akazie

[akazie]

Fuck Up My Makeup

Nsft ficlet for @swampstew 💖👀

Eustass Kid x Y/N

18+ only, minors will be blocked 💖

Rough sex, fingering, name calling, Eustass being a bastard as always ✨️✨️✨️

I hope you enjoy @swampstew !! It was honestly super fun writing Kid so who knows, maybe I'll write him again in the future 👀 I hope this puts a cute lil grin on ur cute lil face ! ✨️✨️✨️✨️💖💖💖 he gon smooch it 😎

Enjoy!!

"So when are we gunna fuck?"

You coughed on your drink, wide eyes looking up at the red-headed menace you called your friend. You knew you liked each other; the way his eyes always undressed you when he thought you didn't notice, or the way his laugh echoed inside your body like an addictive drug...

But never had he been so bold as to ask you something like that directly to your face.

"I uh, that's incredibly ballsy of you, Eustass."

The man grinned and barked out a laugh as his fleshy hand landed over his heart.

"Ugh, I love it when you say my name - you should definitely scream it for me later."

Your cheeks burned bright red, your eyes still wide as the words ran laps in your head over over. He had flirted with you before, but nothing to this extent.

"...Are you drunk?"

Your words pierced him, but he hid the pang of bitterness with an almost sneer as he replied with a bite,

"I don't need to be drunk to tell you I want to fuck you."

You were silent for a moment, eyes finally wandering his body until they landed back on his face. His eyes always told the truth, and he was not lying about this. One of your eyebrows ticked up, a small smirk washing over your lips as you finally replied,

"Well then, why don't you show me just how sober you are?"

It was a blur, the next few moments. He had picked you up so easily, throwing you over a shoulder as your surprised and dark red face met the few crew still awake and watching with amused expressions.

"Get 'er, Captain, you fuckin' dog!" Someone cheered out, your face burning worse as Kid's metal hand came up to slap you on the ass, hard enough to pull a sound from you.

He gave a rumbling chuckle before quite literally barking out,

"Woof."

He literally kicked the door open down to the rooms, his long legs taking every two steps as you bounced on his shoulder. Your hands were firm against his back to try and minimize the shock but it wasn't doing much, a deep frown etched into your face as you bit back pained grunts.

When he finally hit the last step, he made quick work to get to his room, throwing the door open and tossing you roughly onto his bed. Your back hit the mattress and your breath left you, having to struggle to take a breath for a moment. You gave him a low glare when you finally caught it, slowly sitting up as your gaze changed as he ripped off his clothes, staring you down with hungry eyes.

"Good God," you murmured out, your eyes widening as you took him in in all his shamelessness. Your face burned terribly when your lower peripheral caught his lower region a little too well, trying very hard not to actually look further down.

"Careful princess, you keep looking at me like that and I'll ruin you."

Your eyes snapped up to his and your entire body ached, his gaze eating you from the inside out; that stupid, shit eating grin he always wore plastered across his face.

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

The words left your mouth before your brain had even registered that you spoke, a sudden look of shock crossing your own face when he cackled loudly.

"Both, obviously."

The teasing tone sent a shiver up your spine, and before you could say anything in return, your back hit the mattress once more, your wrists locked in a metal and fleshy grasp pinned above your head. Sharp, red eyes met yours as his face came above yours, and you swore your heart stopped, the thrill of being under Kid and his gaze feeling almost overwhelming.

"So?"

Your eyes narrowed at his question.

"So... what?"

He rolled his eyes with a huff and snarked back with a twitch of his hips,

"SO, when are we gunna fuck? You never answered me."

Your annoyed look softed at his words, realizing the mighty Eustass Kid was asking for consent.

"And they say chivalry is dead," you joked with a laugh before moving your head up as much as you could, your nose just brushing against his as you grinned up at him.

"Just fuck me already, Eustass."

It was like a switch had turned on in him. His lips devoured yours, his metal hand overtaking both your hands in his one, his other hand making its way down to rip off your shirt and your skirt, a delighted sound leaving his throat as he realized you had a cute, thin red thong on.

You groaned in annoyance as he ripped those off too.

You pulled away from the kiss to bite out,

"That was my favorite combo, you asshat! Do you know how much I spent on that fucking shirt?!"

His flesh hand grasped the bottom of your face harshly, pulling you back into a rough kiss, his tongue overtaking your mouth until he finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and moaning gently.

"Shut up, I'll buy you whatever the fuck you want later. I'll even help you out with your garbage style," he laughed out mockingly, his hand moving away from your face to travel back down to your now naked core. Your eyes rolled back as he shoved two digits in, giving you no time to get used to the intrusion as he immediately began thrusting into you. He had a snarking grin on his face as he watched yours, basking in how your body moved and begged for him.

"Yeah, just like that,"

His voice was suddenly so close, not realizing your eyes had shut as your hips ground against his hand. His breath tickled over your ear as he chuckled.

"I told you, I'm going to ruin you."

You whined as his fingers left you, his body slotting itself between your shaking legs. You gasped as he lined himself up, his tip already stretching you as he tested the waters. He groaned at how wet you were, feeling you pull him in as you rolled your hips onto him, his cock sliding in little by little until his hips finally met yours. You both stayed quiet for a moment, you both heavily breathing bring the only sound in the room. It was quiet enough that you could hear the party still continuing upstairs but neither of you paid it any mind.

The kiss he gave you was a little more gentle, still as demanding but more caring than hungry. He stared you down, almost as if waiting for you to say or do anything. When you tightened around him, his breath hitched and he chuckled lowly, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to make your groan.

"Good girl."

His pace was intense, rough and almost painful if not for the incredible amount of extacy running through your entire body. Your fingers and palms ached under the metal grasp, your back arching into Kids chest as he fulfilled his promise and threat, his eyes falling shut as he bent his head to bite down on a breast, groaning around the flesh now covered in lipstick.

His grunts and groans made your stomach twist and heart flutter, a feeling of pride washing over you as you reveled in being the one to make him fall apart and lose control.

His lips suddenly met yours again for just a moment, his warm hand moving from gripping your hip to rub across your lips, barking out a laugh as he commented,

"You fucked up my makeup, slut. There's punishment for that."

Your eyes rolled back as his mouth met your throat, biting down every once in a while as he thrusted into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. His name fell from your lips over and over, feeling his lips grin into your throat as he shifted his hips slightly, his tip hitting a spot you didn't even know existed. You saw stars and came hard, clenching around him to the point his hips faltered, your name tumbling from him like a prayer as he followed you, filling you with a burning warmth that just added to the overwhelming sensations Kid just put you through.

He finally lifted his head after a few minutes, his forehead resting against yours as you stared at each other. Your breath mingled for a moment before his bent a bit to capture your lips, his metal hand finally releasing your hands from its cage. Your hands went to his body and his hair, pulling him as close as possible as your legs wrapped around his waist.

"What took you so long?"

He pulled back enough to look down at you with a overly shocked face, almost angry at your words.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

You laughed breathlessly, rolling your eyes mockingly as you replied,

"It means, what took you so long to ask to fuck me?"

He was quiet for a minute before replying honestly,

"I didn't think ya liked me like that. Didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Your heart melted at how uncomfortable he himself looked, his eyes looking everywhere but you. You clenched around his somehow still semi hard cock and he grunted, glared down at you.

"Do I look uncomfortable? Because I can promise you that I'm not. In fact, I feel the safest I've ever felt."

His eyes softed slightly before he kissed you again, a cheeky grin on his face as he chuckled out,

"Aw, don't make me blush, princess."

In a flash, he pressed you back down to the mattress, his hips slowly beginning their assault once more. Your one hand tightened in his hair as his mouth met your neck once more, teeth grazing and nipping your flesh as you slowly fall apart under him once again.

"Eustass..."

"I hope you have no plans tomorrow, because we're going all... night... long..."

WEEEEEE !! wow that was SO much fun to write, what a snarky lil bastard !! I love him !! I spent about 2 and a half hours on this so if you saw any mistakes, no you did not ! 🥰💖

I hope you all enjoyed but I hope you enjoyed this the most @swampstew !!! I know it's not much but it's from the heart (and Kids bed lmaaoo 👀) so I hope it cheered you up just an ittle bittle! You're awesome, keep your chin up 💖✨️

Be good ! Love you my lil tangerines!

[akazie]

water under the bridge (8/8)

domini album

wutb album

#9 Tobirama Senju

summary: (Y/N) Tsuru has a best friend in Izuna Uchiha; a trio of teenaged genin to teach the merits of being a shinobi to; and feelings for a man who wouldn't realize she was in love with him even if she said it to his face - a moot point, however, considering said man has engaged himself to the Uzumaki Princess.

or : In which Hashirama is a fool and Tobirama is not.

word count: 1,839

reference: mito's shiro-muku

a/n: aND HERE WE ARE!!!

part seven

Mito and Hashirama’s wedding ceremony had come to fruition with all the wealth that the Nara Clan would allow out of Konoha’s coffers, helped along by the grant of the Uzukage. The streets of the village were bright and colorful, streamers and paper luck charms billowing in the breezes made from the celebrations across the market and civilian sects.

There was laughter and food wherever you looked, and the celebration only became more condensed as the retinue followed the couple and their families into the Senju Compound.

“Poor Tobirama looks trapped,” Mei said to you, nodding ahead to where, indeed, Tobirama was locked in a one-way conversation with the talkative Uzumaki Heir who seemed to take the Senju Heir’s silent treatment as an invitation to impart all aspects of life in Uzushiogakure to him.

“He’ll live,” you laughed, briefly catching Tobirama’s long-off, fleeting attention before Hiroki nudged him in the side, laughing at something that had evidently gone completely over your beloved’s head.

Izuna snorted from his place next to Madara, glancing over his shoulder at you and Mei. “I quite like his new friendship with the Uzu Heir. You can see his patience wearing thinner each time you look over.”

True again, you could see Tobirama’s jaw clenching as Hiroki regaled him further.

“Someone might want to remove the boy from Tobirama before the Uzukage has to search for another heir his clan,” Madara mused, sarcasm thick in his voice.

Mei chuckled, “Tobirama only has to stand next to him until Hashirama makes his husband speech and then he’ll be free.”

The retinue filed into the Senju Main House and onto the property around, over fifty members of the Uzumaki Clan and their friends, and then nearly every member of Konoha’s clans crowding the usually spacious house. You found your way into the dining hall – the same one that you’d been subject to the assembly dinner in four months ago – and stood against the wall with Madara on one side of you and Izuna on the other, Mei holding place at Izuna’s opposite side. There was enough room to draw a weapon between your group and two young Uzumaki girls in front of you, but there was no measure of hostility between anyone, not as the Uzumaki Princess smiled at the gathered crowd with the Shodaime Hokage at her side.

The volume of the room began to quiet as both Hashirama and Mito raised a hand, gazes switching back and forth between the Shodaime Hokage and the Uzumaki Princess.

“Friends and family,” Hashirama spoke out when the room had quieted. “It makes me so glad to see so many of you here and in good health!”

There was some polite clapping and you caught Tobirama’s eyes across the room, where he still stood side by side with Hiroki to the couple’s right. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you raised one in reply, to which he smiled slightly at until Hiroki turned his head and whispered something under his breath to him.

“It is an honor to have been accepted into the Uzumaki Clan as a husband, a brother, and a son,” Hashirama went on, “and we, as the Senju Clan, cherish and accept Mito into our clan as a wife and a sister.”

Hashirama raised a glass and the cheer was made, but Mito stepped forward, holding up her own glass. The guests from Uzushio froze at her movement and you watched Hashirama’s brow briefly furrow before he remembered himself and made himself smile even as confusion welled up in his expression.

Mito’s wedding shiro-muku was nearly entirely white, only the red hems offering any color. Her hair had been braided and then pinned with white and red carnations at the back of her head, and her lips were painted carmine, drawing light to the honey-brown of her eyes. She was even more breathtaking than she’d been when you’d met her, and standing beside her new husband dressed in the ceremonial black, there was not a doubt in your mind that she would not let him eclipse her, ever.

“It is an honor to welcome you into our clan, Hashirama,” Mito said, speaking directly to her husband. “As your bride, I embrace you with strength and dignity, with compassion and integrity, and with discipline and respect. You are my partner unto death and an ember in the flame of my soul, and the tide that I do not fight.” She turned and gave him a half bow, neither disrespecting his position or her own. “May our lives be bathed in light and opportunity so that we may face the dark together as equals.”

Your lips had parted sometime during Mito’s speech and around you, most of the room was in an equal state of shock at the weight by which her words held. Your eyes found Tobirama’s across the room again and realized he had already been staring at you, waiting for you to look at him. There was another smile on his face, one that you rarely saw unless it was only the two of you.

“Her words are clever and well-timed,” Madara said to you as you clapped along with him. “She showed up Hashirama’s speech and appealed directly to the empathy of the Konoha shinobi here.”

“Well, who wrote the fool’s wedding speech then?” Izuna asked, holding tightly onto Mei’s hand. When you didn’t immediately give an answer, his eyebrows rose. “Tobirama really let Hashirama write his wedding speech by himself?”

You smiled slightly, “He said that if his brother could marry himself off with no help, then he could write his speech the same way.”

“Idiot,” Madara grunted. You elbowed him in the ribs when the Uzushio girls in front of you turned around and gave him a look.

“I hesitate to call the Shodaime Hokage an idiot,” one of the girls said to Madara, tone short and evident she had no idea who she was talking to.

“Well I sure as hell don’t,” Izuna scoffed in response, crossing his arms over his chest and incidentally accentuating the Sharingan-style kamon on the sleeves of his robes. The girls whipped back around, eyes wide.

“Don’t be rude, ‘zuna.” Mei squeezed his arm, though sharing an amused look with you.

Izuna held her hand again and frowned as he looked back toward where Hashirama was speaking with Tobirama and Mito to Hiroki. “I can’t help but feel like Hashirama’s let a fox into the hen house,” he said.

Madara gave a soft breath of laughter. “Are you calling yourself a cock, otouto?” Madara asked across you, smirking.

A noise unbefitting of a clan heir left Izuna’s mouth as you bit into your lip to keep from outright laughing. “The only dick around here is you, aniki,” Izuna hissed back, voice hardly a whisper.

Madara let out a soft whistle, “Finally found your balls again, otouto?”

“Madara,” you sighed as Mei pulled Izuna back from scowling at his brother across you.

“We both know his are bigger than yours, Madara,” Mei replied lightly.

Your jaw did drop then, right along with Madara’s as Izuna gasped, “Mei!”

“I told you she didn’t mind impropriety,” Madara leered at Izuna after a beat of recovery while his brother held onto his intended by the shoulders.

“We’ve tainted you!” Izuna bemoaned and Mei rolled her eyes even as she smiled, patting Izuna’s cheek.

What words you could’ve said in response were laughed over by Hashirama as he entered the small ring the four of you had made against the wall. Tobirama was in his shadow, but when you smiled at him, he stepped around his brother and took your offered hand in his as he filled the space beside you.

“What words, Izuna!” Hashirama chuckled, patting Madara on the shoulder and handing a drink off to him. “Is everything alright?”

Izuna grunted, glare shifting from his brother to Hashirama. “It was until Madara opened his mouth.”

“Why, Izuna,” Madara replied, raising a hand to his chest in faux offense, “if I had not opened my mouth, you might have continued to think your Mei didn’t have a mutual sense of humor.”

“You’re tormenting him, Madara,” Mei spoke up, shaking her head at the elder Uchiha Brother.

Hashirama chuckled, and patted Madara’s shoulder again. “Walk with me, friend?” he asked.

Madara gave an assenting nod, and then turned, giving both you and Mei a smile before winking at his brother, who scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well wishes on your marriage, Hashirama,” you said before he and Madara left.

Hashirama paused, glancing toward where Mito still stood at the front of the room with the members of her clan and now some of the other clan leaders from Konoha. He gave a short nod before he smiled, “Thank you, (Y/N).”

Tobirama’s hand found its way to the small of your back as you returned the nod.

“I do not envy him,” Izuna said as Hashirama and Madara disappeared into the crowd.

Tobirama gave a snort, “On that, we can agree.”

You and Mei shared a look as Izuna’s mouth pulled into a smirk directed toward Tobirama.

…

“It seems that marriage is becoming a thing of normality in our group, since Izuna proposed to his Mei,” Hashirama said, sipping from his cup as he and Madara stood together near the porch.

“If you forget me, then perhaps,” Madara replied easily, swirling around the sake in his cup.

“You’ll find a partner soon, I think,” Hashirama chuckled. “You need only have an interest and there are plenty of potentials who would line up to claim your heart, dear friend.”

Madara’s nose furrowed but he made no comment as he drank, but the lapse of silence only lasted a moment.

“(Y/N) will make a good wife for Tobirama if he intends to marry her, don’t you think, Madara?” Hashirama mused, looking on after the pair after some time. Izuna and Mei still held space around them, but they had been joined by Hiroki and Mito, and a few others of the Uzumaki Clan.

Madara raised an eyebrow, holding his sake cup to his face. “What makes you say that, dear friend?”

Hashirama let out a quiet laugh and glanced at the distance between him and his new wife again before he spoke. “Well, she’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he said. “Intelligent, compassionate, even able to navigate a conversation with Mito longer than I. She would be an ally to her husband in most any situation and she already holds the respect of most of the shinobi.”

The sound of your laughter suddenly carried across the room and Madara glanced to where Tobirama was straightening from having leaned over to speak into your ear, a smile pulling at the side of his mouth as you held onto the sleeve of his haori.

Hashirama nudged Madara’s shoulder with his own and said, “Had I looked closer than Uzushio, (Y/N) could have been my own wife.”

Madara choked on his drink.

leave a comment?

you know, i think i'm pretty good w the closing scenes in multiple fics w getting that last laugh in 😂

TAGLIST:

@queer-naruto @cosmins @mad-girl-without-a-box@mykuronekome @kakashi-with-the-good-hair @shoyo-baby-sunflower @dramaticq @sup-zfam @gipsyd @fictionalsimp22 @tired-ninfa @1234ilovecowsthanyoumore @powerofrice

[akazie]

Naruto OC Ship Week Day 5

June 25th (Fri) – Secrets | Children/Family

TAlright, here goes! I very much thought about a family prompt bUT! Too spoilery. So here goes a very very sweet and fluffy piece. Nothing pertaining to Akiko‘s story, actually 😅 New entry for the @narutoocshipweek! All my entries will take place in a LATER place in the story! Akiko’s story doesn’t start with an established relationship. This is indulgent fluff!!

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, omg Word count: 700-ish!

Enjoy! 😊

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

Naruto OC Ship Week Day 3

June 23rd (Wed) – Seasons | Flowers

Next entry for the @narutoocshipweek!! This time I dipped a tiny bit into Akiko‘s past. All my entries seem to be reminiscing about past events, heh. I love exploring the story that way and introducing her 💖 All my entries will take place in a LATER place in the story! Akiko’s story doesn’t start with an established relationship. This is indulgent fluff!!

Warnings: None! Word count: 500-ish!

Enjoy! 😊

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

Naruto OC Ship Week Day 2

June 22nd (Tues) – First Meeting | Scars

My next entry for the @narutoocshipweek! A very cool event 🥰 For me, a good chance to write/introduce my OC, Akiko, a bit more, until I get around to posting her story. All my entries will take place in a LATER place in the story! Akiko’s story doesn’t start with an established relationship. This is indulgent fluff!!

Warnings: Mention of blood/injury Word count: 500-ish!

Enjoy! 😊

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

Naruto OC Ship Week Day 1

June 21st (Mon) – Hair | Trinket

Here’s my entry for the @narutoocshipweek! I totally only today decided to enter - so my entries will be relatively short! But it’s a really cool event and for me, a good chance to write/introduce my OC, Akiko, a bit more, until I get around to posting her story. All my entries will take place in a LATER place in the story! Akiko’s story doesn’t start with an established relationship. This is indulgent fluff!!

Warnings: None! Word count: 500-ish!

Enjoy! 😊

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

WIP Wednesday

I now live on the West coast, where it is still Wednesday. In my mind, at least. 

The latest chapter of It Might Kill Me has been a complete and total bitch, so I thought putting a little bit of it out there in the world might help create the brainpower I need to get the damn thing under control. And I’ve gotten a couple new followers since the last chapter was posted, so I thought this could be a fun chance to plug my own work (yuck. I know we’re always saying that promotion is just a part of being a content creator in fandom but that doesn’t mean it has to feel good!) 

It Might Kill Me is a fic I never meant to write yet has been in the works for a solid eight years now. It started with thoughts about how the Career Districts work, exactly, and what would happen if the Career-iest Career of them all, our murder boy, Cato, was shocked into awareness of the horror of the Games before going into the arena. It quickly grew out of control, and now it’s a giant detour through character development into a world where he gets a second chance, all delivered through the eyes of a goofy but determined District Ten Tribute assigned as his partner for the Quarter Quell. And, because I’m still certifiable Grade-A Everlark trash, there are lots of Everlark-y themes and moments (I like to think of it as inside-out Everlark, where the romantic deception is explicit from the get-go but gets murkier as time goes on until no one really knows what’s real, or not real). 

Alright that’s already more than I wanted to say. Here’s a wee snippet from the chap-in-progress!

~~~

Fra takes a seat at the table beside me. I almost burst into tears.

Whether he realises my emotional instability or not, Fra just takes my hand quickly and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He accepts a bowl of oatmeal from an Avox with a polite nod, like this is just a normal breakfast in the Capitol. Only it’s not. It’s not normal at all. This could be my last breakfast—not just in the Capitol, but anywhere.  

How could anything feel normal?

The roof is unusually cold. I take several deep breaths–the air almost stings my lungs. “I’m fine,” I say. Am I talking to the air? To the Capitol? To him? “Rolling with the punches is what I do.” Another deep breath. “This is just… really unexpected”

Cato is silent for a long moment. “Your feelings will not help you,” he says, voice deadly quiet. “You’re not an idiot. Trust that. And trust your gut.”

The atmosphere of the apartment is tense and joyless. Rhodendra doesn’t seem to notice, flitting about as usual with pep in her step and barely-restrained impatience at the schedule we’re keeping. The Capitolite is always a little out-of-place in our company, but this morning her presence itself feels almost garish. 

But despite the grey tension hanging like a wet blanket over all our shoulders, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to get in the elevator with Fra, leaving Rhodendra behind to energetically prod Jace and Clyse along. I don’t want to feel my Mentor’s hand on my shoulder, or listen to him tell me he believes in me.

“What if there’s too much space between the Cornucopias? What if you can’t get to me within twenty-four hours?”

I’m calm now. It’s time to consider the possibilities, to prepare. I won’t get a chance to talk to him tomorrow, so we need to make sure we are on the same page about everything tonight.

“Who cares?” Cato paces back and forth in the gazebo, long legs covering the distance in just two strides. “We don’t need a ‘material advantage’ to win. We have sponsors to help us if we need it.”

He’s right. I hate the idea of missing out on any assistance available to us, but he’s right. I have to trust that we know what we’re doing, that we’ve done enough, that we can do this on our own terms if we have to.

I have to trust that I’m not an idiot. I have to trust my gut. No matter what happens tomorrow.  

~~~

[akazie]

Ein Hauch von Gold

Kapitel 1

[akazie]

Masterlist

Supernatural

Series

Gabriel

Ein Hauch von Gold

[akazie]

Tage wie diese

Kapitel 1 von Ein Hauch von Gold 

Pairings: GabrielxOC

Nächstes Kapitel >>

Liah liebte solche Tage. Wenn Dean mit einem Bier in der Hand desinteressiert in einem Buch blätterte und Sam lesend über seinem Laptop saß.

Diese Momente wurden für sie die Definition von Zuhause.

Zugegeben, normale Menschen empfanden es nicht beruhigend, nach einem Monster zu forschen, das sie umbringen konnte. Aber sie war nicht normal, ihr Leben war nicht normal und als Jäger gab es keine Chance, dass ihr Tod normal sein würde.

Das lehrte einen schnell, die kleinen Dinge wertzuschätzen. Zeit beispielsweise.  

Aus diesem Grund beinhaltete ihre Internetrecherche derzeit keine dunklen Mythen und Biester, sondern Verkaufsinserate von Hunden. Sie mochte den Traum, selbst einen zu besitzen.

So einen wie Benji. Er war damals der Hund ihrer Eltern. Ein sabberndes Ungetüm, das nichts außer ihre Sachen zerbeißen und betteln konnte. Aber er beschützte sie und lag jede Nacht neben ihr. Gott, sie hatte diesen dummen Hund geliebt.

„Es reicht!“ Dean stöhnte und stellte sein Bier geräuschvoll auf den Tisch. „Wir sitzen seit Tagen fest, während dieser Hurensohn weiter seine Opfer aussaugt.“

Sam zuckte mit den Schultern. „Vielleicht ist es doch ein Vampir.“

Beide sahen hoffnungsvoll zu ihr.

„Vielleicht“, erwiderte sie gedankenlos. „Es könnte ebenso gut ein Formwandler mit Hang zum Exzentrischen sein.“

„Oder ein Geist“, fügte Sam hinzu.

Dean lehnte sich missmutig in seinen Stuhl zurück. „Lasst uns nochmal zusammenfassen. Die Opfer sind vollbusige, heiße Küken im Alter zwischen 20 und 30 Jahren.“

„Blutleere, vollbusige Küken“, verbesserte Liah ihn beiläufig und erntete einen zustimmenden Wink.

„Es fehlen keine Organe, es gibt keine Hexentaschen und keine Anzeichen für dämonischen Besitz. Die einzige Verbindung zwischen ihnen ist, sie sind verdammt heiß“, zählte er weiter auf.

Grübelnd legte sie einen Finger an die Lippen. „Und sie sind bestimmt auch keine Jungfrauen mehr.“

„Oh, das mit…“, setzte Dean lachend an und wurde genervt von Sam unterbrochen: „Leute! Können wir bitte mit ein wenig mehr Respekt über die Toten reden?“

Er gab ihnen diesen Blick, den sie liebevoll ‚MEZG‘ taufte, was gleichbedeutend mit ‚Mamas enttäuschtes Zickengesicht‘ war.

„Wir sind respektvoll, Sammy.“

„Absolut“, bestätigte Liah und öffnete nebenbei die Internetseite eines Bernersennen-Züchters.

Sam seufzte frustriert. „Ihr seid unmöglich!“

Amüsiert hob Dean sein Bier. Genau in der Minute, in dem das Gefühl von Sonnenstrahlen ihre Haut berührte.

Wie ein warmer Wind an einem Herbsttag. Ihre geschärften Sinne, eine Gabe oder ein Fluch, Liah konnte sich nie entscheiden. In solchen Situationen allerdings stellte es sich als ziemlich nützlich heraus.

Ansonsten saß sie jetzt genauso unvorbereitet wie die Jungs da.

Gabriel tauchte hinter ihr auf. „Ich hielt dich nicht für einen Hundemenschen, Honigkuchen“

Sam ließ das Buch fallen und Dean verschluckte sich an seinem Bier.

„Ich bin mit einem groß geworden“, eröffnete Liah unbeteiligt und sah über die Schulter. Der Erzengel besetzte den Platz direkt neben ihr. „Mit so einem sabbernden Pony?“

„Eher ein schnarchender Bär, aber ja.“ Sie beobachtete, wie er sein Kinn auf der Handfläche abstützte und grinste: „Weißt du, ich kann den Job genauso gut machen.“

Schmunzelnd spielte sie mit: „Ich soll mit dir Gassi gehen?“

„Wenn du mich danach mit in dein Bett nimmst“, wackelte er mit den Augenbrauen.

Liah lachte unvermittelt auf. Sie wusste, warum sie diesen Engel so sehr mochte. Seine verspielte, witzige Art begeisterte sie immer wieder. Selbst sein letzter Streich, ein Bett voller Schokoladenblumen, fand sie seltsam charmant.  

„Gabriel, was willst du?“, äußerte Sam wenig amüsiert und schnitt Deans wüste Beschimpfungen damit ab.

„Darf ich nicht meinen Lieblingsjäger besuchen?“ Rein rhetorisch und bevor jemand den Mund öffnete, spottete er: „Und nein, Lilo und Stitch, ihr seid es nicht.“

„Ok, alles klar. Du willst in ihre Hose. Verstanden, aber ganz ehrlich Gabriel? Verzieh dich! Wir haben keine Zeit für deine Scheiße.“

Sie konnte den genauen Moment bestimmen, wann der humorvolle Trikster verschwand und der Erzengel in ihm erschien. Das schöne Gold seiner Augen brannte heller und kurz überlegte Liah, ob sie sich Sorgen um Deans leibliches Wohlergehen machen sollte. Aber dann lehnte sich Gabriel zurück.

Mit dem Finger auf den älteren Winchester zeigend, tadelte er: „Erstens: Unhöflich!“ An diesem Punkt drehte sich Dean genervt weg. “Und zweitens: Was ihr sucht, ist ein Si‘lat.“

„Ein was?“

Gabriels Augenrollen erfasste nahezu seinen ganzen Körper. „Dean-o, dein Überleben ist das wahre Mysterium hier.“

„Si‘lat“, warf Sam ein. Seine Finger tippten längst über die Tastatur.

Ab sofort, beschloss Liah, würde sie Sam ‘Der Mann mit den fliegenden Fingern‘ und Dean ‘Die mürrische Poppins‘ nennen. Ein äußerst zutreffender Name für Beide.

Gabriel hörte ihre Gedanken. Er grinste und das schelmische Glänzen seiner Augen versprach eine amüsante Zeit. Aber, und das wusste sie, mitten in einer Jagd war der Zeitpunkt dafür ungünstig gewählt. Deswegen und weil Liah wusste, er mochte Erdbeer-Bonbons, reichte sie ihm eines der Wenigen, die sie noch besaß.

„Ich liebe dich, habe ich das schon einmal erwähnt, süße Torte?“, lächelte er.

Belustigt hob Liah ihre Augenbrauen. „Du bist nur scharf auf mehr!“

„Darauf kannst du wetten.“

Das genervte Räuspern gehörte eindeutig zu Sam. „Können wir uns bitte auf das Menschen tötende Monster konzentrieren?“  

„Sicher, tut mir leid“, log sie. Wenn es sich nicht um tote Kinder handelte, berührte sie der Tod selten. Dafür starben in ihrem Leben zu viele Menschen. Tötest du ein Biest, ist das nächste bereits um die Ecke. Ein ermüdender Kreislauf.

„Der Si‘lat ist eine Art Dschinn. Hoch intelligent und gewöhnlich friedliebend. Leute zu töten steht mit keinem Wort in den Überlieferungen.“

„Midlife Crisis?“, entgegnete Liah Schulter zuckend. Sie ignorierte die darauf folgenden Gesichter und fragte trotz Gabriels Kichern weiter: „Kann uns das Ding wie die Anderen einschläfern?“

„Nope“, schnalzte der Engel und beugte sich über ihren Laptop. „Dschinni sollte nicht dazu in der Lage sein.“

Dean verschränkte die Arme vor der Brust. „Jeder dieser Bastarde hat bisher auf den Dolch mit Lammblut reagiert. Wir können ihn also töten.“

„Lasst uns zum letzten Tatort zurückkehren. Wir wissen jetzt, was es ist und eventuell haben wir etwas übersehen.“ Liah spähte zu Gabriel. Interessiert blätterte dieser durch ihre Tabs und saß inzwischen nah genug bei ihr, damit sein Haar praktisch ihr Gesicht berührte.

„Du sprichst von deinem verrückten Wahrnehmungszeug?“

„Ich dachte mehr an Überwachungsvideos, aber ja, das hilft auch“, entgegnete Liah trocken. Sie schob den Laptop dezent zu Gabriel, um ein wenig von ihrem persönlichen Raum zurück zu gewinnen.

Sam stand zusammenpackend auf. „Vielleicht finde ich mehr Informationen. In 2 Stunden beim Impala?“

„Hört sich nach einem Plan an“, bestätigte Dean und spiegelte die Handlung seines Bruders.

Liah gewöhnte sich an den schnellen Abgang, der nun folgte. Beide Männer konnten nie schnell genug von dem Erzengel wegkommen. ‘Die posttraumatische Gabriel-Störung‘ nannte sie dieses Phänomen gerne.

Er lachte los. „Ernsthaft, Honigkuchen?“

„Was?“, kicherte sie. „Es stimmt! Wenn sie noch schneller vor dir davon laufen, fallen sie über ihre eigenen Füße. Und leugne es nicht, es gefällt dir!“

Mit einer dramatischen Geste legte er die Hand auf sein Herz. „So etwas würde ich niemals tun. Du verletzt meine Gefühle!“

„Was für eine Tragödie.“

„Gemeinheit!“, rief der Engel pikiert.

Liah lehnte sich summend zurück. „Bestechungsbonbon?“

„Jepp“, klatschte er ohne Umschweife und nickte Konfekt essend auf den Laptop. „Also, du willst einen?“

Sie folgte seiner Geste, betrachtete einen Moment das Inserat des Züchters und seiner Welpen. Ein tiefe Seufzer entkam ihrer Kehle ohne es zu merken. „Nein.“

„Alles klar, Schokomuffin. Du seufzt so herzzerreißend, weil du eigentlich einen tief verborgenen Hass auf Hundewelpen hast“, spottete Gabriel sarkastisch und sah sie ungläubig an.

„Gut“, gab Liah zu und erklärte, ihren Kopf dabei abstützend: „Ich mag Hunde, sie sind dir treu und wollen nur gestreichelt werden. Egal, was du in deinem Leben machst, sie lieben dich und bleiben an deiner Seite. Daher ja, ich hätte gerne einen. Aber - mein Leben ist kein geeigneter Ort für ein Haustier. Ich jage Monster, verbringe die meiste Zeit meiner Tage in einem Auto und schlafe in billigen Motels.“

Die Widerworte lagen auf seinen Lippen. Sie erkannte es aus dem Augenwinkel heraus. Um genau das zu vermeiden, stand sie auf, schloss den Laptop in einer endgültigen Geste und lächelte. „Ein Hamster hat eine höhere Lebenserwartung als ich. Das hört sich nicht fair an.“

Das flüssige Gold seiner Augen blitzte mit einer Emotion auf, die sie nicht benennen konnte. Und ebenso, wie die Male zuvor, beschlich sie das Gefühl, er sagte nicht das, was er eigentlich wollte.  

„Zuckerschnecke, der Vergleich ist bescheuert“, verkündete er ohne den gewohnten Humor.

Finge sie an ihr Leben ernst zu nehmen, wusste sie, wie es enden würde - mit einer Kugel aus ihrer eigenen Handfeuerwaffe. Eines der wenigen Dinge, die sie bei Verstand hielten, war ihr Humor. Und aufgrund dessen machte Liah das, was sie in solchen Situationen immer tat.

Sie lachte.

„Oh, komm schon! Hamster sind süß!“

„Ja…“ Gabriel schürzte die Lippen, verschränkte die Arme und hob seine Augenbrauen. „Sie sind auch kleine dumme Nagetiere, die in einem Laufrad rennen und sich überschlagen.“

Ja, sie konnte den gravierenden Unterschied sehen.

„Nicht witzig!“, schnalzte er missmutig mit der Zunge. Sie wandte sich von ihm ab und ging, während sein seltsam frustrierter Blick ihr folgte.

„Oh doch, ist es! Du bist nur zu mürrisch, um es zu sehen, Butterblume“, widersprach Liah laut genug, damit er sie noch hörte.

„Hey! Hast du mich gerade Butterblume genannt?!“

Das Gelächter konnte sie beim besten Willen nicht stoppen. Selbst zwei Ecken weiter hörte sie noch das Entsetzen in seiner Stimme.

Sie liebte seine Gesellschaft, seinen Witz und die ungezwungenen Gespräche. Es fühlte sich wie der erste Atemzug nach einem langen Tauchgang an. Ein schwer zu beschreibendes Gefühl. Aber bei Gabriel konnte sie einfach sie selbst sein, mit all dem dunklen Humor und trockenen Bemerkungen.

Es ist sorglos mit ihm, dachte Liah und schaltete beiläufig das Zimmerlicht an. Den Rucksack neben der Tür nehmend, durchquerte sie den Raum zu ihrer Kommode.

Langsam lockerten sich auch ihre unbewusst angespannten Schultern.  

Seine ernste Seite in ihren Gesprächen, wirkte immer wie ein Vorschlaghammer. Es zwang sie reflexartig in die Defensive. Und sie hasste dieses beklemmende Gefühl. Daher lief sie in diesen Situationen weg.

Simpel, aber es bewährte sich.

„Wer braucht schon Psychiater“, witzelte sie leise und packte für einige Tage Kleidung. Darauf konzentriert nichts zu vergessen, drehte sie sich um und erstarrte aufsehend.

Auf ihrem vorher vollkommen leeren Bett stand eine Kiste. Nein, revidierte sie, eine sich bewegende Kiste, mit großer roter Schleife.  

Und dann bellte das Ding und der Rucksack fiel laut zu Boden.

„Oh nein.“ Hastig zog Liah die Luft ein und schrie: „Gabriel!“

Der Engel übte sich in Schweigen. Aber das Bellen wurde zu einem Jaulen, das in vehementes Graben überging.

„Komm schon!“ Zögernd trat sie an die wackelnde Schachtel.

„Gabriel!“

Auf die Lippen beißend zog sie mit einem Ruck den Deckel ab und starrte in zwei Whisky farbene Augen. Abrupt stolperte sie zurück.

„Das ist nicht witzig, Butterblume“, jammerte Liah, schritt unruhig durch den Raum und verschränkte zitternd die Hände über dem Kopf. Panik machte sich in ihr breit.

„Nimm ihn weg!“, forderte sie jetzt. Tanzende Punkte überzogen ihre Sicht und sie wusste, es war ein schlechtes Zeichen. „Tief durchatmen.“

Sie erstach Dämonen, enthauptete Vampire und unterhielt sich mit Engeln, aber ein Hundewelpe trieb sie in die Bewusstlosigkeit. Andererseits wurde der letzte Hund, der ihrer Eltern, wie ein Truthahn an Thanksgiving aufgeschlitzt.  

„Ich kann das.“ Schlagartig blieb sie stehen, holte noch einmal tief Luft und drehte sich um. Dort saß ihr neu entdeckter Alptraum neben der nun umgefallenen Box. Ganz still und mit studierendem Blick neigte er sein Köpfchen. Für eine Sekunde schwor sie, diese Augen gehörten keinem Tier. Zu verwirrt und entsetzt von ihrem Verhalten.  

„Bleib einfach – dort. Weg von mir“, meinte Liah abwehrend, als der Welpe fiepsend an den Rand des Bettes kugelte. Es musste ein Hund sein. Ihre Sinne blieb ruhig und der Engel würde ihr wohl kaum ein Babymonster schenken.  

Liah sah zu ihrer geschlossenen Zimmertür. Gabriel kam nicht, aber sie war immer noch in der Lage, einfach weg zu gehen. Gehen und Sam schicken.

Sobald sie in Bewegung kam, setzte das frustrierte Bellen ein. Und verstummte erst mit einem dumpfen Aufprall.

Mit der Türklinke in der Hand stoppte sie. „Du bist vom Bett gesprungen, oder?“

Er wimmerte und sie drehte sich seufzend um. Dort lag der Zwerg ausgestreckt wie ein überfahrenes Tier und starrte mit tränenden Augen hoch. Soviel dazu.

„Du bist ein Idiot“, bemerkte sie trocken und kniete kurz darauf neben ihm nieder. Ihre Finger kraulten über sein Nackenfell.

„Was bist du überhaupt? Ein zu oft gewaschener Schäferhund?“ Unter die Vorderbeine greifend, hob sie ihn auf Augenhöhe. Unterbrach somit den Versuch, mit seinen kurzen Beinen auf ihren Schoß zu springen.

„Nachdem wir das Vieh in Phillipsburg umgebracht haben, suche ich dir nette Leute, bei denen du bleibst. Bis dahin wirst du nicht sterben!“, erklärte sie eindringlich. Sein unterdessen zappelnder Körper hielt plötzlich still. „Du wirst dich nicht wie Benji aufschlitzen lassen, hörst du?“

Das Bild, wie der große Sennenhund über den Boden kroch und seine eigenen Innereien hinter sich herzog. Sie würde es nie vergessen. Genau 68 Minuten dauerte sein Kampf damals. Sie musste es wissen. Denn sein Kopf lag auf ihrem Kinderschoß, als die verdammte Küchenuhr nicht aufhörte zu ticken.

Das Fiepsen riss sie zurück in die Gegenwart. „Schön, dass wir das geklärt haben“, räusperte sich Liah mit ihm aufstehend. Seine Schnauze drückte seufzend gegen ihren Hals und es überraschte sie, als sein ganzer Körper daraufhin erschauderte. Vielleicht wurde er zu früh von der Mutter entfremdet, überlegte sie streichelnd und inspizierte das Innere der Kiste.

Es gab keine Leine und keinen Napf, aber dafür eine Grußkarte.

„Ich mag Kekse“, las sie monoton. Hilfreich, absolut hilfreich!

„Was mach ich jetzt?“ Ihre Augen schweiften über den Digitalwecker. Fuhr sie jetzt los, schaffte sie es noch vor Ladenschluss nach Lebanon in den Laden. Schnell hin und zurück. Ein Kinderspiel.

Das dachte sie zumindest. Aber die kurze Autofahrt mauserte sich zu einer nie gekannten Herausforderung. Die Versuche, den kleinen Kobold auf den Beifahrersitz zu halten, scheiterten schon an der ersten Meile.

Mit protestierendem Jaulen, Bellen und ihrem Fluchen nach einem beinahe Unfall, schaffte er es schließlich zurück in ihren Schoß.

Am Ende parkte sie den Pickup völlig genervt vor dem Geschäft und sah zu ihm hinunter.

„Du wirst mein Auto zerstören, wenn ich dich hier lasse, oder?“, fragte Liah ausdruckslos. Genau in dem Moment entschied er zu bellen.

„Huh.“ Sie stieg mit ihm aus und er fand seinen Platz halb auf ihrer Schulter. Den Kopf unter ihren Haaren, Schnauze an ihre Haut gepresst, wirkte er jetzt äußerst zufrieden mit der Welt. Nicht so wie in ihrem Auto. Oder, als sie fast in den LKW krachte.

Bald darauf kniete Liah vor einem Regal mit Tierbedarf und legte, unter seinem Protest, eines der Halsbänder um seinen Hals. Es gab überraschend viel Auswahl, stellte sie fest und beobachtete mit wachsender Belustigung sein Treiben.

Wie ein sterbender Fisch auf dem Lande, kugelte der Kleine über den Boden. Hüpfte und knurrte, bis er letztendlich schnaufend aufgab. Anklagend aufsehend, blieb er an Ort und stelle liegen.

„Was für ein Idiot du bist“, kicherte Liah, streichelte über seinen Kopf und hob ihn auf die kurzen Beine. „Du brauchst das Zeug, ich kann dich nicht immer tragen.“

Er schnaufte erneut, so als wolle er sagen: „Ja, du kannst.“

Sie hielt inne. Das mussten diese verrückten Leute immer damit meinen, wenn sie sagten, ihr Tier rede mit ihnen.

„Ein Corgi!“ Sie sah überrascht auf und blinzelte. Die Hexe aus Hänsel und Gretel, dachte Liah und musterte das zu ihnen kommende Großmütterchen.

Die Frau deute auf den Zwerg. „Erlauben Sie?“

„Wenn Sie möchten?“, zögerte sie und fühlte, wie er unter ihren Fingern erstarrte.

Das kommende Schauspiel griff nicht nur ihre Ohren an, sondern erregte die Aufmerksamkeit aller im Geschäft Anwesenden. Er knurrte, quietschte und brachte es zustande, in das Regal zu fallen. Am Ende dieser Odyssee gelang es der Großmutter ihn, mit Erfolg, an die Brust zu drücken.

Noch nie sah sie ein unglücklicheres Tier.

„So verspielt“, schwärmte die Alte, tätschelte und küsste seine Schnauze. Liah beobachtete den Kopf neigend, wie er unter der Liebkosung erschauderte. Ja, ungefähr so verspielt wie eine Kuh beim Schlachter.

„Wissen sie, ich besaß früher eine Zucht. Der kleine Junge hier ist ein Prachtexemplar.“ Inspizierend wurde er nach links und rechts gedreht. „Wunderschöne Fellfarbe, eine starke Körperlinie und kräftige Beine.“

Liah nickte höflich und streckte die Arme nach ihm aus. In der Hoffnung, diese nonverbale Geste würde ausreichen, um ihn möglichst freundlich zurückzubekommen.

„Könnte ich…“

Die Alte unterbrach sie mahnend: „Lassen Sie ihn bloß nicht kastrieren!“

„Nein, das hatte ich nicht vor“, erklärte Liah. „Könnte ich bitte…“

„Wie heißt das Schätzchen?“

Ihre Kiefer verkrampfte sich, bevor sie den ersten Begriff ausspuckte, der ihr einfiel. „Dobby.“

„Dobb…“

„Ja er heißt Dobby!“, fuhr sie der Frau grob über den Mund. Sie schwor, der Kleine starrte sie jetzt direkt an. Er brauchte später unbedingt einen anderen Namen, dachte sie und stand samt Korb auf.

„Ungewöhnlicher Name.“

„Spitzname“, murrte Liah, zog den Winzling aus dem Griff der Hexe und verabschiedete sich. Ihre Reaktion mochte unhöflich sein und sicherlich gewann sie auch keinen Preis für menschliche Interaktionen, aber die alte Schrulle war unverschämt.

Und möglicherweise reagierte sie deswegen auch so gereizt auf das Mädchen hinter der Kasse. Unnötigerweise wies diese nämlich auf das Hundeverbotsschild und die Anbindemöglichkeit hin.

„Würden Sie ein Kleinkind dort anbinden? Nein? Dann binde ich meinen Welpen auch nicht an“, schnauzte sie mit einer Hand einpackend, bezahlte und rauschte durch den Ausgang.

Nach eiserner Stille und dutzend genervten Seufzern später, stellte sie ihren Pickup neben dem Impala ab und drehte sich abrupt zur Seite. Der Zwerg lag dort, strafte sie mit Missachtung und zeigte ihr seine prächtige Kehrseite.

„Hör auf zu schmollen“, murmelte sie, lehnte sich hinüber und stupste ihn vorsichtig an. Er reagierte wie ein Stein, überhaupt nicht.

„Ist es das Halsband?“, riet Liah. „Wir können es zuhause abnehmen und nur draußen anlegen.“

Stille.

Sie kräuselte die Lippen und stupste ihn wiederholt an.

„Die alte Hexe? Oder weil ich dich Dobby genannt habe?“

Der Zwerg schnaufte.

Ah, sie kam der Sache näher, dachte sie und fing an, seinen Nacken zu kraulen.

„Ich gebe dich nicht mehr aus der Hand“, versprach Liah. Mit den Fingernägel kratze sie leicht über seinen Rücken und lächelte, als er schauderte.  

„Wir werden auch einen anderen Namen finden, Süßer.“ Ihr Gesicht zu ihm hinab neigend, gurrte sie: „Du bist so ein hübscher, kleiner Junge.“

Ihre zweite Hand strich an seiner Flanke entlang. Mit einem gleichbleibenden Rhythmus massierte sie über den kleinen Körper, genau wie es einst ihre Mutter bei Benji gerne tat.

„Das magst du, nicht wahr“, summte Liah leise, hörte das leise Fiepsen und säuselte: „Na komm Baby, dreh dich um.“

Der Zwerg zögerte, wandte sich letztendlich dennoch zu ihr. In seinen Augen ein trotziger Ausdruck. Sie wusste, es brauchte nicht mehr viel und der kleine Kobold würde einknicken.

„Siehst du, ist gar nicht schwer“, küsste sie ihn auf die Nase. Sein Köpfchen umfassend, lobte Liah leise: „Schau dich an, Süßer. Du hast hübsches, weiches Fell, einen bezaubernden Charakter und deine Augen sind flüssiges Sonnenlicht in einem Glas Whiskey.“

Männer waren irgendwie doch alle gleich, dachte sie, während der Kobold sich jetzt erfreut winselnd in ihrem Nacken vergrub. Schmeichle ihnen, lobe sie und pusch ihr Ego.

„So ein braver Junge.“ Mitsamt den Einkäufen sprang sie aus dem Pickup. Sie erinnerte sich beim besten Willen nicht mehr, ob Benji genauso war. 24 Jahre ließen einen so kleine Dinge leicht vergessen.

In ihrem Rücken knallte die Bunkertür zu, verkündete nicht nur den Brüdern ihr Eintreten, sondern weckte auch die Toten im Umkreis von hundert Meilen.

Wie bestellt brüllte Dean aus der Bibliothek: „Liah?“

„Das steht zumindest auf meiner Geburtsurkunde“, rief sie ebenso laut zurück und hielt inne. Hektische Schritte bedeuteten nie gute Nachrichten und als Dean genervt schnauzte: „Wieso gehst du nicht an dein verdammtes Handy!?“, wusste sie, etwas stimmte nicht.

[akazie]

Rocking It

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Summary:  An after hunt high leads to something you’ve been wanting for awhile now.

Written for:  @authoressskr with the prompt “Move away if you don’t want this kiss” (sorry I couldn’t get the second in there too!)

Word Count:  580

Tags/Warnings: smut, penetration, outdoor sex, sex against a car

Move away if you don’t want this kiss.”  Despite the command you can tell he doesn’t want you to.  You can feel it pouring off his body, filling the small gap between his and yours.  Gold practically glows within the darkness, and despite how firmly he’s gripping your arm, you know if you did keep moving, he’d let you slip right through his fingertips.

You should go. You should get in your car and drive as far from that god forsaken haunted forest as you can.  There’s no telling how many spirits are still out there, but of course he has to choose this moment to make his stand.  

Your legs are like stone pillars, stiff and unyielding, and no matter how much you try to swallow back the truth that you’ve wanted this for so long, it blooms across your chest in ways that exhilarate and ache.  

You stand there, entranced as his eyes sear with an intensity you never thought would be fixed on you.  

He leans forward, slowly, painfully so, allowing you the chance to turn away, refuse him, escape.  By the time his mouth reaches yours you’re leaning into him, the electrical charge that’s been building between you bursting into a thousand bolts that intensify as they collide with the high of your hunt.

You immediately reach for him, hands on his face, in his hair, body melting against his as he crushes you against him.  It’s nothing but months long hunger as you devour each other with lips and palms, fingertips taking ownership of everything they can before he finally pushes you roughly up against the side of your car.

He’s got the button to your jeans open in a flash, hands diving to cup your sex before a solitary fingers feels it’s way to your clit.  A single touch sends a jolt of pire need sparking through your system, one that immediately fries your patience.

“Need you in me,” you rasp, reaching down to help free him from his own restrictive clothing  

He grunts out his approval as you yank his pants down to his knees, and you pull a long moan from him as you take his length into your hand with a few encouraging pumps.  He doesn’t need to be told twice, a snap from his fingers pooling both your pants and his at his feet.  

He lowers himself slightly, letting you guide him toward your entrance.  You rub him along your folds, coating him with the wetness already gathered before getting him in place.  He reaches beneath your left leg, hooking his arm beneath your knee, opening you up to him.

There’s a burning stretch as he finally pushes inside, inch after inch disappearing until he’s finally hilted.  

“Fuck.”  He stands there a moment, eyes squeezed shut, as if shutting out his sight to savor you through his cock alone.  

“Trying to,” you breathe rocking your hips into him.  

His mirth exhales in a breathy chuckle.  “Then hang on tight, sweetheart, because you’re about to get your car rocked.”

Your brow shoots up.  “Don’t you mean world?”

He slowly starts to withdraw, pushing your knee to your chest as his body cages you in place.  The angle changes as he thrusts back in, and smugness splashes self-satisfied across face in a smirk as you throw your head back, a sharp cry of pleasure echoing through the eerily silent trees as he hits deeper than before.  

“That too,” he growls, beginning to fuck you in earnest.  

Tags below the cut

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

The Key

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Summary:  Sometimes it takes more than weapons and magic to survive a hunt when things go sideways.  

Word Count: 1437

Warnings/Tags: angst, imprisonment, restraints, implied torture, realized feelings

A/N: This was inspired by all the RSJ gifs from Criminal Minds: Beyond Borders flying across my dash, so you can thank @rich-a-day for this one.  

This is also an unbeta’d drunk “drabble”, and I blame all my mistakes on the vodka.

“Gabe?”  It’s not the volume of your words that cuts through the quiet so much as your uncertainty.

He doesn’t hesitate in responding, the timbre of his voice as strong and steady as if you were both back at the bunker.  “Yeah?”

You swallow, and for a moment you almost back down from your confession.  “I’m scared.”  

His presence immediately stretches across the small dungeon, flooding it from wall to wall until there’s nothing but him surrounding you.  “It’s going to be ok, sweetheart.  I promise.”

Only he can’t promise these things, not now that he’s so powered down he’s practically human.  

“C’mere.”  He motions you over with his free hand as the other hangs level with his head, secured to the wall in enochian engraved cuffs.  

You look at him a moment.  “I can’t.”  

The rope around your wrists pulls tight as you raise them, reminding him that you, too, are a bit tied up at the moment.

He simply arches a brow.  “Since when has a little rope and metal ever stopped you?”

Any other time you would have responded with touche or an equally smartass remark, but the screams down the hall distract you, sending your heart rate into the stratosphere as another round of adrenaline courses through your veins.  

You’re going to die here.  It’s all you can think about.  Sam and Dean don’t have a clue where you are, neither you nor Gabriel know enough about your location to send any hints to Cas, and the agonizing shrieks that echo through the underground chambers never stop.  

It’s only a matter of time before your captors come for you.   

“Don’t give up on me yet.”  The command drags you back from the depths of your mind, and when his face comes back into focus he’s more serious than you’ve ever seen him.  “You’re one of the smartest people I know, and with these in play,”  metal rattles against stone as he shakes his bound hand at you,  “We need all the brain power we can get.”  

He needs you.  You.  And the revelation is enough to shake you free from your fear, if only temporarily.  

You glance up at your bindings.  The material itself seems pretty sound.  The fibers are smooth, wound tight, without signs it’s beginning to dry out or fray.  

Next, you inspect the steel eyelet that’s keeping you tethered to the wall.  It’s relatively new, hardy, without any chips or rust.  The stone it’s embedded in, however, is another story.  

There are cracks where the metal’s been hammered in, and when you run your fingers around the edges a few pieces break away and fall to the floor.  

Bingo.  

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

Amid the Stacks

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Summary:  Gabriel catches you in the library and wants to play.  

Written for:  @welldonebeca

Word Count:  591

Tags/Warnings: smut, fingers, semi-public shenanigans

“Gabriel.”  Your quiet hiss remains covered by the casual conversation happening from outside the aisles.  Sam and Dean continue to discuss the case you’re on while you track down a specific book, oblivious to the extra company you’ve acquired.  

His hand skims along the inside of your thigh, fingertips drinking in the silken contours of your nylons.  “Shhh.  Unless the plan is to alert dumb and dumber of what’s happening back here.”  

Part of you is tempted to, so you can get back to work.  The other, clearly more prominent part has you pressing back against him as his fingertips graze along your sex.

“Your mouth says no, but the deliberate lack of underwear tell a different story,” he breathes, a single finger pushing between your folds to tease along your slit, and the moment he discovers the moisture already gathering there he tsks.  “You’ve been holding out on me, sweetheart.”  

He nudges you forward, unceremoniously spreading your legs with the sweep of his.  

You manage not to stumble, hands shooting out to grip the shelf in front of you, but there’s no masking your yelp of surprise or the scuff of your sole against against hardwood.  

The boys conversation cuts off.  

“Everything alright back there?” Dean asks.  

You open your mouth, and just as you answer Gabriel takes that moment to push not one but two fingers into your entrance.  

“Ye-ah!“  You squawk.  

Your head swivels around to catch the inflated smirk he’s wearing.  

Ass.  

You send that thought to him through prayer, and a moment later his voice fills your head.

Not our usual foreplay, but if you insist.

He pulls back out of you, slick fingertips easing up the crack of your ass.  Your eyes widen as you catch on to his intent, hips jerking forward when you feel him press against your other hole.  

You flinch, eyes flashing murder at him as the The Annals of Swedish Folklore volumes one and three slam against the floor.

"You sure you’re alright?”  Sam calls to you.

“Yeah, no, totally fine,” you insist, and the only reason you don’t slap the archangels hand away is because that would only draw further attention.  

“I’m just…”  

You fumble for an explanation, mouth parting in exhalation as Gabriel’s fingers slide lower again, teasing a slow circle around your entrance before dipping them back inside.

“Such a klutz in these heels.”  

The excuse flows so freely from your mouth you’re fairly certain it’s been planted.  You’d consider it a peace offering for your boyfriend’s blatant disregard for anything, but the hand that clamps over your mouth suggests things are only going to get worse - and oh so much better - from here.

He pushes his fingers into you as far as he can, pumping in and out a few times before twisting his hand around to catch that spot just right. 

It’s all you can do to bite back a moan.

“Let’s play a game,” he purrs, as soon as Sam and Dean start talking again, his hand increasing its pace.  "It’s called how many times can you come before making a sound?“

Tags below the cut

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

Tie a Yellow Ribbon For Me

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Roses are red, Violets are blue, Even death can’t keep him From finding his way back to you.

Quick facts: Romance – [established] Gabriel/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Angst-ish with a happy ending, many flashbacks handle it, use of ‘sugar’ as a term of endearment for a gender-neutral reader

Prompt: Written for @gabriel-monthly-challenge​’s February prompt: Spin the Wheel. I landed on “A Dozen Red Roses”. Tagging @archangelgabriellives, @archangel-with-a-shotgun , @archangelsanonymous, @ttttrickster, @warlockwriter, and @revwinchester.

Words: 2459

Special Context Note: For people who might not know: “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree” was a popular song in the seventies (I think?) performed by Dawn feat. Tony Orlando (I do recommend it; it’s a good song). It’s told from the perspective of a man writing to his lover after having been away for a few years. He tells her that if she wants him still, she can tie a yellow ribbon around a certain tree and he’ll come home, but if he doesn’t see it, he’ll assume she doesn’t want him back and he’ll keep going and never bother her again.

A/N: That summary is a little more sinister than I intended. Sorry, no dark!Gabriel here. Or “The Crow” AU. (Though hm, that’s a possible idea.) This is kind of an alt S5 post-“Hammer of the Gods” where Gabriel doesn’t go to Loki et al. This is sort of similar in premise to some other stuff I’ve written so I apologize to the people who follow me. Ironically, despite the title, this story was actually written to repeat listening of “11 Minutes” by Halsey and Yungblud feat Travis Barker ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Please enjoy! (PS: In case my formatting gets fucked up, flashbacks are encompassed by tildes (~).)

  You feel like you’ve gotten used to the silence.

Sure, you had periods of it before– spending 24/7 with a sometimes-manic archangel is a pre-requisite for madness– but those quiet moments without him had always felt like in-betweens. Small breaks, or minor reprieves, sometimes purposefully taken, and sometimes just waiting. Gabriel could have popped in at any moment.

Now he can’t.

You can say you’re mostly okay now. Mostly. You’ve lost before and you’ll lose again. It’s the nature of things, just being in the world as it is. Being a hunter in it means you’ll do it over and over and over again.

It doesn’t make it ache any less.

But you’re still going, because it’s what you’ve always done and it’s what you’ll always do. Right now you’re on your way to a small desert town that seems convinced it’s living out the movie “Tremors,” and going by the reports, you can see why. You feel a smile creep onto your lips. Gabriel would have found it funny.

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

Look Me in the Eye

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Summary:  Sometimes the moments you’ve been waiting for aren’t as perfect as you’d hoped, but it doesn’t mean they’re any less real.  

Drunk drabble request:  Gabriel, red, eye for @nobodys-baby-now

Word Count: 687

Warnings/Tags: A little bit of angst and some bittersweet feels

A/N: Sorry I’m a little slow on these.  Manfriend gets a little needy when he’s drunk.  Set after “Beat the Devil”

“You could at least have the decency to look me in the eye when you say that.”

The statement comes out hard, and anyone not privy to the context might consider it to be unnecessarily harsh given all he’s been through.  But you know better.  This is Gabriel.  The man you love.  The being who has broken your heart a thousand times over.  The one a part of you knows you’ll continue to let do so no matter how much pain he causes.  

He really outdid himself this time.  Getting caught with Rowena in the library is the icing on a cake that’s taken years to frost.  You’ve forgiven so much, but forgetting is a piece has yet to take hold, and too much swirls within your mind when he finally gives you what you want.

You know it’s irrational to be this angry.  He’s never promised you anything.  You’ve never even been on a date.  It’s not his fault that he’s been gone for years, but there’s a part of you that can’t let go of the thought of how many porn stars he fucked until Loki betrayed him.  

You also know it wasn’t about you. Him leaving, his hedonistic binge, letting Rowena pounce on him because she has a deep-seated attraction for powerful things.  It’s never been about you, and that’s what really has you seeing red at this moment, because you can only imagine what it is that’s driving his confession.

Faded tawny orbs rise up from the ground on which their fixed, brightening a little with something.  Anger, perhaps?  Incredulity?  Or is it resistance sparking bright at the fact he’s being challenged?  

The uncertainty in his frame vanishes, shoulders rising up.  He isn’t the proud, powerful being you remember, but he’s the closest to himself you’ve seen since he’s returned.  

“I love you,” he repeats, features all hard lines and stark severity.  There’s little of the trickster left, and what it leaves behind you’re not certain even he understands.  The important part is it’s genuine, authentic in a way you’re not certain the old Gabriel could ever be.  

It’s then that you realizes he actually means it.  

You swallow.  You’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, begged for just the opportunity to even tell him how you felt.  Now that it’s real, you haven’t a clue what to say.  

“Talking can be so overrated.”  You hear his voice in the back of your mind, memories flooding your veins until you’re so full you almost cannot breathe.  For once, you decide to take a page out of his book, throwing caution to the wind and just acting.    

You move forward, slow enough for him to anticipate your intent, but steady with intent.  He doesn’t move, doesn’t give the slightest indication what you’re doing is unwanted, and by the time your lips hit his there’s so much anticipation you’re not certain you’ll make it.  So much from the past and present collides, intertwining with what could be in a way you know that no matter what happens after, this will be a moment that makes it into your heaven.  

You’re not certain if it’s a fraction of seconds or actual ones that tick by, but eventually he responds, hand gripping tight at the back of your neck, as his mouth presses back against yours.  Before your know it you’re flush against his chest, fingers splaying tight across the small of your back as if he’s afraid the moment he lets go you’ll be lost to him.  

The heady moment slips away, leading into something far more meaningful as he draws back and rests his forehead against yours.  Both your chests rise and fall, the erratic rhythm mirroring the frantic cadence of your heart.  

There’s so much to work out between you.  Too much logic tells you, but in this fragile moment, it doesn’t matter.  The only thing that does is he’s there with you, really there, in a way he’s never been before, and it breathes life into a hope that this time is different.  

This time, he might be ready to stop running.

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

What Lies Beneath

Pairing: Gabriel x reader, some Sam x reader and Dean x reader, some Debriel if you squint

Summary: The reader tries to move on after Gabriel’s death.  Is she losing her mind, or is there more going on than there seems?

Written for: @gone-to-fight-the-fairies​

Drunk drabble request:  Gabriel, yellow, succulent plant

Word Count: 3409

Warnings/Tags: canon divergent, swearing, some sexual situations but no smut

A/N:  Admittedly, this started as a drunk drabble, and after I hit about 1k the idea just stuck with me and I finished it sober.  I really love what was started and hope I get to play around more with this in the future.

You don’t know why they remind you of him.  If there’s any plant Gabriel’s been tied to, it’s lilies, but that’s not what caught your eye when you went looking for something in honor of the archangel.  

“Yellow succulents?”  Sam’s the only one to say a word as you add them to the arrangement in the middle of the underground garden devoted mostly to spell ingredients.  He makes a face as if impressed.  “Fitting.”  

They are.  They’re hardy little suckers that can endure conditions in which most living things would shrivel up and die.  Perhaps its that resilience that made you go with them.  Perhaps it’s the fact the warm color reminds you of how he was before Asmodeus got his hands on him.  The same you saw start to bloom again in the last few days leading up to his sacrifice.  

Now, he’s just another spot in an ever growing memorial as you try to keep his, and so many others’, memories alive.  

A little morbid, don’t you think?  The thought slides across your consciousness, unbidden.  

You mentally bat at it, sending it back from where it came as you reassure yourself that there’s nothing wrong with a tribute for someone who saved the lives of everyone living under this roof.  

***

It irritates you, the way no one remembers.  You remind yourself they didn’t know him, not really, but it eats away at you the more times they pass your display without so much as a glance.  You’re not certain anyone’s even noticed there is a memorial, let alone a central spot for him in it.  

Ingrates.

The word echoes beneath your breath, drawing Dean’s attention from where he’s clipping a few sprigs of lavender.  

“Did you say something?”  The dent between his brows suggests he’s heard what you said, and you don’t blame him for the odd look he shoots your way.  Who under the age of sixty even uses that word?

“Nobody cares,” you tell him, carefully adjusting some of the stones surrounding the plants.  “It’s like none of them remember what it cost to get them here.”

Weiterlesen

[akazie]

and then there were none