigh and moves the whole thing to the sink, hooking a foot under the table as well to pull out the chemical disposal bin.

Yuzu claps her hands together. “Wonderful! Have fun with your boyfriend this weekend. I’ll see you on Monday!”

She’s gone again in the next breath, and Senkuu is left rolling his eyes at thin air. He shoves his safety goggles up, watching the water run for a moment before glancing out the nearby wall of windows. It’s a nice day - clear skies, spring weather.

“-it’s cute I suppose, that he wants to see you first thing after coming back.”

Senkuu scoffs and ignores the ridiculous squirmy feeling in his chest.

“That dumbass better not have brought flowers again.”

-0-

Fifteen minutes later, Senkuu rounds the side of a building and grimaces at the sight that greets him - a literal mob at the school gates, pressed up around one person leaning against the side of a damn limo. The blond hair is unmistakable, that much brighter under the sunlight, and his signature grin could charm the feathers off of birds, never mind the idiots twittering around him at the moment.

Nanami Ryuusui is as much a force of nature as always, charismatic without even trying, if the crowd around him is anything to go by, all of them vying for his attention. Even from this distance, Senkuu can see that he’s shed his suit jacket but he still has on a white button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar folded back to bare his throat and part of his chest.

He looks good, and it’s been a month since Senkuu last saw him. He’d been in Italy, for a series of conferences on a new sailing vessel he’d finally finished and unveiled. They haven’t even had time to skype much over the past few weeks, Senkuu busy with his final projects and exams and interviews, Ryuusui with his speeches and meetings. Senkuu hadn’t expected to see him again for at least another week or so.

He stops a few feet short of the crowd, debating whether or not forcing his way through to the limo would be worth the hassle. He could always just go out the back and then circle around, although that would take him twice as long.

He eyes the throng of bodies in front of him. Or maybe not. It doesn’t help that he’s not very tall.

Still, he doesn’t feel like getting elbowed in the gut today, so the back exit it is. Or that’s what he decides, but just as he turns to leave, brown eyes glance up, slicing over the heads of all the people between them, and catches Senkuu’s gaze like very little else can.

Senkuu stills as Ryuusui straightens from his slouch. There’s a girl at his shoulder, still babbling at him about something or other, but Ryuusui has always had a way of looking at Senkuu like the rest of the world could disappear and he wouldn’t even notice. His eyes seem to light up, even though Senkuu knows that’s not physically possible, and without so much as a by-your-leave, Ryuusui surges forward and begins pushing his way through the crowd. He has much better luck with that than Senkuu would’ve (without his electricity ray, but his university has informed him that it sets a bad example if he leaves bodies everywhere, and also it’s illegal), and the sheer force of his stride as he powers his way towards Senkuu ensures that his fans part for him.

“Senkuu!” Ryuusui exclaims, and his grin is smaller than before when he was grandstanding for strangers but it’s also softer, and Senkuu finds himself smiling back before he really registers it on his own face. He ticks it up to a smirk and swings his bag out of the way just as Ryuusui reaches him.

“Hey dumbass, what did I saw about picking me up from school-”

The rest of his sentence is lost as Ryuusui reels him into a kiss, and it isn’t as if Senkuu wasn’t expecting it because this is how Ryuusui always greets him - open and happy and unashamed.

And Senkuu isn’t one for public displays of affection, but he supposes he doesn’t mind so much when it’s Ryuusui’s lips on his, one calloused hand splayed along the curve of his cheek, the other snaking around his waist to pull him close.

Whispers and squeals swell all around them, but they both ignore it with the ease of long practice. Senkuu breaks the kiss off first, but he stays pliant in Ryuusui’s grasp even as one his own hands curls possessively into the collar of Ryuusui’s shirt, fingers brushing over warm skin, gratified when he feels Ryuusui shiver.

His smile is smug though when Senkuu looks at him again, and the arm around Senkuu’s waist is equally possessive as he begins leading them both back to the car.

“Missed me, Senkuu?” It isn’t really a question, not here, with press and prying eyes all around them, so Senkuu only rolls his eyes in response.

“I’ve barely had time to sleep, let alone miss your idiot face,” He shoots back as he clambers into the limo and meets Francois’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Hey Francois. Did you enjoy Italy?”

He’s granted a faint smile and a regal nod. “I did, Senkuu-sama. I learned several new recipes I can try this weekend. Will you be staying with Ryuusui-sama until Monday?”

Ryuusui slides in then, shutting the door behind him and muting the chatter outside before turning an expectant grin on Senkuu. “Of course he is, right Senkuu? I even wrapped things up early this time.” He sighs dramatically as Francois starts the vehicle and smoothly pulls away from the curb. “I would’ve been here even faster if I’d taken my helicopter, but Francois said you wouldn’t appreciate that.”

Senkuu goes through with his earlier urge and slaps a hand to his face, partly out of exasperation, mostly to hide the amusement twitching at his lips. When he lowers his hand again, Ryuusui is smiling knowingly at him, and Senkuu can only sigh in return. It sounds disgustingly fond even to his own ears.

Oh how far he’s fallen.

“Francois is clearly in possession of all your common sense,” Senkuu mutters. He flicks a considering look at Ryuusui, then glances back at Francois when he sees the partition rising to give them some privacy.

Bless Francois and their obvious mind-reading abilities.

He turns to Ryuusui again, only to huff a laugh when he finds himself being tugged close once more. He goes willingly enough, letting the man maneuver him until he’s flat on his back, head and shoulders pillowed on Ryuusui’s lap.

Loose strands of hair tickle his cheek and collarbone as Ryuusui leans over him. A warm hand grips his chin, a thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“Did you miss me, my star?” Ryuusui murmurs, and Senkuu has to close his eyes for a moment against the sheer unwavering intensity of his gaze.

Sometimes, Ryuusui reminds him of a storm, relentless and overwhelming and beautiful the way only deadly, untamable things can be.

When he opens his eyes, Ryuusui is still watching him, smiling a little when Senkuu reaches up and tangles his fingers in long blond locks.

“Do you really have to ask that every time?” Senkuu grumbles without any real heat. He tugs at Ryuusui’s hair, and of course Ryuusui obliges, leaning down further until he’s close enough for Senkuu to kiss again. The angle’s a little awkward like this but neither of them minds, especially when Ryuusui deepens it, licking into his mouth with a hungry noise at the back of his throat, one large hand slipping under Senkuu’s shirt and dragging up the ladder of his ribs. Senkuu kisses back just as fiercely, his free hand curling around the arch of Ryuusui’s neck, pressing lightly against the groan vibrating under his palm, and suppressing a whimper of his own that Ryuusui drags out of him anyway like he wants to keep every sound Senkuu makes.

Senkuu is embarrassingly breathless when they finally part, and his lips feel far too swollen, but Ryuusui looks similarly flushed and kissed senseless, and Senkuu can feel the hard line of his cock under his shoulder blade. He twitches a shoulder just to see Ryuusui’s eyes snap to focus and darken even further, but they both know better than to fuck in the limo.

Francois won’t kill them, but death would probably be preferable to whatever they’d have in store for them as an alternative revenge.

“I missed you,” Senkuu says instead, marveling at the way Ryuusui freezes, eyes wide and vulnerable for just a breath of a moment, as if he never knows until Senkuu tells him. “Of course I did, you dumbass, it’s been a month. You could’ve called ahead, you know. I would’ve come out to the airport to meet you.”

Ryuusui blinks, breathes, and then his expression melts into another cocky grin. “I wanted to surprise you. Besides, I know you’ve been tired lately. I could save you the drive, so why not?”

Senkuu hums, his hand finding Ryuusui’s and squeezing briefly with the thanks he doesn’t say. Ryuusui chuckles and runs gentle fingers through his hair. “How about you get some rest now? I’ll wake you once we’re back at my place, Francois can cook us dinner, and you can tell me all about that teaching position the Weinberg University offered you.”

Senkuu arches an eyebrow. “I didn’t tell you about the offer yet.”

Ryuusui snorts. “Please, it’s you. Any school would’ve been tripping over itself to get you on their staff.”

Senkuu smirks, because yeah, he knows he’s that good, and the school board of the university Byakuya teaches at reportedly cried when it became clear Senkuu had his heart set on his stepmom’s school. But he also has to fight down the rush of heat creeping up his neck, because Ryuusui’s always had an unshakable faith in him, and somehow, hearing it from him means more to Senkuu than flattery from anyone else.

He rolls onto his side and presses his face into Ryuusui’s shirt instead. Above him, Ryuusui makes a surprised sound that shifts into amusement. “Sleep then?”

Senkuu hums a muffled affirmative, but after a moment, he also adds gruffly, “I’m glad you’re home, Ryuusui.”

The fingers that haven’t stopped petting through his hair pause now, but they start up again after a few seconds.

“Yeah,” Ryuusui agrees quietly, voice pitched low like he’s imparting a secret just for Senkuu. “Yeah, me too, Senkuu. Me too.”

Senkuu nods, satisfied, and closes his eyes, curling into Ryuusui’s warmth. He drifts off to the feel of Ryuusui’s fingers in his hair and his hand still clasped firmly with Senkuu’s own.

[sams-sass]

Its All Coming Back To Me Now

****I am so sorry for all the double posts, my tags go up for a few hours and then get deleted.

Hello! I hope you guys like this one! Thanks for all the love and support!

Summary: You are falling for Sam until Swan Song happens, but there is something you don't know.

Pairings: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, feelings of hopelessness

------------------------------

The grass was soft under your knees. There was nothing inside you left to give. You were completely and utterly hollow. Dean was next to you, also on his knees. His face was bloody and swollen, cracked and beaten flesh. You reached down and touched the grass, letting the blades run between your fingertips. An angry and broken sob left your mouth. Your body collapsed upon itself until your head touched the grass that just swallowed him whole. Your fingers clenched into the earth, dirt and grass digging under your fingernails. You felt a hand on your back as heavy and loud sobs wrecked your body. You looked up to Dean’s face, unbeaten and normal again. Cas stood in front of you, his body whole again.  

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He said, his eyes holding so much sorrow and grief. You didn’t trust your voice so you just nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself. He walked over to Bobby and touched his forehead, bringing him back to life. You let out a small breath of relief. Dean’s hand was on you again, you could hardly feel it. You turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. His arms circled you and pulled you tightly against him, his body shaking just as much as yours. Normally, hugging Dean brought you a feeling of happiness, but not now. Not after you had just watched the love of your life get swallowed up by the earth itself. Not after you knew the fate of him. Rotting in the pits of hell for all eternity. Your sweet, loving, and selfless Sam. Gone. Forever gone. Now, Dean’s embrace felt cold and crushing. His familiar scent made your nose scrunch. The tickle of his spiked hair only reminded you of Sam’s soft locks. You shut your eyes and pushed it all down. Everything you couldn’t handle. Everything you never got the chance to say. You buried deep within your gut, letting it fester and ferment into something else.  

You and Dean climbed into the impala, driving without a destination. The sound of the engine was making your skin crawl. The smooth leather seat was uncomfortable against your bones. The drive was quiet, too quiet. Neither one of you had spoken a word. There was nothing left to say. He was gone and so were you. Dean pulled into a motel and left you in the parking lot. You could feel his broken heart. See his cracked and mangled spirit hanging on by a thread. You paid for a room and threw your bag onto the floor. Your body sank into the lumpy mattress. You have no idea how long you stayed there, it felt like days, but you finally got up to shower. You couldn’t feel the warm water on your cold and aching flesh. The shampoo had no scent to you. Your body was caving into itself and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You laid down on the bed and stared into the abyss with unseeing eyes. Your chest was empty, you couldn’t hear your heartbeat. Couldn’t feel the warmth of the blanket. Couldn’t recognize the softness of your favorite socks. You felt yourself sinking deeper into the darkness. Your body was just a vessel now, there was nothing left inside you. You were a shell of the person you once were.  

----------------------

Two years earlier

The rotting wood was pliable and loud under your boots. Your hands were wrapped around your gun as you stepped through the house. You rounded a corner and held out your gun, aiming with precision. The witch was fast, but you were faster. She screamed when you shot her, her body falling against the wall. You stepped on her chest and took aim straight at her heart. The shot was loud in your ears, ringing against your skull. You slipped the gun into the waistband of your jeans and dragged her body out into the field to be buried. You were halfway through the dig when you heard it. A loud and throaty engine approaching the house. You swore under your breath and squatted in the half-dug hole you had made.  Two men stepped out of the car and went to the trunk, the shorter one looked around before opening it. You could see the display of weapons, rosery beads, and other items in the trunk. Your brow furrowed; no way, were these two hunters? You poked your head up higher and watched as they both took off, signaling to each other. You smiled to yourself and climbed out of the hole.  

“Excuse me!” You called to them. The shorter one spun around, his leather jacket moving with him. His pistol pointed directly at you. The taller one turned and immediately raised both his hands in surrender. You stifled a chuckle and crossed your arms over your chest.  

“Who the hell are you?” The shorter one said.  

“I’m the one who shot the witch.” You said, moving your weight to one hip. “Can a girl get some help digging the grave?” You asked before walking away and picking up your shovel again. You ran your forearm across your sweaty forehead and continued to dig.  

“What the hell man?” Dean asked his brother.  

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged his shoulders, walking over towards you. He checked the body and saw that it was indeed the witch they had been hunting. He turned back to Dean and gave him a thumbs up, the corners of his mouth turning down in a “yup, she got it” expression. Dean rolled his eyes and walked over towards you and Sam.  

“I’m Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam.” Dean introduced to you. You planted the shovel in the ground and looked up at them, a smile coming across your face.  

“Y/N. Nice to meet you guys.” You said, licking your lips.  

“Yeah, you too.” Sam smiled at you, his dimples giving a boyish charm to his massive figure.  

Two Months Later

“Hey.” His voice spoke behind you. You jumped slightly and turned around to face him, smiling softly.  

“Hi, Sam.” You spoke around your coffee cup.  

“Sleep well?” He asked, coming to sit on the table in front of you. When he was in front of you like this, his eyes level with yours and faces so close. It took everything you had not to wrap yourself around him and crash your lips against his. You swallowed and looked away, gathering your thoughts.  

“Eh, I’ve had better. You?” You bit your bottom lip.  

“Same.” He looked down at the floor, the left side of his mouth turning up into a smirk.  

“The life of a hunter, huh?” You said with a chuckle. You ran your ring finger over the rim of your coffee cup.  

“All glitz and glamour.” Sam joked back, his eyes meeting yours again.  

“It’s better as a team.” You said, watching him for a reaction.  

“I can honestly say, our lives have gotten significantly better since you came around.” Sam smiled at you. It wasn’t a flirty or joking smile, it was a genuine smile that lit up his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to remind yourself to take a breath.  

“Mine too.” You said and watched Sam’s smile grow even wider.  

Four Months Later

You shoved the rest of the burrito into your mouth and leaned back against the leather. The windows were open in the impala and guns and roses was coming out of the speakers. You closed your eyes and relished in the moment. Sam’s hair blew softly in the wind and you found yourself staring more than once. His green and golden eyes were glowing with the sunlight and you couldn’t stop from falling deeply into them. Sam had been acting different lately, he seemed strung out. Like when you don’t take enough butter for your bread. There were days when he was the old Sam, sweet and caring, but then he would change again. Dean was noticing too. The two of you saw him whispering on the phone, sneaking out into the dark. You watched his body acting like a drain upon itself. The dark circles under his eyes. The secrets he was clearly keeping. You tried to push down your growing feelings for him. Told yourself it would never happen, but then your eyes would connect and the hope would flood your soul again. You craved him. Your bruised and scarred skin itched for his. You licked your lips and leaned back against the backseat, the sunlight warming you.  

Three Months Later

You closed the book and leaned back against the uncomfortable chair. You rubbed your shoulders and moved your head around to stretch your neck.  

“Nothing?” Sam asked. His eyes connecting with yours.  

“Nope.” You mumbled and bent your legs under you.  

“It doesn’t make any sense.” He whispered to himself.  

“I know.” You leaned forward, your muscles relaxing finally.  

“It's like a vampire and a werewolf.” Sam said, his brow furrowed as he rummaged through the books again.  

“It’s a warepire!” Dean yelled from the bathroom, the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head at his brother. Your eyes moved in thought. Suddenly you sat up and slapped the book in front of you. Sam jumped at the loud noise, looking at you with wide eyes.  

“It’s a nachzehrer!” You yelled. “I remember reading about them one time, they eat flesh of the dead and also eat the hearts of the living. You kill them by beheading them.” You spoke with your hands as you put the pieces of the case together.  

“Y/N, you’re a genius!” Sam grabbed you by the shoulders and kissed your cheek. You stumbled back slightly, not able to contain your smile. “Really, great work.” He smiled down at you; his eyes were so gold in this light. He was beautiful.  

“Thanks, Sam.” You felt your whole-body melt at his touch.  

Two Months Later

Sam had chosen her. He chose Ruby. You understood that he felt like he was doing the right thing, but that didn’t stop the hurt from spreading through your veins. Dean was upstairs, pacing in anger and the bitter feeling of betrayal. You knew that this wasn’t Sam. Not your Sam. This was a man who had been taken at his most vulnerable state only to be beaten down even further. Until all he could do was listen to the only voice telling him he could fix this, but Dean couldn’t see that right now. You placed your elbows on your knees and ran your fingers through your hair, holding your head in your hands. You were so heavy and tired. You felt the tears sting your eyes. Your throat clenched. Your chest felt tight and your lungs burned from lack of oxygen. The tears came and they didn’t stop. You knew it wasn’t love, whatever Sam was doing with her, but the jealousy was still there. The penetrating envy that was burning deep in your heart, building and burning, hot and thick.  

The old and broken-down convent was dark in the night. You and Dean raced through the halls, Dean screaming Sam’s name the entire time. Your hands shook and your eyes moved frantically around the decaying building. That’s when you saw him. His back was to you. He was with her. Your heart was racing in your chest. The doors slammed shut. Dean was ramming his body into the doors. Your chest hurt from how heavy and fast you were breathing. You realized you were crying, choking on thick sobs that racked your lungs. The door finally opened and you saw him. He looked defeated. His face was twisted by confusion and it took everything in you not to run to him. Dean rammed the knife through her stomach, her face lighting as she died. Sam grabbed his brothers' jacket and your arm.  

“It’s him.” He whispered before the floor lit up as he rose.  

One Week Later

You were standing in the motel room, Dean at the table and Sam on one of the beds. Your heart felt heavy. None of you had spoken much since the apocalypse started and you were beginning to wonder if you should just leave. Pack it all up behind you and never look back. Then you looked at him. His green and golden eyes holding so much pain in them. His body was still the same, but he looked so broken and small. You could feel the ache in his heart as if it was your own. Dean didn’t trust him to even go out to get a soda. There was a part of you that understood, but you knew he was trying to do the right thing. He was always trying to do the right thing. Dean stood and grabbed his jacket, leaving the room with a nod in your direction. The silence was thick as it spread throughout the room. Your jaw tightened and you wanted to wrap him in your arms.  

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” He sounded so broken.  

“Sam, I don’t blame you. Please know that.” You walked over to him and knelt in front of him, not caring anymore.  

“I deserve the blame, Y/N. I did it. I let lucifer out of his cage.” Sam was angry now, his voice rising in volume.  

“Yeah, you did. I still don’t blame you, at least not only you.” You placed your hands on his arms, feeling his muscles clench under your touch.  

“What is that supposed to mean?” He turned towards you; his face hard.  

“It means it wasn’t just you! Dean is the one who broke the first seal, Cas let you out of the panic room, Ruby is the one who got you hooked on demon blood! Of course, some blame is put on you, Sammy, but you don’t have to hold this weight on your shoulders alone.” You placed one hand on his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You are a good man and I don’t think any less of you because of this.” By the time you were done talking, your voice was just above a whisper. His face was so close to yours. His hand touched your cheek, fingers twisting around the nape of your neck. His skin was so warm.  

“Thank you.” His voice was shaky and rough, holding in his emotions.  

Four Months Later

You closed the door behind you and stepped into the darkness of night. The cold air spread goosebumps across your skin and you wrapped your arms around yourself. At Bobby's house you could always see so many stars, the sky was so clear. The moon was bright and heavy in the sky, illuminating all around you.  

“Y/N?” You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice saying your name. You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder.  

“Hey, Sam.” You smiled as he came to stand next to you.  

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked you, placing his hands in his pockets.  

“No, too much going on.” You said, your breath showing.  

“Are you cold?” He asked, already knowing the answer. You turned your head, looking into his dancing eyes and nodded. “Here. Take my shirt.” He said already taking it off his body and stepping behind you. His hands placed it on your shoulders as you put your arms through the holes. He slid his hands down the sleeves before stepping back to your side.  

“Thank you.” You curled into the soft fabric; his scent strong in your nose. He looked even bigger now, arms bulging in his t-shirt.  

“No problem.” He smiled down at you, his hair falling into his eyes slightly. You were suddenly on fire, it had nothing to do with his shirt and everything to do with him. The way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. The way he listened to everything you said, hanging on every word. How he seemed to always know your feelings and never pushed you too far. You didn’t know the exact moment, but somewhere along the way you had fallen in love. Somewhere in the moldy motel rooms, the cheap diner food, the late nights and early mornings you had fallen hard.  

Three Months Later

“No, Sam. You can’t!” You practically screamed, tears running freely down your face.  

“I have to fix this, Y/N!” He yelled back, pointing at his chest.  

“You can’t let him in! He’s the devil, Sammy!” You grabbed his jacket, pulling him to you. At your touch, Sam melted completely. His muscles lost all the tension they were holding. All the air left his lungs and he folded against you. His arms wrapping tightly around you. You cried into his chest; he rested his head on yours as his hands rubbed your back.  

“I’m the only one who can.” His chest rumbled when he spoke.  

“Don’t leave me.” You pleaded. You felt his lips against the top of your head before he pushed you away slightly to kiss your forehead.  

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Just know that you helped me a lot this year, you’re so strong. You can do this.” The tears were forming around his eyes as he spoke.  

“Sam, I-” You tried to express yourself, tell him everything you had been feeling.

“I know, me too.” He cut you off, his fingers digging into your arms, holding your even tighter.  

Two Days Later

You were standing next to Bobby’s body in the graveyard. Tears fell down your face. Your body crumpling against the agony that spread throughout your veins. Lucifer landed punch after punch to Dean, his bones cracking under the force. You shook and jumped at each one. Then in one moment everything changed. His hand loosened and his eyes changed. He was back. Sam was back.  

“It’s ok, Dean. I've got him.” He said. You covered your mouth and shook your head, knowing what was coming. Sam looked over at you and your eyes connected across the field. His shoulders fell and a deep sadness crossed his face. He mouthed “I love you” to you, his eyes holding so much in them. You grabbed your chest and broke down completely. He closed his eyes and spread his arms out wide, the winds of hell blowing his jacket and hair back. Michael jumped on him and he and Sam fell into the pit together. The earth swallowed them whole. Then, there was stillness once again. As if nothing ever happened. Your body crawled over to the grass that had just taken him.  

------------------

Present Day  

You moved around your apartment, tiding up and such. You touched the picture of you, Sam, and Dean. Your smiles were wide and happy. Simpler times when the world wasn’t cruel. When you were whole and there wasn’t an ache in your chest. The days were long without him, the nights even longer. It had been a year and half. A year and a half since he jumped into the pit. Bobby called you from time to time, but you never answered. You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t look back at that life anymore. You had died that day too, not able to feel since. Food did nothing for you. Wine tasted like water in your mouth. The warmth of the sun never seemed to be enough to thaw your cold skin. No matter how much you slept, you still felt tired. You went through the motions of your day, work, relax, eat, sleep. None of it mattered. You had been dead for a year and a half, just like Sam. A knock on your door made you jump. Your brow furrowed and you walked hesitantly toward the door. You opened it to see a familiar face. Dean stood in front of you.  

“Hey, kid.” He smiled, his green eyes holding yours.  

“Dean?” You couldn’t believe he was here.  

“Mind if I come in?” He stepped around you, making his way inside and sitting down at your dining room table.  

“What's going on? Why are you here?” You sat down at your table across from him.  

“Sam’s alive.” Dean said matter of factly. You felt dizzy, like you had just been punched in the gut. You couldn’t understand what Dean was saying. You shook your head and swallowed tickly.  

“What?” Your voice barley above a whisper.  

“He’s been alive for about a year and a half now.” Dean said, his face twisting. He knew you were going to flip out.  

“What! Why didn’t anyone tell me?! Dean! What the hell! Take me to him. Take me to him right now.” You screamed, grabbing your jacket and moving toward the door.  

“Alright, hold on. Look, there is a lot you don’t know. I promise to take you to Sam, but I need you to listen to me first.” His hand was on your arm, keeping you from bolting out the door.  

“Fine, tell me in the car.” You ripped your arm out of his grasp and practically ran down the stairs and into the impala.  

Bobby’s house

“So, he didn’t have a soul?” You asked, leaning against the door frame and staring at him on the bed. Dean shook his head, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. You couldn’t stop staring at him. His face peaceful in his deep slumber. You had missed him so much. Missed the small moments with him. He was your entire world and you were so happy he was back. This was going to work. You knew it. He would wake up.  

“He hardly cared about seeing me.” Dean said, running a hand over his face. He looked exhausted. You touched his shoulder, sending him a reassuring look.  

“How was your year with Lisa?” You smiled at the blush that ran across his cheeks.  

“Shut up.” He mumbled. You giggled and the two of you made your way upstairs.

About an hour later you walked down into the living room from upstairs.  

“Hey, Dean is he aw-” Your voice caught in your throat when you saw him. He was standing in the middle of the living room, alive and well. Your heart dropped and all the air left your body. Your stomach flipped in your gut and your eyes watered at the sight of him. “Sam.” You whispered his name.  

“Y/N.” He whispered back. You couldn’t control the sob that ripped its way out of you at the sound of his voice. His feet took him to you in two strides. He placed his hands on either side of your face and pulled you to him, his lips crashing against yours. You made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a wail. For the first time in a year and a half you felt something. You felt him. His warm and soft lips on yours. His hands on your skin. Your mouth opened to him and the first thing you tasted was him. You had dreamed of this moment for months before he fell into the cage. It was better than you could have ever imagined. Dean cleared his throat behind you, breaking you and Sam apart.  

The rest of the day passed with food, drink, and laughs. You told Sam about your apartment and Dean told some stories of his year.  

“So, you settled down and got a normal job?” Sam asked you.  

“I tried to keep hunting, I really did, but I couldn’t. Even though I was all on my own before I met you guys, I just couldn’t do it anymore. After you....ya know, I felt like I had nothing left to give. I couldn’t go out there and kill monsters when I felt so broken and helpless. So, I made myself comfortable. Lived a boring life for a while.” You took a swig from your beer and shrugged your shoulders.  

“How was it?” Sam leaned forward on his elbows, interest in his face.  

“I just told you, it was boring as hell.” You smiled and for the first time in a long time you actually felt it on your face. Sam and Dean both laughed and you closed your eyes, hearing your favorite sound once again.  

That night you couldn’t sleep and you made your way outside, knowing you would find him out there too. His back was to you when you stepped outside. You touched his shoulder and your lips parted at the feeling of his skin against yours. His arms wrapped around you tightly. Your face tilted up to look into his face.  

“I love you.” He said, his breath mingling with yours in the pitch black of night.  

“I love you so much, Sam.” You whispered, looking deep into his eyes. His head leaned down and his lips captured yours once again. Unlike before, this kiss was full of passion and heat. You grabbed a fistful of his hair in your fingers and arched your back into him. He wrapped one arm around your waist and bent his knees, lifting you to him. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you moaned into his mouth. His tongue tasted every inch of you. His fingers twisted into your hair. It wasn’t until he pulled away slightly that you noticed you were crying. You sniffled, chucking slightly.  

“You ok, baby?” He put you down on the ground, his fingers wiping your tears away.  

“I’m just so happy. Sam, you have no idea how much I missed you.” You intertwined your fingers into his and stepped even closer to him.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was calm and light. You bit your lip and swallowed, nodding your head slightly.  

“After I watched you fall into the pit, I had nothing left. I felt empty and broken, there was this aching hole inside of me that I could never fill. I couldn’t taste food, my favorite song just sounded like noise in my ears. No matter how hot I made the water or no matter how long I sat in the sun, my skin was always cold. You are what keeps me going, Sam. When I lost you, I was overwhelmed with grief and sorrow. I was just a shell of the person I once was. I was gone too. Now though, your back. Here you are in front of me. Telling me you love me. I have waited to tell you that you are the love of my life for so long. Long before Lucifer and that damn pit. Sam, you are the love of my life. There is nothing else when you are by my side.” Your hands were running up and down his arms, your eyes looking directly into his. “I’m warm again, Sammy. I’m full again, and it's all because you are here.” You reached up onto your tippy toes and pressed your lips against his once again.  

“Y/N, you are everything to me. Do you want to know why Lucifer didn’t kill you that day? Because I wouldn’t let him. He tried and I fought with all my strength to stop him, because I couldn’t watch you die. You are the love of my life too, baby. Your mine and I'm yours. Forever. I'm never letting you go again.” His hands came around your face, holding you so close. His breath fanning across your skin. “It’s you and me for the rest of our lives. I promise. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but you’re my whole world now.” He wrapped you into him, holding you tightly against him. You listened to his beating heart and closed your eyes. Finally, the world was right again.  

[demonsofhunting]

All My Sins - Chapter 15

Pairing: priest!Cas x demon!Dean

Summary: Dean fights back. But what if he just can't stop? Meanwhile, Cas has to run for his life. And the hellhounds are near...

Warnings: angst, lots of blood, strong violence, torture, murder…let's just say, it's pretty graphic. XD

Words: about 1300 ( it's a rather short one this time...the next one will be longer, I promise! <3 )

A/N: Welcome to chapter 15! Gawd, I have so much fun writing violent scenes...I'm sorry. XD There is some extra heavy stuff going on in the next chapters, so be prepared. I literally can't wait to write all of this aaaahhhh :D Oh, and "Sweet Tooth" by Marilyn Manson is like the perfect song for this chapter, just if ya wanna know what inspires me from time to time - his music is THE SHIT.

Catch up here ( Masterlist ) <3

I hope you'll like it! Enjoy <3

Meg screams in surprise as Dean hits her right between the eyes. She cuts herself at her own blade, crying out in anger. "How-" The other demon tries to hold Dean to the ground, but the young man isn't going to stay there. No freaking way. He pushes backwards, until the other's back slams against a tree. The demon curses, struggling not to let go. But he will. After a few moments of fighting, Dean actually manages to overwhelm the creature, bringing it on the ground. He manages to free one of his arms, and immediately uses his fist to crush into the other's humanoid skull until the demon lets go of his other arm. But before he can make it, there is Meg right behind him, trying to stab him in the back. Dean winces, rolling aside in hurry. The blade almost stabs the demon that is lying on the ground, bleeding. Sadly just 'almost'. Meg growls in frustration. Blood is running over her face, making her features seem bizarre and grotesque. She jumps forth, the bloody blade in her hands. Dean tries to grab it, and makes her to let go of her hold, but she manages to push him against a tree, brutally. For a moment, pain pulses through his back, quickly followed by another feeling like his damn insides are being ripped out by an unknown force... He sinks to the ground, crying out. Nononononono! I knew that she was gonna use her freaking super - powers - And suddenly, he realises. If she can do this sick stuff, and she is a demon just like I am...well, partly... Dean breathes in deeply. Stay calm. Focus. The he rushes forward, getting everything out of the inhuman parts of himself. He almost flies, well, at least that's what it feels like in the moment he jumps in Meg's direction, his body filled with fresh strength and power. He lands on top of her, and they both fall to the ground. Within seconds, Dean grabs the blade, sticking it right into her forehead. She screams. Inhuman, loud, dark screams. The other demon cries out, rushing to her side as fast as he can. Still too slow. Dean turns around while he pulls the weapon out of Meg's skull with a quick gesture. She screams and screams, even louder as her partner gets simply beheaded by the deadly blade. His body falls to the ground with a muffled noise, blood spitting literally everywhere. Dean has literally no idea where that unbelievable amount of strength suddenly came from. But don't fucking care anymore. I want to see them bleed. Even more. It feels so fucking good. Meg attacks him again, but he just pushes her away like a single leaf has touched his shoulder and tickled him what made him to brush it off in annoyance. She falls to the ground, and gets up again. It's like a funny game. A game in which I'm making the rules. My rules. She winces and goes back a little as Dean steps closer to her, slowly. Her dark eyes are filled with nothing but fear - if that's even possible, well, she's not even human. The hole inside her head is bleeding, heavily. Her face is just a red painted mask with two black spots. Two spots I'm going to carve out. Now. "I...I'm sorry, Winchester. I...I may have underestimated you, I - " she stutters, almost in tears. The young man just grabs her by her throat, looking up and down at her 'human vessel' with his now pitch black eyes. "That's exactly what I was trying to tell you before, sweetheart. But you just didn't listen to me. I guess, now I will have to punish you," he says, his voice as sweet as honey. She closes her eyes for a brief second. "You have to...to stop," she rasps, "When you keep murdering others your demonic part will just get stronger and stronger. Look at you! You're just like me. Like us. You have already changed. It's  -" "Fuck off!" he growls, "Time to pay, bitch!" He can feel her thin neck almost break under his touch. I like that. "Dean...,"she whispers, but then he runs the blade over her throat, slicing it open, fully. Her gasps are music in his ears, as her body hunches over in pain. The blackness in her eyes flickers. And suddenly, Dean knows what she will try to do. She will try to leave this body, to leave the sinking ship! That's sad. I really would have loved to torture her in some different ways before killing her. But well, let's get this over with. He stabs her right through the heart, ripping her chest open with a quick movement of the blade. There is a strange light coming from her insides as she falls to the ground, and Dean knows that she is dead. Finally. In this moment, he hears a terrifying growl behind him. It sounds like all tortured voices of hell would scream in pain at the same time, awfully. The young man winces, turning around - just to stare into a pair of horrible demonic eyes in the colour of flashing red. Fuck. I guess the hellhounds are here.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Castiel's back is pressed against the wood of an old tree that he bets to be already rotten inside. Like I will because of the marks on my chest. Well, if I actually survive this. He is hunched over a little, trying to control his constant shivering. As he woke up about twenty minutes ago, he just knew that something wasn't right. Not right at all. Dean was gone, and he had no idea where he would have disappeared to. It was cold as hell, and his body was aching, but Castiel tried to look around as good as he could. But he found nothing. Well, except an pretty evil looking demon that was trying to kill him, obviously. All he could to was run deeper into the sea of trees, hoping that the creature though that he has headed for the street instead. Or was that a bad idea? I bet that it was! He closes his eyes, trying to ignore the pain that is caused by his wounds. I'm such an easy target, damn it. And what, if the police found Dean? Or what if Meg is back and - "Where are you angel?" a deep voice scoffs. Terrifyingly, the speaker doesn't seem to be that far away... And why is he calling me angel? Oh shit...he must be working with Meg! The priest tries to duck into a couple of bushes, looking around, his eyes wide and filled with pure fear. His heart races, and the smell of wet leafs is driving him insane, slowly. Sweat is running down his forehead, and he bites his bottom lip. Where did he go? Is he - "Found you!" Castiel jumps and turns around, just to get pushed to the ground by the man who just seems to simply appear out of the shadows. No! Before the demon can overwhelm him, the priest gets up to his feet again, stumbling deeper into the forest as far as he can. The other is right behind him, walking with slow, relaxed steps... As if he knows that he will catch me anyway. I'm practically dead. In this moment, he hears some terrible howls coming right out of the forest. And these sounds don't stop. They're are just getting louder and louder, followed by some creepy growls that are sending chills down the priest's spine. None of them sounds slightly human, they're deep and absolutely terrifying, giving Castiel goosebumps all over. Hellhounds. That must be some freaking hellhounds. What else could it be? And suddenly, there is only one thing he can think about: Dean! Ignoring the pain, he accelerates, running into the direction the noise is coming from, blindly.

 ( A/N: Next chapter on October 25, 2019 <3 )

That was chapter 15! Thank you so much for reading, and if you would like to leave a comment or reblog this shit, I will love you forever! <3

Tag lists are open!

Destiel/Forever Tags: @adoptdontshoppets​ @rebeloftheseas @ablavalba​ @smodernlife​ @ignis-glaciesque​ @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel​ @xsghn @helpmeluci​ @trenchcoatsandfreckles​ @legendary-destiel​ @leahslovelylibrary​

"All My Sins" Tags: @emodestielshipper​ @emumag​ @waywardtricksterangel​ @didntwanderstillgotlost​ @angel-e-v-a​ @too-old-for-fangirling-but-idc​ @justanotherfangirl511​